Arrogant cow, she couldn’t help thinking. Why would anybody be interested in me? But she knew why.
As they pulled up outside the Brookes’ home, Becky couldn’t see much detail of the house. Although it was close to the longest day of the year the sun had set about an hour earlier, but there was still just enough light for her to be able to make out that it was quite a substantial property on an attractive tree-lined road. When she first joined the police she had been shocked to learn that troubles came to people who lived in houses like these. As a girl from a rough part of London, she had lived under the misapprehension that it was only impoverished people who had problems. How wrong had she been? It had taken her a while to realise that the only difference was that those with more money had a tendency to hide their problems out of a misplaced sense of shame.
When children were missing, though, shame didn’t come into the equation at all. Becky knew that all policemen hated any case involving the potential for harm to children, and she was no exception. She had never been religious, but in her mind she kept repeating a cross between a prayer and a promise. Wherever you are, kids – we’re going to find you. She only hoped it would be true.
Tom interrupted her thoughts.
‘Okay, Becky. We’ve done enough interviews together to know the score. I’ll make the introductions, and then I’ll back off and observe. You can take over the questioning. Unlikely as it seems at the moment, this may just be a guy whose wife has taken the kids to stay with friends, but given their history I want to make sure we don’t miss anything.’
Becky nodded and opened the car door, closing it quietly so as not to draw too much attention to their arrival on this peaceful road. The police car parked up the drive wasn’t on view to anybody except the neighbours opposite, but Becky didn’t want to have to deal with well-meaning callers at this point. ‘Well meaning’ was a bit of a euphemism anyway; the ones who came knocking to see if they could ‘help’ were invariably just there to find out what was going on.
As they walked towards the front door a bright security light came on but failed to pick them up in its beam. Becky turned to Tom and shrugged, glad not to have been blinded by the light but wondering at its effectiveness.
Tom pressed the doorbell, and they heard its piercing single tone resonate around the house. A PC whom Becky didn’t recognise opened the door, and she saw a flash of relief on his young face, no doubt glad to see senior officers who could take the weight off his inexperienced shoulders. He had the look of a skinny young colt – all long gangly limbs that didn’t quite know where to put themselves.
They were shown into a living room, and a man stood up from the sofa and just looked at them without speaking. He seemed to be focusing on Tom’s face, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Mr Brookes? I’m Detective Chief Inspector Tom Douglas, and this is my colleague, Detective Inspector Becky Robinson. You probably don’t remember, but we have met before, sir, when your wife’s parents died. I was an inspector then.’
Becky noticed a slight jolt as Robert Brookes’ eyes opened wider. He held out his hand, and Tom shook it. He turned to Becky and gave her a brief nod, without bothering with a handshake. Clearly she wasn’t sufficiently important to warrant such a common courtesy.
Brookes seemed small and insignificant next to Tom. He was a few inches shorter than her boss, with much narrower shoulders. His hooded eyes sat below heavy brows, and as his glance darted from her to Tom and back again, the whites picked up the soft glow of the table lamps dotted around the room, turning them into yellow beams in a shadowed face. She felt as if she were being scrutinised by a night owl, waiting to pounce on its prey.
‘Thank you for coming.’ Brookes said. He seemed lost, as if he needed somebody to tell him what to do next.
‘Can we sit down, sir?’ Tom indicated the sofa, and Robert flopped back on to the cushions as if he feared his legs weren’t going to hold him up for much longer. Becky took a seat on the facing sofa, and Tom sat down on an upright chair slightly to the side.
‘I know you will have already told PC Mitchell most of this,’ Tom said, nodding at the young PC who had melted into the background somewhere behind Brookes, ‘but if it’s okay with you, DI Robinson and I would like to go through things with you again, just so we understand your concerns.’
Robert Brookes nodded his head without speaking, and Tom glanced at Becky.
‘Are you absolutely sure that your wife hasn’t taken the children away for a few days, as she wasn’t expecting you home until tomorrow?’ she asked, seamlessly taking over the questioning.
‘She wouldn’t have done that without telling me, and I spoke to her every single day, at least once and usually twice. She was here. I spoke to her this morning.’
‘Where were you, exactly, and how long had you been away, sir?’
‘I’ve been at a conference in Newcastle for a fortnight. Olivia took the children on holiday for the first week, but she’s been home since last Saturday. I wasn’t due back until tomorrow, but I thought I’d come home a day early to surprise her. I even stopped in town to buy flowers and wine. I just expected her to be here.’
Becky could see Tom watching Robert Brookes from the side, and wondered if he was picking up anything. She certainly wasn’t. Brookes never met her eyes, and his glance seemed to constantly flick around the room.
‘So she didn’t know you were due home today? It must have occurred to you that she might have gone to stay with a friend, as you were away. I presume you’ve checked with everybody you know?’ Becky couldn’t fail to notice the flash of irritation on Robert Brookes’ face.
‘We don’t do that. We never go and stay at other people’s houses. We don’t have that kind of friend. And she would have called me by now. It’s past our scheduled call time. Nine o’clock every night. Seven o’clock most mornings, before she gets the children up. Just to say hello.’
‘How do you know she was here, sir? Did you call on the house phone or on her mobile.’
‘Neither. We used FaceTime on our Macs. It’s a bit like Skype. We both have laptops, and it’s so much better to talk face to face than just to listen to a voice. She always calls from our bedroom – so I can see her propped up against the pillows and picture her in our bed. It reminds me of home. She’s never missed a call when I’ve been away in two years.’
Becky spotted Brookes glancing over at Tom. He must have realised his expressions were being watched, and it was making him uncomfortable. She always felt a bit bad about this. The guy could be going out of his mind with worry. On the other hand…
‘Is that your laptop, sir?’ she asked, pointing to a thin leather case on the sofa next to him.
‘Yes. I brought it in here in case she called. I’ve tried her repeatedly. But she won’t call now.’
Tom Douglas interrupted the flow of questioning.
‘What makes you so sure she’s not going to call you, Mr Brookes?’
Robert Brookes put his head back and closed his eyes briefly. ‘Because her laptop’s here. I found it upstairs in the bottom of the wardrobe.’
‘And what have you done with it, sir?’ Becky asked.
‘I’ve put it on to charge. The battery was flat. I just did it automatically. I often had to remind her to do simple things like that.’ His gaze rested just above Becky’s head, but she could tell he was looking far beyond that, at an image nobody else could see. She would have dearly loved to know what it was.
‘Okay, let’s move on. As we understand it, your wife and children are gone, but nothing at all of theirs is missing. No favourite toys, no secret stash of money, no spare mobile, a rarely used credit card – nothing at all?’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Robert exploded. ‘How many times am I going to have to repeat this? You should be out looking for her, not asking me to go over all this stuff again. There is absolutely nothing missing. She had no secret stash of money – she didn’t earn anything, and I know where every single penny goes. The
kids’ stuff is all here and her one and only mobile is in her fucking handbag. Nothing is missing. Nothing.’
Except, of course, a woman and three children. But Becky didn’t say that.
‘I’m sorry if this is irritating you, Mr Brookes, but I need to check every detail. In your mind, then, your wife went missing sometime between your conversation with her this morning and four o’clock this afternoon?’
‘Yes.’ Robert’s teeth were so clenched together that the sound could barely escape.
‘Has your wife reported anything strange happening to her recently? Has she felt threatened by anybody? Or have the children mentioned anything unusual – have they been followed or have they spoken to anybody they didn’t know?’
Robert looked from Becky to Tom and back to Becky again.
‘She hasn’t said anything to me, but there might have been something. She may have decided not to tell me, because she knew I would worry when I was away.’
‘What do you mean, sir?’ Becky asked.
‘There’s nothing concrete, but she hasn’t seemed quite herself recently. She’s been a bit jumpy, nervy. And I’ve heard her whispering to Jasmine a couple of times. I don’t allow whispering in the house. I think it’s divisive. I had to have a word with her about that.’
Bloody hell, thought Becky. It sounded as if he’d reprimanded his wife. And how would he have done that? Would he have punished her? Had he snapped?
‘So you think she had a secret?’
‘No, of course it wasn’t a secret. Stop twisting things. I think maybe she was concerned about something, and maybe Jasmine was too. She wouldn’t want me to know if I was going away, because she knew how important this conference was, and she knew for a fact that I wouldn’t go if I was worried about her. But before you ask the inevitable next question, I have no idea what she was concerned about.’
To Becky’s irritation, her phone began to vibrate at that moment, and she stood up and excused herself.
10
Tom hadn’t decided what to make of this situation yet. Olivia hadn’t been expecting her husband home until tomorrow, and given their history it seemed more than likely that she had simply taken the children somewhere and not told Robert. Maybe a friend had picked her up, and although her belongings were in the house Tom couldn’t believe there wasn’t a logical explanation. Trouble seemed to follow this couple around, though, and in his experience that was rarely a coincidence.
If Olivia had been abducted, according to the original feedback from PC Mitchell she must have let her abductor into the house because there was no sign of a break-in, and no evidence of a struggle either.
‘Okay Mr Brookes, if you don’t have any idea who or what was bothering your wife, let’s backtrack a little. Let’s go back to everything that’s happened since the last time you spoke to her. Just talk me through it, please. PC Mitchell can take notes.’
Robert Brookes leaned his head back on the cushion of the sofa and stared at one of the lifeless paintings on the wall opposite, as if seeking inspiration. Tom saw him give a slight shake of the head and then he sat upright, leaning forwards slightly to rest his forearms on his thighs.
‘I spoke to my wife this morning, as usual. I didn’t even give her a hint that I was coming home early to surprise her. I left Newcastle at about one o’clock and drove straight home. I stopped for petrol, if you really want to know that level of detail, and then I called at the flower shop in the high street and a couple of other shops to pick up a few treats – a bottle of wine, some comics for the kids.’
Robert ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in furry peaks.
‘I got back here at just after four – and you can ask the nosey old bag across the road if you don’t believe me, because she saw me arrive. She was, as always, looking out of her window. Mrs Preston, she’s called. Never misses a trick.’
Tom couldn’t help noticing Robert’s lip curl as he spoke about his neighbour. She was definitely somebody they would need to talk to.
‘Go on. What did you find when you got in the house?’
Robert gave him a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I presume your wife wasn’t here. What did you do? Did you call anybody? Did you check anything? Just walk me through it, please.’
Robert’s face had a mottled red look about it. ‘For Christ’s sake – I’ve told all this to your mate here.’ He signalled dismissively over his shoulder with his thumb. ‘Why do I need to repeat it? Why aren’t you out looking for her?’
‘We would be out looking, sir, if we had the first idea where to start. That’s why I just need you to run through things again for me, if you don’t mind.’
Robert closed his eyes and clamped his lips together for a few seconds before he continued talking.
‘I came in. I shouted and got no reply. Obviously,’ he said with slightly greater emphasis than was entirely necessary. He paused, but as Tom had failed to react to his irritation, he continued. ‘Olivia’s handbag was on the table. I emptied it, and everything was still there. Her wallet, her debit card, her phone – even her bloody house keys were there. I checked the garage. Her car is there. She loves that car, and I can’t imagine her even thinking of going anywhere without it. And then, when I finally remembered to get my suitcase out of the car and took it upstairs, I found her laptop. That’s all I know. She was here this morning, and now she’s gone.’
And not once have you mentioned the children, Tom thought.
‘What would she normally be doing on a Friday afternoon? Was there a pattern? Would she have walked to the shops, had friends round for coffee? What about the children?’
‘The children were at school. They finish at three thirty and Olivia would have either driven or walked to pick them up. She wouldn’t have had anybody round.’
As Robert Brookes finished speaking, the door from the hall opened. It seemed that Becky had caught his last few comments. She glanced at Tom and he gave her a slight nod.
‘Mr Brookes, when children go missing one of the first things we do is contact the school. We didn’t think this would wait until Monday, so we tracked down the head teacher and had a word with her. Your children weren’t at school today, were they, Mr Brookes?’
Tom was watching Robert closely. He didn’t know for sure where this was going, but Brookes’ face was a picture. A muscle twitched in his cheek, and he put a hand up to rub it, but the twitching wouldn’t stop.
‘According to Mrs Stokes, the head teacher, you and your wife decided to take the children out of formal education a couple of weeks ago. You decided they were going to be home schooled from now on. Their last day at school was the Friday before the half term holiday – exactly two weeks ago. And nobody has seen or heard from them since.’
*
After Becky’s revelation, Robert Brookes had looked from one of them to the other, stood up and left the room without saying a word.
Tom watched him go, but decided to give him a moment. He needed to talk to Becky.
‘What do you reckon then?’ Tom asked.
Becky shook her head. ‘It’s all a bit weird. According to Mrs Stokes, Olivia Brookes was very close to tears when she pulled the kids out of school, and she – Mrs Stokes, that is – tried hard to persuade her to change her mind. But Olivia said her husband was adamant, and all the papers had been signed.’
‘Did she say anything about the children: their behaviour, any signs of abuse, anything at all that we can pursue?’
‘No, she said they’re good kids. Jasmine is a bit quiet, but the two boys are like any boys of their age – full of energy, can’t sit still, clumsy – I think the word she used was rumbustious.’
‘And the parents? What did she make of them?’
‘That’s a different story, I’m afraid. Apparently Olivia Brookes had been struggling a bit lately. On a few occasions she’d forgotten to pick the children up from school. Each time it happened they tried to c
all her, but there was never an answer, so then they had to call Robert. He always left work and rushed to pick the children up, and Mrs Stokes said he made all sorts of excuses for his wife, but none of them rang true.’
‘And what was Olivia’s excuse?’
‘She didn’t have one. Just said that she had been confused and thought her husband was picking them up. But since that was something he never did because he had a full-time job, it seemed a bit strange.’
Tom didn’t like the sound of this one little bit. Why would Robert Brookes want the children taken out of school? Could it be so they wouldn’t be missed? And did Olivia have some stability issues?
‘Okay, Becky, we need to get him back in here.’
‘Fine – but before we do that, Mrs Stokes told me a couple of other things. During the week, she brought round a box with some of the children’s notebooks so Olivia could see where they were up to in their learning. There was nobody home, which wound her up. “Home schooling means home schooling, not gallivanting around all day,” – or something like that,’ Becky said in a high-pitched voice which Tom assumed was a vague imitation of the head teacher. ‘Anyway she left the box of books with the neighbour across the road.’
‘Interesting, but Olivia could have gone shopping, or even taken the kids for an educational trip to a museum for all we know.’
‘True, but the lady she left the books with told Mrs Stokes she hadn’t seen anybody here for days. Anyway, the other thing I asked her about was photos. I thought she might give me details of the school photographer so we could get some pictures as they are conspicuous by their absence here.’
‘Good thinking,’ Tom said. He was glad to see that Becky’s eyes had regained some of their usual sparkle.
‘Well, it might have been a good idea – but to no purpose. Apparently, Olivia Brookes had requested for the last two years that the children didn’t have a school photo taken at all. No explanation given. She just didn’t want any. So we still don’t have any pictures.’
Tom Douglas Box Set Page 85