Jennifer sat numbly at the kitchen table yet again, itching more than ever to leave the house, but lacking anywhere to go or anyone to go with. She knew the best place for her was right there, at the base of the search, but the inactivity killed her, and the more time that passed the more her head conjured up worse and worse scenarios.
Not long after the search team had left again with Matt, Allie and Rhys, Stanley returned to the house and joined her at the table, his face sympathetic and supportive. "I have bad news Jennifer," he began.
She looked up, stricken.
"Another child was reported missing overnight." Stanley frowned and went on. "Not far from here…the next district."
Jennifer exhaled and spread her hands out on the table in front of her, taking the terrible news in.
"Do you think they're going to find Noah?" she asked simply, only able to think of her own son, not anybody else's.
Stanley of course had no answer but the standard one he'd used on countless hopeful parents during many cases before. "I know they're doing their best to find him Jennifer."
She nodded, having used the same line herself on too many grief stricken families to count. They sat in silence once more.
"What if they can't though?" she asked fearfully.
Stanley frowned, not expecting her to give in so easily to worry. But she couldn't help it – she was thinking the worst now.
Jennifer continued. "You know them all Sarge," she said, her voice hushed, admitting what she never wanted to out loud. "The Beaumont's, Etan Patz, Madeleine McCann. What if one day people are saying Noah Buchanan in the same breath as they say Madeleine McCann?" The horror in her voice was obvious now.
And Stanley couldn't help but shudder a little. She was right. You couldn't help but think the worst when it came to children.
By 11:30 Jennifer was in too much pain to hide it anymore. When the young constable from earlier in the morning knocked on the bathroom door after noticing her absence for the last twenty minutes, she didn't stop him entering. She was leaning against the bathroom basin heavily, breathing hard, breaking a sweat. She didn't even say anything to the man when he looked at her, then bolted from the room.
A moment later Stanley entered, taking over. He put an arm around Jennifer's hunched back and spoke soothingly to her, like he was her father, or a doctor. And she instantly felt better upon hearing his voice. But the pain was still there. "I think it's time we left Jennifer. Come on." He went to help her to stand up straight, but she did it herself, shaking her head, indignant.
"No," she stood firmly on her own two feet, side on to the mirror above the sink. "No. We're miles from the hospital and I'm not leaving until they find Noah."
Stanley frowned. He should've known she'd be like this. "Okay detective." He kept a hand on her back just in case. "Let's just go and sit you down then." He had to make it seem like he wasn't pushing her – like it was all up to her.
But as they made their way out of the bathroom, the young constable behind them bringing up the rear, Stanley didn't even have to work any more on his secret motive. Jennifer's pain made the decision for them. Her knees buckled underneath her and she put her hands out to the hallway walls either side of her, scratching for a hand hold. She squeezed her eyes shut as the two men caught her, and let out a cry.
"It's okay Jennifer," Stanley whispered, helping her to the living room with the constable. To her credit she protested all the way there – so loudly that she didn't hear Stanley instruct another constable to call an ambulance, and put a possible helicopter transfer on standby. He wasn't taking any chances. Behind them the uniforms flurried about in a buzz of action, organising what he'd instructed as he led her to the couch and eased her down onto it. He sat down gingerly beside her and held her hand. He couldn't help himself, and asked a question he feared he might not like the answer to.
"Does it feel like contractions?"
She shook her head. That wordless answer was exactly what he'd been dreading. Although if she'd said yes too it would've been just as dire a situation. He knew she was not due yet. There was much to worry about. He signalled the constable over to him again and the young man knelt by the arm of the couch and listened intently to Stanley's words.
"Get on the radio and get Nick Buchanan back here. Tell him we're taking his wife to hospital."
The young man nodded his head vigouressly and jumped back up.
Stanley turned back to Jennifer. "It's okay Jennifer," he repeated. "It'll be okay."
When the call crackled through the squad car's radio no one was nearby to answer it. They'd parked at the top edge of a grassy slope, the decline dotted with jagged grey rocks and dry, sun baked grass. They were half way down the hill, some of them even further, when Duncan heard the second call. He sprinted back to the top, pumping his arms by his sides with the effort. His sudden running made the rest of the search team stop and watch after him, and they waited, staggered across the landscape, to see what the news was. Perhaps the boy had been found. At the bottom of the slope Nick noticed too, and held his breath, looking up the hill at his colleague as he slipped into the front seat of the car and picked up the radio receiver. He watched him answer the call, listen to the response and then speak into it again. And when he then turned to look directly back at him, Nick let his breath out.
"Nick! Nick get up here!"
Nick sprinted up the hill, his legs immediately burning from the effort. His muscles strained and pulled, yelling at him for the sudden intense exertion. But he just put his head down and ran, and when he reached Duncan he was out of breath like he hadn't run in a hundred years.
Duncan looked at him nervously. "They're taking Jen to hospital. They think she might be in labour."
Nick ran around to the passenger side and hadn't even shut the door before Duncan roared the car into life and sped back towards the weekender.