Wrongful Death

by Lynda La Plante

  Anna was relieved that it was only a twenty-minute journey, as she found herself nervous behind the wheel of the powerful Mustang. The mall itself was enormous and as it was early, she found a parking space quite easily. Orientating herself with the map from the case file she started on the walk to the Anderson house on Hallard Drive. Anna realized that Mandy’s route was through middle- and upper-class residential areas, apart from a three-minute section along the side of woodland, which could be seen clearly from the main road.

  Number fifteen Hallard Drive was a two-storey wood-cladded house in the centre of a winding road. The front porch was a pristine white, with a screened front door, small swing bench and a garage to one side. Anna had not noticed a church and, checking the map, realized she would pass it on the return journey to the mall.

  ‘Hi, I’m Sally Anderson. Are you Anna Travis?’

  Anna looked up and saw a woman coming down the driveway.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Anna said, realizing Don must have rung the couple already.

  Sally Anderson was a very pretty woman with pale blue eyes and dark hair with streaks of grey. The case file said she was forty-five, but she looked much older and Anna suspected that the stress of Mandy’s disappearance had aged her prematurely.

  ‘I was so deep in thought and admiring your lovely house I didn’t see you,’ Anna apologized.

  ‘Please do come in, and don’t worry, we’re used to people stopping and staring. Thankfully things aren’t as bad as they used to be,’ Mrs Anderson said, and Anna presumed she was referring to the press interest their daughter’s case must have brought to the community.

  The front door of the house opened directly into the living-come-dining room, which was well furnished and immaculately neat and tidy. The wooden floor, cabinets, table and chairs were all old-style but looked remarkably new and were well polished and shiny. A large wooden crucifix of Jesus on the cross hung above the small log-burning fireplace. The other walls had photographs of Mandy at different ages, and her parents.

  Sally explained that her husband Peter was at the supermarket but she was keen to show Anna Mandy’s bedroom and took her upstairs.

  ‘We have left the room exactly as it was when she went missing. I just dust, vacuum and keep it aired. Please feel free to have a look round while I make a coffee or would you prefer tea?’

  Anna could see that Sally was distraught and still believed that one day her daughter would be back. ‘Thank you very much, a coffee would be lovely.’

  Anna smiled at Sally sympathetically, knowing with reasonable certainty that Mandy would never again return to the house.

  Mandy’s room was large and decorated with colour co-ordinated pinks. Anna smiled as she recalled her own room when she was a little girl, a princess’s abode and the castle where she was safe and could be whoever she wanted to be. The bed had a soft pink quilt and pillowcases; the curtains were white with little pink rosebuds that matched the wallpaper. A silver-framed photograph of Mandy in her choir robes was on the bedside table. Anna recognized it as the same picture in the case file. She opened the white wooden wardrobe and saw stacked in one corner a pile of unopened presents, some covered in ‘Sweet Sixteen’ gift wrap, reminding her that Mandy disappeared a few days before her sixteenth birthday.

  Anna sat on the small white stool in front of the pink, Cinderella-style dressing table on which were stacked about twenty birthday cards. She noticed that the envelopes were sealed but each one was the same pink colour. She thought this unusual and knew that it should be standard procedure for an investigating officer to check who sent every card and see if there were any from someone unknown to the parents. She wondered if this had been the case and Sally Anderson had then resealed all the cards.

  In the dressing-table drawer, Anna found a small 2011 diary, which she opened and turned to the 21 May, to find that it had CHOIR PRACTICE 3 P.M. written in it, but recalled the case file said that there was no prearranged choir practice on that day. Anna was surprised the original investigation had missed the significance of this entry. There was the possibility they thought it was an error by Mandy but she wondered why Mandy would write something in her diary that was not true – was choir practice an entry to cover a secret meeting? Anna also considered it could have been cancelled or simply Mandy making a mistake. She flicked through page after page, wondering if any of the other choir practice entries might be false and if the church would still have a record of the practice times so she could compare them against the diary.

  Anna went downstairs and joined Sally in the living room. She had made a pot of fresh ground coffee and laid out some cupcakes.

  ‘The birthday cards and presents, I noticed, are still all sealed and wrapped,’ Anna remarked. ‘Did the investigating officers look through them?’

  ‘Yes, they were all from friends and relatives. I resealed them all and rewrapped the presents,’ Sally said with a sad look.

  ‘Do you mind if I take the cards and Mandy’s diary with me?’

  ‘No, not at all. Is there something in the diary – a clue maybe?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, I need to look at it in more detail,’ Anna told her.

  Sally began talking about Mandy’s prowess on the piano and had just moved on to her singing in the choir when Peter Anderson arrived home. He was smartly dressed in a blue shirt and pleated trousers but looked aged beyond his years, no doubt from the stress caused by the disappearance of his daughter. Peter sat next to his wife on the sofa.

  ‘From the moment we reported our daughter missing, we assisted the local Sheriff’s Office in every way we could,’ he explained. ‘We were initially treated with sympathy and respect. After four weeks with no sightings or clues as to Mandy’s whereabouts the Sheriff asked for the assistance of the FBI. Overnight, things changed dramatically, all because of the opinion and recommendations of one of their behavioural profilers.’

  Anna could sense the increasing anger in Mr Anderson’s voice as he went on to explain that the profiler had said that Mandy was either abducted off the street or more likely had returned home, where something untoward had happened to her. Anna, realizing he didn’t know the name of the profiler, nodded and let him continue.

  ‘The sole basis for this was that statistically parents or other family members of the victim’s commit the largest percentage of child homicides,’ he said, pursing his lips. ‘The FBI came to OUR HOUSE, ripped it apart and desecrated OUR DAUGHTER’S bedroom, searching for supposed clues that I was her killer. I was arrested and questioned for two days.’

  ‘We felt so low,’ Sally added, and started to cry.

  ‘Don Blane stood by us all the way. He protested my innocence in church and told the congregation the vicious hate campaign against us had to stop. I can honestly say if it wasn’t for him, Sally and I would have moved away ages ago.’

  Blane’s personal involvement was way beyond what Anna had imagined and she felt humbled that he had asked her to look at the case.

  ‘Will you find Mandy?’ Sally asked.

  It was a familiar question for Anna in missing persons cases, but still one she dreaded and always found difficult to answer.

  ‘I wish I could say, yes, Sally, but I can’t. I can promise you that during my time at Quantico I will work with Don and do everything in my power to find out what happened to her,’ Anna said quietly and sincerely. Before leaving, she asked Sally who she thought were Mandy’s closest friends. The woman told her that Julie Collins was her best friend and lived at 58 Lincoln Avenue, the same street as the church.

  Walking slowly along the pavement, taking in the peaceful sunny surroundings, Anna couldn’t get over how pleasant the area was. Nice homes, children in the street riding bikes and playing on front lawns. Anna thought about Mandy’s room and what it had revealed about her. Nothing suggested she was in any way promiscuous – if anything the decorations were childish for a girl who was nearly sixteen. Everything about her was angelic, apart from the blip when she discovered
she was adopted, but that did not seem to have been a lasting problem after Don became involved.

  Ahead of her was a distinctive building with a large sign saying ST COLUMBA’S CATHOLIC CHURCH. It was different from what Anna was expecting – brick built and very modern, no steeple or cross but a large glass entrance in the shape of the cross. It had a stark look to it and stood on a large plot of land alongside the priest’s house and a separate community hall, with woodland at the rear. Anna could hear the sound of a piano playing ‘Rock of Ages’ coming from the hall next door, so thought it might be the resident priest.

  As she walked over to the door the music stopped and on entering she saw a raised stage at the far end with a grand piano on it.

  ‘Hello, Father, are you there?’

  A tall freckle-faced young man with ice-blue eyes, pale skin and red hair that was gelled and sticking up came out of the backstage darkness. He looked to be around eighteen and was about six feet tall.

  ‘I heard the piano and thought it was the priest playing,’ Anna said.

  ‘That was me; did you like it?’ he asked brusquely, and sat back down on the piano stool.

  ‘Yes, it was very accomplished indeed. Is the priest about?’ Anna asked as she stepped up onto the stage.

  ‘No, Father O’Reilly’s out on parishioner visits. I’m keeping an eye on things till he’s back. I’m Jack Brennan. You’re not from round here, are you?’

  Anna couldn’t help but notice that Jack spoke in a machine-gun staccato manner and showed little facial expression, though he seemed very pleasant. His surname sounded familiar but she wasn’t sure if she had seen it in the case file.

  ‘I’m Anna Travis and I come from England.’ She smiled.

  ‘England, wow, I’ve always wanted to go there. I’d like to see the Tower of London and go to the Royal Opera House. Have you been to them?’ he asked, suddenly full of enthusiasm. His eyes lit up when Anna said she had.

  ‘Do you know when Father O’Reilly will be back?’ she asked.

  ‘Before five, ’cause he has a vigil mass then. Have you seen Manchester United play soccer?’ he said, the tone of his voice again changing when he asked about something he was interested in.

  Anna confessed that she hadn’t and Jack looked a bit dejected, as if she had let him down by not having watched United play. From his reactions and behaviour, Anna wondered if Jack had some form of autism spectrum or attention disorder. He began to play ‘God Save the Queen’, telling Anna it was to remind her of home, and she nodded her approval at his note-perfect ability.

  As he played, Anna got out her notepad and started writing down her details and mobile number for Father O’Reilly and added that she’d like to speak with him about Mandy Anderson.

  Jack suddenly stopped, got up and stood beside her, towering above her as he looked over her shoulder to see what she was writing. It didn’t feel to Anna that he was being rude but more something that was just part of his physical makeup and natural inquisitive behaviour.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s just a note for Father O’Reilly,’ Anna said.

  ‘Why do you need to know about Mandy?’ Jack asked, causing her to stop and glance up. She noticed that there was a look of concern on his face.

  ‘Did you know Mandy Anderson?’

  He nodded. ‘She was always nice to me and helped me with the piano and my singing,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Well, I’m helping to try and find her.’

  ‘I helped as well, everyone around here did but they never found her,’ he said with a sad expression. Anna moved closer.

  ‘You must miss her.’

  ‘We were at the same school and played piano duets in church sometimes, and we were both in the choir. She was a better singer than me, the best voice in the choir – it will never be the same again without her.’ He turned away abruptly, and sat back at the piano.

  Anna nodded, although she could think of a lot more to be heartbroken about than losing the best singer in the choir. She asked him if he used to hang around with Mandy and her friends and he said that he didn’t as they never invited him and he didn’t think they liked him. He ran his big hands along the piano keys and then blinked.

  ‘Well everyone apart from Mandy, that is.’ Anna felt quite sorry for Jack, realizing he was probably one of those kids who was teased or bullied by others because of the way he looked and acted.

  ‘Would you do something special for me?’ Anna asked.

  Jack instantly stopped playing the piano and looked at her inquisitively. ‘What?’

  ‘I need to be sure that Father O’Reilly gets this note. It’s important and could help find Mandy.’

  Jack took it from her and placed it in his pocket. ‘You can count on me,’ he said with a beaming smile.

  As Jack took the note, Anna noticed that the back of his hands looked red raw and scratched.

  ‘That looks painful.’

  ‘It is. My dad told me off, said I should have known better,’ he said ruefully.

  ‘Known better about what?’ Anna enquired.

  ‘I was clearing some bushes at the back of the church by the woods and forgot about the Jimson weed. The sap caused a bad rash,’ he said, pulling up his shirt sleeves and showing Anna the front and back of his hands and lower arms, which were covered in bumps and blisters. She commented that it did look very sore, and Jack told her it wasn’t that bad. Anna felt there was a sweet innocence about the young man as she reminded him to make sure the priest got her note. He gave her a thumbs-up.

  As she walked down the path away from the church hall, Anna heard Jack start to play a tune that sounded familiar but she couldn’t quite place it. She wanted to stop and listen some more but knew there wasn’t the time as she had to get back. As she continued her journey towards the shopping mall it seemed increasingly unlikely that Mandy could have been openly abducted off the street from either route she might have taken that day. If she had got in a car willingly then it had to be with someone she knew and trusted.

  There were no cars in the driveway of 58 Lincoln Avenue, Julie Collins’ house, but Anna could hear pop music coming from an open window. She guessed, owing to the volume, that Julie might well be in on her own. Ringing the doorbell a couple of times, she got no answer, so she waited until there was a gap in the music and held her finger down on the buzzer. The music stopped and a few seconds later the door was opened by a young girl in bare feet, with heavy makeup and short brown hair, dressed in a loose T-shirt, no bra and cut-off jeans.

  ‘My mom and dad are out and I don’t want to buy anything or become a Jehovah’s Witness. Thanks anyway,’ she said abruptly, and started to close the door.

  Anna introduced herself, showed her FBI card, and said that she wanted to speak with Julie Collins about Mandy Anderson.

  ‘I’m Julie. Have they found Mandy?’ the girl asked excitedly.

  ‘I’m sorry, she hasn’t been found. I’m helping on the case and was told that you were her best friend.’

  Julie invited Anna into the house, which was very similar to the Andersons’, though slightly bigger and with minimal religious artefacts. She took Anna through to the kitchen, got herself a can of Diet Coke and sat down with Anna at the kitchen table. Anna asked her to go over the day she last saw Mandy and in particular if there was anything strange or different about Mandy’s behaviour. Julie said that Mandy was her normal self and that they had gone to the mall at about ten, and were just hanging out looking in the shops, and talking to other friends they ran into while there. It was about two p.m. when Mandy left, claiming she had choir practice.

  ‘You said that you went into the shops – did Mandy buy anything that day?’ Anna asked.

  Julie frowned, looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought, trying to remember an incident that was by now two years old. Anna waited, but Julie said nothing and tapped her fingers on the Coke can.

  ‘It doesn’t matter how inconsequential it might seem, anything you remember might just be useful
.’

  ‘There was something she was looking at, but it was just a cheap little camera gadget, a sort of secret agent spy thing.’

  ‘Tell me what you remember about it?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Okay, she said she wanted to go to Prezzies to have a look round. It’s a kind of gift and gadget shop, and she picked up a key ring that had this tiny little camera that took real pictures.’

  ‘Did she buy it?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I remember she showed it to me. For fun I grabbed it and took a photograph of her.’

  Anna couldn’t recall having read about the camera in the case file. Julie finished her Coke, crushed the can in her hand and threw it into the kitchen bin.

  ‘Slam dunk,’ she said.

  Anna was trying to be patient, but knew that the purchase of the camera could be vital new evidence.

  ‘Julie, I really need to know: did Mandy buy the camera?’

  Julie sighed and shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but she bought a birthday card in another shop.’

  ‘Did she say who for?’

  ‘No, and I didn’t ask.’

  ‘Could she have had a boyfriend you didn’t know about?’

  ‘You kidding? Around here you can’t fart without someone noticing. We tried to set her up with a boy once at the church disco, but it was a disaster.’

  ‘It wasn’t Jack Brennan, by any chance?’ Anna asked.

  Julie burst into laughter. ‘You gotta be kidding, even Mandy wasn’t that desperate.’

  ‘I got the impression they were friends, she helped him with the piano and singing.’

  ‘Yeah, but only ’cause she felt sorry for him. He’s kind of weird, comes and stands next to you and listens in on conversations, then starts talking about something completely different.’

  Anna wondered if Julie simply resented Jack because she saw him as ‘different’.

  ‘He seemed pleasant enough to me when I met him earlier,’ Anna remarked in the boy’s defence.