The Perfect Couple
Page 16
‘The magistrate on duty is Vittoria Belardo,’ the officer says. ‘She’s a former police officer and has been a magistrate now for close to fifteen years. She’ll direct the polizia and carabinieri.’
I’m distracted by Daniel, who is engrossed in his phone. I can’t believe my son. What could be more important?
‘Mamma,’ he says, interrupting our conversation.
‘What, Daniel?’ I snap.
‘Emily posted a photo on her Instagram account. A selfie by the fountain in the piazza, at 6.45 pm. She wrote in the caption: “Running at sunset in gorgeous Lake Como.”’
He passes the phone to me, and I see a picture of Emily standing in the piazza with the fountain and lake behind her. The sun is setting and warm pink hues catch on her arm and face, illuminating her pale skin and her pastel green eyes. She’s wearing black running shorts and a bright pink singlet. Her hair is pulled back and her ponytail falls over her right shoulder. She has a wide smile that lights up her whole face. Her cheeks are slightly pink from running. She looks like the picture of health and youth and happiness. The reality that she’s missing hits me again in the chest like a punch. My beautiful, sweet girl. Where is she?
The policeman peers at the photo. ‘Did anyone make contact with her after that time?’
It feels like my voice is hanging by a thread. ‘No.’
Now there is photographic evidence that my daughter was happy and not acting up before she disappeared. And also hard proof of her last known location.
‘How many followers does she have on Instagram?’
‘Eight hundred and fifty,’ Daniel answers.
‘Was her account private, or could anyone see her posts?’ the officer asks.
‘It was public,’ Daniel says.
‘What does that mean?’ I ask, confused.
‘It means that photo bearing her location would have reached the feeds of eight hundred and fifty people, and anyone in the world who clicked on her account,’ my son explains.
I shudder as I grasp what he’s saying. If someone wanted to abduct her, they would have known exactly where to find her.
‘And signora, is there anything else you remember from before she went missing that could be relevant? Did anyone during the day pay her extra attention? Did you notice anyone watching her, anything at all?’
There’s silence for a few moments. ‘I’ve been racking my brain to think if there was anything I missed. But we had a normal day as a family together. I can’t think of anything unusual.’ I sigh.
‘I saw something,’ Daniel says unexpectedly, his voice cautious and grave.
I look at my son and see the colour drain away from his face, his eyes wide.
‘This morning, I was sitting on my balcony when I noticed a man with binoculars looking right at our villa.’ He rubs an invisible line of sweat from his forehead.
I shiver, my mouth open in shock. ‘Why didn’t you say anything earlier?’
‘I didn’t think of it until now,’ he says timidly, lowering his head.
The officer interrupts. ‘Do you remember what the man looked like?’
Daniel gazes into the distance, as if he could conjure the morning’s scene in front of him. ‘He was wearing a cap and sunglasses, and he was standing beside the lake, shaded by a tree, so I couldn’t make out any identifying features.’
‘Do you recall what he was wearing?’
Daniel raises his eyebrows, sighing. ‘Dark clothing. That’s all I can remember.’ He wipes his forehead again. ‘Damn it. I wish I’d paid more attention,’ he says, his voice cracking.
‘It’s okay,’ the man says reassuringly. ‘Any details you can remember would be helpful.’
Daniel presses his eyes closed. ‘When he saw me on the balcony, he put down his binoculars and hurried away. He seemed nervous. Jittery.’
‘How sure are you that the binoculars were faced in your direction?’
‘Positive.’
‘And what time was it?’
‘About eight this morning.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this at the time?’ I ask, interrupting.
Daniel slumps his shoulders. ‘I was going to tell you but you seemed so happy and I didn’t want anything to ruin our trip,’ he says, and I feel a warm pang in my chest knowing how much my son cares for me. ‘So I convinced myself that the man didn’t have sinister intentions and that he was trying to spot a celebrity or something, and I ignored it.’
The officer shifts uncomfortably and I take my cue. It isn’t the time to quiz my son.
‘The polizia and carabinieri will be here soon,’ the officer says, closing his notepad.
I cover my face in my hands and take a deep breath. ‘This is hell,’ I say, pulling my hands back and feeling like I’m on the cusp of tears.
‘You’re in good hands. Vittoria Belardo is one of the best magistrates in this country. And she won’t rest until she finds your daughter.’
DANIEL
Emily’s abduction was Daniel’s fault. He was her big brother. He should have been looking out for her. But instead, he was too wrapped up in his conversation with Caterina to pay her any attention.
Now Daniel had the disturbing sensation that his skin was too tight, as if it belonged on someone else’s body. He felt stiff and uneasy. He kept wishing that Emily simply got lost and her cell battery had died, and that she would return at any moment. But the sheer scale of the police response told him that they had reason to believe something sinister had happened.
Daniel and his mother were in the piazza watching everything unfold. The officers, who were dressed in their uniform of blue short-sleeved shirts with a shoulder belt and black trousers, which had a red stripe down the side, moved quickly, pacing through the darkened cobbled lanes with stern expressions, brusque in their movements. Couples who were still out in the late evening stopped to stare at the unusual police presence, some even crowding around in the distance, watching on and whispering.
Daniel felt helpless. All he could do, particularly in his father’s absence, was keep his mother calm and reassure her that Emily would be found safe and well.
Thanks to Emily’s selfie, they now knew what she was wearing. The police were questioning everyone in the area about whether they had seen her. A few people had come forward to say they saw a girl of her description jogging, but no one had anything helpful to add. The questions they had been asking locals and tourists made Daniel’s skin crawl. Did you see her talking to any men? Did you notice any unusual cars nearby or boats that took off at speed?
An officer with a tracking dog came towards them. She had dark eyes, pursed lips and an intense expression that made Daniel think she’d seen some horrific stuff in her career.
‘You must be Signora Moretti,’ she said to his mother. ‘My name is Gabriela Renatta. I am head of the dog search and rescue team. I’m going to need an uncontaminated article of your daughter’s clothing. Something she wore recently that hasn’t been washed. And if you have more than one item, that would be even more helpful.’
‘Of course,’ his mother said, her voice fragile and her face pale. ‘Daniel, can you run to the villa and get some of her clothes? Maybe the dress she wore today and whatever else you can find?’
‘Sure,’ he replied, thankful that he could be of some use. As he ran through the darkened lanes at the late hour of night, he kept picturing Emily running as he was now and he could almost visualise a looming figure suddenly appearing in her path, grabbing her and dragging her away, shoving her in some van without windows and masking her screams with a firm hand or duct tape. He winced as he ran, feeling chilled to his core even though he was sweating. How could something so sinister happen in a place so beautiful? He found himself looking around nervously as he continued running, speed in his step, adrenaline pulsing through him. The villas that had seemed so magnificent in daylight, so rich in history and culture, now appeared ominous, their shutters enclosing dark secrets within the ochre- and sage-coloured walls.
The striped dress she had worn earlier that day had been thrown carelessly on the bedroom floor. He grabbed it and a few other bits of clothing scattered around her room and placed them into a plastic bag, which he tied carefully, as if he were preserving his sister’s scent in a glass jar. He ran back to the piazza, clutching the bag against him tightly like a lifeline. He didn’t want his mother to pale at the act of handing over his sister’s worn clothes so he gave the bag to Gabriela Renatta out of Sarah’s view.
Gabriela took them from him with a delicacy he hadn’t expected. ‘Thank you,’ she said with a formal nod, and walked off. He trailed after her. ‘How does this work?’ he asked.
She had a serious expression and a determined step but she was patient when she answered. ‘Otto,’ she said pointing to her dog, ‘is a breed of bloodhound, Segugio Italiano. They have an acute sense of smell.’ She walked at a brisk pace and he struggled to keep up. ‘They’re trained for scent discrimination. They’ll be given these articles to sniff and then they’ll search for that scent and no other.’
When Gabriela and the dog had walked on, Daniel found his mother sitting on a chair placed a few metres in front of a dark blue carabinieri van, with its distinctive white roof and red stripe on the side. She stretched the fingers that poked through her wrist cast and released a deep sigh that seemed to make her whole body sink lower into the chair. She looked like a marionette puppet whose strings had been severed.
‘I can’t get hold of your father,’ she said when she saw him approaching. ‘His mobile just rings out and his hotel line is off the hook. It’s a boutique hotel, there’s no reception desk after hours, so I can’t even ask them to knock on his door. I’ll have to wait until he wakes up.’
Daniel sat on a chair beside her and felt anger sear through him. Why was his father’s hotel line off? Was he in Naples with his mistress?
Daniel put his arm around his mother and hugged her gently, forcing himself to be stoic. ‘I’m sure Papà will call as soon as he wakes up and he’ll get on the next train here,’ he said. ‘And there’s nothing more he could do than what we’re doing already.’
A man in a striped blue-and-white top with an apron around his waist walked towards them with two takeaway cups of tea and two plastic plates holding large slices of pizza. ‘Here you go. You must be hungry. These are complimentary from our restaurant.’ He pointed across the piazza, where waiters were cleaning up at the end of their shift. ‘We would like to help in any way we can. Please eat the pizzas before they get cold.’ There was genuine warmth in his eyes.
His mother stood up and gave the man a hug, tears in her eyes. ‘Grazie,’ she said, her voice fragile.
‘You will find your daughter,’ the man said. ‘L’amore di una madre non ha limiti,’ he said. A mother’s love has no limits.
SARAH
Torture. That’s the only way to describe what I’m going through. Excruciating mental anguish at not knowing the circumstances that led to my daughter’s disappearance. How does an innocent sixteen-year-old girl go missing while on a run through the picturesque lakeside town of Menaggio and vanish without a trace? As a mother, this is the type of situation you think will never happen to your child. It’s the stuff of Hollywood thrillers, of nightmares, of crime fiction. It is not something that should ever happen in real life.
As the hours tick by, the possibility that Emily simply got lost seems increasingly unlikely. So now, as I look out into the darkness, sinister scenarios run through my mind. The first: was Emily abducted by human traffickers for sex slavery. The word abduction alone makes me feel ill. I’d love to reassure myself that it’s impossible, but I’ve read enough newspaper reports to know that child trafficking is on the rise in Europe. And to those vile criminals, Emily would be viewed as exotic, with her beautiful strawberry-blonde hair, green eyes and pale skin. Or did an opportunist see her jogging alone and sexually assault her? I try to reassure myself that if a man approached her, Emily would have been able to outrun him before he grabbed her. Maybe she was hiding now until she felt safe to come back.
I go through the possibilities over and over again as if I can rewrite them. Not knowing is unbearable. I will do anything to get my daughter back.
‘Signora Moretti,’ a woman says in a strong voice, distracting me from my morbid thoughts. ‘My name is Vittoria Belardo. I’m the magistrate assigned to this case.’
I stand up and she shakes my hand firmly. Vittoria is wearing civilian clothes, dark pants and a white shirt. She has unkempt ash-brown hair with silver streaks at the front. Distinct frown lines frame her forehead. Her eyes are burdened by heavy purple bags and her taut mouth gives her a permanent look of distrust, or dissatisfaction perhaps. My first impression is that this is a woman who doesn’t mince her words and doesn’t tolerate fools.
‘I want you to know that we’re doing everything we can to find your daughter. We’re taking this very seriously given Emily’s age and how uncharacteristic this disappearance is for her. We’re aware of your work and the report made after your car accident about the possible theft of a valuable Italian antiquity, an ongoing investigation. So that has also been taken into account.’
I cup my mouth with my hand. ‘Is that because you think my car accident or the missing necklace could be connected in some way to what’s happened to Emily?’
Her expression gives nothing away. ‘It’s one avenue we are investigating but until we have a motive for her potential abduction, we can’t draw any conclusions.’
I’d almost forgotten Daniel was standing beside me until he speaks up, his body rigid. ‘Is there anything I can do to help with the search? I’m Daniel. Emily’s brother.’
I can tell my son is riddled with guilt. Maybe he feels like he could have prevented this if he had realised sooner that she hadn’t come home or if he had mentioned the man he saw with the binoculars. With Marco maddeningly still unreachable, I also get the feeling that he’s trying to step up to the plate and do the things my husband would be doing if he were here.
‘I’d like some officers to head to your villa and do a thorough search of the property. So, Daniel, the best thing you could do to help is to take them there and assist with anything they may need. If you could go introduce yourself to those two officers,’ she says pointing to her right, ‘and let them know I’ve asked you to take them.’
When Daniel walks off, Vittoria turns her gaze back to me. Her eyes are such a dark shade of brown they almost seem black. ‘The last signal from Emily’s phone was at six fifty-five in the evening, two kilometres from the piazza. So, either it ran out of battery or it was deliberately switched off.’
The words ‘deliberately switched off’ make my head swim with fear. I pinch the bridge of my nose. My wrist itches under the plaster cast. I look at the time; it’s already past 2 am. That makes it six hours since we realised Emily was missing.
The piazza is empty now, the restaurants have closed and the only people in the area are the police. It’s eerily quiet. The beauty of the lake in front of me seems deceptively calm and serene, the complete antithesis to the storm of emotions I’m experiencing.
‘Vittoria, are you a mother?’ I ask.
The question makes her tough exterior soften subtly. I can see it in the release of her tight jawline and the mellowing of her lips. ‘Yes. I have a ten-year-old daughter.’
‘You can imagine what I’m going through, then. Emily is my only daughter. My precious child. This is hell for me.’
I wonder if after all the cases she has seen, this becomes simply another one. Another nameless missing child. If, like a doctor, she has to develop a
thick skin and lose her sense of empathy in order to do the job without forming attachments.
When she looks at me with her dark eyes that radiate fierce intelligence, I can discern warmth hiding behind her tough exterior. ‘Sarah, I’ve been in this line of work for fifteen years and before that I was a police officer for ten. I’ve seen some horrific things, enough for anyone to want to quit this job and live a normal life. I barely see my own daughter – and that’s because I made a personal sacrifice so I could help people like you. That’s why I’m here at two in the morning and why I won’t sleep tonight because I will do whatever it takes to find your daughter.’
Her honesty surprises me. I’ve only just met Vittoria, but there’s something about her that makes me trust her.
‘Sarah, if you don’t mind me saying, I think the best thing you can do now is go home and rest. There’s nothing you can do from here. You just need to trust that we are doing everything we can.’
I sigh heavily. I know she’s right, but how on earth am I supposed rest when my daughter is missing? ‘Thank you Vittoria,’ I say, and decide to go back to the villa and wait there for news. I reluctantly walk back with one of the officers who doesn’t seem to speak any English. He is stiff and serious, and doesn’t attempt to make conversation, for which I’m grateful.
When I enter the villa, the two forensics police officers who walked back with Daniel are looking through all the rooms. I find Daniel sitting outside, staring blankly at the lake. He has red veins in his eyes and is slouched over.
‘Daniel,’ I say, so as not to startle him as I approach. I sit beside him and put an arm around his shoulder. ‘This isn’t your fault.’ He doesn’t face me, but I see the tears well in his eyes as he stares ahead.
‘It is my fault,’ he says meekly after a long silence. ‘I should have told you about that man I saw watching us. I shouldn’t have pushed it aside and convinced myself it was nothing. And I should have been looking out for Emmy.’ He still doesn’t make eye contact with me. ‘She told me that she was going for a run and that she’d be back in an hour. And I didn’t pay her any attention. I was too preoccupied with my phone call to Caterina to notice she hadn’t come home.’