“Ready to leave?” Rob asked Mallory, who was leafing through a book on Katie’s bedside table. A piece of paper fell out.
Rob frowned as Mallory took out a latex glove and carefully picked it up.
“We’ll be together soon. Love Dad,” he read.
Lisa stared at the note. “What is that?”
Mallory held it up. “Have you seen this before?”
“No.” She squinted at it. “Brian must have given it to Katie. He sometimes comes round to read her a bedtime story.”
Rob studied the note. “Is it his handwriting?”
She nodded.
The note was handwritten on a small, rectangular piece of paper like you’d write a shopping list on. “Do you know what he meant?”
“No, I–” Her voice faded, and she shook her head. Then, she paled, and her hand flew to her mouth. “You don’t think…?”
She swayed alarmingly.
“Sit down.” Mallory led her to the bed where she collapsed. She’d gone whiter than the walls of her daughter’s bedroom.
“I think we’d better get over to Brian Wells’ house,” muttered Rob, holding out an evidence bag that he’d pulled from his inside jacket pocket. Mallory slipped the note inside.
They thanked Lisa and apologised for upsetting her.
There was a moment before they left, when she clutched Rob’s hand and begged him to bring her Katie home. He assured her he would, even though he left with a massive lump in his throat.
He prayed he wouldn’t have to break that promise.
They were on their way to Katie’s father’s house when Rob’s mobile phone rang. “DCI Miller,” he barked.
Ironically, it was one of the officers searching Brian Wells’ house. “Sir, we’ve found something. You’d better get over here.”
9
Brian Wells was fast becoming their prime suspect.
His flat was a shambles, but whether it was from the police officers searching it or Brian himself, Rob wasn’t sure.
He lived in an apartment in East Sheen, not far from Barnes, above a fishing tackle shop. The sound of afternoon traffic on Upper Richmond Road swept into the living room through the open sash window, as did the faintly acrid smell of exhaust fumes.
“Are you renting?” Rob asked Brian.
The sacked financier sat on the sofa staring straight ahead, oblivious to the goings-on around him. If Rob didn’t know better, he’d say he was in shock.
“Yes.”
“How long is your lease for?”
Brian blinked. “Six months.”
“That’s not very long?”
Rob circled the room clocking the workstation in front of the window, the television set balancing precariously on a bookcase that was too small for it and the well-worn leather sofa. For someone who’d been a Finance Manager in the city, his apartment was surprisingly barren.
“I was hoping to resolve things with my wife.” He glanced at Rob for the first time. “Then she shacked up with that Polish builder.” He shook his head.
Rob nodded. The officers searching the flat had found two one-way Eurostar tickets on the printer, dated two weeks from today.
He sat down next to Brian. “Were you planning on taking Katie on a trip?”
The man didn’t respond.
“Brian, this doesn’t look good. Your daughter has gone missing and you have two one-way tickets to France in your names booked for the Friday after next.”
Still no response. Brian stared blankly at the television screen. He was in marginally better shape than his wife. His hair was dishevelled, his face sallow and he hadn’t shaved for a good twenty-four hours. He looked like a man whose kid had gone missing.
That didn’t mean he was.
“Look, we’re trying to be objective here, but unless you can explain these train tickets, we’re going to have to take you down to the station.”
He burped, then leaned forward. “I’m going to be sick.”
Shit.
Rob hopped up and took a few steps back, out of the line of fire. “Okay, Brian. Take a moment.”
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” he mumbled, and pushed past Mallory.
The house was swarming with coppers, there was nowhere to run.
The bathroom door banged shut.
“There’s no sign of Katie here,” Mallory filled the gap. They could hear Brian retching in the toilet. “He has some of her clothes in a drawer, along with a sketch pad and crayons plus a few other bits and pieces, but that’s not unusual since she stays with him every second Saturday.”
Lisa had told them that.
“He doesn’t have a second bedroom?” Rob remarked.
“Apparently, she sleeps in his room and he takes the couch.”
The sound of the toilet flushing.
“He could have hidden her somewhere else,” Rob said.
Mallory nodded. “Yeah, that’s the most likely scenario. He’d know we’d search his flat.”
“Let’s get him back to the station and find out. I’m sick of waiting. God knows where she is, but if he had anything to do with it, we’ll get it out of him.”
Rob banged on the bathroom door.
“Mr Wells? Can you come out please?”
There was no answer.
He sighed. “Mr Wells? Brian? If you don’t come out, we’re going to come in and get you.”
Nothing.
Great, this was all they needed.
Mallory beckoned to a uniformed officer standing just inside the front door. He came over and kicked it down. It didn’t give straight away, but rather took two sturdy boot kicks before it flung open.
The bathroom was empty.
Fuck.
“Outside!” yelled Rob.
The officer was already running out of the door. Brian had made the one-storey drop and was sprinting up the busy high street.
Two policemen raced after him.
“The bugger jumped.” Rob shook his head. Already, the officers in pursuit had radioed in the suspect’s location and before long sirens came screaming down the road.
Rob’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
“They’ve got him. Stupid bastard. Let’s get down to the station and find out what he’s got to say.”
Mallory pressed the record button and introduced everyone present. He was leading the interview and beside him sat DS Jenny Bird. Brian Wells sulked on the other side of the table.
He’d requested legal representation after
