Adam made himself look through each room although some part of him was afraid of what he might find. All were exceptionally tidy and the house was obviously empty. It looked like it had been empty for weeks, let alone having been a prison to Sarah and Andrea. Although he was not exactly sure what he should be looking for or what he had expected to find, possibly some proof with which he could definitely ring Boer. All he had confirmed was that Simon lived there.
‘Has Simon been here all weekend?’ he asked.
She hesitated. ‘No, he went out early Friday and didn’t get back till Saturday night. His boss was over. He’s horrid, not at all like Simon.’
‘And that’s when you saw my wife?’
The girl thought for a moment. ‘Nope, saw her earlier. Not sure when ’cos she was looking at them houses. Me and my mates was going to watch a movie. Like I said, she wasn’t coming here. As you can see.’
‘And you’re sure Simon has gone?’
The shadows shifted across her face as her head moved up and down. ‘I saw the taxi, can’t get no surer than that. Just he’s gone early is the only thing.’
‘Do you know how long he’ll be away?’ He turned to face her.
‘Dunno, last year he was gone lots of times. Sometimes weeks, others months. Year before that he was gone four months in one go. The boats are for faraway places. I think he flies back. Can we go now?’
He walked into the bathroom. ‘Do your parents know you come here?’
‘Course not, although I doubt they’d care. It’s nicer here and quiet.’ She followed him in. There was a different quality to the air, thicker, as if someone had showered recently. The girl reached over the toilet to the window and grabbed hold of the handle, making sure she had his attention. ‘You have to leave it a little open and then close the handle. It sort of locks it. But it will open if you hit it right. He always leaves it like that for me when he goes away, although once last year he forgot. I couldn’t come over at all. Even by myself it’s better than sitting at home listening to them two get pissed up.’
Adam’s eyes were fixed on her serious face but his mind was elsewhere. Something he had seen now registered. He walked back into the study. The girl followed, watching him for the first time do something with purpose. He reached up to a shelf and pulled down a magazine, this month’s, with a yacht in full flight on the cover. He started flicking through the pages, stopping at
Tide Times
which had been marked with the corner folded over. There were two glossy pages full of charts and abbreviations and times that did not initially make sense. He scanned the section headed
England – East
but neither Grimsby or Cleethorpes were listed.
‘Which of these is nearest?’ he asked.
The girl leaned against his arm, intently tracing a finger across the different regions. ‘Immingham,’ she said after a while.
He read across the page. He knew nothing about boats or anything related to them. The next high tide was not for another five hours. ‘Simon left an hour ago?’
‘About that. Maybe a bit more. But it was just him and his stuff.’
‘All the same,’ Adam said, ‘it would be good to catch up with him. Maybe ask him if he’s seen my wife. He might help. Where do you think he was going?’
She looked up at him with wide incredulous eyes. ‘He sails boats.’ She walked out to the landing and hoisted herself onto the window sill. ‘You can’t do that from any old place.’
‘The Marina?’ he offered.
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head while struggling to pull her phone from her pocket. The light from the screen partially illuminated her face in the low light. ‘The dock, his boats are big.’ She thought for a second, a flicker of realisation. ‘The dock has a gate. If he’s looking at tide times it’s not for here. Tide times don’t matter for the dock. S’pect he’ll leave soon else he’d have gone tomorrow.’ She looked out the window into the dark above the alley. ‘You could te…’ She stopped mid-sentence and did not finish it.
Adam looked from her to the magazine, putting the magazine back on the shelf.
‘Have you seen enough now?’ She pushed herself off the window sill.
‘I think so.’
She had morphed back to a child again and now looked smaller, wordlessly leading him down the stairs. While she opened the patio door he took another look in the kitchen. It was clean and sparse just like the rest of the house, a worktop, a knife rack, a microwave and kitchen cabinets. Something was missing but he could not place it. He followed her outside and the girl locked the patio doors, pushing the keys into her pocket.
‘I hope you find her. She seemed nice,’ the girl said.
‘I will.’ He looked down at her. ‘You should get home.’
She did not nod or confirm, just walked out through the gate, waiting for him and making sure the gate was closed. She followed him up the alley. The dim street lighting seemed harsh in contrast.
Something occurred to him. ‘Why is Simon a legend?’
‘Dad says we used to have loads of problems with some gangs that came from over St. Luke’s. Mostly kids but organised by adults. Everyone being bossed to pay money, shop windows smashed. Half the houses in the street were broken into. People were at their wits’ end. Simon said he would deal with it. Dad says a month later and it all stopped. Says there’s not been a single break-in around here for three years. Anyone here will tell you it’s down to Simon.’
He imagined Simon valued his privacy. ‘I wanted to apologise,’ Adam said. ‘I feel bad for making you show me around.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘You’re fine. I wanted to.’ And then she turned and walked away. He walked in the opposite direction, only looking back as he stepped onto the kerb by the corner store. The street was empty.
SEVENTY-THREE
It was gone ten by the time Ferreira parked and negotiated the jostle of remaining press, ducking beneath the police cordon and walking self-consciously up to the house and the two constables outside. Andrea’s stepfather ushered her in from behind the door, a genuine if tempered smile beneath his heavy eyes.
He asked polite questions about the drive as she avoided his gaze while removing her shoes in the hallway, then padded in her tights behind him through the kitchen into the dining room and to three faces around the long wooden dining table.
The mother sat opposite, beneath a large wooden crucifix, her mood thunderous and laced with frost. The stepfather scooted a chair in behind Ferreira and took a seat next to the mother. Both the family liaison officer and the constable sat on the left with lush curtains drawn behind them. Their jobs were to serve the needs of the family and witness the interview. They looked like they might have taken the brunt of the mother’s displeasure, offering Ferreira cool nods and pursed lips.
She replied with apology in her smile and dropped her bag onto the floor beside her chair, the bottle from Boer’s study clonking against the table leg. She flushed as she pulled free her notepad and pen, placing them square in front of her. She took a long deep breath, feeling very alone. Nervously, she began.
‘I am very sorry to disturb you tonight, especially at this hour.’ They both looked back at her, the stepfather open and waiting, the mother frail and tired despite her impatience. ‘But one angle that is taking up a lot of our time is why Andrea specifically was targeted.’
‘I would have thought that obvious,’ the mother immediately answered. ‘Andrea was the only child on the street left to wander alone.’ She breathed in as if to say more but did not.
‘Well actually, it is not that uncommon to see children without chaperones in the High Street, regardless of the rights and wrongs, Mrs Smith. And while I certainly empathise we consider the chances of someone waiting on chance, well, it is unlikely given the planning we know went into her abduction.’ She let that hang in the air. ‘So what I would like to do is focus on who might have known, who knew your daughter would be standing outside Boots at that time on Saturday?’
The mother stared with eyes that shifted from questioning to exasperation that for a moment Ferreira thought mocked. ‘I think I already made that perfectly clear, Detective. You’re best talking to Andrea’s father about that.’
‘You did, Liz – can I call you that?
‘I prefer Beth.’
Ferreira amended. ‘Beth then, sorry. You have said Brian is the best person for us to talk to but you also told us there was no aspect of your family you did not know about. So which is it?’
The mother looked as if she had been slapped but immediately came back. ‘One day you may have children, Detective, and you will understand. Of course I know all about my children’s lives but what she does at her father’s is beyond my control, unfortunately.’ The stepfather reached across and grasped her hand.
Ferreira looked at their hands linked on the table and to the stepfather, still struggling to see Boer’s logic.
Why was she even here?
She looked at the mother. ‘I’m sorry Beth. I didn’t mean that to come out as it did, it’s been a long day this side of the table too. Please understand my main concern is to move our search for your daughter forward. We have to move beyond our emotional feelings or any sense of blame and look at the facts. Knowing who knew could be a key element to finding her.’
Ferreira’s apology went unheeded.
‘Don’t you think I know that, but I cannot tell you more than I already have. If there is anyone that knows, then it is quite simply her father. And to be quite honest, Detective, the sooner you find that
loser
the sooner you will find Andrea. That’s where you should be focusing your efforts, not here.’
Ferreira’s mouth opened and closed. She was right. Her whole purpose for coming here was Boer’s, not her own. As much as she had thought through the angles during the drive, she didn’t really believe she should be there. She needed a time out.
‘Possibly so,’ Ferreira said. ‘But I’m here now and there are details we need to discuss. First, do you mind if I use your bathroom? I could do with freshening up.’
The mother gave a wan smile. ‘You know where it is. Kevin will make you a tea. White, two sugars I recall. I’m sure these ladies could do with a drink as well?’ She looked down the table at smiles and nods.
Ferreira picked up her bag and made for the hallway and the stairs, angry at herself for faltering. Interviewing was what she enjoyed most; it came as naturally as throwing a ball against a wall. Except now the wall was no longer there. She had to step back and embrace impartiality, start feeling for those subtle flaws of human nature. Boer had always made it seem so easy.
SEVENTY-FOUR
The dreams of closed-in spaces became vast horizons of yellow and shows of lightning streaking across the sunset and endless ocean. Her mind eased back to consciousness, her senses busy processing the new environment. She was aware of being in a different space before her eyes fluttered open.
Cool air breezed across her face, carrying the smell of oil or fuel. A gunmetal ceiling and a dim bulb enclosed in wire mesh. She was lying on a comfortable mattress. She slowly sat up, thick-headed as if woken from a deep sleep. She felt a little hung over, sore and bruised and battered but serviceable. She felt rested even. Andrea was not there.
She panicked, swinging her feet onto a bare metal floor, staring directly at a door. She tried the handle but the door was locked. She looked beneath the bed in vain hope.
The room was very small and angular, like it was the corner of a much bigger space.
Where was she?
Where was Andrea and why had they been moved? The answer to the last seemed obvious now. Simon’s plans had changed.
But why?
Snippets of their conversation in the kitchen replayed in her mind. She was on a boat. She shouted out load and banged hard on the door and kicked it. She stepped back and kicked beside the handle, angry and frustrated at still being trapped and powerless. She kicked again and then again, each time harder, the sound echoing dull and brief. The door stood solid.
She stopped and listened for any discernible sound or movement, pushing thoughts of where Andrea might be from her mind.
Were they moving?
There might be a slight sideways shift but she doubted that. She felt sure if they were in the North Sea she would feel something.
She sat on the bed with her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands, trying to calibrate and calm her thoughts, to think clearly. She had to get out of this room. Her mind raced through the detail, trying to calculate meaning and consequences from her conversation with Simon, weighing her options and constantly worrying for Andrea. She was not sure how long she had sat like that but started suddenly at a noise outside. Then the door silently swept open and Simon looked in at her. ‘You’re awake.’
She felt immediate relief at seeing him. He was not with Andrea.
‘You’re an absolute rotten bastard,’ she said, moving off the bed.
He smiled uncertain as she stepped lightly over to him, on tiptoe reaching both hands up behind his neck and pulling his head down. She pressed her pelvis against his thigh and kissed him fully on the mouth, his mouth stiff-lipped then softening. Once she was done he stood back and looked at her.
‘What was that for?’
She idled her hand down his arm. ‘A promise of what could be if you stop locking me in small rooms.’ She looked hopefully up at him and he studied her face for intent. Then he ushered her through the door into an area the size of a tennis court, a communal space with a shallow sofa and cupboards. There was another angled wall and a door like hers in the opposite corner.
‘Andrea’s in there?’
He nodded.
‘Show me,’ she commanded and watched as he unlocked and opened the door. Sarah stepped in, her relief so great she almost punched the air. An identical room, Andrea lay asleep curled in a ball. It struck her straight away. ‘Where’s her bag?’
‘Back at the house.’
She turned and burrowed her eyes into his. ‘But all her stuff’s in there. Everything she still has!’
‘I know. That’s why it’s back at the house.’ He directed her out of the room. ‘She won’t be needing it.’ He locked the door and put a hand on each of her shoulders. ‘It’s a zero risk right where it is.’ He manoeuvred past her, climbing the steps. He waved for her to follow.