I’d groaned. It was all we needed. Davis knows I’m not Delaney’s greatest fan – and why. His presence always seems to put me ill at ease, like he’s always trying to get one over on me or trip me up.
‘Brilliant.’
‘Exactly,’ Davis had said. ‘So we need to get down there, gov, pronto.’
I’d already been sliding one arm into an unwashed shirt and trying to button it up one handed as she’d given me the address.
* * *
The first thing I remember about walking into the Lawlers’ home was the tension. It felt oppressive somehow; the feeling had covered me like a blanket, made me feel cumbersome like I’d just eaten a big lunch. The high-pitched wails of a little girl crying had made it nigh on impossible for me to concentrate on what the woman in front of me was trying to say. Beth Lawler was trying to console her daughter, concern, maybe even fear etched on her face as she’d tried to calm her. I’m fascinated by how much children sense things. They’re often a good indicator. Without the capacity of a full range of vocabulary, their feelings are transmitted through their primary instincts. We adults could learn a lot from them, and I remember that day Lily Lawler seemed particularly distressed.
‘I’m sorry’ – I’d looked at the woman in front of me apologetically and then at Davis, who was straining to listen over the din, ‘but can we go somewhere quieter where we can talk?’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Beth Lawler had apologised once more. ‘The terrible twos seemed to have gone into the terrible threes and fours…’ I’d detected the strain in the woman’s voice as she’d frantically tried to appease the girl.
‘Tell me, Mrs Lawler – Beth, isn’t it?’
She’d nodded, attempting to soothe her fractious daughter with a ‘shhhh’.
‘Tell me what happened from the beginning.’
Two
Beth
June 2018
‘Marta. Her name is Marta Larssen. She’s from Norway. She’s twenty-eight years old and—’ Beth was trying to calm Lily. She’d been squirming and fussing, crying intermittently, and she couldn’t concentrate on what the policeman was asking her. She can’t concentrate on anything. All she can think about is that now that she’s called the police, everything will have to come out. And she doesn’t want it to come out, not like this. Beth feels the tension fizzing through her body and silently wills Lily to be quiet. Please be quiet. Give me a chance to think!
‘Maybe I should take her into another room? Distract her a bit with some toys.’ The policewoman smiles at her kindly, hand outstretched towards Lily. ‘Then you can give Detective Riley as much info as possible, and we can find out what’s happened to Marta, OK?’
‘OK.’ Her brain struggles to process what is happening; too many thoughts are rushing through it for her to gain purchase on a single one. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, checking herself. ‘Would you like to sit down? Can I get you something to drink? Tea or coffee? Juice? Water?’
‘No. Thank you.’
The detective takes a seat at the table. ‘So when was the last time you saw Marta?’
Beth swallows. Common sense commands her to tell the truth. Perhaps if she does then they will understand, but she can’t bring herself to. Perhaps they’ll find Marta before she needs to say anything at all. She prays that will be the case.
‘I saw her this morning, before I left for the gym.’ She knows this is a lie. She is lying to the police.
‘What time was that?’
‘About 11.35 a.m. I like to get there for midday and be finished by 1 p.m.’
‘What’s the name of the gym?’ The detective nods and takes notes.
‘The Source; it’s the spa and gym down on Queens Road.’
‘How long have you been a member?’
She pauses, wondering why he is asking. Is it relevant? She doesn’t think so. She swallows back the nerves that dance in her throat, tells herself he’s just doing his job. The other detective enters the kitchen then, the one who had arrived first, Martin somebody she thought he’d said his name was.
‘Gone through the house, gov,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Nothing.’
‘Check the outsides, front and back,’ the detective in charge replies. ‘Sorry, Beth, carry on.’
‘About five years ago. I joined not long after we moved in here.’
‘We?’
‘Yes. Me and my husband Evan. He’s on his way home right now.’
She had called Evan, breathless, as soon as she’d hung up from the police. She had wanted to call him instead but somehow had the foresight not to.
‘Marta has gone missing.’
‘Missing? What do you mean, missing?’
‘I mean she’s… gone… disappeared, Evan. I came home to find the house empty; Lily was asleep in her bed… alone… Marta’s car is here, and her bag, I think some of her belongings have gone… but… no note… no phone call, nothing! She’s just vanished. I can’t get her on the phone and the back doors were wide open…’ She had heard the panic escalate in her own voice as she relayed the situation to her husband on the other end of the line.
‘OK… OK, calm down… are you sure she’s not just popped to the shops or something? Gone for a walk… have you tried calling her?’
He hadn’t been listening to her.
‘Yes, I’ve tried calling her! Her phone is off. And her purse is missing too. But her keys are still in her handbag… She wouldn’t just “pop to the shops” without them, would she? And she wouldn’t leave Lily on her own – never. I’m scared to death that something’s happened to her…’
‘Her keys are still there?’
‘Yes, they’re still bloody here… but she isn’t! She’s gone!’
‘Please calm down Beth,’ he’d said wearily. ‘There’s going to be some kind of explanation for this, OK?’
‘I’ve called the police.’
‘The police?’
She’d had to stop herself from screaming down the phone at him.
‘Yes! The police, Evan! They’re on their way now.’
He had been silent on the line for a moment.
‘You said, when you got back this morning, Marta was missing. Where had you been?’
‘To the gym,’ she’d replied, quickly adding, ‘Like I always do on a Friday morning. Please come home. I want you to be here when the police come. I’m worried, Evan; I think something dreadful has happened to her.’
‘It’ll be nothing,’ he’d said, ‘but I’ll leave now. I should be back within the hour, traffic depending, OK?’
‘OK,’ she’d said quietly.
‘It’s all going to be OK, Beth,’ he’d said before hanging up.
‘What time did you get home, Mrs Lawler?’
She feels the detective’s eyes on her and the nerves in her throat tighten into panic. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not like this.