Authors: Val McDermid
As she drove back down the A1 towards Roker, Charlie called Nick. 'Not quite a waste of time,' she told him. 'There's a discrepancy between what she says in her book and the police statement.' She outlined the problem. 'But it's academic, really. Because either way Jay doesn't have an alibi from about ten in the morning till five in the afternoon.'
Nick was straight on to the problem. 'So where's the body? She was a kid. She wouldn't have the strength or the knowledge to get rid of it.'
'My conclusion exactly. But since I'm up here, I might as well pay Howard Calder a visit. You never know, he might have the mythical piece of knowledge whose significance he's never understood.'
Nick laughed. 'You've been reading too many bad novels.'
'Guilty as charged. I know it's a long shot, but any news from the phone company?'
'No joy so far. I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Good luck with Howard.'
As she passed the Angel of the North, its massive aircraft wings spread in benediction, Charlie thought it was more than luck she needed.
13
T
here was nothing prepossessing about the house where Jay Stewart had spent her adolescence. It sat in the middle of a long terraced street of dirty red brick, neither the best nor the worst on view. The black door and white paintwork were grubby, a combination of city grime and tiny grains of sand carried on the wind from the nearby beach. The curtains seemed to droop, as if all the spirit had gone from them, and the light that showed behind the fanlight above the door was the discouraging pale yellow of a bulb whose wattage was too low for the space it had to illuminate. If this was how it had been twenty years ago, Charlie wasn't surprised that Jay had chosen to get out as soon as she could.
She rang the doorbell, which gave a loud angry buzz. As she waited, she looked around. Four o'clock on a cold Tuesday afternoon, and not a soul stirring. No kids playing football in the road, no youths hanging around on a street corner smoking, no knots of pensioners gossiping. No sense at all of the lives being lived behind those doors. It didn't feel like a community, which surprised her. Maybe it was just because she didn't know the area, didn't know how to read the signs.
The door opened behind her and she spun round. The man framed by the door looked irritated, thick grey eyebrows drawn down over deep-set eyes magnified by his steel-rimmed glasses. He seemed to be an assembly of sharp angles - thin face, nose like a blade, skinny shoulders, bony hands - all compressed in a tight, narrow space. He had a full head of grey hair, cropped so close at the sides that Charlie could see the greyish pink flesh of his scalp. His skin was pale and lined, the contours those of a face that seldom smiled. 'Are you the woman from the council?' he demanded, his voice still strong and overbearing.
Charlie smiled. No point in beating about the bush with this man. 'No. I'm Dr Charlotte Flint. I work with the police. I wondered if I might talk to you about the disappearance of your wife.'
His scowl deepened. 'A doctor? From the police? I've never heard anything like that before.'
'I'm what's called an offender profiler. I help them build cases against people suspected of serious offences like rape and murder.'
'Have you found Jenna? Is that what you're trying to say?' His eyebrows lifted and he looked almost happy.
'I'm sorry, Mr Calder. We haven't found your wife. What I'm doing just now is examining some cases where the missing person fits some of the criteria for a known offender to see if we might be able to clear up some outstanding disappearances. ' She gave a quick smile, hoping the lie would stand up to doorstep scrutiny.
Calder frowned. 'What do you mean, criteria? What sort of criteria?'
'I'm sorry, I can't tell you that. It's confidential. Possible contempt of court down the line, you see?' Wrap things up in enough verbiage and people would fall for anything. She hoped.
'I'll need to see some ID before I let you in,' he said, thrusting his jaw out defiantly.
'No problem.' Charlie produced her Home Office ID.
'You've come a long way,' Calder said, opening the door and signalling she should enter. The hallway was as bare and cold as the street outside. Plain varnished floorboards without even a rug to enliven them, walls painted cream too long ago. There was a faint ancient smell of cooked meat. The room he showed her into was short on comfort. There was a wooden-framed three-piece suite that looked like it had been a G-plan copy back in the sixties. The cushions were thin and depressed. Half a dozen hard dining chairs stood against the wall. The only decoration was three elaborately embroidered samplers with biblical texts. Even from a distance, Charlie could see the work was exquisite. 'What beautiful samplers,' she said, stepping closer to one to take a look.
'My mother's work.' Calder spoke abruptly, as if the subject was already closed. He waved Charlie to a chair but didn't sit himself. Instead, he stood in front of the unlit gas fire, hands balled into fists in the pockets of his loose grey cardigan. There was no offer of tea or coffee. 'I must say, I'm glad to see Jenna hasn't been completely forgotten by the police. The locals frankly couldn't care less.'
'It was the local police who suggested this might fit our other cases,' Charlie said. Small white lie, but Northumbria Police had been kind to her. They deserved the return of the compliment. 'I'm familiar with the circumstances of your wife's disappearance, ' she added hastily, having little appetite for another rehearsal of the facts. 'I've seen the files. But you knew your wife better than anyone and I'm interested in your theory of what might have happened. What was your first reaction when you realised she wasn't home when she should be?'
His face twisted through pain to embarrassment. 'I know it sounds silly, but the only thing I could think was that she had been kidnapped.'
'You didn't think she might have been in an accident?'
He shook his head. 'I'd have been informed. Jenna always carried her handbag with her personal details.'
It was a curious thing to be so definite about, Charlie thought. 'But why would anyone kidnap your wife?'
'We belonged--' He caught himself. 'I belong to an evangelical Christian church. We campaign actively against the sin we see in our society. At the time of Jenna's disappearance, we were protesting vigorously against the opening of a homosexual bed and breakfast on the front here at Roker. We were gaining a groundswell of support. I wondered if she'd been kidnapped to make us back down. I thought then - and I still think now - that those creatures are capable of anything.'
Charlie always hated these moments where she couldn't fight back against bigotry because drawing out the information was more important than taking on the prejudiced. Instead, she bit back her measured retort and said, 'But you had to abandon that theory when you discovered your wife had packed a bag?'
Calder chewed the corner of his lower lip. 'It appeared I could have been wrong,' he said.
'So what did you think then?'
He gave a short, sharp sigh. 'I didn't know what to think. As far as I was concerned, our marriage was as strong as it had ever been. I had no indication from Jenna that anything was wrong between us.' He looked up at the far corner of the room. 'But Jenna had not always been in the church. She had left behind her a life of terrible sin before she was born again in the blood of the lamb.'
'You think she went back to that life?'
His eyes slid over Charlie on their way across the room. 'Not from choice. But I've read things about the after-effects of drugs. That people can have flashbacks. Events that alter their perception of reality. I think she must have had something like that. Some sort of mental breakdown.'
'And is that what you think now?'
He folded his arms tightly across his narrow chest. 'I think she's dead. I think she had some kind of breakdown that made her leave us. And then something else happened. Someone killed her. Or the Devil spoke to her and persuaded her to kill herself. So she never had the chance to repent and return. What else makes sense?'
'You don't think she left with another man? To start a new life?' He said nothing, simply shaking his head, his mouth clamped in a thin tight line. 'She'd walked away from the past before, Mr Calder.'
'She wouldn't have left the child. She knew we didn't get along, me and Jennifer. She'd have made other arrangements. She'd have made sure Jennifer was sorted out properly.' He turned away and walked to the window, looking out into the street, fists leaning on the sill.
'I've read Jennifer's book,' Charlie said.
He whirled round, his face animated with scorn. 'That disgusting abomination? She had the gall to send me a copy. I threw it in the bin. I won't have the words of Satan in the house.'
'So you won't be aware that Jennifer's account of that last morning was different from the version in the police files?'
'How could I? I wouldn't sully my eyes with that claptrap. Let me tell you, Dr Flint, I wish I had the money to take her to court. That book is a filthy libel from start to finish. So it doesn't surprise me that you've caught her out in a lie. I've prayed over that girl's soul night and day, and that's how she repaid me. But what can you expect from a pervert?'
'She says you and her mother were trying to arrange a marriage for her. Is that the sort of thing you had in mind when you said Jennifer would have made arrangements?'
'Exactly,' he said, triumphant now. 'We were already making plans. Plans, I might say, that would have saved Jennifer from this life of degradation that she's embarked on now. It wouldn't have been long before she was married. Even supposing Jenna had decided she wanted to go, she could have waited that little bit longer. She wouldn't have just run off on a whim. Not without another explanation. Like a breakdown. It couldn't be another man. That could have waited, you see.'
'Jennifer wasn't at school that day,' Charlie said. 'Did you ever wonder if she knew more than she was letting on?'
Calder shook his head. 'Jenna was gone by the time she got back from the dentist. She took to her bed because she was feeling bad so she never noticed her mother wasn't back till I got home. I left her here while I went to check whether Jenna was still down at the Riverdale flats. But the place was empty and locked up. When I got hold of the warden, he said there had only been a couple of them there that day, finishing some stuff off. And he didn't think Jenna had been one of them. When I came home and told Jennifer, she was distraught. I could tell she was really upset. She wasn't putting it on. She was only sixteen, she wasn't that good an actress. You generally knew what Jennifer was feeling,' he added bitterly. 'She left us in no doubt about that.'
'That discrepancy I mentioned, between Jennifer's book and her statement, it's to do with the trip to the dentist. She never mentions the dentist. She says she went to the flat in the morning, only to find it was locked up and nobody was there. But you just said the caretaker told you there had been a couple of people there, finishing off. Why would there be these two different versions?' Charlie had initially dismissed the diverging stories. Now she wasn't so sure that was right.
'Because she's a little liar.' He looked as if he wanted to spit a bad taste from his mouth. 'Anything to make herself seem important. Trying to put herself in the spotlight. She was ruined by the time she pitched up here. If I'd had her from a baby, it would have been a different story. I don't believe she was at the flats that morning. She was at the dentist. Little liar.'
There didn't seem much point in persisting in the teeth of such vehemence. 'Jennifer seems to think her mother ran off with Rinks van Leer. Her old boyfriend.' Charlie kept her voice even and emotionless.
'She wasn't with him. I checked myself. And so did the police. Jennifer got that wrong. Fantasy and lies, all of it. I don't believe she even knew the man before she joined that project at the Riverdale flats. The other volunteers said as much. They were friendly, but nobody except Jennifer thought there was anything going on. But for whatever perverse reason, Jennifer wanted me to believe this man had come out of Jenna's past and spirited her away. Nonsense. Pernicious nonsense. But I expect nothing else from her. Not a word of gratitude for the years I clothed and fed her and put a roof over her head even though she was another man's child. I know my Christian duty.' He came to an abrupt halt, two spots of pink colour on his cheeks.
'I'm sure you do,' Charlie said, the words sticking in her throat. Unbidden, an old memory of Jay surfaced in her mind, standing on the fringe of some group at a party. Sensing Charlie's eyes on her, she'd glanced up, her face as wary as a strange dog on the edge of a clearing. With hindsight and experience, the circumspection that had always lurked at the back of the charisma made perfect sense. Growing up around this man, it couldn't have been easy to find a way to flourish. How many times had he tried to trample Jay's spirit into the dust? Had Jenna felt torn, or had she abdicated everything to the blood of the lamb? 'Was Jenna a gullible woman, would you say?'
'She had allowed others to have sway over her in the past, when she walked in the ways of sin. But after she accepted Jesus as her saviour, she was wholly a woman of God. Her faith was her rock. So she wouldn't have fallen for something that ran against her beliefs.'
Charlie nodded, pretending she was satisfied. 'Well, Mr Calder, I'm sorry to have wasted your time. It looks to me as if it's very unlikely that your wife was a victim of the man we're interested in.'
He bowed his head. 'Thank God for that. Against all the odds, I still pray that one day she will walk through that door, ready to be forgiven.'
Charlie stood up. 'I do so hope you're right,' she said, wishing with all her heart that Jenna had really run off with Rinks van Leer. Or anybody, really. Unfortunately, she couldn't quite bring herself to believe it. But she was done with Howard Calder. Wherever the answers to her questions lay, it wasn't in this shrivelled excuse for a home.