Tom felt some of his irrational testiness dissipate in the face of his team’s enthusiasm and optimism.
‘Okay. So let’s get on to the local force in Alderney and ask for their help. Give them the background so they know it needs handling carefully. More to the point, we need to be worrying about where the hell Robert Brookes has gone. After what he did to Sophie Duncan and her mother, we have to find Olivia so we can keep her safe until he’s under lock and key.’
Becky was making her way over to Ryan’s desk to brief him, and Tom turned back to Gil with an apologetic smile.
‘Thanks, Gil. And good work. I think this case is getting to all of us.’ Gil raised his eyebrows in a look that clearly said, ‘To some more than others,’ which gave Tom a moment of guilt. He hadn’t meant to be sharp, but how could they know so much and yet not know anything? And on top of that, there was all the stuff with his cottage, not to mention his frustration over Leo.
To cap it all, his mobile rang. Philippa Stanley.
‘Bollocks,’ he muttered to nobody in particular. He was tempted not to answer it, because right now there were more questions than answers, but at least the Alderney connection might just calm her down.
As he pressed the call button on his phone, he thought of something else they needed to do. While he couldn’t for the life of him think how Robert could possibly have connected Olivia to Alderney unless there was something they didn’t know – more than bloody likely in his opinion – instead of just checking international flights out of the UK, they might want to consider making sure he wasn’t on any flight to the Channel Islands. Just to be on the safe side.
Taking a deep breath, he spoke into his phone. ‘Yes, Philippa.’
42
I often wonder whether I must have done something very wrong in a former life for all these terrible things to have happened to me. Until the age of twenty-two, I seemed to sail through life. My parents adored me, I did well at school, had loads of friends, and all the boys I fancied seemed to fancy me back. Even at university, life was sweet. I had to study hard, but I thrived on it, and I thrived on the fun times too. I wanted to be a part of everything – to capture and devour as many experiences as I could. Nothing frightened me, and nothing fazed me.
It’s true that finding out I was pregnant with Jasmine wasn’t part of the original plan, but Danush and I loved each other so very much. We couldn’t bear to be apart in our last two years at university and when we decided to live together I thought the rest of my life was going to be perpetual bliss. How wrong could I have been?
I suppose things started to go wrong when Samir came over from Iran to talk to Danush about his family obligations. He had been sent by their parents to convince Dan that he should go back and marry his cousin, as had been planned for the whole of their lives. I was terrified. I couldn’t lose Dan – he was everything to me. And yet I could see that he was wavering. Not because he didn’t love me, but because he had such a sense of honour. I remember watching the pain on his face as he acknowledged that he was either going to lose me or lose his family. What a terrible choice.
Despite knowing how difficult this was for him, I did nothing to help. I ranted and raved about everything he would be giving up if he left me. He’d be giving up on love, giving up his life in the West as an engineer, so much of what he had always wanted, to go back to Iran – a place he also loved but that until now he had been prepared to sacrifice. For me.
I can’t believe how I behaved. Dan was getting pressure from Samir, and I was applying an even greater pressure because I wanted him so much.
Samir had capitalised on my weakness. He had scoffed at my selfishness and made me feel like an ignorant kid. He was only a few years older than us but already qualified as a doctor. I was like a spoiled child, one who had never once failed to get something she’d wanted. And I was determined not to fail this time either. If that young version of me could see what I have become, what would she think?
I couldn’t lose Dan, but I didn’t know what to do to keep him. I tried to make him jealous – even with his own brother – to make him realise how much he loved me. Samir played along too. It was only later that he told me it wasn’t because he found me attractive. He was hoping it would prove to his brother how shallow I was. My behaviour was, if anything, driving Dan away. I could see it, but I just couldn’t stop.
I tried to excuse the way I acted by saying I was in love, which I thought was more important than anything in the world. But I recognise now that everything had always come so easily to me, and I had no experience of failure.
And then there was a miracle. I discovered I was pregnant.
It felt like a victory, but I really didn’t plan it. Even the young, naive girl that I was could see that trying to persuade Dan to stay with me was one thing, but intentionally getting pregnant in order to keep him was another thing entirely.
But Dan did stay with me, as I knew he would. Samir had already returned to Iran to report back to his parents by the time the pregnancy was confirmed, but Dan gave him the news as soon as we were sure, and Samir was resigned to something he had no control over. I knew what he would be thinking – that I’d planned all this just to keep Dan with me. He would be disgusted with me. I didn’t care, though. I’d won, or so I thought.
The day that Dan left I felt as if my life was over, and if it hadn’t been for Jasmine, I don’t know how I would have survived. Although Dan had stayed with me through the birth of my beautiful daughter and he still appeared to love me with the same passion and care, there were times when I knew he was thinking of his self-imposed exile from his family.
I can remember every minute of the day I lost him. It was November 6th, and I took my baby girl outside to take in the ‘morning after bonfire night’ special atmosphere that I remembered from my childhood. This one day of the year always seemed to dawn with a slight mist lingering from too many bonfires in back gardens, a thin pall of smoke hanging in the air from the smouldering heaps of old wood left to burn out overnight, their sooty scent mixing with a vague whiff of burned-out fireworks to give the day its unique perfume. And there were always surprises on the lawn – the empty shell of a rocket, or a blackened sparkler that somebody had discarded over the fence.
I was disappointed, though. Here on the outskirts of a city in the land of student flats, the morning dawned just like any other, the only new item on the lawn being an empty beer can that somebody must have tossed over the night before on their way home. And when I breathed in deeply, all I got were the usual morning smells of exhaust fumes and the occasional whiff of burned toast.
Although I didn’t know it then, this day was never going to be like any other. It was the day my world shattered into tiny fragments, because that night, Danush never came home. He had gone from my life.
Now I know the truth. I know why he left, but it doesn’t hurt any the less.
In the months after I lost him, it felt as if life could get no worse. My parents hadn’t been Dan’s greatest fans, and of course his disappearance only gave credence to their views. They were models of propriety, and when I screamed that they had never understood – Dan loved me – I saw the way my mum sucked in her lips, looking at my dad as if to say, ‘We knew this would happen.’
It wasn’t that they didn’t like Dan, they just didn’t approve of him as my ‘live-in partner’, as my mum called him. They didn’t believe mixed marriages could work. It wasn’t even the fact that he was Iranian. It was because he was a Muslim and, in their eyes at least, I was a Christian.
When he disappeared I thought his religion might have been the problem. Perhaps he had been mistaken for a terrorist and had been dragged off to a deserted warehouse to be beaten up. But the day after he went I had a text from him, saying no more than he was sorry. The police traced his phone to Heathrow, where he’d bought a ticket for Australia. A one-way ticket.
It seemed he didn’t want me, and he didn’t want his family either.
De
spite their difficulty in acknowledging my love for Dan, my parents did everything they could to help. They knew how low I was, and they were concerned about their granddaughter. I had thought I was coping well with a new baby, and during those first two months we had seemed to be as happy as any young family could be. Yes, I was tired. Dan was too. But we didn’t mind. It was the start of my dream. Once Dan had gone, I struggled to focus on what Jaz needed and, although I was going through the motions of feeding her and changing her, sometimes I was so tired and weary I could barely drag myself to go to her in the night.
So I was out of options. I was going to have to sell the flat and move in with my parents, which was not in any way ideal, but what else could I do? Daily edicts to ‘buck up’ from my mum, or pronouncements such as ‘worse things happen at sea’ from my dad were going to drive me insane, and I knew it. I loved my parents dearly, but nothing bad had ever happened to them. They sailed through life on tranquil waters.
Once more my mistakes come back to haunt me. If I had been stronger then, the wheel of fortune which is my life would have spun again and stopped at a different place. But I was weak, and I took the easy option.
The flat sold the first day it went on the market.
The buyer was Robert Brookes.
43
It was getting towards the end of another day of sifting through information without reaching any conclusions, and Becky was becoming increasingly frustrated. There had been no sign of Robert Brookes, and she thought they had covered every base.
Given that he had left his car on the drive, he had to have had transport to somewhere. They should have known he was too smart to call a taxi on his home phone, but nevertheless they had tracked down the driver who had, of course, told them his passenger was a no-show.
Becky pressed her lips together and folded her arms. This man was beating them. She paced up and down in front of the evidence board, trying to find connections where there probably weren’t any. They knew Robert had made withdrawals on all his cards, but the ATMs he had used had been in the centre of Manchester. If he was still there, it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
She was worried about Sophie Duncan too. The young army officer had insisted on staying at home on her own, and said she wasn’t in the least scared of Robert Brookes.
‘If he turns up at Mum’s, he’ll wonder what the fuck’s hit him by the time I’ve finished with him,’ was all she would say on the subject. Becky liked her style and confidence, but given the state her leg was in, she just had to hope Sophie had seen the last of Robert. She had asked a patrol car to do a drive-by from time to time, but wasn’t at all sure whether this would be any help or not. Last time Robert had paid a visit to the Duncan household, from the outside everything had seemed normal.
Ryan chose that moment to walk over to where Becky was pacing. She hoped he was going to brighten her day, but seriously doubted it.
‘I’ve looked at all the ways I can find to get to Alderney,’ he said, ‘but it’s not an exhaustive list because apparently boats turn up from all over the place all the time. It’s got a harbour and it’s well known for fishing – so what can you expect? If somebody chose to charter a boat…’ Ryan lifted his shoulders, and curled his top lip.
‘So what happens when people arrive on the island? Doesn’t anybody check their passports?’
‘You don’t need a passport from the UK, ma’am. I looked up the regulations.’ Ryan paused as if he expected praise from Becky for taking the initiative, and she could see the disappointment in his eyes when she failed to offer it. She had to try harder with this man.
‘What did you find?’
‘If you’re arriving from outside the Bailiwick – whatever that is – of Guernsey, you are supposed to go through customs. But I’ve also read there are other places to anchor outside of the main harbour. Perhaps Robert could use that to his advantage?’
Becky suppressed a groan. That was all they needed, but if Sophie was right and Robert was looking for Olivia, this might be their one chance of catching him.
‘Okay, Ryan. Contact all the advertised routes into Alderney from the UK and let them know who we’re looking for. We’ve no idea if he’s been able to track his wife down yet, but we can’t assume that just because Sophie Duncan didn’t tell him how to find Olivia, he’s not found out by some other means. Spread the net as wide as you can, please.’ Almost as an afterthought, she added, ‘And well done, Ryan. Some useful information there.’ From the way Ryan’s mouth tilted up at one corner, Becky couldn’t decide whether he was pleased, or saw straight through her attempts to mollify him. Oh well – what the hell.
An image of Peter Hunter flashed into her mind, and the day she had fallen under his spell. They had been working on a really tricky murder enquiry, and by scouring the evidence and picking up every tiny thread, she had uncovered a possible lead that had been missed. Peter had come across to where she was sitting and had spoken the exact words she had just used with Ryan. ‘Well done, Becky. Some useful information there.’ He had squeezed her shoulder as he’d walked away, but his thumb had lingered on the naked skin at the back of her neck, and she was sure he had stroked it gently. She had waited, then, for more small signs, flushing a little every time he entered a room, anxious to see if he would linger by her desk and maybe give her another sign.
Oh, he was good. She could see it now. He couldn’t make a move until he was one hundred per cent certain of her, of course, so he had teased her with a touch here, a smile there, once even brushing the back of his hand against her breasts as he passed her a pile of folders.
Sleazeball.
With a small shudder and a sense of disbelief that she could think she was in love one minute and just a few short months later feel nothing more than revulsion, Becky pulled her mind back to the case.
She was waiting anxiously to hear back from the Alderney police. As an island almost free from crime, she could see why they had such a small team and hoped they had something for her. Like Tom, she had been relieved that the blood found in the house wasn’t Olivia’s, although it seemed some poor soul must have died there. And Becky wouldn’t feel better until she knew the children were okay. She kept seeing that small, windowless room from Jasmine’s picture in her mind, with three children huddled in a corner, and each time she felt a chill. But they had found nothing. No other properties, and no other suspects.
Becky looked again at all the evidence, and so much of it seemed to lead back to Danush Jahander – from when he first went missing to his proposed meeting with Robert. They had checked with the hotel in Newcastle, and the manager had confirmed that a call from Sophie’s phone was put through to Robert’s bedroom. It lasted about two minutes. Did that explain why Robert drove back to the house from Newcastle? Was it to meet Dan?
Hearing her desk phone ringing, Becky turned round despondently, walked across and sat down. Forcing herself to sit up straight and get with it, she picked the phone up.
‘DI Robinson.’
‘Good afternoon, Detective Inspector Robinson. I’ve just received a message that you wish to speak to me. I’m sorry, but I have been in Iran and I’ve only just returned. What can I do for you?’
‘And you are…’ she said, already anticipating the answer. She felt a flicker of excitement.
‘Samir Jahander. How can I help you?’ he asked, in a polite and almost accent-free voice.
‘Dr Jahander, thank you for calling. We have a few questions about your brother, if you can spare the time?’
‘Which brother would that be? I have four – and two sisters,’ Samir answered. There was no inflection in his voice at all.
‘Your brother Danush, Dr Jahander. We were wondering if you have had any contact with him recently. We spoke to your wife, and she said you hadn’t heard from him in years. In fact, not since a year or so after he left the UK.’
Becky heard a whoosh of breath, as if Samir was blowing air between his teeth – the first sign
of emotion.
‘Danush is no longer part of my family, DI Robinson. I’m afraid he forfeited that right when he refused to fulfil his obligations to our family.’
‘But I understood he left his English girlfriend and their baby. Did he not return to Iran?’
‘Their baby,’ Samir made the same sound with his breath. ‘How very convenient that was. Danush saw sense, I do believe. He left. But he was so disappointed with life – the fact that he had been tricked into fatherhood, the fact that he’d been unable to finish his PhD, and the fact that our parents were unlikely to forgive him for the choices he made – that I’m afraid he took the coward’s way out.’
For a moment, Becky thought he meant Danush had committed suicide.
‘He went to Australia, DI Robinson. He stayed there for a couple of years, and then he finally returned to Iran, but not to my parents’ town. He wanted to find his own way.’
‘When did you last see your brother, Dr Jahander?’ Becky asked.
‘I hadn’t seen him for almost nine years – not since before the baby was born. His girl was certainly not pregnant when I arrived. I stayed with them for a month, trying to persuade him to do the right thing.’
‘So you’ve not seen him since, then?’
‘No, Inspector. I said I “hadn’t” seen him for nine years. And I didn’t expect to see him again, but about a year ago he came to ask if I would lend him some money. I didn’t tell my wife about this, because I was furious and I worried that she might mention it to my parents. Danush had ignored his family for all this time, and now he wanted money? But we had money that was rightfully his, so I gave it to him.’
‘What do you mean?’ Becky asked.
‘When Liv sold the flat, half of the money legally belonged to Danush. She sent the money to me – to keep it safe for him. I never told him.’ There was silence for a moment at the other end of the phone, and Becky said nothing. ‘Perhaps that was wrong of me, but I didn’t want him thinking Liv was a better person than I believed her to be, and telling him about the money might have sent him rushing back. But it was a long time since he’d left her, so I assumed it was safe to tell him.’ There was a mirthless laugh from the other end of the phone. ‘Which proves how little I knew my brother. He’d apparently never got over her, and he wanted to contact her. He wanted her to come to Iran – to meet my parents and to introduce them to Jasmine.’
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