“Why do you want to talk to me?”
“We understand you know the family?”
He phrased it as a question, hoping it would encourage her to answer, but she merely nodded. He tried again. “You were part of the informal search party that was disbanded, weren’t you? We met briefly yesterday.”
Another nod. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced from him to Mallory and back again.
Rob was losing patience. “Look, Mrs Parvin, you can either let us in and answer some questions or we can take you down to the police station and answer them there.”
“On what grounds?” she asked.
“On the grounds that this is an active investigation and you may know something that could help us.”
“I don't know anything about Katie’s disappearance. If I did, I would have told you.”
That was his entry point.
“Because you know what it’s like to have a daughter taken from you, don’t you?”
She stared at him, lost for words.
When she’d found her tongue, she scowled. “That has nothing to do with this. If you want to come in, get a warrant. I know my rights.”
She shut the door in their faces.
Rob looked at Mallory. “By the time we get a warrant she may have moved Katie to another location, assuming she’s there now.”
Mallory frowned. “She was acting rather suspiciously. What should we do?”
Rob ground his teeth together, working his lower jaw. “Fuck it, let’s caution her and bring her in for questioning. We’ll have to do this the hard way. And get a warrant to search her premises.”
He banged on the door again.
No answer.
“Mrs Parvin, if you don’t open this door, we’re going to break it down and arrest you. Please come out.”
The silence dragged on.
“Get uniform out here with a battering ram,” Rob snapped. “I’m going around the back. If she comes out, arrest her.”
Mallory was already keying the numbers into his mobile phone.
Rob walked around the side. The house seemed to lean on him, casting a long shadow across the mangled garden. The upstairs windows were in darkness, curtains drawn. It didn’t look like there was any movement. He considered the Tutor-style loft, but the small box window in the centre of the uneven triangular beams was closed. If Katie was in there, they’d never know from down here.
A batted blue Ford Escort sat in the narrow driveway to the side of the property. In front of it was a metal gate that led around the back. The hinges screeched as he pushed it open. Judging by the rust, it hadn’t been used in quite some time.
The back garden was bigger than the front, yet equality chaotic. More sad lavender, unfriendly thistles, a tangled assortment of unidentifiable wilderness plants, even some sunflowers, their bobbing yellow heads hanging in shame.
Unlike his house, there wasn’t a patio or sliding door. He fought his way through the foliage to the tiny porch. On it stood a worn wicker chair and a folded-up newspaper. At the foot was a bowl of water. But no dog.
A wooden door led into what he assumed was the kitchen.
Rob recalled the stains on her knees and her dirty fingernails. An avid gardener, Sylvia had said. A botanist. You wouldn’t know it by this mess.
The door was firmly closed, and there was only one window on this side of the house. Second floor. No wonder it was so dark inside. He kept his eyes locked on the back door, until he heard sirens coming up the street. It wouldn't hurt to give the uncooperative Mrs Parvin a bit of a fright.
He heard Mallory instructing them to break the door down. He pounded on the back door. “Mrs Parvin, this is your last chance. Let us in or we’re coming in to get you.”
His request was answered with a stony silence. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume the house was deserted.
He texted Mallory.
Go for it.
There was a loud bash as the door was forced open. Shouting, as the uniformed police identified themselves and entered the property. They’d search every room until they located Tessa Parvin.
Mallory would arrest her for obstructing the investigation and when they had her under control…
His phone beeped.
Got her.
Rob clambered back to the front of the house, tearing his trousers on a thistle bush in the process. He grunted and rubbed his leg. For a botanist, Tessa Parvin wasn’t a very good gardener.
15
Tessa Parvin was led away in resentful silence.
“Let’s have a look around,” said Rob.
They pulled on their gloves, just in case. Rob hoped they wouldn’t have to turn this into a crime scene.
“Creepy,” Mallory muttered as they crept down the passage. It felt like a ghost house. It was astonishing somebody was actually living here.
Rob tried the light switch. The bulb flickered, on its last legs like it was too much of an effort to shine on this place. It wasn’t very bright.
Clutter coated the dining room. Boxes piled halfway up the walls, books balanced in precarious heaps on the sturdy eight-seater table, their spines worn and tattered. Orchids of Kew, he read to himself. Rainforests of Brazil.
The living room was marginally better. This was where Tessa Parvin existed. Lived was too strong a word. A comfy armchair by the window, a floor lamp, a pair of spectacles on the reading stand, next to a half-drunk cup of coffee.
A television stood at the front on a second-hand cabinet. It looked relatively new. Her only expensive purchase. Everything else looked like it was covered in mothballs.
Reading and television. Her two pursuits. It saddened him that she lived like this.
“I don’t know why she didn’t just open the bloody door.”
“Proving a point,” said Mallory.
Rob shook his head. Some people.
The kitchen was equally bare, apart from the usual signs of human habitation. No fancy equipment, just a gas cooker, toaster, kettle and other basic necessities. Tessa Parvin lived a simple existence.
They creaked up the staircase.
“I’ll take this room,” Rob said. Mallory peeled off into the other.
The master bedroom overlooked the tangled back garden. That must
