Behind Closed Doors

by Susan Lewis

  Andee glanced at Gould.

  ‘Even if it turns out it was an accident,’ Gould said, ‘they still bundled her up in a roll of carpet, packed a bag to make it look like she was leaving of her own accord, stuffed her into a van and then dumped her in a lake.’

  Inwardly flinching, Andee told them, ‘I think she did it, and talked him into covering it up.’

  Neither of them disagreed.

  ‘But how we’re going to get them to admit that,’ she continued, ‘I really don’t know. I guess it’ll depend on how they plead when it goes to court. Until then, like you say, they both have to be charged,’ and deciding to let them handle it from here, she left the room.

  Several minutes later she was at her desk in the incident room, gazing at the whiteboard where Sophie’s photos were still hanging. She almost couldn’t bear to look at them, yet nor could she bring herself to look away. It would feel like a betrayal, a dismissal, when more than anything she wanted to fold this girl into her arms and do whatever it took to make her feel loved.

  Sophie’s favourite things: singing with Mummy and Daddy, making daisy chains, Daddy.

  How could it all have ended like this?

  ‘Are you OK?’ Gould asked from the door.

  Hot tears suddenly welled in her eyes. ‘He’s lost everything,’ she gulped, thinking of her own father.

  Going to her, Gould picked up her bag and put it over his shoulder. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you a drink,’ he said.

  Noticing a scrap of paper fluttering to the floor she stooped to pick it up, and seeing what it was she checked the time. It was too late to ring Suzi Perkins now; she’d do it in the morning.

  As they rode down in the lift she asked, ‘What’s happening in France?’

  ‘They’re sending divers down in the morning.’

  Though she wanted to be there to bring Sophie home, she knew it wasn’t possible, not only because the French would have to carry out a post-mortem before releasing the body, but because she simply had to be at Dougie’s funeral.

  What about Sophie’s funeral? Who was going to be there for that?

  As they reached her car she said, ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go straight home.’ Everyone would still be at the restaurant, and she needed to be alone to try and come to terms with how devastated she was feeling.

  If only they could have found Penny.

  Poor sweet Sophie.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, at the crematorium?’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied.

  His eyebrows rose, as though he might say more, but in the end he simply wished her goodnight and walked off to his own car.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING Andee was still at home when she left a message on Suzi Perkins’s voicemail to call back when she could. She wasn’t going to work today, her family needed her here, and she had to admit it was a relief not to be involved in dismantling the incident room.

  It was miserable outside, misty and rainy, with a feisty wind battering the headland as though to push it back from the sea. She couldn’t imagine a good atmosphere down at Blue Ocean Park, either for the CSI team, or the press, or the staff and residents of the campsite. Would the funfair still be spinning and flashing across the street, giant arms rotating like metronomes gone wild, dodgems thumping up against one another, shrieks, laughter, the thrill of the ride, music blaring?

  Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

  She wondered what the weather was like in France, how much progress the divers had made. Had they even begun? The thought of Sophie’s young body at the bottom of a lake kept stifling her, squeezing down on her chest as though to drown her too.

  Except Sophie hadn’t drowned.

  What had really happened that night? Would they ever get to the truth?

  Gould was liaising with the gendarmerie in Clermont Ferrand. He’d no doubt update her as soon as he had some news. By then the Monroes would almost certainly have appeared in front of a magistrate and been remanded in custody.

  Leo and Jemma were attending to that.

  Andee kept thinking about the baby and the dreadful start he was having in life. She wondered where he was now, and if the foster carers would be able to cope with his condition. Would they even understand it? Though she knew social services would do their best, they were appallingly short-staffed, so it wasn’t likely they’d be able to keep as close an eye on him as he needed.

  She’d make some enquiries next week, speak to one of the managers, if only to reassure herself that he was receiving the proper attention. If he wasn’t, she might be able to put some pressure on to improve things.

  ‘Hey Mum, you’re up early,’ Alayna said, coming into the kitchen with bleary eyes and mussed hair. ‘Even Grandma’s not awake yet.’

  ‘She’s having a bit of a lie-in,’ Andee told her. ‘We were up late last night, chatting.’

  ‘About Sophie?’ Alayna came to hug her.

  ‘Yes, about Sophie,’ and Penny, and how much easier it might have been for them if they’d been told Penny was dead. No, easy was the wrong word, but perhaps the suffering wouldn’t have gone on for so long if there had been some sort of closure. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, smoothing Alayna’s hair.

  ‘Yes, I think so. I just feel so sorry for her. Is it true her parents did it?’

  ‘They’re saying it was an accident, but the cover-up that followed isn’t helping them.’

  Gazing into her mother’s eyes, Alayna said, ‘I just can’t imagine you or Dad . . .’

  ‘Then don’t, because it’ll never happen.’ She pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Is Luke awake yet?’

  ‘He stayed over with Dad last night,’ Alayna reminded her. ‘We thought you should have one each of us this morning, you know, for a bit of moral support.’

  Touched by how sensitive her children were, Andee turned round as Maureen padded in to join them.

  ‘We were just talking about Sophie,’ Alayna said, going to her. ‘It’s terrible. I can’t believe it. What sort of accident was it?’ she asked her mother.

  ‘Apparently it was an argument that got out of hand. It’s tragic all round, because her parents are never going to forgive themselves, especially her father.’

  ‘It’s what’s concerned Mum the most,’ Maureen told Alayna. ‘She saw what Aunt Penny’s loss did to her own father . . .’

  ‘Please, don’t let’s dwell on it now,’ Andee interrupted, knowing today was going to be difficult enough as they gathered to say goodbye to Martin’s father. It was going to remind her so much of her own father’s passing, and how truly terrible it had been to let him go with Penny’s disappearance still unresolved. ‘Today is about Grandpa Dougie, remember,’ she said to Alayna, ‘and I should call Dad. Have you spoken to him yet this morning?’

  ‘No, but I texted when I woke up. I think he’ll be pleased to hear from you.’

  Andee couldn’t help but smile, and noticed that her mother had found the comment amusing too.

  Connecting to Martin, she said, ‘Hi, it’s me. Are you OK?’

  ‘Sure,’ he replied, sounding tired. ‘Can’t believe the day’s actually arrived, or that it’s even going to happen. What time did you get home in the end?’

  ‘Late, then I sat up chatting with Mum for a while. How’s Carol today?’

  ‘In a flap because her hairdresser’s late, and the caterer’s just informed us that they haven’t sourced enough chairs.’

  ‘Are they doing something about that?’

  ‘Yes, but yours truly has to go and pick them up. Luke’s coming with me. Luckily it’s not far. Are you going to make it today? I’ll understand if . . .’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she promised. ‘We all will.’ Finding herself alone in the kitchen, she said, ‘I haven’t put the TV on yet, have you?’

  ‘I have and it’s making headlines.’

  ‘Have they criticised the investigation?’

  ‘Not that I’ve heard.’

 
; ‘It’ll come. Anyway, let us know if there’s anything we can do at this end, otherwise we’ll see you at yours . . . What time are the cars turning up?’

  ‘Twelve.’

  ‘OK, we’ll be there by eleven thirty at the latest. I’d better go now, someone’s trying to get through,’ and clicking over to the incoming call she said, ‘Andee Lawrence speaking.’

  ‘DS Lawrence, it’s Suzi Perkins.’

  ‘Suzi. You wanted to talk to me?’

  ‘Yes, but only on the phone, if you don’t mind. I’m not at the salon any more, or the flat in town, and I don’t want anyone seeing me going into the station.’

  Curious, Andee went to pour herself a coffee as she asked, ‘So what can I do for you?’

  ‘It’s about all the trouble my brother’s in. I know he’s stuffed anyway, because of breaking his order, but I thought you should know . . .’ She took a breath. ‘You have to promise me you’ll never tell anyone where you heard this.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘OK, well the Poynters are running these shoplifting scams with some Eastern European connection. I don’t know exactly who’s involved, but my brother was. He won’t tell you himself because he hates the police . . .’

  ‘Suzi, when did you last see the news?’

  ‘I have to admit I’ve been avoiding it.’

  ‘Then if I were you I’d go and turn on the TV. A lot’s happened in the last twelve hours. But before you do, can we get you on this number if we need to speak to you further?’

  Suzi fell silent.

  ‘It might not be necessary,’ Andee assured her, ‘but . . .’

  ‘I want to start again,’ Suzi interrupted. ‘I’ve been offered a job at a new spa in Dorset. I don’t want this following me.’

  ‘I understand that, and there probably won’t be any reason for it to, but just in case . . .’

  Reluctantly, Suzi said, ‘OK, you’ve got my number, but I swear I don’t really know anything.’

  ‘All right. Good luck in your new job.’

  After ringing off Andee called the custody sergeant. ‘How are the Monroes this morning?’ she asked.

  ‘Quiet,’ he replied. ‘Neither of them ate breakfast. The van’s just turned up to take them to court.’

  Day one of a journey they’d never planned, and would never come back from. The irrevocable often made her feel panicked and helpless, and it was happening now.

  ‘So no changes to their story overnight?’

  ‘Not a word out of them, although she was crying a lot.’

  Unsurprised, she said, ‘OK, thanks. I should go.’

  Taking her phone upstairs she closed the bedroom door and scrolled to Graeme’s number. Instead of pressing to connect, she stood staring at it for a while, wanting to speak to him, but not sure what to say. Today was all about her family, which didn’t mean she should carry on as though he didn’t exist, because that wouldn’t feel right at all. He did exist and she was glad of it. Were it possible she’d go to him now, if only to look into his eyes as she told him what she was already typing into a text.

  Thinking of you. Missing you. Will call as soon as I can. Ax. After hitting send she sat where she was for a moment, imagining him picking up the message, and feeling relieved that she’d finally been in touch. She thought of other things about him, and her eyes closed as her breathing became shallow.

  Then, putting the phone aside, she went into the bathroom to start getting ready for Dougie’s farewell.

  By the time everyone had assembled at the South Kesterly crematorium it was past one o’clock, making it a late start for the service, but no one seemed to mind. If anything the atmosphere was almost merry as various luminaries from far and wide gathered outside the red-brick hall, along with over two hundred friends from the town, which was exactly how Dougie had wanted it. He’d left a detailed list of instructions concerning this day, from who he wanted to carry his coffin, to the celebrant he’d chosen, to who was to do the readings and what they should be. No flowers, he’d insisted, only donations to various local charities; no tears, only funny memories; and no hymns, just a few of his favourite songs.

  Although everything went off more or less as he’d planned, there weren’t many dry eyes by the time everyone started to file out of the hall. He’d been a popular man, and now he was no longer amongst them Andee could see how keen everyone was to talk to his son. Watching Martin as he accepted their condolences and listened good-naturedly to their stories, she was still feeling the warmth of his hand in hers, and the tightness of his grip during the more difficult moments of the service. Though his voice had faltered once or twice as he’d read the tribute he’d written, on the whole he was keeping it together well. The time for proper, private grieving wouldn’t begin until today was over.

  With Alayna and her mother either side of her, Andee took her turn to greet their friends as they spilled on to the forecourt, while keeping an eye on Luke, who was doing a magnificent job of supporting his father.

  How proud Dougie would have been of them.

  How fortunate her children were to be a part of this family.

  Though the sadness of Dougie’s parting was weighing on her, and memories of her own father kept swamping her, she still couldn’t stop thinking about Sophie, and how she too had once been at the heart of a loving family. How swiftly things had changed for her, how randomly, even cruelly life had thrown out its challenges with no direction on how to cope, or apparent care for how young and vulnerable she was.

  Catching Gould’s eye, she felt her heart turn over as she nodded to let him know that the news had reached her – Sophie’s body had been found and brought to the shore. Sometime within the next forty-eight hours they should know how she’d died, and soon after that she’d be brought back to Kesterly. A lonely, final journey with no one to meet her at this end. Andee was already dreading this.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked Martin as he came to join her.

  Nodding, he slipped an arm around Alayna and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Party time,’ he murmured, his eyes a little too bright as he managed to sound and look very like his father. Andee could tell how close he was to the edge and wanted to hold on to him, but she knew that any show of emotion on her part would only make it harder for him.

  Giving her a wink as though he might have read her mind, he said, ‘We won’t have much of an opportunity to talk today, but I was hoping I could see you sometime tomorrow, or . . .’ he shrugged, ‘whenever works for you.’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, suspecting she knew what it was about. She had so many decisions to reach over the next few days, questions to ask herself and answers to find, but she wasn’t going to think about any of them now.

  ‘A lovely service,’ Gould commented, coming to join her. ‘I get the feeling Dougie was in charge.’

  ‘Of course,’ she confirmed. ‘It made things a lot easier knowing what he wanted. Maybe we should all do the same.’

  He arched an ironic eyebrow. ‘The Monroes should be in front of the magistrate any time now,’ he said, glancing at his watch.

  Nodding soberly, she found herself feeling for their fear, until the thought of Sophie sucked up every ounce of pity in her heart.

  ‘Sikora’s disappeared,’ he told her.

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘Barry found the place deserted when he went round there earlier. Apparently the care home, where Kasia works, are saying she rang late yesterday to let them know she wouldn’t be coming in again.’

  ‘So they’ve done a moonlight?’

  ‘It would appear so.’

  Though not entirely surprised, she felt the frustration of not having Sikora’s evidence to help convict his employers.

  ‘He’s not the only one who’s turned against the Poynters,’ Gould reminded her. ‘And it isn’t your case, so not your problem.’

  True, but Sikora probably knew more than most about how the operation had been run, and besides she’d never be comf
ortable with people simply disappearing, no matter who they were. ‘Are you looking for him?’

  ‘Of course, and I’m sure we’ll find him.’

  Knowing she had to leave it there, she said, ‘I still haven’t watched the news today, but I guess the press are having a lot to say about how long it took us – me – to get round to the parents.’

  Gould didn’t deny it. ‘You weren’t the only one on the investigation,’ he reminded her.

  ‘But I was leading it, and I let my own issues . . .’ She took a breath. ‘If I hadn’t kept seeing my own father every time I looked at him . . . Monroe put on such a good show and I just didn’t want it to be him . . .’

  ‘Maybe not, but it was you who got us there in the end.’

  ‘It should have been sooner.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have saved her.’

  No, it wouldn’t have.

  Nevertheless she could feel something opening up and screaming way down inside her. How desperately she’d wanted that girl to be alive. It was as though if she had been, then maybe Penny would be too. Such nonsense, but nothing about what had happened to either of them came anywhere near making sense. ‘I’m prepared to take full responsibility for how long it did take,’ she told him. ‘I should have . . .’

  ‘We can discuss it another time,’ he interrupted, as her mother came to join them, ‘your family needs your attention now,’ and shaking Maureen’s hand he said, ‘It’s good to see you, though I could have wished for better circumstances.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Maureen agreed. ‘It’s kind of you to come.’

  He looked round as the stewards began ushering everyone towards their cars.

  ‘You’re coming to the reception?’ Maureen queried.

  ‘I’m afraid I have to get back,’ he replied, ‘but I didn’t want to miss the service.’ To Andee he said, ‘Can I have a quick word?’

  Following him to the edge of the crowd, she looked expectantly into his eyes.

  ‘I think you should take a few days off,’ he told her, ‘spend this time with your family.’

  ‘But Sophie . . .’

  ‘I’ll keep you up to speed with everything as it happens,’ he assured her, ‘but it’s unlikely she’ll be back much before the beginning of next week.’