Page 107 of Stolen
chapter 52
alex
As soon as we turn onto Paul’s street, I realise I’m too late.
The road is blocked by three police vehicles, all with their lights flashing. Clusters of neighbours gawk from the pavements. An officer stands in the middle of the street ahead of us, arm raised, palm outwards, halting traffic.
‘Shit,’ Quinn says. ‘I didn’t think they’d get here this quickly.’
Paul’s glossy black front door abruptly opens. He’s escorted down the steep flight of steps to the street by two police officers. He’s not in handcuffs, but it’s clear he’s not with them voluntarily. One of the policemen even shields his head as he ducks into the police car waiting for them, as if this were a gritty televised drama.
Catherine appears at the top of the steps, still in her dressing gown. She watches, ashen-faced, as the police drive her husband away. I’m shocked to realise she’s seven or eight months pregnant. I haven’t seen her in a while and Paul never mentioned it.
‘Find a place to park,’ Quinn says.
‘What’s the point?’ I smack my hand on the steering wheel. ‘For fuck’s sake, Quinn! You couldn’t have waited before calling this in?’
‘And leave the kids in those videos where they are for one more day?’
She’s right. Lottie isn’t the only child who matters, even if she’s the only child who matters tome.
‘I’m going home, Quinn,’ I say, wearily. ‘Obviously I can’t talk to Paul now.’
‘You can still talk toher.Come on, Alex. Get with the programme. We need to speak to her before she lawyers up.’
I reverse a few metres down the road and turn into a side street, driving slowly between the banks of parked cars until I spot a free space.
Quinn gets out as soon as the car stops moving, but I hesitate. The woman I saw with Lottie on the train was definitely not pregnant. It can’t have been Catherine.
The certainty that brought me here suddenly ebbs. Maybe Catherine isn’t involved, after all. She’spregnant. What sort of mother would knowingly have a child with a paedophile?
Quinn’s already heading down the street towards Paul’s house. ‘Wait!’ I call.
She turns. ‘Don’t get soft on me now.’
‘I don’t think Catherine has anything to do with—’
‘Get real, Alex,’ Quinn says, harshly. ‘Even if Harding didn’t take your daughter, Catherinethoughthe did. She invented the thin man, just in case. Sheprotectedhim. And then she doubled down and took that video of Ian Dutton. She went to a lot of trouble to set him up and derail the investigation.’ Her expression is scornful. ‘Now you want to give her a pass just because she’s knocked up?’
She takes off again. By the time I catch up with her, we’re almost at Paul’s house. Catherine has spotted me and is rushing down her front steps, her dressing gown flapping loose.
‘Alex!’ she exclaims. ‘Thank God you’re here! I can’t believe what’s happening, you have to …’ She breaks off as Quinntakes advantage of the distraction to slip into the house. ‘Who’s that woman?’ she says, uncertainly. ‘Is she with you?’
‘Unfortunately,’ I say. ‘Catherine, what did the police say? Why’ve they arrested Paul? Did they tell you?’
Catherine glances at the clusters of people still gawking in the street. I usher her inside, away from prying eyes and mobile phone cameras.
‘It’s ridiculous,’ she says. ‘It’s obviously all a terrible misunderstanding. Paul’s already called his solicitor to sort it out. YouknowPaul, how could anyone think—’
‘Did they say anything about Lottie?’ I ask bluntly.
‘Lottie?’ Catherine is suddenly wary. ‘What does she have to do with this?’
‘Please, Catherine. Where is she?’
‘Mrs Harding, don’t say another word.’
A woman in a charcoal trouser suit storms up the front steps and in through the front door, which no one has yet thought to shut. She pushes past me and steps in front of Catherine, as if ready to take a bullet for her.