She's Mine

by Claire S. Lewis

  He turned round. ‘Shall I call your parents?’ he said. ‘I know you haven’t spoken for a while but it may help to talk to your father. He of all people may be able to give you some comfort.’

  She gave a rasping laugh. He should have known that this was a ridiculous suggestion. Gabrielle kept her parents out of their lives. This time she hadn’t even told them she was pregnant.

  ‘What about Lara? Should I call her? Do you want to speak to her?’

  Gabrielle jerked her head. His words cut through the smog of her suffering. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  ‘I didn’t know you had her number,’ she said.

  Lara had changed all her contact details and cut off all communication with Gabrielle when she moved to her new place in New York.

  ‘So, you’ve stayed in touch,’ said Gabrielle with bitterness. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ Gabrielle braced and screwed up her face as another contraction took hold. ‘As you should know, Lara’s the last person I want to speak to. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction.’

  As soon as the pain of the contraction began to ebb away, she ripped out the drips attached to her wrist, tore off her jade earrings, staggered to her feet and kicked away the car seat.

  ‘Why the fuck did you have to bring that in?’

  She picked it up and flung it as hard as she could at the window.

  The safety glass shattered but did not fall, and the car seat bounced back onto the floor, where they watched it rocking until all was still.

  22

  Scarlett

  I’ve had another fitful night. I couldn’t get hold of Costa. His wife has probably got him under house arrest. And I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that Damien might have driven Christina off to some remote location on the other side of the island and murdered her. I know it sounds crazy but ever since Katie disappeared anything seems possible.

  Although it’s still dark, I decide to go to the hotel gym for a morning workout before the heat gets up. I haven’t had the heart to keep up with my usual exercise routines. The sadness and stress of losing Katie has sapped all my energy. But today I feel that a good pounding on the treadmill might help to calm my nerves.

  By the time I’m finished, I’m dripping with sweat but feeling a lot more chilled. Now the sun’s out and the birds are singing, my fears of last night seem absurd. Damien left a short message on the phone in my hotel room last night, effectively just telling me that he was taking good care of Christina and ordering me to hold the fort at the hotel and wait for further instructions. But I can’t get hold of Christina. Still, there’s no point imagining the worst. She’s probably just ignoring my texts. Costa, on the other hand, finally replies to my text of last night – just a few brief words, but it’s enough.

  Relax. I’ve got the address of Christina’s villa. I’ll explain more later.

  So, he’s located them.

  Perhaps my imagination has been running away with me. If it was Damien who took out The Phantasea the night before last it was probably only for a night cruise of boozing and gambling with his dodgy mates. Even so, I think it’s weird that Christina hasn’t called me. Have I done something to offend her? Other than losing her daughter, that is! But this is no time for black humour. I need to stay strong and one hundred percent focused on the search for Katie.

  This morning I’m going to ask Marco in the hotel’s marketing suite to print off five hundred A4 posters, with a blown-up image of Katie holding out the shells and the words STILL MISSING in large black letters at the top. I took the photograph just before I passed out under the parasol. It’s the last photograph of Katie which Christina and I saw at the police station – but the police poster was too small and too limited in distribution. I’m going to make sure everyone round here gets to see it.

  My plan is to walk into town and go to every shop and every market stall and every business, to ask them to put up the poster and call me if they have any information. I’ve put my number at the bottom.

  There could be lots of reasons why people are scared to come forward. It’s just possible that there’s someone out there who knows something but doesn’t want to have any contact with the police. They might be more willing to respond to this direct appeal from someone close to the family. What’s more, with the exception of Brenda, I don’t trust those lazy clerks in Costa’s back office to deal with this. They wouldn’t recognise a tip-off if it punched them in the face!

  While I’m waiting for Marco to do my printing, I get a call from Costa.

  ‘It’s all in hand,’ he says. Damien called him this morning with the address of the villa. It is part of his bail conditions that he has to provide his address at all times. ‘I was able to speak to Christina,’ Costa tells me. ‘She is feeling unwell – emotionally and physically exhausted. She just wants us to respect her privacy and give her the chance to rest. They are going to lie low for a few days.’

  I send a text to Christina.

  I hope you manage to get some peace and quiet. You need to rest. Don’t give up hope. We’re hard at it here – we WILL find Katie – keep the faith. Any news, I’ll let you know at once. Scarlett xx

  Armed with my stack of posters, I walk up the dusty road into town. I don’t have a driving licence or the money to hire a car otherwise I would drive out to the villa myself. There’s no pavement so I’m walking in the road. A couple of motorists stop to offer me a lift but I’m not taking any chances. Others hoot as they speed by. I’m not sure if it’s my skimpy shorts or they just want me to get off the road. One dodgy character brakes and leans out of the window as he drives past, making obscene hand gestures. It’s scary enough for me but heart-breaking to think of Katie, God knows where, with people like him on the loose.

  Once I’ve handed out all the posters around town, which takes me the best part of two hours as everyone wants to give me their opinion on the tragic situation, I decide to look in on Costa at the police station. I’m desperate for news of Katie. Also, I need to finish going through that file of witness statements and sightings sent in to the police.

  The file is still open on his desk at the point I got to yesterday.

  ‘Have you got the fingerprints from the sandals and the purse?’ I ask him. Every procedure seems painfully slow on this island!

  ‘They made a mistake with the transparencies,’ he says. ‘I’ve sent them back for review.’

  ‘Well, you need to get them fast,’ I say. ‘Every minute counts. And you need to check the footage from the security cameras at the hotel. Unless it’s a ghost, whoever came into my room can’t be invisible.’

  He gives me a frosty look.

  ‘Don’t tell me how to do my job, Scarlett. These things take time.’

  ‘What about the CCTV at the harbour?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s in hand,’ says Costa and turns his back to me.

  He’s preoccupied this morning with another case involving extortion and corruption at the highest levels that’s been entrusted to him by the Commissioner. He admitted last night that he’s struggling to get to grips with the technicalities of the evidence, complex financial transactions involving international banks, a judge and a government minister. He told me he wants to do a good job because he’s counting on a promotion at his next pay review in a few weeks’ time. Besides, I know he’s arrogant and conceited – he won’t want to show his boss that he’s out of his depth.

  I can’t believe he’s wasting time on this new case when he should be channelling all his energy into finding Katie. ‘The world keeps turning,’ is his response.

  ‘I might be able to speed things along,’ I say impatiently, looking over his shoulder at the figures. ‘I’m surprisingly good at maths.’ He pushes me away and I go back to the file of evidence while he sits hunched at the desk, huffing and puffing over the compound financial calculations. The minutes pass. Every time I look up he’s leaning back in the chair looking at me, his eyes half closed.

  ‘For God�
��s sake, please can you focus on the search for Katie! You’ve wasted enough time on that.’

  ‘This won’t do at all,’ he murmurs to himself. ‘She’s one of my key witnesses.’ He gathers up the banks’ disclosure statements and locks them in the safe.

  ‘I’ve got some business to attend to at the court house,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  Not long after he goes, there’s a loud rapping on the glass partition and I look up to see Brenda pressing a piece of paper to the pane and mouthing something at me, her eyes wide open. As I stand up, she leaps to her feet and runs round into the office. She slaps the sheet down on the table in front of me.

  ‘You’ve got to read this. Just arrived in Costa’s email. I printed it off for you.’

  I’ve never seen Brenda move so fast.

  The email is an electronic copy of a statement taken yesterday. I guess it must have been given in response to Costa’s latest round of questioning and interviews – he was planning to contact all the hotel guests who’ve already left the island. I read through it three times with mounting excitement while Brenda sits watching me, drumming her long purple nails on the desk. If this doesn’t validate my theory about Christina and Damien, I don’t know what does. I can’t wait for Costa to get back.

  As soon as he walks through the door, I thrust the document into his hands.

  Witness testimony of Stacey Jackson (the “Witness”) dated 21 June 2015

  The Witness states:

  That she is a national of United States of America residing at Carrolton, Texas.

  That she was on vacation to Grand Carmola in the British Leeward Isles between 8 and 16 June 2015 where she and her family were guests at The Palm Reef Beach Club (the ‘Hotel’).

  That on 16 June 2015 she and her family spent the day within the grounds of the Hotel until their departure at 5.08 p.m. when they drove to Reef International Airport, Grand Carmola for their connecting flight to Dallas-Fort Worth airport which departed at 6.30 p.m.

  Concerning the facts under investigation the Witness testifies as follows:

  On 16 June 2015 the Witness was at the Hotel with her husband, Tom Jackson, and her daughters, Tayla, aged 7 and Sophie, aged 5. The family were at the Hotel pool from 10 a.m. until 12 p.m. where Tayla and Sophie, played with a girl, white, aged about four years, of slim build, height approximately 1.00 metres, with medium-length blonde wavy hair (the ‘Child’). The Child’s nanny introduced herself as ‘Scarlett’ and the Child as ‘Katie.’

  The Witness states that when she saw US media photographs and footage of missing person, ‘Katie Kenedey’ on her return to Texas she identified such images as being of the Child.

  The Witness testifies that the girls played on the lilo with the Child’s nanny. The Witness overheard the nanny explaining to her daughters that the Child didn’t talk much because she found talking very difficult but that she would like to play with them. The Witness assumed that the Child had communication difficulties due to special needs and was pleased to see the three girls playing together so nicely.

  At about 12 p.m. the family returned to their apartment for lunch on the terrace.

  At about 2.30 p.m. the family arrived at the beach to relax for a couple of hours before their return flight to Dallas Fort Worth. At approximately 2.45 p.m. the Witness’s husband, Tom, said it was too hot to sunbathe and told the Witness he was going for a walk along the beach to the lighthouse at Coral Bay. The Witness saw him exchange a few words with the nanny and wave to the Child who was playing near the water before he walked off in a westerly direction to the lighthouse.

  The Witness read her book whilst her daughters played in the shade of their parasol. From time to time, they ran down to the water and the Witness observed them jumping in and out of the water with the Child. At approximately 3.30 p.m., the Witness and her daughters went to buy ice-creams which they ate on the beach.

  At 4 p.m. the Witness and her daughters started packing up before heading to the hotel for showers. As the Witness was folding towels, she saw a woman she believed to be the Child’s mother (the ‘Woman’) (she had overheard the nanny, Scarlett, referring to the Woman as ‘Christina’ and ‘Mummy’ that morning at the pool), walking past. The Woman looked preoccupied and did not acknowledge her greeting. Before resuming her packing up, the Witness saw the Woman approach the Child who was playing on the lilo in the shallow water.

  A few minutes later, the Witness saw the Woman walking up the beach hand-in-hand with the Child. She was wearing blue-rimmed Tiffany sunglasses and had the Child’s lilo under one arm and a camera round her neck. Tayla and Sophie asked to borrow the Witness’s phone to take photos and ran up to the Child to say goodbye.

  The girls took turns posing for photographs. The Witness also recalls the Woman taking one or more photographs with her camera. Then the Woman told the Child she would buy her an ice-cream and they walked up the beach towards the snack bar. That was the last sighting the Witness had of the Child and the Woman as she then left the beach with her two girls.

  After the Witness and her daughters had showered in the Hotel gym her husband finally returned from the lighthouse at approximately 5 p.m. and changed from his trunks into a T- shirt and jeans. Then they loaded the suitcases into their hire car and set off at 5.08 p.m. The Witness recalls checking the precise time as she was worried they would miss their flight.

  The Witness states that she did not notice anything unusual about the behaviour of the Woman or the Child, who did not seem to be distressed or coerced. Regarding the Woman, the Witness states that she was wearing a pale sundress and flat sandals. Her toenails were painted a bright coral red. The Witness describes her appearance as white, above average height, 168 to 175 cm, about 32 to 38 years old, slim build, mid-blonde shoulder-length hair swept back from her face, attractive features and a tanned complexion. The Witness also noted that she was wearing a large gold Michael Kors wristwatch and gold earrings with pale blue stones.

  Regarding the Child, the Witness states further that the infant had ‘bright blue eyes and an engaging smile’. She didn’t speak and avoided eye contact with adults but was ‘smiley and relaxed’ with her daughters. She recalls that the Child was wearing a stripy pink one-piece swimsuit and pink jelly sandals.

  The Witness states that she became aware of the victim’s disappearance twenty-four hours after arriving home in Carrolton through the media campaign surrounding the Child’s suspected abduction. She was later contacted via email by the BLI police force as part of their appeal for information from all guests at the Hotel.

  This Witness Statement records the information the Witness gave to the police by telephone interview between 3 p.m. and 3.55 p.m. Eastern Time, 21 June 2015.

  ‘Looks like I owe you an apology!’ says Costa, when he finishes reading the statement. ‘Your theory isn’t so stupid after all.’

  I look at him triumphantly.

  ‘So you see my instincts were right! It’s her. She’s not a victim but a perpetrator – at the very least an accomplice.’

  I remember that Texan woman and her little girls. And I vaguely remember her husband coming up to speak to me on the beach. It’s all clouded by the effect of the drugs.

  ‘I agree this doesn’t look good for Christina,’ he says, ‘but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. After all, this is uncorroborated evidence. It could be a case of mistaken identity. Or the woman could have made it all up.’

  That takes the wind out of my sails as I scan through the statement again.

  ‘She does seem to have an unusually clear recollection of the details of Christina’s appearance,’ I point out. ‘The Michael Kors watch – I know Christina wears one. And the earrings with pale blue stones. As you know, she has a pair of blue jade earrings that she wears all the time. Either this woman Samantha has a great eye for detail and great recall or she’s trying to frame her.’

  I turn the page to look down the Witness’ personal details as recorded on the back of the Stat
ement.

  ‘Look here, Employment Details – she’s a talent scout for Blitz, a Dallas-based modelling agency,’ I say. ‘That may explain her eye for designer labels and make-up.’

  Modelling – that’s a coincidence.

  I keep that thought to myself.

  ‘Perhaps her husband has something to hide?’ I say. ‘He seemed a bit weird, as far as I remember. His manner was very awkward.’

  ‘I’ll check him out, past convictions, sex offenders register, the usual checks,’ says Costa, eyeing me coolly. ‘Try and think back, what did he say to you on the beach?’

  ‘Not much as far as I remember but he had no shame in looking me up and down.’

  ‘Mrs Samantha Jackson could have made the whole thing up to distract police attention from Mr Jackson’s unusual two-hours-and-fifteen-minutes’ absence on the beach,’ says Costa.

  Stranger things have happened.

  I flick through the rest of the file.

  ‘Where are the photographs taken by the girls? They’re not here. Get her to send them through, then at least we’ll know whether the child was Katie.’

  He walks out to the control room, and then returns.

  There are no photographs, he tells me. So it could have been another little girl or it could have been another day. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ he says. ‘She may be an unreliable witness.’

  Apparently, the woman’s phone was either lost or stolen while she and the girls were showering in the gym or on the way to the airport. She only discovered it was gone when they got to airport security and they didn’t have time to do anything about it.

  ‘Well, that’s a bit odd in itself,’ I say.

  ‘We’ll make enquiries at the hotel and at the airport,’ says Costa, ‘in case it has been found.’