Chosen Child by Linda Huber

to do with an Asian side of the business;
his designated area included factories in Memphis and Chicago. Could the India
problem be a fabrication – something for Rick to hide behind because he wasn’t
happy about adopting Soraya? The more she thought about it, the more likely it
sounded.
    Sick at heart, Ella went upstairs.

 
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
     
    Thursday 22nd – Saturday 24th May
     
    Amanda waited until late afternoon on Thursday before
reporting Gareth missing. They were the longest three days of her life, but
she’d supposedly seen him on Monday, and a grown man on a walking tour wouldn’t
necessarily report back home every night. People on mountains were supposed to
leave details of where they were going and when they expected to arrive, but
the same couldn’t be said for hikers on the South West Coast Path, surely. And
even if it could, well – Gareth hadn’t done that and she hadn’t expected him
to.
    She lifted her mobile, hesitating as she went through the
details in her mind. What if they didn’t believe her? But then – why on earth
shouldn’t they? Stomach churning, she punched out the number of the local
police station.
    ‘I – can you help me? I’m a bit worried about my husband.
He’s on a walking tour and he’s not answering his phone.’
    The policeman on the other end of the line was sympathetic.
‘When did you last hear from him, love?’
    Amanda gave the details, suddenly grateful to James for
organising that Monday trip. She was able to sound completely convincing,
because it was all true. Except, of course, for the minor detail that it hadn’t
been Gareth she’d driven to Lamorna Cove.
    ‘Where was he going to stay on Monday night?’
    They had planned this too. ‘He was aiming for Marazion, but
he hadn’t booked anywhere in case he stayed longer in Penzance. He had a bivvy
bag with him – he often sleeps outside if the weather’s reasonable.’
    ‘Right. Chances are he’s just lost his phone, but you could
come by the station, love, and report him missing. It would be good if you
bring a photo of him too, in case we need it.’
    Amanda had anticipated the request for a photo and even
managed to find one of Gareth in his walking gear, complete with the red hat.
She bundled Jaden into the car feeling completely unreal. Here she was, an
ordinary, law-abiding person; she’d never had as much as a parking ticket, yet
she had just lied to the police. She jabbed the key into the ignition, pain
tightening across her forehead. This was going to be the real point of no
return. Staring some police officer in the eye and lying her head off. For a
moment Amanda leaned her head on the steering wheel. She’d never felt so bad
about herself, not even when she and James started the affair. She wasn’t a criminal;
she was a mum, and pregnant at that – and now she was behaving like a character
in a crime novel. It was as if she was two people – the woman telling all the
lies, and the real Amanda, the one who was suffering.
    Sergeant Jacobs, the uniformed policeman who took the
details at the station, was grave without being pessimistic. He listened to
Amanda’s story, asking more questions about Gareth’s planned tour and what
exactly had happened on Monday morning. Amanda could hear the convincing
tremble in her voice as she told her story again, omitting only the detail that
she’d swung by Mousehole and Penzance before driving home again. Jaden sat in
his buggy staring at the man and sucking his thumb.
    ‘We’ll make enquiries along the route,’ said Sergeant Jacobs.
‘The photo of him in his hiking gear’ll help.’
    ‘His hair’s very dark,’ said Amanda. ‘And his eyes are grey.
Like my little boy’s. You can’t see on the photo but they’re unusual – someone
might remember them. And oh, he’s allergic to penicillin. Just in case he’s
hurt when you find him.’ Her voice tailed off. That was good; she’d sounded
authentic there.
    ‘But he’s a good