‘Kiser didn’t know what number to call so he took a lift down to reception and got them to phone it in. Few minutes after that, Elissa’s mum approached the tournament organizers about her daughter. Uniform arrived just as everyone was putting two and two together.’
Mairéad grimaces. She rolls her tongue around her teeth, wishing she had a breath mint. ‘OK, we’re going to need a search adviser down here to assist. Get a call into Winfrith and ask them to locate Karen Day. I want her, if at all possible. While you’re at it, make sure everyone knows we’re dealing with a Critical Incident and reacts accordingly. And warn the news office that I’ll want to launch a Child Rescue Alert straight after I talk to the mum. Get them this photograph and everything we have so far.’
While Carr summons his sergeants, Mairéad glances at her watch. It’s 14.36. Elissa disappeared between twenty and twenty-six minutes ago. This first hour – the golden hour, as it’s called – is critical. Already they’re nearly halfway through it. A CRA will notify print and broadcast media of the girl’s disappearance, triggering an immediate public appeal. An army of civilian volunteers will amplify the message through social media. But Mairéad can’t launch the CRA straight away. The contact centre needs to prepare for a spike in calls; neighbouring forces will have to be co-opted into handling overflow. Otherwise, vital information could be lost. Winfrith can organize everything pretty quickly. Even so, it’s not instantaneous.
Her stomach clutches. She needs to be sharp here and she knows she’s not. If only she can get through the next hour, she knows she’s the best person to lead this. Trouble is, Elissa Mirzoyan might not have another hour.
Mairéad tastes bile, or the memory of it. To Halley she says, ‘We need a list of all the guests who’ve already checked out. Also, this is a hotel, which means there must be coffee. Find some.’
As he heads towards the reception desk, her phone rings. It’s Snyder, the Dorset ACC, confirming her appointment as Senior Investigating Officer. She thanks him and turns back to Carr, who’s just finished briefing his sergeants. ‘Where’s the mum?’
‘We’re looking after her in the manager’s office.’
‘Dad?’
‘Not together, apparently. We’re trying to track him down.’
‘Let’s get a photo of him, too. Show it to our witness.’
Mairéad glances around the lobby. She wants to go home and crawl under her duvet. Instead, she rotates her wedding band three times. It’s a practised movement, almost subconscious, a routine that sometimes clears her head. ‘What’s the mum’s name?’
‘Lena Mirzoyan.’
‘Take me to her.’
III
The manager’s office – high ceiling, tall windows, stiflingly hot – is carpeted in Black Watch tartan. All the wood is mahogany.
Two uniformed PCs stand by a leather-topped writing desk fiddling with their radios. Lena Mirzoyan sits in a club chair beside a cast-iron radiator spewing out heat. She’s suffered no mortal injury, but she still looks like she’s dying. Blood has retreated from her face, leaving skin as dry as bandages. Her expression suggests agony on a scale unimaginable.
‘Lena,’ Mairéad says. ‘My name’s Detective Superintendent Mairéad MacCullagh. I’m the officer in charge of finding Elissa.’
Lena jerks as if she’s been slapped. She glances up, eyes wide and white. ‘There’s still time.’
Mairéad comes a little closer. ‘Time?’
‘Her next match only started at two thirty. That’s less than ten minutes ago. I’m sure the organizers, under the circumstances … I mean …’ Lena gasps for breath. Her whole body shudders. ‘She worked so hard.’
‘Lena, I need to ask—’
‘They’re saying someone took her. Pulled her into a van. That can’t be right. Can it?’
Mairéad crouches down, covering the other woman’s hands with her own. Despite the heat inside the office, Lena Mirzoyan feels like a slab of chilled meat. ‘I know this is hard to hear,’ she says, ‘but we’re operating on that basis for now. It doesn’t mean it’s our only focus. We have officers searching the hotel, just in case. The surrounding streets, too. And we’re checking all the local transpo—’
Lena pulls back her hands. ‘Why would anyone take her? Today, of all days?’
‘If someone has taken Elissa, there’s a very good chance it’s someone she knows, quite possibly someone you both know. Who might that be, Lena? Do you have any ideas?’
The woman’s eyes dart around the office, as if she’s searching for an exit. ‘There’s no one.’
‘What about her dad? How’s their relationship?’
‘They don’t have a relationship, not any more. And Ian wouldn’t … He’s just not …’
Mairéad nods, easing back a little. Regardless of what Lena Mirzoyan believes, her ex will remain a priority until something rules him out. ‘These last few weeks – have you noticed any changes in Elissa’s behaviour? Anything out of the ordinary?’
‘Not that I can remember.’
‘Anyone new she was communicating with?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Does she have a phone?’
Lena opens her bag and takes out a Samsung. ‘She asked me to look after it.’
‘You know the password?’
‘Yes.’
Unfortunate that Elissa doesn’t have the phone – they might have traced her location through it – but at least they can harvest the data. ‘That’s great, Lena. That’s really helpful. Does Elissa own any other devices?’
‘An iPad and a laptop. They’re both at home.’
‘We’ll need to look at them right away. I’ll have someone drive you back to Salisbury so we can collect them. We’ll also need to search her bedroom – see if anything there can indicate where she might have gone.’
Lena’s eyes widen further. ‘But I can’t go home. I need to be here. I need to be here for when she comes back.’
Mairéad pauses, tries to imagine what the other woman is feeling. ‘Look,’ she says. ‘This is tough. It doesn’t get any tougher. But out there, right now, I have scores of highly trained officers doing their very best to find Elissa and bring her back. They’re working to a very well-tested plan. I need you to be brave. I need you to put your trust in us. And I need your help to make sure we have every single bit of information that could make a difference, so that we can do the best possible job. Can you do that for me?’
Lena’s chest rises and falls. She makes a sound like a wild animal in distress. Drawing out another phone, she turns it towards Mairéad. On the screen is an image of Elissa. This one’s not serious, like the other photograph. In it, the girl is grinning inanely, a red feather boa wrapped around her neck. An older couple cluster behind her, holding party balloons. Their eyes sparkle with love. ‘This is her,’ Lena whispers. ‘This is Elissa. My daughter. My life.’