leisurely sip of his drink. ‘His wife needs to know.’
‘This isn’t the time. You need to sit tight until they find their daughter.’
‘
We
need to sit tight,’ she corrected.
‘That’s what I meant. My point is, now is not the time for people to find out about you and Mack. People won’t understand. I also think,’ he pretended to hesitate,
‘you and I should lay off contacting each other for a bit. We know we’ve done nothing wrong, but the police might not see it like that.’
‘I know. It’s just that we were so close to getting the money.’
‘You’ll still get it. He can’t back out, whatever happens.’
Another lie. She wouldn’t get a penny – it was all his for the taking now and this was the last conversation they’d ever have.
Her voice quavered. ‘What do you think has happened to her?’
‘Run away, probably. You said yourself what Mack was like. Look, I think we should hang up now. I feel just awful.’
‘Me too,’ she said, letting out another sob.
He put down the phone and laughed.
12
Wednesday
The woman on the doorstep lived four houses down from Angel’s Reach. When Maggie first answered the door to her, she thought she was there to offer her support to the Kinnocks. It took
less than a minute for her to realize her motive for coming round was purely selfish. Overnight, a crowd of reporters had gathered on the other side of the security gate leading into Burr Way and
the neighbour, who announced herself as Mrs Roberts, blamed Mack and Lesley for the intrusion. On discovering Maggie was a police officer, she launched into a tirade.
‘Can’t you get rid of the press? They’re causing a nuisance.’
‘They’re not breaking any law by being there,’ said Maggie. ‘The side of the road they’re on is a public one.’
The press office had issued a statement at 7 p.m. the previous evening announcing a teenage girl was missing in Haxton. It hadn’t taken long for the media to find out Rosie Kinnock was the
daughter of EuroMillions winners, largely helped by her school friends tweeting and Facebooking appeals for her to get in touch. Less than an hour later, ‘Rosie’ and
‘EuroMillions’ were top trending on Twitter.
‘They’re also on the other side of the security gate,’ Maggie pointed out. ‘They can’t get anywhere near any of the houses.’
‘That is beside the point,’ said Mrs Roberts haughtily. ‘There are vans parked on the grass verge and anyone trying to get in and out of the street is being harassed. I have
someone coming to see me today for an appointment and I don’t want him bothered. You have to move them on.’
If Mrs Roberts wasn’t so unpleasant Maggie might’ve been impressed at how impeccably turned out she was at seven thirty in the morning, when she herself hadn’t managed to even
brush her hair yet. Judging by the creases lining her face, Mrs Roberts had to be in her early seventies. Her white-blonde hair was slicked back into a neat bun and her make-up artfully applied to
give the impression she wore none. Slim in frame, she wore a floral blouse tucked into peach-coloured trousers and cream court shoes with a rounded toe. On her left wrist, just visible beneath the
cuff of her blouse, was a bandage support.
‘I’m sorry,’ Maggie repeated, ‘but as I said, it’s a public right of way. We can’t stop them being there.’
‘But the noise they make as they film is intolerable.’
Mrs Roberts had already let slip that her house was further away from the security gate than Angel’s Reach so there was no way she’d hear the reporters doing their pieces to camera.
Maggie thought about pointing that out, but the look on Mrs Roberts’s face told her it wouldn’t be appreciated.
‘I understand it’s a difficult situation,’ she said quickly, with as much politeness as she could muster. She really didn’t have time to stand on the doorstep arguing:
every minute wasted was one less spent looking for
‘This isn’t the time. You need to sit tight until they find their daughter.’
‘
We
need to sit tight,’ she corrected.
‘That’s what I meant. My point is, now is not the time for people to find out about you and Mack. People won’t understand. I also think,’ he pretended to hesitate,
‘you and I should lay off contacting each other for a bit. We know we’ve done nothing wrong, but the police might not see it like that.’
‘I know. It’s just that we were so close to getting the money.’
‘You’ll still get it. He can’t back out, whatever happens.’
Another lie. She wouldn’t get a penny – it was all his for the taking now and this was the last conversation they’d ever have.
Her voice quavered. ‘What do you think has happened to her?’
‘Run away, probably. You said yourself what Mack was like. Look, I think we should hang up now. I feel just awful.’
‘Me too,’ she said, letting out another sob.
He put down the phone and laughed.
12
Wednesday
The woman on the doorstep lived four houses down from Angel’s Reach. When Maggie first answered the door to her, she thought she was there to offer her support to the Kinnocks. It took
less than a minute for her to realize her motive for coming round was purely selfish. Overnight, a crowd of reporters had gathered on the other side of the security gate leading into Burr Way and
the neighbour, who announced herself as Mrs Roberts, blamed Mack and Lesley for the intrusion. On discovering Maggie was a police officer, she launched into a tirade.
‘Can’t you get rid of the press? They’re causing a nuisance.’
‘They’re not breaking any law by being there,’ said Maggie. ‘The side of the road they’re on is a public one.’
The press office had issued a statement at 7 p.m. the previous evening announcing a teenage girl was missing in Haxton. It hadn’t taken long for the media to find out Rosie Kinnock was the
daughter of EuroMillions winners, largely helped by her school friends tweeting and Facebooking appeals for her to get in touch. Less than an hour later, ‘Rosie’ and
‘EuroMillions’ were top trending on Twitter.
‘They’re also on the other side of the security gate,’ Maggie pointed out. ‘They can’t get anywhere near any of the houses.’
‘That is beside the point,’ said Mrs Roberts haughtily. ‘There are vans parked on the grass verge and anyone trying to get in and out of the street is being harassed. I have
someone coming to see me today for an appointment and I don’t want him bothered. You have to move them on.’
If Mrs Roberts wasn’t so unpleasant Maggie might’ve been impressed at how impeccably turned out she was at seven thirty in the morning, when she herself hadn’t managed to even
brush her hair yet. Judging by the creases lining her face, Mrs Roberts had to be in her early seventies. Her white-blonde hair was slicked back into a neat bun and her make-up artfully applied to
give the impression she wore none. Slim in frame, she wore a floral blouse tucked into peach-coloured trousers and cream court shoes with a rounded toe. On her left wrist, just visible beneath the
cuff of her blouse, was a bandage support.
‘I’m sorry,’ Maggie repeated, ‘but as I said, it’s a public right of way. We can’t stop them being there.’
‘But the noise they make as they film is intolerable.’
Mrs Roberts had already let slip that her house was further away from the security gate than Angel’s Reach so there was no way she’d hear the reporters doing their pieces to camera.
Maggie thought about pointing that out, but the look on Mrs Roberts’s face told her it wouldn’t be appreciated.
‘I understand it’s a difficult situation,’ she said quickly, with as much politeness as she could muster. She really didn’t have time to stand on the doorstep arguing:
every minute wasted was one less spent looking for
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