TWENTY-NINE
Sarah found Karen Lowe in her office slumped alongside Jess Parry. The space stank of cheap perfume that did nothing to disguise the stale tobacco fumes coming off Karen. Sarah walked to the window, opened it wide, took in a couple of deep breaths. Turning, she perched on the sill. ‘I’ve just seen your father.’
Sullen silence.
Sarah sighed. The girl did herself no favours. She found it hard to believe Karen might have colluded in her baby’s kidnap and felt the ordeal of being questioned so soon after Evie’s death was asking a lot. But Karen should think herself lucky Baker wasn’t in the chair. The old boy didn’t do pulled punches. Sarah was happier conducting the interview herself and had opted to carry it out here rather than an interview room to make it less of an ordeal for Karen – it didn’t make it any easier for Sarah. She knew she was playing for time because – rare admission – she was unsure how to open the questioning.
‘Did you not hear me, Karen?’
‘Sorry, did you say something?’
Wind-up mode, then. Sarah smiled. ‘He was telling me a little about your childhood.’
The girl opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it. Instead picked at a loose thread on her jeans then leaned down to re-tie already tight laces in Nike trainers; a grey hoodie completed the new look. Sarah wondered why she’d swapped the usual shift dresses for the uniform of the street. If it was an attempt to deflect the public’s pointed fingers and whispered asides, she doubted it would work. Thanks to the media, Karen’s face was instantly recognizable, even without the customary make-up. Shame she hadn’t eschewed the scowl too.
‘He suggested the early years at home were happy.’
‘Really.’ Biting a thumbnail.
‘That you and he were close.’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Can’t remember.’
The indifference bordered on insolence. Her defensiveness was probably a coping mechanism but it made communication with Karen difficult, let alone connection.
Sarah let it go. ‘He asked after you.’
‘Look, what is this?’ Snarling. Eyes flashing. ‘I’m not here to talk about him. You want to question me about Evie. That’s why you brought me in, isn’t it? Why the fuck don’t you get on with it?’
Jess shifted in her seat, clearly uneasy with the acrimonious exchange. Sarah walked to the desk, picked up the phone. ‘DC Harries. My office please.’
‘What’s that about?’ Karen asked.
‘I want another officer present.’ She sat down, reached for a slim file.
‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You think I had something to do with it, don’t you?’ Karen leaned across the desk, her face inches from Sarah’s. Shrugging off Jess’s restraining arm, she yelled, ‘Well, don’t you? Answer me you stuck-up bitch.’
‘Sit down.’ Firm, calm. Sarah felt her pulse take a hike. Karen flopped back on the chair, spittle in the corners of her mouth. Sarah shoved a box of tissues across the desk. ‘I don’t know who killed your baby, Karen. It’s my job to find out. And I’ll do whatever it takes.’
A tap at the door, Harries popped his head round. ‘DI Quinn. Miss Lowe.’ It was Jess’s cue to leave.
‘Where you going, Jess?’ Plaintive.
‘I’ll just be downstairs.’
‘Why can’t she stay? I want her with me.’
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Are you charging me?’
‘You’re not under arrest. But if you want a lawyer . . .’
‘No, sooner I leave this shithole the better.’
Sarah placed a copy of the kidnapper’s note in front of Karen: Ask the mother. ‘Why did he write that?’
Arms folded. ‘How the hell should I know?’
‘The implication is you know something about the kidnap.’
Rapid foot tapping. ‘Well, I don’t. End of.’
Sarah leaned forward. ‘I have to ask, Karen. Were you involved in any way with Evie’s abduction?’
‘What sort of stupid question’s that?’ Tossing hair over her shoulder.
The only theory Baker had come up with that made even the vaguest sense was that Karen and an accomplice had planned to sell the baby, split the proceeds. Little wonder Sarah was hesitating. It was a hell of a suggestion to make.
Playing a pen between her fingers, she said, ‘There are people out there who’ll go to any lengths to get a child, pay any amount of money.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t think?’ Almost a whisper. The incredulity morphed in a heartbeat into blind rage. Launching herself out of the chair, she took a swing at Sarah. Harries grabbed the girl’s arm, gently lowered her back in the seat. ‘Evie’s dead for Christ’s sake. Can’t you understand? I’d never have harmed her. Not in a million years.’
Probably not. Deliberately, or directly. Sarah laid Todd Mellor’s photograph next to the note. ‘Do you know this man?’
‘No.’
‘Look at it please, Karen.’
She glanced at the picture, sighing. ‘No.’ Then picked it up, studied it properly. ‘Is he a suspect?’
Sarah shook her head.
‘Who is it then?’
‘Why did you break up with Michael Slater?’
The change of tack barely threw her. ‘I didn’t. He chucked me.’
‘He says you met someone else, moved on.’
‘Yeah, well. He’s talking through his bum.’
‘Did you have sex?’
‘What do you think?’
‘What I think isn’t important. Is he Evie’s father?’
‘Who knows?’
‘We can arrange a paternity test, Miss Lowe.’ Obviously Harries was getting brassed off with the girl’s attitude as well. He continued in a reasonable, level tone, ‘I can’t understand why you’re being like this. I’d have thought you’d want to move heaven and earth to help us find Evie’s killer.’
‘Finding the killer isn’t going to bring her back.’ She sank into the chair, defences broken, fight gone. ‘All I know is she’s dead.’ Eyes brimming with tears. ‘And I’ve got nothing left to live for.’