by Jane Isaac
‘I’ve spoken to Marie Russell,’ Beth said. ‘Apparently members of the media are already gathering outside their house, vying for information. I’m on my way there now.’
‘Good. Vic Russell rang earlier and chewed my ear off, so expect emotions to be running high. We’ve got Judy in the press office organising an urgent conference later this morning. We need to manage this carefully, Beth. Make sure it doesn’t escalate. Any enquiries or questions, I don’t care what it is, direct them straight to the press office.’
13
Vic Russell was kneeling in the hallway when Beth arrived, fastening his son’s school shoes. Beth greeted Marie at the door and wandered in, passing him a brief, ‘Morning.’
He ignored her. The Velcro ripped as he tore away the strap and reapplied, then sent his son to collect his book bag.
‘What went wrong?’ he said to Beth when his son’s small frame had disappeared up the stairs.
‘We’re trying to establish—’
‘Yesterday, we were specifically told not to say anything to anybody,’ he interrupted. ‘Then we wake up this morning with the press on our doorstep. I’ve seen the article online. It sounds to me like you guys can’t keep your mouth shut. Or don’t bloody know what you’re doing.’ He sunk his hands deep into his pockets and stared at her defiantly. ‘It wouldn’t be a first.’
‘It wasn’t us,’ Beth said, keeping her voice calm. ‘A reporter spoke to someone at the building site. We’ve already visited the individual, reminded them it’s a police matter and asked them to keep their account to themselves.’
‘It’s a bit late for that. And now we have to endure all this—’ he waved an arm at the door ‘—until you can be sure whether or not the child found is Alicia. I take it you still don’t know?’
Beth sighed inwardly. Even she had been shocked at the horde of reporters filling the pavement outside the Russells’ house when she arrived. Word had certainly spread fast.
‘Not absolutely,’ she replied. ‘But we have arranged for a press conference later this morning to update the media and will be asking them to respect your privacy.’
He scoffed. Zac trudged down the stairs, wrestling with the strap on his book bag. ‘Come on, lad,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and face the circus.’
He stomped past Beth, one arm looped around his son. The door slammed behind them.
‘He doesn’t like any upset around Zac,’ Marie said. ‘We haven’t told him about Alicia.’ She swiped a hand across her forehead. ‘God knows what we are going to say to the poor child. We’ve told him we don’t know why the reporters are out there at the moment, that it might be something to do with one of the neighbours, but he’s not going to believe that for long.’
Beth followed Marie into the kitchen. Cereal bowls and mugs littered the table from breakfast. The aroma of fresh coffee was pungent in the air. Beth’s eyes flitted to the clock as Marie collected the crockery and opened the dishwasher. It wasn’t yet 8 a.m. Surely school hadn’t started yet. ‘Do they always leave this early?’ she asked.
‘Zac has football training before school on a Wednesday morning. Vic likes to watch when he can. I’m not changing his routine,’ she added defensively.
‘We wouldn’t expect you to.’ Beth placed her bag on the table. ‘Can you describe exactly what Alicia was wearing on the day she disappeared?’ she asked, changing the subject.
Marie snapped the dishwasher closed. ‘I’ve gone through this a million times. A towelling vest, my mother-in-law was crazy about them, bought me a dozen when she was born.’
‘Only a vest?’
‘It was a hot day. She’d been sick in the morning. I’d stripped her back to her vest and nappy, with a sheet over her. It made sense to leave her like that, keep her cool.’
‘And did she have anything else with her?’
‘A cream shawl in her changing bag.’ She moved across to the kettle and flicked the switch. ‘You need to check the files.’
‘A crocheted cream shawl.’
Marie stopped in her tracks and turned, the colour draining from her face. ‘It is her, isn’t it?’
‘We can’t be absolutely sure until we get the DNA test results. But the description certainly matches.’
Marie clamped a hand across her mouth, smothering a squeal.
Beth pulled out a chair. It rattled as Marie slid into it.
Beth busied herself with making tea. She closed the door to block out the reporters’ voices filtering through from the street outside and searched the cupboards for mugs, tea bags, milk.
It was a while before Marie spoke. ‘You must have known this yesterday.’
‘Only an arm and hand were visible initially,’ Beth said. ‘It took a while to uncover her.’ She didn’t go into specifics. It didn’t seem prudent to release information about the gruesome circumstances until identity was confirmed and even then, it was only worth telling the family if it was relevant. There was no point adding yet more grief to a pile already brimming.
‘Do we know how she died yet?’ Her voice was barely a whisper.
‘Not yet. I’m sorry.’
A yell cried from outside, penetrating the closed kitchen door. It grew louder as Beth opened it. She moved into the front room and looked out of the window. A Mercedes was passing through the crowd outside on its way down the street, the angry driver leaning out of the window shouting a string of expletives at the reporters as he told them to move out of his way. She watched it disappear.
Back in the kitchen, Marie was still at the table, staring into space, her face taut.
‘I do have some more questions,’ Beth said.
A low-bellied roar sounded from outside.
Marie ran another weary hand across her forehead. ‘We’ll go into Vic’s cinema room. He had it soundproofed so he could watch his films at full volume without upsetting the neighbours.’
Beth grabbed the mugs of tea and followed Marie into a large room at the back of the house. Daylight streamed in from patio doors at the end, bouncing off the white walls, giving it a bright and airy feel. A synthetic floral scent met her, like that of a plug-in air freshener. Marie invited Beth to sit on one of the three grey sofas, arranged around an oversized television on the wall. A thick-pile grey rug covered the wooden flooring.
Beth felt an urge to probe Marie more, ask her about her relationship with Vic and how they met, but now wasn’t the time. The early days of an investigation were tricky. She needed to build a rapport with Marie and gain her trust.
She settled into her seat and surveyed their wedding photo on the side wall, beside a collection of photos of Zac, taken at various stages of growth. A family liaison officer was trained to filter through the content of everyday life, to fade into the background and observe. In a cold case, with the passing of time, this was extra difficult.
The detective in her was also bitterly aware that most people were killed by someone close to them; the loss, the grief, the doctor’s reports on file that confirmed Marie was suffering with depression, and the numerous trips to her GP and health visitor all bothered Beth.
She pressed her lips together. ‘Do you feel up to talking to me about the time that Alicia disappeared?’
Marie averted her gaze. She looked tired, weary. ‘What can you do that hasn’t been tried already?’
‘There’s a strong possibility we have Alicia now. Which means we have forensics, the chance of new evidence.’
‘I’m not coming back down to the police station.’ Her shoulders quaked. ‘Even the smell of that place makes me sick.’
Beth was taking a risk here. The DCI hadn’t asked her to take another account; there were no tape recorders, no cameras here to record it. If they proved the child was Alicia and concerns were raised about Marie’s original evidence, the woman would need to be interviewed again formally at the station. But Beth was struggling to get a feel for the case. Fifteen years ago, Marie was distraught, grieving and suffering from post-natal depression. Per
haps now she was better placed to make sense of what happened. She needed to wind the clock back, though it was a fine line, a delicate path, to be navigated carefully. ‘I’m not asking you to. We can talk here, now. You and me. What do you say?’
A glance at the door.
Vic would be back from the school shortly. He was protective of his wife and clearly didn’t want her unduly upset. From the look in his eyes earlier and his reaction to the press presence, Beth suspected he would resist her questions. ‘Why don’t you tell me about what happened after Liam died?’ she asked.
‘Why?’
‘I’m trying to understand. If we’re to review the case, the more I can learn about what happened, the more I can help.’
Marie stared at the floor. She seemed hollow, empty, the years of unexplained loss draining every ounce of strength from her. ‘I don’t remember much, it’s all a bit foggy. It was difficult. I was feeding and caring for a new baby, while grieving for another.’
Beth pulled the notebook from her bag and turned to a fresh page. ‘Go on.’
‘The depression was tough. All I wanted was to be left alone and given time to come to terms with everything. But that wasn’t an option. Every time I looked at Alicia, I could see Liam.’
‘Did they look alike?’
Marie gave a single nod. ‘Daniel and his mum organised Liam’s funeral, insisting on a Catholic service, even though they’d never been particularly religious. I didn’t want it.’ She closed her eyes, shuddering at the memories. ‘I was raised as a Catholic but later gave up the church. They wouldn’t listen though. Kept saying, “It’s important to give him a proper send-off.” I’ve got patchy memories of a tiny white coffin with silver handles. Most of the day passed in a blur. Daniel went back to work a week or so afterwards. I didn’t want him to, but we had a pile of bills to pay and funerals don’t come cheap.’ She gazed into space. ‘That first morning was the worst. When he left the house and his car pulled off the drive, I’d never felt so alone.’ A tear slipped down her cheek. ‘I tried to get on; Alicia took her feed and immediately fell back to sleep. But the house was so quiet. It’s hard for a new mum, you know. I was scheduled in for a Caesarean but went into labour earlier than expected and left work suddenly. I missed the hustle and bustle of the sales office where I used to work. There were always phones ringing, colleagues chatting. To go from that to being at home alone with a baby is difficult. The emptiness and silence. I couldn’t stop thinking about little Liam.’
‘What about friends and family? Did they help?’
‘People visited at first, especially after the birth. Friends from work, family. Nobody really knew what to say. I was tearful. I knew I was suffering from depression and couldn’t take anything because I was breastfeeding. Then, when Daniel returned to work, they stopped coming. Looking back, I guess I probably made them uncomfortable.’
She pulled a tissue from the box beside her and wiped her nose. ‘We were young, Daniel and I, only just twenty-two. We’d been together since school. I was delighted when I got pregnant, couldn’t wait. When I found out it was twins it was the icing on the cake, a ready-made family. But I struggled to cope with losing Liam, couldn’t get my head around the grief. My mum came over for a while. She couldn’t stay for long though.’
‘How long have your family lived in Australia?’ Beth asked. She’d read the case file, already knew the answer, but wanted to keep Marie talking.
‘They moved out there when I was nineteen. I had a job here, a steady boyfriend, and didn’t want to go. I lived with my gran until she passed away, eighteen months before the twins were born, and stayed on in Gran’s house after she died. I had no other family nearby. Most of my friends were at work.’ She looked away. ‘We had a few…’ Her face folded. ‘A few problems at the beginning. I didn’t produce enough milk. And the bottle gave her colic.’
‘What about Daniel’s family?’
She huffed. ‘His mum was next to useless. I’d never been good enough for him in her eyes and when I lost Liam… I don’t know. She seemed to disapprove of everything I did. “You’re young and strong, you don’t need pills,” she said when I was diagnosed with depression. “Breast is best,” when I struggled to feed. She wasn’t a fan of powdered milk.’
‘You didn’t get along?’
‘Daniel’s mum was… different. His mum and dad separated when he was four. None of the kids remember their dad. Apparently, he was a drinker, prone to gambling. She moved them down here from Liverpool after Scott was born and raised them all singlehandedly.’ She shook her head. ‘They lived in her shadow. Hated upsetting her. All apart from Scottie, the younger one. Nothing ever seemed to bother him. I used to wind Daniel up, call his mum a matriarch. Not to her face, mind you. Wouldn’t dare.’ She turned to the glass doors and stared out at the lawn beyond. ‘Doesn’t matter now. She passed away fourteen years ago.’
‘Was there no one else?’
‘My sister-in-law, Daniel’s twin, visited. She was constantly buying Alicia gifts – dresses, hats, baby shoes. I wouldn’t care, it was such a hot summer she hardly had a chance to wear them. Spent most of the time in a vest. The shawl in Alicia’s changing bag, the one she disappeared with, was bought by Cara. Oh, and Scottie called in occasionally. He loved Alicia.’
Beth recalled Cara and Daniel’s comments about their elusive brother. She was tempted to press Marie, but now wasn’t the time. She needed to keep her on track, note every detail of her account and check it back with the case file at the office for consistency. ‘How did you manage after Daniel went back to work?’ she asked.
Marie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Alicia would feed and then cry until she wore herself out. She cried so much I thought she was ill. I took her to see the doctor and they said there was nothing wrong with her. “She just needs to find a routine,” the health visitor said. “It’s quite normal for a new mother to be concerned.” Nothing I could do made it easier. Daniel and I barely saw each other. I was so exhausted I followed Alicia’s sleep pattern and slept when she did, which was usually in the evenings. Most of the time I didn’t know what time of day it was, let alone what day of the week.
‘Daniel reacted by working longer hours. When I was pregnant, we’d decided to extend the house to give us three bedrooms. We wanted the kids to have one each. Daniel decided to do it himself, to keep the costs down. He’d already started on the foundations before I gave birth. When he went back to work, he said he was putting in the overtime to pay for the extension. I think he stayed away because he didn’t know how to deal with me. We only had one car which he used, so I was stranded at home with an unsettled baby.’
‘That must have been difficult.’
‘It was. For a while I felt like I didn’t belong to this world anymore. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was heading for a breakdown. Then I discovered walking.’
She looked across at Beth, almost as if this was a revelation. ‘I’d put the baby in the pram. Well, the car seat – she preferred to sleep in there. We had one of those modern travel systems, you know, where the car seat attaches to the top of the pram. People used to tell me off, say she should be lying flat, but, honestly, in those early days anything that got her off to sleep was a godsend. And she slept flat in her cot at night. Anyway, I’d click it on, stroll down to the shops, walk into town, or wander out to the country. It was summertime and the fresh air was like an injection of adrenalin, sending Alicia off as we trundled along. If I was tired, I walked around the block, then came back and caught up with my sleep. I started to feel better, more like my old self. Caught up on the washing, unpacked the dishwasher, emptied the ironing basket – all jobs I’d been leaving for Daniel.’
‘So, things were improving?’
‘That’s what I don’t understand. The walking was helping Alicia and me. We were finally finding a routine. She was crying less, sleeping more. I walked to the shops the morning she disappeared to get provisions for dinner. I wanted to make s
omething for Daniel. Was planning for us to eat together after I put Alicia down in the evening, like old times.’
Beth gave a sympathetic smile. ‘Would you be comfortable talking me through the day Alicia disappeared?’
Marie glanced again at the door. ‘I don’t know, I’ve been through this so many times.’
Beth held her ground. The transcripts from Marie’s initial interview had focused on how often she visited the shops where the incident occurred, and whether she always took the same route. Marie had said her movements were erratic; she took different paths to the shops and with a newborn there was no regularity or routine to her day. But Beth wanted more. She wanted to be transported back there. To see the event unfold through Marie’s eyes. ‘There’s a possibility we’ve now found your daughter,’ she reiterated. ‘She’ll be examined thoroughly, her clothes tested for fibres and particles. This gives us the best opportunity to find out who took her and what happened. To do that, we need to go back to the beginning and re-examine all the evidence, all the accounts, afresh.’
14
There was something about the smell of a kill, that pungent aroma of a dead body that awakened the senses. He pulled up at the traffic lights and braked. The crime scene yesterday was the trigger he’d been waiting for; justice was so close now he could almost smell it.
The lights changed, he continued down the road, taking a left at the next roundabout. He was in the heart of Kingsthorpe now; a stone’s throw away from the building site. The news last night had been surprisingly vague: a child’s remains had been found by a contractor working on the new housing estate on the edge of Kingsthorpe. No specific details. No information about the body. No identity. It was time to re-visit the crowds at the crime scene, listen to the reporters’ chatter, find out what else they’d gleaned.