The Last Witness (32 page)

  Crowley was looking at him keenly. ‘So, if we’re to believe this tape that she’s not been abducted – then why the secrecy with you not knowing where your wife is or what car she’s driving?’

  ‘I’m aware that the Ryalls probably wouldn’t share that view. They’d want Lorena back straightaway. Particularly Mr Ryall…’ Gordon nodded towards the tape, but Crowley held his gaze with worn indifference. ‘He wouldn’t be keen on Lorena receiving counselling. But Lorena desperately needs those two or three days for a few sessions to be put in.’

  Crowley nodded thoughtfully. ‘You seem eager to tell me, so it might as well be now: why wouldn’t Mr Ryall be keen on Lorena receiving counselling? What’s the supposed problem between him and Lorena?’

  ‘Well, uh…’ Gordon was caught momentarily off-balance being asked straight out. ‘She’s afraid that her stepfather might be interfering with her.’ The statement still sounded lame, unable to carry the weight of all the connected horrors it mentally ignited, even with the pause for emphasis.

  ‘I see.’ Crowley pursed his lips and looked down. He’d in fact heard a part of this already from Nicola Ryall, in one of the few moments he’d been able to get any sense from her amidst her panic and screaming to please find her daughter,
Please!
Halfway through his interviews at the school, news winged in that a pupil had seen Lorena leaving the playground and thought she recognized the woman with her:
‘Mrs Waldren, lives up the top of Chelborne Chine.’
Mrs Ryall seemed relieved at first at this news: at least some mad stranger didn’t have her child. But then panic quickly set in again, as if other connected consequences had suddenly dawned on her. Crowley asked if she had any idea why Mrs Waldren might take Lorena, and she’d told him about the two visits from Social Services with Mrs Waldren in tow.
‘Mrs Waldren has some crazy, misguided notion that there’s a problem between my husband and Lorena.’

  Crowley contemplated Gordon steadily. ‘You said that Lorena was
afraid
something might be happening with her stepfather… doesn’t she know for sure? Has the girl said nothing directly in that respect?’

  ‘No… it was all mainly from her dreams, she couldn’t be totally sure.’ Gordon realized then that Crowley had probably heard something already from the Ryalls. He tried to add ballast so that it didn’t come across as so tenuous. ‘That’s why the recommendation for psychiatric counselling – to try and make sure one way or the other.’

  ‘I see. Only in her dreams.’ Crowley’s tone was vaguely mocking. ‘And what did the social services say?’

  Gordon sighed heavily. Crowley seemed intent on throwing out the ballast, making his explanation not just tenuous but almost laughable. ‘The social services worker who interviewed Lorena on two occasions along with my wife in fact recommended counselling. But her supervisor apparently had other ideas – mainly courtesy of Mr Ryall trapping the officer and my wife by taping their last interview with Lorena.’ Gordon forced a tight
‘I bet the Ryalls didn’t tell you that’
smile.

  Crowley’s eyes flickered only slightly before recovering. He leant forward, resting his hands resolutely on his knees. ‘But the upshot is that the social services saw no reason finally for Lorena to have counselling. Lorena herself has made no direct accusations, it’s all just in her dreams… so in the end your wife decides to take the law into her own hands and abduct the girl.’

  Gordon shook his head firmly. ‘No, no… it wasn’t like that. For God’s sake, you’ve listened to the tape. If Lorena didn’t want help, my wife wouldn’t have–’ Gordon faltered, realizing his voice had raised, he was almost shouting. Crowley’s soft Dorset brogue had a lulling effect, as if this was all just a cosy fireside chat. And his appearance – pressing forty with fast thinning blonde hair, rumpled brown suit which had seen better days – made him seem worn, tired, almost past caring. But his sharp, pale blue eyes warned of stronger metal beneath, and meeting them steadily now it dawned on Gordon that the sharp about-turn with pressure was purposeful: Crowley was getting the rise out of him he wanted. Crowley was obviously going to be a stronger adversary than he’d first judged, but there’d be more than enough to raise Crowley’s hackles over the coming hours: no point in going head-on with him now. Gordon tempered his voice. ‘Well – my wife simply wouldn’t have taken Lorena if it wasn’t something the girl wanted, that’s all. That’s why the tape was made, so that not only was my wife sure of that – but you also.’

  Crowley looked back at the cassette recorder. The tape certainly muddied the chances of any clear-cut procedural line. Minutes before arriving to confront Gordon Waldren, his immediate boss, Inspector Turton, raised him on the radio to advise that he’d just had Cameron Ryall on the phone ranting and demanding fast and firm action. Turton had assured that he was taking full personal control of the investigation, but privately to Crowley he admitted that he had no intention of getting hands-on unless or until it was clear that the girl had been abducted or was in danger. This was going to be an interesting conundrum for Turton: Ryall would no doubt scream that she
had
been abducted, whereas the Waldrens, supported by Lorena on tape, would claim that she hadn’t. The only saving grace was that Ryall might be unlikely to scream too hard and push things to a press appeal, given that the reason for the girl being taken would also no doubt come out. Innocent or not, some tar was bound to stick. And what if the Waldrens were right? His own daughter was only a couple of years younger than that now. The thought made him shudder. He decided to give the soft approach one more try.

  ‘I can sympathise completely with what’s behind your wife doing this – that is,
if
her suspicions are right. But if she’s wrong, just think of what she’s putting the Ryalls through right now. And unfortunately it’s not our job to judge whether or not her action might be justified: regardless, she’s broken the law. And so the quicker we can talk to your wife and sort this all out, the better. So again I urge you, Mr Waldren, to tell us your wife’s whereabouts and what car she’s driving?’

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s more than my life’s worth… I gave my wife my promise. In any case, I don’t know exactly where she is right now.’ Which was partly true: he wasn’t sure if she was still in England or would have crossed to France by now. Would Crowley have already put out an alert? If so and Elena hadn’t yet hit customs, that’d probably be the furthest she’d get. Maybe that was what the Constable outside was waiting for news on. Gordon felt suddenly hot, a faint film of sweat rising on his forehead. He resisted the temptation to check his watch and forced an apologetic smile as he looked towards the window and the intermittent radio squawks from outside. ‘Still, I’m sure that won’t hold you up long from finding out what car she’s driving.’

  Crowley grimaced tightly and looked down for a second. He didn’t want to just revert again to a hard line, so he decided to go in-between. At least it would put Gordon Waldren on a tight time leash. ‘Look – you’ve obviously made the tape to argue the case that your wife hasn’t abducted Lorena. To try and keep your wife clear of a jail term for this. And while right now that argument might just wash – as the hours pass with the Ryalls worried sick and screaming for action, that’s going to quickly fade and attitudes will harden. So I’m going to cut a deal with you, Mr Waldren, one that hopefully I can sell to both my superior and the Ryalls: if your wife can get Lorena Ryall back by say–’ Crowley glanced at his watch ‘–Midnight tonight, I’ll recommend that charges for abduction not be pursued, and that we put this all down to an unfortunate mix up. But if not…’

  Gordon was shaking his head. ‘I’m not sure that my wife will be in touch any time tonight for me to pass on that message… even if she might agree to returning Lorena straightaway.’

  Crowley held Gordon’s eyes for a moment. He seemed to be sincere. At length a reluctant nod. ‘Okay – I’ll stretch that to 10.30 am tomorrow, eighteen hours from now. But already I’m pushing things to the very limit – so try not to let me down. If you can sell that to your wife, you have my word that I’ll do everything I can to make it stick my end. But after that time, I’m afraid, a nation-wide alert will go out and your wife will be tracked down as a common criminal.’

  Gordon closed his eyes for a second and nodded. ‘Yes, okay. I’ll do my best.’ He was trembling from the confrontation. It was clear now that after tomorrow morning, Elena was facing a jail term for this, and he was pretty sure already that she couldn’t make it back by then.

  ‘Well, we at least have hopefully reached some understanding on this, Mr Waldren.’ Crowley left his direct line number, and with a final curt nod left with his assisting Detective and the Constable manning the door.

  As they pulled away, the Constable he’d left in the car informed him that vehicle registration had two cars listed for the Waldrens. ‘…And I’ve already eliminated the Suzuki Jeep parked in their drive. Which leaves a Saab 900 – three years old from the registration. What do you want me to do?’

  Crowley eased back in his seat and let out a faint sigh. He paused for only a moment. ‘Ask central to put out an all-points alert, county and nation-wide, including customs points.’ Turton’s directive had been to wait until he’d visited the Waldren’s home before putting out an alert, just in case they had Lorena tucked away in a bedroom. Crowley felt a stab of guilt lying to Gordon Waldren, but then so was everyone else: Turton to Cameron Ryall, and no doubt Waldren too. Gordon Waldren probably knew exactly where his wife was right now. But at least it was only a low-level alert for now – missing persons instead of abduction and kidnapping. Turton had advised initial caution. And if they apprehended her before tomorrow morning, Crowley had every intention of keeping his promise about charges not being pressed –
if
he could convince Turton and Ryall. He’d said only that he’d try his best, no more.

The camera clicked repeatedly as the two naked girls slithered and writhed over Georges laid out flat on the bed.

Viana and the other girl, a luscious green-eyed blonde escort called Eve, started at opposite ends: Viana took him in her mouth while Eve licked his nipples, then they changed position for a moment before Viana slid on top of him, Eve guiding him slowly home. The camera clicked repeatedly, and Roman found himself getting excited looking on from the back of the room, despite the fact that it was Viana. The drug was working as per the recommendation: Georges could still hold an erection, in the same way as a sleeping man having a wet dream, but was out cold, would remember nothing. Roman was probably getting more sensation from just watching than anything Georges might be enjoying.

  The photographer had to set up some of the shots: placing Georges’s hands on Viana’s and then Eve’s hips as they rode him, pulling his eyelids open for some shots so that it looked like he was staring up at them. For the rest he made do either with profiles or where it might look like Georges’ eyes were closed in abandon. Viana had taken off her face mask, and at Roman’s instruction the photographer was careful to keep her just in profile, her bruised side concealed.

  As they finished, something in the way Roman surveyed Georges’ body on the bed, as if gloating in the control he had over him, made Viana ask what he planned to do with Georges. ‘You promised that you wouldn’t harm him. I wouldn’t have had anything to do with this if I thought you were. You said that it was just to make the cut clean with Simone.’

  ‘That’s right, that’s right. It’s just a spoiler ‘cause he’s doing the dirty on Simone. But I don’t remember saying nothing about not harming him?’ That teasing, mocking smile which now she knew so well, then his face suddenly became dead-pan, stern. He reached out and lightly pinched her cheek, her bruised side. ‘Don’t worry your head none about what I’m going to do with him. Whatever it is, it ain’t going to happen here. We’ll have him dressed and out of your place in no time.’ One last pinch, harder, which made her gasp in pain. ‘You did good, that’s all you need to think about.’

The sign flashed by:
Béthune 8km.
A ballad in French played on the radio, the sound on low. Elena would turn it up when songs came on in English, particularly ones Lorena recognized and liked.

  Elena looked thoughtfully towards Lorena. They’d stealthily avoided the subject so far, their conversation had been light, incidental, but Elena found her thoughts turning to it more and more, particularly in the silent lulls.

  ‘You know, if you did want to say anything more about what happened with Mr Ryall – we’re away from there now. You don’t have to worry any more about what you say because he’s hovering in the next room.’

  Elena watched Lorena’s expression keenly. Weak sunlight flickered through the trees, Lorena’s light-brown hair intermittently strobe-lit silver, translucent. Lorena bit lightly at her bottom lip, pausing for a second.

  ‘I was nervous in the interviews, yes… thinking about what he’d say or do afterwards. But that wasn’t why I said nothing then.’ She shook her head. ‘I just couldn’t remember being awake when anything happened… not for sure at least.’

  ‘It’s okay… you don’t need to explain.’ Watching Lorena’s small face tense, grapple for images that were either out of reach or pushed there by her psyche for her own protection, Elena wished she hadn’t asked. But Lorena simply shook her head again; she appeared too wrapped-up in her own thoughts to take heed.

  ‘It seemed so real, him touching me, his voice in my ear… I imagined I could almost feel his breath against my cheek. But then when I awoke in the morning, I just couldn’t remember another time that I was awake in the night. And the dreams too had seemed so real… you remember?’ Lorena looked directly at Elena.