Behind Closed Doors (14 page)

‘No, we don’t have anything to say at this stage,’ Heidi told the caller, and hung up. ‘A reporter,’ she explained. ‘The police warned us they’d start getting in touch. That’s the fourth call this morning.’

‘Haven’t they given you a family liaison officer?’ Marian asked. ‘I’m sure they usually do in cases like this.’

Heidi was looking haunted again. ‘They said someone will be here today,’ she answered dully. ‘We don’t really want one though.’ Her breath caught on a sob. ‘They’ll be judging whether we’re crying enough, or if we’re hiding something.’ Her voice was fracturing again. ‘They always suspect the parents,’ she said, ‘and everyone knows me and Sophie were rowing all the time.’

Coming straight to her defence, Marian said, ‘And everyone knows what fourteen-year-olds are like, so no one’s blaming you for what’s happened.’

Covering her face with her hands, Heidi said, ‘I think Gavin’s blaming me. He hasn’t said that, but I know he’s wondering why I didn’t call him sooner when he was driving through France. I wish to God I had . . .’

Marian looked round as the doorbell sounded.

Heidi immediately tensed – if it were at all possible to tense more tightly than she already was, and Marian doubted it.

Since she was clearly fearing the worst, and who wouldn’t in her shoes, Marian said, ‘Would you like me to go?’

For a moment it seemed Heidi might say yes, but then pulling herself up she said, ‘It’ll probably be the FLO. Why don’t you put the kettle on?’

Left alone in the kitchen Marian cast a dismal eye about the place, and wondered whether it would seem helpful if she tidied up, or interfering. Deciding she could at least load the dishwasher while the kettle was doing its thing, and perhaps wipe down the counter tops, she set about her self-appointed tasks, while keeping an ear open for what was being said at the door.

At first it wasn’t possible to make it out, but then Heidi started raising her voice and Marian immediately ran to find out how she could help.

‘I don’t know how you’ve got the nerve,’ Heidi was shouting.

‘I swear he’s not a paedophile,’ the woman at the door was protesting. Recognising her as Suzi, from the salon, Marian put an arm round Heidi as she growled, ‘You need to leave. We have nothing to say to you.’

‘Please,’ Suzi implored, ‘what they’re saying about my brother . . . They made a mistake . . .’

‘There’s no mistake,’ Marian cut in waspishly. ‘Sophie was with him the night she disappeared, and now no one knows where
he
is. Unless you do, and you’re here trying to get information to feed back to him . . .’

‘No!’ Suzi cried. ‘That’s not why I’m here. I swear, Heidi, I came because I was worried about you.’

‘You need to leave,’ Heidi told her. ‘I can’t talk to you.’

‘Heidi please, if you’d hear me out . . .’

‘Just go,’ Marian snapped, and pulling Heidi inside she slammed the door.

As Suzi turned back towards the salon, passing Fun City, Treasure Island and Mickie’s Tavern, all of which were teeming with police and curious punters, she was feeling totally swamped by shame and humiliation. She didn’t have to look up to know that hostile, accusing eyes were following her; if only the ground would open and swallow her up.

She understood now how her mother felt each time she left the house: as though she was as guilty as her son. Suzi shivered at the memory of rocks being hurled through their windows, and the graffiti splashed on her mother’s car. Was that how it was going to be for her now? Everyone blaming her for her brother’s crime, tarring her, who’d never done anything but love kids, with the same brush that turned child molesters into social pariahs? They wouldn’t care that she hated paedos too, or that Gary’s offence had involved a fifteen-year-old girl who hadn’t been a virgin before that night, and who’d ended up writing to him in prison saying she was sorry, could she come to visit. His only crime in his so-called victim’s eyes had been his lack of interest in repeating the experience; reporting him to the police had been the unnamed girl’s revenge.

Why had the police felt the need to prosecute when there were so many real monsters out there who needed to be caught?

‘Suzi?’

Looking up, she frowned as she saw someone she recognised, but couldn’t immediately place. Then she remembered it was the detective who’d come to see her the day before.

‘I was hoping to find you at the salon,’ the detective began.

‘I’m on my way there,’ Suzi replied stiffly. Why didn’t this woman with her X-ray eyes go away and leave her alone? ‘If you’re about to ask me where my brother is, I can tell you now, I don’t have the first idea.’

Apparently unruffled by the hostility, the detective said, ‘Have you heard from him since . . .?’

‘No, I haven’t,’ Suzi cut in angrily. ‘And yes, I’ve tried ringing, but wherever he is, he’s not picking up. Is that OK? Have I answered your questions?’

Still managing to look friendly, when in her shoes Suzi would have wanted to give the stroppy cow a good slap, the detective said, ‘Did you know he was with Sophie on the Sunday night she disappeared?’

For a long moment Suzi was tempted to lie, but in the end she felt her shoulders slump as she simply nodded. ‘Yes, I did,’ she admitted, ‘but he
swore
to me he didn’t know where she went after.’

‘After?’

‘After he saw her,’ Suzi mumbled lamely.

‘Do you know if they were at his flat?’

Suzi kept her eyes on the caravans they were passing. If anyone looked out of their window now would they have any idea what was going on between these two very different women? One in a seersucker beach dress, the other in black trousers and cream shirt. If they knew this woman was a police officer and she was Gary Perkins’s sister they’d soon work it out.

‘Do you?’ the detective prompted.

Suzi shook her head. ‘He didn’t tell me where they were,’ she answered truthfully.

‘Do you know if anyone else was with them?’

Suzi shook her head again.

A moment or two passed as they skirted the recycling bins and continued on towards the salon. ‘How well does your brother know Tomasz Sikora?’ the detective suddenly asked.

Confused, Suzi said, ‘You mean the singing plumber?’ What bearing did this have on anything, unless Gary and Tomasz had got into something she knew nothing about? ‘I suppose he knows who he is,’ she said carefully, ‘everyone does, but they’re not mates, or anything like that, if that’s what you mean. Or not as far as I’m aware.’

‘So he didn’t mention anything about Tomasz being with him and Sophie on the night Sophie disappeared?’

Suzi came to a stop. ‘Why? Was he?’ she asked.

Still appearing friendly, the detective said, ‘It’s possible.’

‘So have you spoken to Tomasz?’

‘Not yet. It would appear that’s he’s vanished too.’

Not knowing what to say to that, Suzi took out her keys and unlocked the salon door. ‘Tell me,’ she said, before going in, ‘why did you have to make my brother’s previous conviction public? I thought someone was supposed to be innocent till proven guilty? He’s hardly going to be that now, is he?’

Managing to sound regretful, the detective replied, ‘I’m afraid we can’t withhold that sort of information when a young girl is known to have been with him the night she disappeared.’

No, Suzi supposed they couldn’t. Nevertheless, it still didn’t seem fair.

Nothing did any more.

‘If you do hear from your brother,’ Andee said, as Suzi started inside, ‘you will contact us, won’t you?’

Though Suzi nodded, she couldn’t be sure that she meant it. She guessed it would depend on how the search went, and what Gary said when,
if
he got in touch.

God help the good women who protect bad men, Andee was thinking gloomily as she walked away from Suzi’s Suntan Salon. It was a tragedy to see and an absolute headache to deal with, especially when the men concerned so rarely deserved it.

In spite of Suzi Perkins’s prickliness it had been plain to Andee just how wretched she was feeling inside, how cruelly torn between loyalty to her brother and . . . and what? Coming clean with what she actually knew?

Undoubtedly Kasia Domanski was experiencing the same inner struggle, although she didn’t appear to share the same doubts about Tomasz that Suzi clearly had about her brother. If anything Kasia was proving unshakeable in her belief that Tomasz was a ‘good person’, in spite of the police knocking at her door to question her about his connection to a missing girl.

Possibly three missing girls if they included Tania Karpenko, and another name had come to light this morning, Michaela Reznik. No one seemed certain about where she was from, or where she might have gone after leaving the camp.

Personnel records, along with criminal record checks, were definitely not a strong point at Blue Ocean Park.

‘I am very worried,’ Kasia had insisted, when Andee had dropped in earlier on her way to the campsite. Kasia’s puffy eyes had been sore evidence of a sleepless night. (Join the club, Andee had thought grimly to herself.) ‘Always he calls when he goes away,’ Kasia had told her earnestly. ‘I don’t understand why he doesn’t this time. Something must have happened to him . . .’

Of course, it could all be artifice, but Andee didn’t think so. If appearances – and her own instincts – were anything to go by, the woman really didn’t have a deliberate untruth in her, and certainly no calls had been exchanged between the telephone numbers being monitored. Which didn’t mean Tomasz and Kasia weren’t using other phones, though Andee was a long way short of being convinced about that.

What she was far more convinced of, in fact was in no doubt of at all, was how truly devastating it would be for Kasia Domanski to have her trust in Tomasz shattered.

He had not been on a flight to Krakow.

Andee hadn’t told Kasia that this morning. First she wanted to be sure that he hadn’t taken another flight from another airport, and she wouldn’t know that until the passenger manifestos of all flights to Krakow over the past couple of days had been fully analysed. Far more problematic was going to be tracing the other girls, who didn’t appear to have any health, dental or even proper employment records, at least not here at Blue Ocean Park. On the other hand, until someone actually reported them missing she knew Gould wouldn’t agree to commit any resources to finding them.

‘Hey, Andee, there you are,’ Barry Britten called out, coming down the steps next to Alfie’s Pie Shop just as Andee reached them. His jacket was off, and due to the heat large patches of perspiration were blooming under his arms. ‘We’ve found an interesting little stash up there in Perkins’s flat,’ he informed her. ‘I mean quite literally. He’s only got his own hydroponics outfit installed like a second oven.’

Andee wondered why she wasn’t surprised. ‘A sex offender is growing cannabis in the middle of the campsite? It makes me wonder what we’re going to find next. A terrorist running the firework display? No sign of the man himself, I take it?’

‘None,’ Barry confirmed. ‘We’re waiting for the electricity board to come and disconnect his little grow tank, so we can take it away. The CSIs have got everything else bagged and tagged, ready to go.’

‘Any obvious signs Sophie was there?’

‘No, but we’ve taken plenty of prints. I can also tell you that the twerking video was almost definitely shot there. The backgrounds match.’

Andee’s expression flattened into dismay. ‘I don’t want to think this,’ she said, ‘but I can’t help wondering if there’s some sort of procurement going on here. Three girls disappearing from this site . . .’ She sighed, not liking the way this was looking at all.

‘Did you pick up anything from Sikora’s place this morning?’ Barry asked.

‘You mean for DNA? I left Leo to go through the dirty laundry.’ Enjoying Barry’s laugh, she said, ‘Incidentally, did you hear there’s a question over another girl who’s worked at the camp? A Michaela Reznick.’

Barry nodded. ‘Yeah, I did. I’ve also heard the Poynters are on their way back from Spain. Have you ever met them?’

Andee shook her head.

He grinned. ‘You should talk to your fellow DS, Carl Williams, when he gets back from leave. He’s come that close to nailing them on at least half a dozen occasions.’

‘For what?’

‘You name it, they’ve been up for it, but somehow they’ve always managed to slither free. I thought the last time our Carl was going to walk across the courtroom and punch the smirk right off Jimmy Poynter’s ugly mug. I don’t think anyone would have blamed him if he had.’

‘Mm, looks like I’m in for a bit of a treat,’ Andee commented wryly, ‘unless Sophie shows up before they do, of course.’

Sobering, Barry said, ‘Let’s hope she does.’ Then, ‘By the way, I spoke to Martin last night. You know, to say sorry about his dad.’

Andee’s eyes drifted to where a couple of Polsars, watched by a small group of holidaymakers, were using mirrors on poles to search under nearby caravans. She wondered if anything of significance had been discovered yet, either here, out on the main drag, or on the beach. If it had she’d have been notified. ‘I’m sure he appreciated that,’ she said. Had Martin told their old friend about the new woman in his life?

Did it matter if he had?

Changing the subject, she said, ‘Has the FLO turned up at the Monroes’ yet?’

‘Should have by now. Do you want me to check?’

‘It’s OK, I’ll do it. What are you doing when you’ve finished here?’

‘Loading up and heading back to the station.’

Leaving him to it she set off in the direction of the Monroes’ bungalow, checking in with control as she went. After being told that no one had reported any suspect brothels or trafficking in the area over the past six months, and that Tomasz Sikora’s computer, which had been seized that morning, had a virtually empty hard drive, she clicked off her Airwave and took out her mobile.

‘Hi, it’s me,’ she said, when her mother answered. ‘Are you still at Carol’s?’

‘No, I got back about an hour ago,’ Maureen replied. ‘The children are still there, but I think they’re planning to come home later. Is everything OK with you?’

From the mildness of her tone Andee could tell that she hadn’t seen any news over the last twelve hours, which was actually no surprise, since she knew only too well how the death of someone close could transport a family from the everyday world to a place where only the past and memories existed or mattered.