Sleep Tight (18 page)

Christ, he thought. Don’t let him have killed them all, if I’ve let the bastard get away.

27

Becky stormed into the incident room on a blast of nervous energy. She couldn’t believe how pathetic she had been at the house that morning. She’d been known to take down two men at a time when she’d needed to, and yet she was spooked by an empty house. How the hell did personal emotional turmoil manage to sap a person of all their strength and determination? Well, bugger that. She was going to get it back. She wasn’t going to wimp around like some feeble eighteenth-century noblewoman, swooning at anything that made her jump.
Bugger
that.

She strode over to her desk, her mouth set in a grim line of decisiveness and saw Tom glance at her, and nod his head slightly. He’d be pleased she was getting her confidence back. Everybody here had seen the sorry-looking wreck who had turned up a few weeks ago, but now they were going to see the real Becky Robinson.

‘I want to get everybody together and run through where we’re up to, given what’s happened this morning. Is that okay with you, Tom?’

Before Tom had time to answer, Becky’s phone signalled an incoming message and she heard Tom’s vibrate at the same time.

Jumbo
.

‘You both need to see this – found in a notebook in Jasmine’s bedroom,’ the message said. There was an image attached. Becky opened it and stared at the screen. She glanced up and her eyes met Tom’s.

‘Shit,’ Becky muttered. She sent the image to her computer and bent over her desk, blowing the picture up to a sensible size. It didn’t look any less disturbing, and she quickly printed a few copies and passed one to Tom.

‘What’s he done to them, Tom?’ she asked, knowing that he had no more idea that she did. Without waiting for a reply, she walked over to the evidence board and pinned a copy of the picture on it.

The room fell quiet. Every head turned towards Becky as they sensed something had happened.

The image taken from Jasmine’s notebook had done nothing to diminish Becky’s determination, but she felt a heavy weight in her chest now as the suspicion that she had failed these children shattered her new-found confidence.

Without a word, members of the team walked up to the board, and Becky handed out a few copies of the picture. Tom pushed his chair back and moved closer, perching himself on the edge of a desk.

Becky stood and looked at the image once more before speaking. They had already been told that Jasmine was a child who was meticulous in her school work, and if this picture was anything to go by her drawing skills were probably slightly above average for her age, as each element of her composition had been painstakingly detailed.

The picture showed a tiny room. They could see the two back corners, and three walls that Jasmine had shaded a dark grey colour. There were no windows, and nothing in the room apart from a red box. Nothing, that is, except three children, huddled in the corner. They appeared to be sitting on the ground with knees bent. In the centre was a girl with long dark hair, and on each side of her was a little boy, both of whom had yellow hair that Becky interpreted as blond. The girl had an arm around each of them. There were tiny black oval shapes on the face of the youngest child, which could be tears. On one of the walls there was an open door, but it was high off the ground.

Underneath Jasmine had written: ‘Hiding from the enemy’.

There was silence as the team absorbed the implications of the image. Becky gave them a few moments.

‘Okay, we weren’t expecting this, but let’s have your ideas,’ she said to the hushed room.

‘Is there a cellar in their home?’ Ryan asked.

‘No, and not even a large enough cupboard for this to be somewhere else in the house. We need to get Jumbo to shift Olivia Brookes’ car to make sure there is nothing in the garage floor, but I doubt it.’

‘Does he own any other property – a lock-up or anything?’ Nic added.

‘Not that we’ve found. But maybe we need to dig a bit deeper. The thing is, Jasmine drew this
before
they went missing, or it wouldn’t have been in the house. So this is somewhere they have been before, unless it’s all in her head. Does anybody believe that?’

The silence said it all.

‘We’re assuming the enemy they’re hiding from is Robert – but is that too much of an assumption? Could this be something to do with their mother? Ryan, you were there when
Robert took the children for the supposed weekend away without Olivia’s knowledge. Did she strike you as somebody who would hurt her children, or lock them up somewhere?’

For once, Ryan was looking anything but cocky. It was the most serious Becky had ever seen him.

‘I might be wrong, but I’d say she was absolutely terrified of what Robert had done to the children. I honestly can’t see her hurting them, but it might be worth asking Superintendent Stanley for her view.’

Becky looked at Tom and he nodded his silent agreement to speak to Philippa, although Becky was fairly sure that the answer was a given.

‘Could it be somebody else? Has any other name come up that nobody has thought to mention?’

Once more there was silence, and Becky wasn’t surprised. Robert had hinted that there might be something Olivia and Jasmine were worried about, but this was major – not a slight concern that somebody might be making a nuisance of themselves.

‘Okay. Nobody needs telling that we have to find this place. It has to be our number one priority. Whatever has happened to Olivia, there is a possibility that these children have gone to this hiding place – they might be safe and desperate to be rescued, or they might be locked in and unable to escape. Any hint, any suggestion, we need to know. What about neighbours? We need to check them again – but not just for information. Look for sheds, cellars, attics. Has one of them taken in the children? Nic, can I leave that to you to organise, please?’

Nic nodded and turned back to his desk.

‘Right – let’s talk about
this
woman.’ Becky banged her finger three times on the blown-up photo on the board of the woman who had been posing as Olivia Brookes at the guest house. ‘We don’t know who she is and, although we know Robert has seen her picture, he omitted to mention to us that somebody has been impersonating his wife.
Why did he do that?
’

A hand shot up from the back of the room.

‘Is it possible that Robert put this woman in the guest house and has harmed Olivia and the children? Could she be working for Robert to help cover his tracks? Looking at the daughter’s picture, it does seem as if she was afraid of somebody.’

Becky nodded her head slowly. ‘Sounds plausible. Does anybody else have a view?’

Tom stood up.

‘We found passports for Olivia and Jasmine at the house this morning. Both of them had Iranian visas, which were dated for the half-term week in October last year when Olivia was
supposed to be in Anglesey. It looks like she might have lied to Brookes about her whereabouts before, so isn’t it possible that she’s just left him? The woman at the guest house could be helping Olivia, not Robert.’

‘But was she
actually
in Iran with Jasmine, and – maybe – Danush Jahander? If she was, where were the boys? Or was she locked away somewhere? Had Robert discovered she was about to run off with Jahander and was that the start of it all? It must be obvious to everybody that it’s a priority to find out who this woman is,’ Becky stabbed her finger at the photo on the board again. ‘Why was she impersonating Olivia, and who the hell asked her to do it? I think we need to consider a television appeal.’

Everybody was quiet for a moment. Becky couldn’t help thinking she was missing something, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. They needed to move on.

‘What else have we got? Yes, Erica,’ Becky said, pointing to a slightly harried-looking woman at the back of the room. She knew Erica had four children, so guessed that – not for the first time – she’d had a nightmare with childcare this morning.

‘We’ve got Mrs Preston saying that Robert came home in the middle of Wednesday night or actually Thursday morning, and was gone again by the time she got up. This was supported by another neighbour who walks his dog at five fifteen every morning before he leaves for work at six. He said Robert’s car shot off the drive and nearly knocked him over.’

‘So do we think he came back to check up on them, wherever they are – or were? And if he did, he might have come back on other nights too. Any joy on the CCTV from the Newcastle hotel?’ Becky asked.

‘Nothing in the lobby area, no. But the manager said there are other ways out, and not everywhere is necessarily covered. He could have gone out through the kitchens for example, if he didn’t want to be spotted.’

‘What about the car park?’ Tom asked.

‘We requested the footage immediately, but we’ve only just got it because it comes from a different company – not the hotel. We’re going to start on that as soon as we’ve finished here.’

‘Start with Wednesday night,’ Becky said, ‘but I want the whole time he was in Newcastle covered. I want to know about every second his car was out of that car park.’

In the brief lull while the team assimilated all they had learned, the door to the incident room was flung open with some force, and a serious, slightly breathless Gil almost sprinted up the room in his red shoes.

‘You are
so
going to want to see this,’ he said.

Much as Becky didn’t want to be interrupted, Gil’s intensity suggested this was
important. He plonked down his laptop and stabbed his finger on a few buttons until it connected wirelessly to the whiteboard. Despite the writing on the board, the image was clear for all to see.

On the screen there was a video, and to Becky it was obvious this was the inside of the Brookes’ kitchen. The door opened, and Robert Brookes walked in, carrying a large bunch of white flowers and a carrier bag that appeared to contain bottles. Under his arm were what looked like children’s comics. He dumped the lot on the table. Although there was no sound, it was clear that Brookes was shouting, ‘Olivia!’ and turning to look around. He walked out of the kitchen, and was picked up next in their bedroom, his glance flicking around the room, seemingly confused. Finally Gil clicked something on the screen, which changed back to the kitchen. Robert flung open the door – and, even without the sound, everybody cringed as it crashed into the cupboard. He grabbed his wife’s bag and upended it on the table, checking the contents.

Gil clicked off.

‘Friday afternoon – at just the time Robert said he was home.’

Becky looked at the puzzled faces around her.

‘So where’s the video from?’

‘Watch this next bit, and I’ll tell you,’ was all Gil would say. He clicked another icon on the screen.

Into shot came a woman. The video was being taken from somewhere above her and she was walking with her head slightly bowed so they weren’t able to see a clear image of her face, but Becky was sure this was Olivia Brookes. She looked at Tom for confirmation, and he gave her a sharp nod without moving his eyes from the screen. There was still no sound, but it did seem that the woman was talking to somebody over her shoulder as she made herself a cup of coffee. A small child came into view, but this time only the very top of a blond head was visible. From his size, the child looked to be about four years old. Both walked out of shot, and the screen blanked for a second before opening up again – this time in the living room. Olivia was walking towards the sofa where she sat down, picked up a magazine and took a sip from the cup of coffee that she had brought with her from the kitchen.

The incident room was totally silent. Stunned by what they were seeing, no doubt. Gil switched off his laptop and turned to his audience.

‘Not a very inspiring bit of video, I hear you cry,’ he said theatrically. ‘But that, my friends, is the tip of the iceberg. The hard disc on Robert’s computer is absolutely full of videos of the Brookes family going about their business. Totally chocker. There are cameras hidden in every room of the house except the children’s bedrooms and the bathrooms. Glad
to know that Robert Brookes did have a modicum of decency in him.’

Becky glanced at Tom and noted that the only change to his expression was a slight narrowing of the eyes. She knew he didn’t like Robert, but the idea that the man filmed his wife’s every action was so horrible that it made Becky shudder. Did Olivia know about this? She couldn’t have done. Nobody would tolerate that level of surveillance. Or was it voyeurism? Did Robert get off on watching pictures of his wife? Would they ever know the answer?

Gil hadn’t finished.

‘The cameras were very cleverly concealed, high up on top of cupboards. But I think we’ve found them all now. They’re motion activated, and set to respond to movement above a certain height. It’s pretty clear he was only interested in capturing video of his wife, so each time she walked into a room the cameras started to film and record. Obviously the kids are in some of the shots with her, but they are all too small to activate the cameras themselves. The bad news is that the cameras are looking down on to the tops of their heads, so we’ve still got no photos we can use. And I can only assume that when Robert came home from work each night, he deactivated the cameras from his computer, because with the exception of the most recent one, there are no shots of him at all.’

Gil turned around and smiled at everybody, although the smile never quite reached his bleak, tired eyes.

‘The time stamps show that the last video of Olivia was shot on Friday – approximately one hour before Robert Brookes got back. Until that point, it would appear that she and the children were all fit and well, and at home.’

*

The incident room was humming. Everybody had a theory, but to Tom, none seemed to be quite right.

‘It seems clear from this that Robert was telling the truth when he said he was expecting his wife to be home when he got there,’ Ryan said.

‘Does everybody agree with that?’ Becky asked.

Nic put up a slightly tentative hand.