The more he thought it through in his mind, the more stupid he felt for thinking that she could have been deliberately trying to distract him so an accomplice could carry out the abduction of his sister. So, Daniel brushed away his concerns, deciding that he was simply exhausted and seeing things that weren’t there. Just like the fretboard on a guitar – when you stared at it for long enough, the guiding white dots morphed into a hazy blur.
‘Daniel, are you there?’ Caterina asked after he had been silent for a few moments.
‘Yes, sorry,’ he said, snapping himself out of his morbid thoughts. ‘My father is, I guess, struggling,’ he sighed, ‘we all are.’
Daniel lingered on the last photo his sister had posted as she stood by the fountain in her running gear. Daniel felt queasy, knowing that minutes after she took it, someone snatched her.
‘It’s terrible. I can’t imagine the torment you are going through. My heart aches for you. But you’re not to blame. And you can’t change what’s happened. Your sister knows you love her. You have to stay strong and positive. For Emily.’
As he scanned his sister’s last photo, his skin suddenly went cold as he saw something he hadn’t noticed before. None of them had. In the distance, standing in a cobbled street, far behind his sister, on the edge of the frame, was a man in shadow. It would be easy to miss the figure because only half of his body was in the picture, the rest had been cropped out. He was wearing all black and had a scarf around his neck and gloved hands. His whole face was in shadow, so his features were impossible to see. Emily had also added a blur to the edges of the photo, making it even harder to make out any details. But judging from the way he was standing, it appeared as though he was staring right in his sister’s direction. An ominous feeling caused the hairs on Daniel’s arms to stand up. Someone was watching her. And he was almost positive that it was the same man he had seen standing by the lake holding the binoculars.
‘Caterina, I’m sorry. I have to go,’ he said quickly.
He hung up the phone and ran down the stairs and almost straight into Vittoria. ‘Are you okay?’ she said, seeing the frantic look on his face.
‘I think I found something.’ Daniel handed his laptop over, unable to get the words out.
Vittoria stared at where his finger was pointing. Then she looked up at him, her eyes wide. ‘I think you may have just found the first trace of a potential suspect.’
SARAH
Every hour that passes is an hour that my daughter is being held against her will. As the minutes tick by, I’m acutely aware of my freedom and her captivity. So I don’t want to waste a single second.
Vittoria and the head of communications, officer Pierro Giovanni, are preparing to hold the press conference outside the gates of the villa. She has called Marco, Daniel and me into the kitchen to brief us on what will happen and how the media might respond.
‘I’m going to speak first and run through the basic facts but I’m not going to mention the ransom note. I’m only going to say that Emily is missing and make an appeal for information and witnesses to come forward.’
The idea of addressing the media has made Daniel increasingly anxious. ‘Why do we have to say anything to them at all?’ he asks. ‘Can’t it endanger her?’
‘We have to make a statement to the press because they won’t relent,’ Vittoria said in a tone that left no room for argument. ‘If we starve them of information, they’ll just get hungrier. Of course, we don’t want anything to jeopardise this case, which is why at this point we won’t make any mention of the ransom note or the connection to the theft of the necklace.’
‘At this point?’ I repeat, scrunching my forehead.
‘Look, the chances are that the press will do their own digging and join the dots, and we’ll eventually have to say something about the stolen necklace. But the longer we can hold off doing that, the better.’
‘Do you have any leads on the necklace?’ Marco asks.
Vittoria gazes at Marco when she answers and then back at me. ‘We’re focusing our efforts at this point on returning your daughter to you safely. The necklace is still a priority, but the life a human being trumps that for now.’
Marco raises his open palms in the air in confusion. ‘But they’ve demanded the necklace in exchange for her release. Surely that’s reason enough to ramp up the search.’
Vittoria gives Marco a subtle sidelong glance, giving me the distinct impression that she doesn’t appreciate being second-guessed. ‘If we can’t outsmart her abductors, we’ve considered the possibility of having a jeweller create a replica of the necklace and arranging for a handover.’
‘They’ll know it’s fake,’ Marco says bluntly, bouncing from foot to foot as he gets increasingly edgy. ‘It’s a one of a kind. You need to find the real thing.’
I glare at my husband, embarrassed by his rudeness. These officers are putting everything they can into finding our daughter and he’s shooting their suggestions down. Plus, the blame of the necklace going missing ultimately lies with us for not seeing to its safety appropriately. ‘Marco,’ I say in a calm voice, even though I really want to yell at him, ‘if they’re willing to create a replica of the necklace under our guidance, it could get our daughter back.’
‘It’s a waste of time,’ he says, his tone getting louder. ‘They’ll know it’s not the real thing. And then what? What if they get so angry that –’
Marco stops himself and seems to suddenly take stock of his temper. I see Vittoria studying him, surprised by his angry outburst. Marco can be fiery and it often catches people off guard, particularly given that it doesn’t fit with his glossy television persona.
‘You make a good point,’ Vittoria says, swiftly diffusing the situation. ‘It’s just one avenue we are considering. Of course, everything will be scrutinised down to the finest details. We would never do anything that would put Emily in more danger.’
Marco nods and says nothing.
‘So, back to this press conference. After I speak, I’ll hand it over to either of you,’ she says looking at me and Marco. ‘Who would you prefer makes the statement?’
‘Sarah, maybe you should talk?’ Marco suggests, which completely surprises me. He’s used to being in front of the cameras, so I can only assume that he thinks the public appeal for Emily is best coming from her mother.
‘No. You’re the television veteran,’ I say. ‘I’ll freeze and get too nervous to speak. It’s best if you do it.’
He appears to consider it. ‘Okay. If that’s what you prefer.’
For a moment, I’m distracted by a large poster being carried to the front door and placed on an easel. As it’s being positioned, I catch my breath. It’s a blown-up photo of Emily wearing her striped dress, taken on the ferry only yesterday. She has a full-bodied smile and a look of innocence, of happiness. It makes my chest burn and instantly tears well in my eyes. I press my eyes closed to compose myself and then open them, turning back to Vittoria and Pierro. ‘Let’s just get this over with.’
Pierro now speaks up. ‘You need to be prepared. They will throw questions and insinuations at you, some of them sinister. The cameras are going to be focused on you. They’re going to try to capture you at a weak moment. Every nuance on your faces will be studied.’
I glance nervously at Daniel and Marco. In the public’s eyes, anyone could be a suspect, even us. I can sense my son tensing up beside me but he simply places a hand on my shoulder; he is trying to be stoic for me and it makes me proud of the man he’s become and at the same time saddened that it has taken this horror situation for me to notice. My husband seems uncharacteristically anxious at the prospect of talking to the media. Of course, it’s not in the context that he’s used to. They are not seeing him as an archaeologist or a historian or a television personality, but simply – and most importantly – as a father. He is probably overwhelmed by the pressure of addressing the press when it’s our daughter’s life that hangs in the balance. ‘You’ll do fine, honey,’
I say to comfort him. ‘You’ll know what to say.’
‘There is one more thing to add,’ Vittoria says. ‘We are going to mention the Instagram photo Emily took at the fountain and appeal to anyone who might recognise the man pictured in the shadows.’
‘What man?’ Marco says, stunned.
Daniel takes out his phone. ‘I thought someone told you,’ he says, scanning through his phone, then hands it to Marco to see for himself. My husband stares at it closely and brings it to his face. ‘Oh my god,’ he mutters in disbelief, his face growing pale.
I can only imagine that he feels how I did when I saw it for the first time – like someone was taking their fist around my heart and squeezing it. It’s that awful juxtaposition of seeing Emily smiling in the foreground, happy and oblivious to the fact that there is a man who appears to be watching her. And the haunting thought of knowing what she didn’t – that minutes after she took that selfie, someone would abduct her.
Marco’s eyes are wide as he stares at the photo. ‘His features are blurred. You can’t see his face at all. Is there a way to make the picture clear so he can be identified?’
Marco, like me, isn’t familiar with social media and all the ways photos are manipulated before being posted online.
‘Emily added a blur and shadow to the borders and cropped the photo before she uploaded it, so we can only see the photo that was posted, not the original one taken on her phone,’ Daniel explains.
‘That’s why we’re going public. Someone out there is bound to recognise something – his leather jacket or the way he’s standing,’ Vittoria explains. ‘The slightest bit of information can help us build a suspect’s profile, if of course he turns out to be a person of interest.’
I reach for Marco’s hand with my good arm and it trembles beneath my palm. Seeing a person lurking in the back streets, watching our daughter, makes this infinitely more real and horrifying for us both.
Vittoria obviously senses our trepidation, because she speaks in a gentler tone now. ‘Are you okay with all this? I know it must feel terribly rushed but time is not something we have the luxury of.’
Marco rubs his eyes. ‘We’ll do anything that will help to get our daughter back,’ he says.
Vittoria looks at the time. ‘Good. Okay then, are you all ready?’
I take a deep breath and pat Daniel on the shoulder. ‘Stay close to me,’ I whisper to him. Marco holds on tight to my hand as we follow Vittoria outside.
As we walk down the driveway towards the villa gates, reporters, cameramen and photographers surge forward, making me think of a stampede; it’s like they want to run us down and trample all over our grief and fear. I have a sort of out-of-body experience, as if I’m not there but rather I’m sitting in front of a television set watching another teenager’s family stand where I am, looking haggard and drawn, their mouths quivering, their throats dry, their limbs strung together so loosely you could cut a string and they’d all fall down.
Vittoria’s expression is intense, dark, as if her face has been crafted out of concrete. ‘A young girl has gone missing,’ she says, gripping the microphone and looking out at the sea of press. Her authoritative voice resounds through the speakers and the crowd goes silent in attention. ‘Her name is Emily Moretti. Emily is a bright, athletic sixteen-year-old girl, a dual Italian–Australian citizen. Her parents are archaeologists Marco and Sarah Moretti. Yesterday Emily spent the day with her mother and brother, touring the villages around Lake Como. At approximately six pm, Emily told her brother Daniel that she was going for a run and would return in an hour.’
The tremble in Marco’s hands increases. My cheeks flush. I keep my gaze fixed on Vittoria, too afraid to look at the media.
‘Emily did not return at seven pm, and by eight pm her brother raised the alarm and they contacted the police. She has not been seen since.’
There is a stir in the media, and without looking at them I feel their collective gaze heavy on my skin. Daniel leans in closer to me, as if I am a shield.
‘What we do know is that Emily posted a photo on Instagram at the fountain in the piazza at six forty-five pm. This was her last known form of communication.’
She points now to the Instagram photo, which is one of the two photos that they have blown up and put on easels. ‘We are conducting a thorough investigation, but one of our first leads is a man pictured in the laneway here. As you can see, his face is not discernible given the shadows and cropping but it appears as though he is gazing in Emily’s direction. This could be nothing – simply a bystander mistakenly caught in the photo.’ She pauses briefly. ‘But there is a strong possibility that the man pictured is her abductor.’
There is a rush of frenzied snapping of photos and cameras moving to get a better shot. ‘We are seeking help from the public. If anyone recognises this man, we urge you to contact us. We also appeal to anyone who was in the area last night, who may have seen Emily jogging, to come forward.’
I listen closely, wishing she were talking about someone else’s child, not my daughter.
‘Any information we receive will be helpful in tracking her last movements,’ Vittoria continues. ‘We have grave fears for her safety.’
I hear Marco’s name being mentioned as Vittoria hands him the microphone. He releases my hand and steps forward.
‘Our beloved daughter Emily is missing,’ he stammers. He scans the crowd, his eyes welling with tears. ‘Without her, it feels like our heart is missing.’ His voice wavers and he takes a deep, strained breath. ‘She’s athletic and smart and funny and kind. She’s sixteen, but to me she is still my baby girl. We love and adore her.’
My husband is so good at this that I can already see glassy eyes in the crowd. A woman even puts her hand to her chest as if she is feeling his pain.
‘If it’s the missing San Gennaro necklace her abductors want in exchange for her life, we’ll do whatever it takes to find it.’ He takes a step back and grabs my hand. ‘We desperately want our daughter safely returned to us. She doesn’t deserve this.’
It takes me a few moments before I realise Marco has revealed details of the ransom. I see Vittoria’s face going blood red and Pierro scratching his temple like a nervous tic. What has my husband done?
‘So please, if you know anything at all, we beg you to come forward,’ he pleads. ‘Our daughter’s life depends on it.’
The reporters scribble furiously and then there’s a sudden eruption of questions. They thrust their microphones in the air and in front of each other.
‘Are you saying Emily has been abducted for ransom?’
‘Is it the San Gennaro necklace they want?’
‘Have you received a ransom note?’
‘What will happen if you don’t find the necklace in time?’
Before Marco has a chance to open his mouth to speak, Pierro yanks the microphone out of his hand. ‘We will not be making any further statements. Please respect the privacy of the Moretti family during this difficult time,’ he says quickly.
He clicks off the microphone and the police gather behind us as we are ushered away.
Vittoria and Pierro hurry us inside. As the villa gate closes behind us, a reporter rushes forward and yells, ‘Marco, do you feel like you are to blame for what happened to your daughter?’
Marco turns and freezes. He stares at the man, his face draining of colour. He opens his mouth as though he’s about to say something when Pierro appears and pushes him away.
As soon as we’re inside, Vittoria turns to my husband, her eyes and tone cold. ‘Do you realise you’ve just told the media this is a ransom case?’
Marco taps his forehead and slumps his shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry. The words just came out. I didn’t mean to.’
Pierro turns to Vittoria. ‘We’ll need to change tactics now.’
When they walk off, I see Marco’s face go red and his hands begin to tremble again. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ I say, putting a hand reassuringly on his back. ‘It was
an innocent mistake.’
EMILY
There was a jangle of keys. A click. Emily stared at the door from behind the bed and watched in horror as the doorknob turned. It felt as if her heart was beating in her throat. Her breaths came out in hot, uneven bursts. This was it. She was about to face her captors. The letter saying she wouldn’t be harmed if her parents complied with their demands did nothing to quell her overwhelming fear. She knew her parents would supply whatever they asked. But what if her abductors had seen the villa she was staying in and had asked for a sum of money that her parents simply didn’t have? What then?
Emily cowered behind the bed but kept her eyes fixed firmly on the door. It swung open slowly, so slowly it was as if her abductor was determined to torment her. A man stepped inside the room and quickly closed the door behind him, locking them both inside the same terrifying space. She held her breath. He was wearing tattered black jeans and a faded long-sleeved black top. He had a cap covering his hair and his face was concealed with a black bandana so that all she could see were his eyes.
‘What do you want from me?’ Emily said, summoning the strongest voice she could. If she seemed tough, maybe he would know he couldn’t break her down mentally.
He said nothing but stepped closer. He had a brown paper bag in his hands. ‘Don’t come near me!’ she yelled.
He placed the bag on the floor in front of him and stepped back. He gestured towards the bag as if there were something inside for her. ‘I’m not moving from here,’ she said firmly.
He still said nothing. Why wouldn’t he speak? It was infuriating. Was he trying to frighten her by saying nothing at all?
Despite the fierceness in her tone, Emily couldn’t stop her body from shaking and she saw his eyes scan over her, taking in her terrified state. ‘What do you want with me?’ she yelled again.
Still he didn’t speak, but now he started to walk towards her. She screamed loudly as he neared. ‘Leave me alone, please,’ she begged. Now she began to cry. She had nowhere to run, no way to escape. She had seen him lock the door behind him. ‘If you let me go now, I promise I won’t tell the police anything and you can get away. Please just let me go.’
The Perfect Couple Page 20