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“I was beside myself. Patrick was panicking. We looked all over the place, outside, around the garage, into the outbuildings. We searched everywhere, every nook and cranny that she might have crept into. But we couldn’t find her.
“At the time, we lived in a small hamlet called Jack Hill. The filling station was on the road between Jack Hill and Farnley, a lonely stretch of road that caught traffic returning mostly from Harrogate and Keighley back into Leeds.
“CCTV cameras were in their infancy. The garage didn’t have any. There was no one around we could ask. The only conclusion we could make was that Samantha had noticed a car, and instead of shouting for us, she had been her usual friendly self and gone out to talk to the customer.”
Once again he lurched forward to the edge of the seat.
“Are you okay?” asked Sally Summerby.
“Leave him,” said Summerby. “Let him rot in hell.”
“How Christian,” commented Reilly.
Sally Summerby glared at her husband with an intense hatred. “What the hell does all this have to do with you?”
“Whatever it is, we want to hear it,” said Gardener.
Despite his discomfort, Rydell continued. “My parents suddenly drove in. Fraught with worry, the police were immediately called. House-to-house inquiries revealed nothing. Flyers and posters were all over the place, Crimewatch were involved.
“The story went national, but still nothing came to light. It was as if Samantha had simply opened the door, walked out, and was never seen again. Her body was never found. The driver was never caught.
“I never gave up hope of finding Samantha. This is the last picture ever taken of her, the day before she went missing.”
Rydell withdrew the photo from his pocket and threw it over to the detectives. They’d seen it twice already.
Sally Summerby stole a glance. “Oh my God. She’s the image of my Chloe. That’s the girl you thought was my daughter.”
She turned to Rydell. “You haven’t said how you know this involves him.” She pointed at her husband, though she did not glance his way.
“By accident, really. Isn’t that the way of things?”
“What do you mean?’ said Sally, still staring at the photograph. Then she begged him. “Please say that my daughter is still alive. Please tell me you haven’t done anything to her.”
Rydell continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “I found out about your husband when I was subcontracted to make a delivery to your house about two months ago. There was no one home. A note on the door informed me to leave the parcel in the shed round the back. I checked, but I wasn’t happy. It wasn’t safe enough.
“As I was leaving, I walked into a box, knocked it to the floor. Imagine my horror when I found myself staring at a camera. Not only that, but probably the last photo Sam had ever taken, all those years ago.”
The atmosphere in the room was electric. No one had any choice but to hear the story out.
Gardener glanced at Summerby. His eyes were glazed over. As the story progressed he would probably be less of a threat, but Gardener would still have to find a way to grab the gun and make the situation safe again.
Rydell stared hard at Summerby. “You were very young, but still recognizable. I knew the camera immediately because it had a scratch on the back.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Summerby. “It could have been any old camera. It was bound to have scratches on if it was that old.”
“So where did you get it?” Sally asked her husband.
“It was hers,” replied Rydell. “I know because I had to look at it every day for a week. The scratch meant that the door was out of alignment and difficult to open. It couldn’t have been anyone else’s. I knew I had to find out the truth, make you pay. I also decided then that four other people who had crossed me were going to pay as well. I was sick to death of people treating me and my family like shit. What did I have to lose?
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sp; “I reckoned the only thing I could do was to adopt a very Christian attitude where you were concerned. An eye for an eye, and all that. I’m sure you’ll understand that. I studied you all very closely, and when the opportunity arose, I took Chloe.”
Rydell started coughing, and Gardener noticed he was scratching himself a lot. But still he continued. The young man was determined to tell his story.
“I wanted you to suffer so much for what you had done to my family. You destroyed us. I wanted to systematically destroy you, to make you feel for just one second what it was like to lose the most precious thing in your life.”
Sally Summerby fell to her knees, weeping openly, staring at Rydell – the photo still in her hand. “Please tell me where my daughter is… please.”
