Rob nodded. “I know it’s a long shot, but I think we should bring in the parents and ask them. Just in case.”
“If that’s what your gut’s telling you.” She smiled at him.
It was.
“I’ll get on it,” said Mallory.
DS Evan Burns led the interviews, supported by DS Bird. Rob had read the American’s file. He had an interest in forensic psychology and had trained in interview techniques. Good to know.
Rob listened in, yet another cup of disgusting canteen coffee in front of him.
Mrs Macdonald, a small, fragile woman with prematurely grey hair, was responding to Evan’s soft American draw. Her husband, not so much. He sat bolt upright in his chair, an annoyed expression on his face.
“I can’t believe you’ve found our Chrissy after all these years,” she gushed. “I never thought we’d get her back.”
Evan smiled. “It’s the least we could do.”
“We’re going to bury her close to us,” she continued. “So we can visit every day.”
Rob glanced at her husband’s hard face and didn’t think he’d be visiting his daughter’s grave every day.
Evan told them they were doing everything they could to catch her killer. Did they mind if he asked them some questions about her disappearance?
“Yes, of course. We’re happy to help in any way we can. Aren’t we, love?”
Mr Macdonald grunted.
Evan began by asking them to describe the last time they saw their daughter. Mrs Macdonald welled up, while her husband sat stoically beside her.
“Was she acting strangely before she disappeared?” Evan asked, fishing for information. “Acting out or moody or depressed?”
“No, nothing like that,” said Mrs Macdonald, but she didn’t meet his gaze.
“How was her relationship with you?” he asked.
“What does that mean?” snapped Mr Macdonald.
Evan rephrased the question. “Was she an easy child? Did she get on with both of you?”
“She was a typical teenager,” he muttered. “You know what they’re like?”
“No, I don’t.” Evan turned his attention to the husband. “Could you explain what you mean by that?”
“She was a bit up and down,” interjected Mrs Macdonald, casting fearful glances at her husband. “We loved her dearly, but she could be difficult.”
“Difficult? Could you give me some examples?”
He was good, Rob was impressed. He picked up on the vague answers and drilled down, looking for specifics. Trying to get them to reveal more than they intended.
“Oh, let me see…” She stared at her hands. “Back-chatting, refusing to clean her room, going out with her friends and coming home late, normal teenage stuff.”
Chrissy had been fourteen when she disappeared.
“She could also be very rude to her father.”
“How did that make you feel?” Evan asked him.
His lips stretched into a thin line. “We tried to discipline her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“How did you discipline her?”
Rob held his breath.
“We grounded her,” he said, evenly.
Evan nodded. “How did she take that?”
“Not very well,” sighed her mother.
“And this was before she disappeared?” Evan clarified, leading them back to the point where their daughter was taken.
Mrs Macdonald nodded. “She was still grounded when she disappeared. That’s why we didn’t call the police straight away. We thought she might have gone to her best friend's house in an act of defiance. Her and Daisy were inseparable.”
“But she wasn’t there?”
Evan had read the case file, as had he. Chrissy had gone to buy a drink after school with her friend and they’d parted ways at the bus stop. The friend had got home safely, but Chrissy was never seen again.
Mrs Macdonald stifled a sob. “No, she wasn’t.”
Evan paused for a moment, then he said, “Was there a reason why Chrissy might not want to come home, other than out of defiance.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mr Macdonald, frowning. He was a big guy, over six foot, with beefy arms and a barrel chest. Where he once might have been firm, his belly was turning to fat.
“I mean, had you had an altercation with her the day before? Maybe been a bit heavy-handed?”
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” he growled. His wife whimpered.
“Mrs Macdonald?” enquired Evan softly. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
She couldn’t look at him. “No, nothing.”
Her husband had her under his thumb. Probably under his first, when they were at home. Something wasn’t right there. If they wanted to get the truth out of Chrissy’s mother, they’d have to interview her separately.
Evan obviously came to the same conclusion because he tied up the interview shortly after that and let them go.
“There’s something they’re not saying,” he told Rob back in the incident room.
“Agreed,” said Rob. “We need to get her alone.”
“He’s a building contractor,” Evan said, “But he doesn’t work every day. If I can find out when he’s out, I’ll pop round and speak to her privately. I’m worried questioning her alone now would only get her into trouble later.”
He, too, had read the situation.
“Good idea,” agreed Rob.
There was definitely something suspicious going on there.
The second interview went a lot easier. Angie Nolan’s mother was a feisty woman in her mid-thirties, younger than Rob expected. But then Angie was only ten when she was taken. She came in alone, clicking down the corridor in tight jeans and three-inch heels.
“I have two other children now,” she told Evan.
They discussed the days leading up to Angie’s disappearance, and whether anything had been bothering her daughter.
“Well, my first husband, Angie’s father, wasn’t a very nice man.”
Rob glanced up at the screen.
“What do you mean?” asked Evan.
“He was a brute. He used to beat me, and I suspected he was doing the same to Angie, although I had no proof.”
“What made you think that?”
“Angie had these odd bruises all over her body,” she said. “Even the school noticed. They reported it to child protective services. We had to meet with a social worker.”
“Do you remember his or her name?” asked Evan.
She shook her head. “It was a he, but no, sorry.”
“How did Angie find it?” asked Evan.
Rob leaned forward, hanging onto every word.
“I’m not sure.” She sighed. “Angie denied her father had
