on holiday. He didn’t mention a daughter.’
‘What’s the number of the hotel?’
Ruiz finds the page on his notebook. I dial the hotel and wait. A sleepy voice answers.
‘Hello, this is Athens International Airport. We have recovered a bag that failed to make a flight several days ago. The luggage tag indicates it was checked in by Miss Yelena Schafer, but there is some confusion. Was she travelling with anyone?’
‘Yes, her daughter.’
‘A six year old.’
‘Seven.’
‘Where were they flying to?’
The caretaker is more awake now. ‘Why have you called so late at night?’ he asks angrily.
‘The bag was put on the wrong flight. We need a forwarding address.’
‘Miss Schafer must have reported the bag missing,’ he says. ‘She should have given a forwarding address.’
‘We don’t seem to have one.’
He smells a rat. ‘Who are you? Where are you from?’
‘I’m looking for Yelena Schafer and her daughter. It’s crucial that I find them.’
He shouts something unintelligible and hangs up. I hit redial. The phone is engaged. He’s taken it off the hook or he’s calling someone. Perhaps warning them.
I phone Trinity Road. Safari Roy is in charge of the incident room. DI Cray has gone for dinner. I give him Yelena Schafer’s name and the most likely date she flew from Athens with her daughter.
Passenger lists won’t be available until the morning, he tells me. How many flights are there from Athens every day? Hundreds. I have no idea where mother and daughter have gone.
I hang up and stare at the photographs, wishing they could talk to me. Would Helen risk coming home while Gideon Tyler is still looking for her?
Ruiz drapes his hand over the top of the steering wheel as if letting the Merc do the navigating. He looks relaxed and pensive, but I know his mind is working overtime. Sometimes I think he pretends that he’s not a deep thinker or he’s slow on the uptake as a way of fooling people into underestimating him.
Darcy is in the back seat, plugged into music. Perhaps I was wrong to worry so much about her.
‘You hungry?’ Ruiz asks.
‘No.’
‘When did you last eat?’
‘Breakfast.’
‘You should eat something.’
‘I’m OK.’
‘You keep saying that and maybe one day you will be OK, but that’s not today. You shouldn’t expect to be OK. You’re not going to be OK until you get Charlie home… and Julianne home and you can play happy families again.’
‘It might be too late for that.’
He gives me a sidelong glance and looks back at the road.
After a long silence, he says, ‘We’ll get her back.’
I haven’t heard from Julianne since she left the cottage. Monk has been in touch with the incident room. Gideon called again, using my mobile. He was somewhere in central Bristol, near the cathedral. Oliver Rabb couldn’t locate him before the handset was left on a bus. The phone was recovered from the Muller Road Bus Depot an hour ago.
There’s no word on Charlie. According to Monk everything that can be done is being done, but that’s not true. Forty detectives are working on the case. Why not four hundred or four thousand? A TV and radio appeal has been launched. Why not sound sirens from the rooftops and search every residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse and outhouse? Why not get Tommy Lee Jones out there, organising the search?
Ruiz pulls into the driveway of Stonebridge Manor. The metal gates are bleached white by the high beam headlights. Nobody answers the buzzer. Ruiz holds it down for thirty seconds. Silence.
Getting out of the car, he peers through the bars. There are lights on in the house.
‘Hey, Darcy, how much you weigh?’ asks Ruiz.
‘You’re not supposed to ask a girl questions like that,’ she replies.
‘Think you can climb over that wall?’
She follows his gaze. ‘Sure.’
‘Be careful of the broken glass.’
Ruiz throws his coat over the wall to protect her hands.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Attracting attention.’
Darcy puts her right foot in his cupped hands and is hoisted upwards onto the wall. She holds on to a branch and scrambles to her feet, balancing between the broken half-bottles embedded in the concrete. Her arms are outstretched to keep her steady, but there’s no chance of her falling. Her poise and balance comes from hours of practice.
‘She’ll get herself shot,’ I tell Ruiz.
‘Skipper couldn’t aim that straight,’ he replies.
A voice answers him from the darkness. ‘I can shoot the eyes out of a squirrel at fifty paces.’
‘And I had you down as a nature lover,’ replies Ruiz. ‘Guess you’re a redneck through and through.’
Skipper emerges into the glow of the headlights, cradling a rifle across his chest. Darcy is still standing on the wall.
‘Get down, miss.’
‘Are you sure?’
He nods.
Darcy obeys, but not the way he expects. She jumps towards him and Skipper has to drop his rifle to catch her before she lands. Now she’s on his side of the gate. It’s a problem he hasn’t bargained on.
‘We need to speak to Mr and Mrs Chambers,’ I say.
‘They’re not available.’
‘You said that last time,’ says Ruiz.
Skipper is holding Darcy by the arm. He doesn’t know what to do.
‘My daughter is missing. Gideon Tyler has taken her.’
The way his eyes flash to mine I know that I have his full attention. That’s why he’s here- to stop Gideon getting inside.
‘Where’s Tyler now?’
‘We don’t know.’
He looks at the car, as if worried that Gideon might be hiding inside. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a two-way radio, signalling the house. I don’t hear the message, but the gates begin to open. Skipper circles the car. He checks the boot and looks both directions along the lane before waving us through.
Security lights trigger on either side of the drive as the Merc floats by. Skipper is sitting in the passenger seat, with his rifle resting on his lap, pointed towards Ruiz.
I look at my watch. Charlie has been missing for eight hours. What am I going to say to Bryan and Claudia Chambers? I’m going to beg. I’m going to clutch at straws. I’m going to ask for exactly what Gideon Tyler wants- his wife and daughter. He has made me believe what he believes. They’re alive. I have no choice but to accept this.
Skipper escorts us up the steps, through the main door and across the foyer. Wall lamps reflect off the polished wooden floor and brighter lights spill from the sitting room.
Bryan Chambers rises from a sofa, squaring his shoulders.
‘I thought our business was finished.’
Claudia is opposite him. She rises, adjusting the waistband of her skirt. Her pretty almond-shaped eyes don’t make contact with mine. She married a powerful man, thick-skinned and heavy-footed, but her own strength is
