Behind Closed Doors (20 page)

How desperate Sophie’s life had become: losing her mother, finding her father more interested in a new baby, being bullied at school . . . More than enough to drive a teenager into running away.

Thanks for making me want to kill myself.

As the echo wrapped itself round her heart, Andee got to her feet. ‘Come on,’ she said, pulling Alayna up, ‘one of us has an early start in the morning, and though you might not need your beauty sleep, I certainly do.’

Tucking an arm through her mother’s as they started along the hall, Alayna said, ‘Going back to Dad . . .’

‘Let’s not.’

‘But you can’t keep hiding from it, Mum.’

Suppressing a smile, Andee said, ‘I promise you I’m not.’

‘I think he is, though.’

Wondering how she’d worked that out, Andee said, ‘You think too much.’

‘I reckon I can see things you can’t. It’s easier when you’re looking from the outside.’

‘I don’t think being our daughter exactly puts you on the outside.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I do, but this conversation is over for tonight,’ and dropping a kiss on Alayna’s head, she gave her a gentle push into her room and closed the door.

‘A SHOE?’ ANDEE
repeated, her insides knotting with the dread of what this could mean. ‘What kind of shoe?’

‘A girl’s shoe,’ Leo replied, turning to the incident board. ‘Apparently it was found here, in a rock pool.’ He was pointing to a spot on the map at the far end of the beach closest to the Kesterly peninsula, where a treacherous area of rocks, caves, jagged reefs and hollows of quicksand was constantly thrashed by the waves. No one could survive a fall from those cliffs into such a maelstrom. A body could be washed away and might never come back.

Thanks for making me want to kill myself.

‘When I said what kind of shoe, I meant is it a trainer, a pump, a sandal . . .’

‘A trainer,’ he provided.

‘And we know it’s a girl’s because?’

‘It’s mostly pink.’

‘Where is it now?’

‘On its way here. It’s a size four apparently.’

Jemma was checking the case notes. ‘According to Heidi Monroe she wasn’t sure whether Sophie was wearing trainers or flats when she left the house that night. Apparently she’s size six, or thirty-seven, but that doesn’t correspond. Thirty-seven is a size four.’

Remembering the CCTV of Sophie coming down the steps next to Alfie’s Pie Shop, and later leaving the club, Andee decided she couldn’t have been wearing trainers. On the other hand she could easily have changed into them sometime later.

‘Get on to the FLO and explain that we need a correct shoe size for Sophie. She’ll know how to handle it. Has anyone from the media got wind of it yet?’

‘No calls so far,’ Leo replied. ‘Could be no one’s up yet.’

Since it wasn’t quite seven in the morning, he could be right.

Andee turned away as once again Sophie’s words echoed in her mind.

Thanks for making me want to kill myself.

Had things really been so bad that she’d actually wanted to die? How frequently had she said it? Or even thought it? Was it possible she’d persuaded Sikora to drop her off near the cliffs that night? Had she wandered to the edge and stood staring out to sea, or down at the rocks, feeling they were her only way out?

Her eyes closed as Penny’s chalky face from last night’s dream rippled before her; she could hear screams, police sirens, sobs, her mother wailing . . . She felt uncomfortably hot all of a sudden, nauseous and in desperate need of air.

‘The local police in Krakow have had a chat with Sikora,’ Leo announced. ‘Apparently they’re satisfied Sophie isn’t with him.’

Reading the incoming information over his shoulder, Andee said, ‘Maybe she isn’t now, but he could have dropped her anywhere by the time they spoke to him.’

‘If she really did go with him. No prints taken from around the window of the bungalow are a match for Sikora’s or Perkins’s. Footprints under the window were a non-starter, much as we expected. Oh, and the computer recycling guy? He does exist. He hangs around stores like Curry’s and approaches those who come out with new computers in the hope of getting their old ones for free. He then turns them around and gives them to local charities.’

‘Can he remember what he did with Sikora’s?’

‘Not exactly, but he says even if he could it would be stripped of all its previous information by now, if it wasn’t already.’

Nothing was ever straightforward. ‘OK. What are you doing?’ she asked Jemma.

‘Leo and I are about to go and have a chat with the Poynters,’ Jemma reminded her.

‘Actually, I want you to go and talk to Estelle Morris again,’ Andee decided. ‘Leo, see if Barry’s free to go with you. While you’re with the Poynters keep in mind that you’d turn left out of the campsite to go to their place, which of course was empty that night, so it could be where Perkins and Sikora took Sophie when they left the campsite. Check to see if there’s any CCTV around their property, people like them often have it. It wouldn’t take much more than five or six minutes to get there from the Cove, and chances are Sikora has keys to the place. He could have dropped Sophie and Perkins off and been home and tucked up in bed not much later than his usual time.’

‘Morning everyone,’ Gould greeted them, strolling into the room with a takeout coffee and doughnut.

‘I was about to come and see you,’ Andee told him. ‘A girl’s shoe’s been found. No positive ID on it yet, but there’s a chance it could be the right size. Did you get anywhere with involving Interpol?’

‘I’ve just walked in the door,’ he reminded her, ‘but I can tell you this much, without actual footage of Sikora driving off with the girl they’re not going to take it.’

Annoyed by the truth of that, she took out her phone and tried Sikora’s number for the second time that morning. Going through to voicemail she repeated her last message, ‘Tomasz, it’s DS Lawrence. I’d like to speak to you again so please call me. You have the number,’ and clicking off she connected to Kasia Domanski. ‘I’m sorry to call so early,’ she apologised, after explaining who she was, ‘but I’d like to know if you heard from Tomasz overnight?’

‘Yes, I did,’ Kasia replied. ‘He says he called you.’

‘He did, but I need to speak to him again. Is he still in Krakow?’

‘Yes, but he says he is hoping to be home by Sunday or Monday.’

It would be good to believe that. Kasia clearly did. ‘Did he say anything else?’

‘Not really, just that he was concerned about the children and was going to bring them presents.’

‘OK. If he gets in touch with you again and he hasn’t already spoken to me, please ask him to ring.’

After ending the call she stared hard at Gould. ‘You know, I keep thinking there’s something we’ve missed,’ she informed him.

‘Such as?’

‘If I knew that we wouldn’t have missed it.’ Suddenly turning to Jemma, she said, ‘Have you spoken to the FLO yet today?’

‘It’s still a bit early,’ Jemma pointed out.

‘OK. I’ll call the Monroes to tell them about the shoe. We don’t want the press getting hold of it first.’ Picking up a phone she dialled the number, apologising once more for calling so early when Gavin’s gravelly voice came down the line.

‘Have you found her?’ he demanded. ‘Is she with him?’

‘We’re still checking the information that came in overnight, but there’s nothing so far to give us a lead.’

‘I see.’ His voice was flat, drained of belief in their ability, of hope that he would ever see his daughter alive again.

‘The reason I’m calling is because our records are showing a discrepancy in Sophie’s shoe size,’ she told him carefully.

‘Is that important?’

Though she might want to, she wasn’t going to lie to him. ‘A trainer’s been found. I haven’t seen it myself yet, but I’m told it’s pink and a size four. We’re wondering if it could belong to Sophie?’

Knowing this had probably hit his heart like a punch, she gave him a moment to reply.

‘Where – where did you find it?’ he asked eventually.

‘On the beach.’ No need to mention anything about cliffs at this stage.

‘You mean the beach here?’

‘At the Skippers end of the Cove.’

He fell silent.

‘Size?’ she prompted gently.

‘I don’t know. I . . . I’ll speak to Heidi.’ Moments later he was back saying, ‘She’s a size six and she doesn’t have any pink trainers.’

So not likely to be hers. ‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling no small relief.

‘I think we might find her today,’ he declared, sounding suddenly upbeat.

Touched by the flare of hope, and remembering only too well how uplifting, energising, those moments could be, she said, ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to take another look round her room.’

He sounded baffled, thrown. ‘I thought you . . . Is there anything in particular . . .’

‘Not really. I’d just like to get a feel for it again.’ Since the room wasn’t a crime scene it hadn’t been torn apart during its first thorough search, and it wasn’t her intention to do that now. She just wanted to be there to see if she could pick up on some essence of Sophie, a feeling of something she couldn’t imagine right now that might turn out to be significant.

‘OK. We’re here,’ Gavin said. ‘Come whenever you like.’

Ringing off, she glanced at her watch. ‘OK, everyone meet back here at one,’ she instructed. To Gould she said, ‘Unless something breaks between now and then I think we should set up a press conference for this afternoon, so the Monroes can make their appeal.’

He nodded slowly. ‘I’ll get on to the press office, and let them know,’ he replied.

An hour later Andee was driving into the campsite when Dan Wilkes came through on the Airwave. ‘We’ve heard from the police in Krakow again,’ he told her. ‘Apparently one of their officers paid Sikora’s mother a visit,
at home
, and she says she hasn’t seen her son since May.’

Andee’s heartbeat jarred. ‘Go on,’ she said.

‘That’s all,’ he responded. ‘Still nothing on Perkins.’

More irritated by that than surprised, Andee asked, ‘Does Gould know about this latest from Krakow?’

‘Yes, he does.’

‘So he’s pressing harder for Interpol’s involvement? We need Sikora taken in for proper questioning.’

‘All Gould said was that we still don’t have anything that actually connects Sikora to Sophie’s disappearance.’

Thanking him abruptly Andee pushed her way through the press scrum outside the bungalow, informing the reporters as she went that there were no further developments at this time. As she reached the front door it opened before she could knock.

‘I saw you arriving on telly,’ Lauren Mitchell, the Monroes’ FLO, explained. The girl was in uniform, minus her cap, and with her silvery-blonde hair and girlishly ruddy cheeks she didn’t appear, at least to Andee, very much older than Alayna.

‘How are they?’ Andee asked, as Lauren closed the door.

‘I’d say agitated,’ Lauren replied. ‘They’ve been talking about making flyers and posting them around town . . .’

‘Her face is on the front of every paper this morning,’ Andee pointed out.

‘That’s what I said, but you have to understand their need to do something.’

Of course – and out of nowhere a terrible memory assailed her of how her father used to ride buses around town, stop strangers in the street and trawl homeless shelters in search of his missing daughter.

How could she have forgotten that? She could see him now waiting at the bus stop for Penny to come home from school, and as though it were happening right now she could feel his wrenching despair when the bus pulled away, leaving him standing there alone.

She glanced down the hall as Heidi Monroe came out of the kitchen. With her plaited hair and fresh clothes she was looking better than when Andee had last seen her, though there was no mistaking the tremor in her voice as she said, ‘Would you like some coffee? I’ve just made some.’

‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ Andee replied. ‘How’s Archie this morning?’

Heidi’s smile was fleeting. ‘Asleep, thank goodness. He’s been awake half the night.’

As she disappeared back into the kitchen Andee and Lauren followed.

‘I’m thinking about getting the train to London,’ Gavin announced as soon as he saw Andee. ‘A mate of mine in Kesterly said he’ll make some flyers for us. I could post them round the stations and ask if anyone’s seen her.’

Realising he’d temporarily detached from reality, Andee let it go as she said, ‘We’d like to broadcast an appeal this afternoon.’

His face became pinched as he registered the words.

Passing her a coffee, Heidi said, ‘Gavin mentioned you want to look at her room again.’

Andee nodded.

‘She’s not there,’ Gavin said. ‘I keep looking.’ His laugh had no humour. ‘Daft, isn’t it? I mean, I know she’s not there, but I keep hoping I’m wrong. I tell myself the next time I open the door she’ll be lying on her bed, or sitting on the floor, or feeding the birds.’

Remembering doing exactly the same in Penny’s room, telling herself it was all a dream and if she looked hard enough she’d wake up and Penny would be right where she belonged, Andee felt almost stifled by pity. ‘Would you like to come and look with me?’ she offered.

Though he shook his head he was already getting to his feet.

Minutes later they were standing in bright bands of sunlight streaming through chinks in the closed curtains of Sophie’s room. They could hear the reporters outside, but it wasn’t possible to make out what they were saying. The blare of music from the funfair was horribly jarring.

‘Like a Virgin’, by Madonna.

She wondered if Gavin had registered it.

‘Where do you want to look?’ he asked, casting a hopeless eye around the room.

‘Why don’t we start with her dressing table?’ Andee suggested, and putting her coffee down she opened the top middle drawer.

‘We’ve had it all out, so did your lot when they searched the place,’ he told her.

‘I know. I just want to be sure there’s nothing we’ve missed.’

Finding only hairgrips, elastics, chewing gum and a pack of matches she moved on to the drawers either side.