Wrongful Death (36 page)

‘A girl who Mandy didn’t like joined their group at the mall. Dewar thought she used choir practice as an excuse to part company with them,’ Don said.

‘Maybe that was just coincidence and she’d already arranged to meet someone else,’ Anna suggested.

‘Then why not tell her friends that?’

‘Because she didn’t want them to know who it was.’

‘So it could have been a man,’ Don remarked.

‘Or someone her age, but the question is, who and why be secretive?’ Anna said.

Don twisted his wine glass by the stem and looked at her.

‘Langton was right, you are the bee’s knees.’

The tension that had built up whilst discussing the case evaporated as she laughed, partly pleased by Langton’s compliments, but also because of the way Don looked at her. It was obvious that he was smitten, which she found she rather liked, but there was no time to respond as suddenly their waitress appeared with their starter.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Anna woke after a very restless night. The Mandy Anderson case kept running through her mind, so much so that she had stayed up until three a.m. reading the parents’ and many other statements in the file. Her evening with Don Blane had been thoroughly enjoyable, especially after they stopped discussing the case. They ate their dinner and chatted about their likes and dislikes in life, and what had made them want to become investigators. It struck Anna how much they actually had in common and she had no qualms about being honest and open with him.

Anna lay in bed thinking about what could have happened to Mandy Anderson. In all the statements, she was described as being almost perfect: athletic, friendly, well-liked, good scholar, and deeply religious – this was repeated over and over again. She’d never had a boyfriend and was popular amongst her small group of friends and the church congregation. Anna sighed, baffled at how on earth Mandy could just disappear without a trace in an area where everyone seemed to know each other and crime was a rarity.

She checked her watch, and as it was just after eight a.m. she decided to get dressed and go to the shopping mall where Mandy was last seen. She wanted to get a feel for the area, meet the Andersons and walk the two routes Mandy was known to use to go home. It would also allow her the opportunity to buy a hairdryer and some other bits and pieces she needed. She checked her mobile and saw that there was a text message from Joan, saying she had uploaded a copy of Barolli’s notes from the interview with Marisha, who was still in a coma. Although she felt some sympathy for the woman she resolutely deleted the text, determined not to be drawn back in. She tried ringing Langton to see how he was getting on but his mobile cut straight to voicemail, so she sent a text message: ‘Take care, hope you get him. Anna x’

That left her with the dilemma of whether to make use of Jessie Dewar’s Mustang or not. ‘Should I or shouldn’t I?’ she briefly thought to herself, before temptation got the better of her. After all, Langton had said it was insured for any driver.

Having put the convertible roof down Anna turned the keys in the ignition as she lightly put her foot on the accelerator. The loud roar from the Mustang’s twin exhausts made her jump and she wondered again if she was doing the right thing in driving Dewar’s treasured car. Slowly, and cautiously, she pulled out of the car park onto the road to the main gate. She was glad no one was watching as each nervous touch of the accelerator made the car lurch forward. Having reached the gate she asked one of the guards for directions to the shopping mall. He told her to take the I-95 to Woodbridge and she couldn’t miss the fifty-foot-high circular sign saying Potomac Mills Mall.

Anna was relieved that it was only a twenty-minute journey, as she found herself nervous behind the wheel of the powerful Mustang. The mall itself was enormous and as it was early, she found a parking space quite easily. Orientating herself with the map from the case file she started on the walk to the Anderson house on Hallard Drive. Anna realized that Mandy’s route was through middle- and upper-class residential areas, apart from a three-minute section along the side of woodland, which could be seen clearly from the main road.

Number fifteen Hallard Drive was a two-storey wood-cladded house in the centre of a winding road. The front porch was a pristine white, with a screened front door, small swing bench and a garage to one side. Anna had not noticed a church and, checking the map, realized she would pass it on the return journey to the mall.

‘Hi, I’m Sally Anderson. Are you Anna Travis?’

Anna looked up and saw a woman coming down the driveway.

‘Yes, I am,’ Anna said, realizing Don must have rung the couple already.

Sally Anderson was a very pretty woman with pale blue eyes and dark hair with streaks of grey. The case file said she was forty-five, but she looked much older and Anna suspected that the stress of Mandy’s disappearance had aged her prematurely.

‘I was so deep in thought and admiring your lovely house I didn’t see you,’ Anna apologized.

‘Please do come in, and don’t worry, we’re used to people stopping and staring. Thankfully things aren’t as bad as they used to be,’ Mrs Anderson said, and Anna presumed she was referring to the press interest their daughter’s case must have brought to the community.

The front door of the house opened directly into the living-come-dining room, which was well furnished and immaculately neat and tidy. The wooden floor, cabinets, table and chairs were all old-style but looked remarkably new and were well polished and shiny. A large wooden crucifix of Jesus on the cross hung above the small log-burning fireplace. The other walls had photographs of Mandy at different ages, and her parents.

Sally explained that her husband Peter was at the supermarket but she was keen to show Anna Mandy’s bedroom and took her upstairs.

‘We have left the room exactly as it was when she went missing. I just dust, vacuum and keep it aired. Please feel free to have a look round while I make a coffee or would you prefer tea?’

Anna could see that Sally was distraught and still believed that one day her daughter would be back. ‘Thank you very much, a coffee would be lovely.’

Anna smiled at Sally sympathetically, knowing with reasonable certainty that Mandy would never again return to the house.

Mandy’s room was large and decorated with colour co-ordinated pinks. Anna smiled as she recalled her own room when she was a little girl, a princess’s abode and the castle where she was safe and could be whoever she wanted to be. The bed had a soft pink quilt and pillowcases; the curtains were white with little pink rosebuds that matched the wallpaper. A silver-framed photograph of Mandy in her choir robes was on the bedside table. Anna recognized it as the same picture in the case file. She opened the white wooden wardrobe and saw stacked in one corner a pile of unopened presents, some covered in ‘Sweet Sixteen’ gift wrap, reminding her that Mandy disappeared a few days before her sixteenth birthday.

Anna sat on the small white stool in front of the pink, Cinderella-style dressing table on which were stacked about twenty birthday cards. She noticed that the envelopes were sealed but each one was the same pink colour. She thought this unusual and knew that it should be standard procedure for an investigating officer to check who sent every card and see if there were any from someone unknown to the parents. She wondered if this had been the case and Sally Anderson had then resealed all the cards.

In the dressing-table drawer, Anna found a small 2011 diary, which she opened and turned to the 21 May, to find that it had
CHOIR PRACTICE 3 P.M.
written in it, but recalled the case file said that there was no prearranged choir practice on that day. Anna was surprised the original investigation had missed the significance of this entry. There was the possibility they thought it was an error by Mandy but she wondered why Mandy would write something in her diary that was not true – was choir practice an entry to cover a secret meeting? Anna also considered it could have been cancelled or simply Mandy making a mistake. She flicked through page after page, wondering if any of the other choir practice entries might be false and if the church would still have a record of the practice times so she could compare them against the diary.

Anna went downstairs and joined Sally in the living room. She had made a pot of fresh ground coffee and laid out some cupcakes.

‘The birthday cards and presents, I noticed, are still all sealed and wrapped,’ Anna remarked. ‘Did the investigating officers look through them?’

‘Yes, they were all from friends and relatives. I resealed them all and rewrapped the presents,’ Sally said with a sad look.

‘Do you mind if I take the cards and Mandy’s diary with me?’

‘No, not at all. Is there something in the diary – a clue maybe?’

‘I don’t know yet, I need to look at it in more detail,’ Anna told her.

Sally began talking about Mandy’s prowess on the piano and had just moved on to her singing in the choir when Peter Anderson arrived home. He was smartly dressed in a blue shirt and pleated trousers but looked aged beyond his years, no doubt from the stress caused by the disappearance of his daughter. Peter sat next to his wife on the sofa.

‘From the moment we reported our daughter missing, we assisted the local Sheriff’s Office in every way we could,’ he explained. ‘We were initially treated with sympathy and respect. After four weeks with no sightings or clues as to Mandy’s whereabouts the Sheriff asked for the assistance of the FBI. Overnight, things changed dramatically, all because of the opinion and recommendations of one of their behavioural profilers.’

Anna could sense the increasing anger in Mr Anderson’s voice as he went on to explain that the profiler had said that Mandy was either abducted off the street or more likely had returned home, where something untoward had happened to her. Anna, realizing he didn’t know the name of the profiler, nodded and let him continue.

‘The sole basis for this was that statistically parents or other family members of the victim’s commit the largest percentage of child homicides,’ he said, pursing his lips. ‘The FBI came to OUR HOUSE, ripped it apart and desecrated OUR DAUGHTER’S bedroom, searching for supposed clues that I was her killer. I was arrested and questioned for two days.’

‘We felt so low,’ Sally added, and started to cry.

‘Don Blane stood by us all the way. He protested my innocence in church and told the congregation the vicious hate campaign against us had to stop. I can honestly say if it wasn’t for him, Sally and I would have moved away ages ago.’

Blane’s personal involvement was way beyond what Anna had imagined and she felt humbled that he had asked her to look at the case.

‘Will you find Mandy?’ Sally asked.

It was a familiar question for Anna in missing persons cases, but still one she dreaded and always found difficult to answer.

‘I wish I could say, yes, Sally, but I can’t. I can promise you that during my time at Quantico I will work with Don and do everything in my power to find out what happened to her,’ Anna said quietly and sincerely. Before leaving, she asked Sally who she thought were Mandy’s closest friends. The woman told her that Julie Collins was her best friend and lived at 58 Lincoln Avenue, the same street as the church.

Walking slowly along the pavement, taking in the peaceful sunny surroundings, Anna couldn’t get over how pleasant the area was. Nice homes, children in the street riding bikes and playing on front lawns. Anna thought about Mandy’s room and what it had revealed about her. Nothing suggested she was in any way promiscuous – if anything the decorations were childish for a girl who was nearly sixteen. Everything about her was angelic, apart from the blip when she discovered she was adopted, but that did not seem to have been a lasting problem after Don became involved.

Ahead of her was a distinctive building with a large sign saying
ST COLUMBA’S CATHOLIC CHURCH
. It was different from what Anna was expecting – brick built and very modern, no steeple or cross but a large glass entrance in the shape of the cross. It had a stark look to it and stood on a large plot of land alongside the priest’s house and a separate community hall, with woodland at the rear. Anna could hear the sound of a piano playing ‘Rock of Ages’ coming from the hall next door, so thought it might be the resident priest.

As she walked over to the door the music stopped and on entering she saw a raised stage at the far end with a grand piano on it.

‘Hello, Father, are you there?’

A tall freckle-faced young man with ice-blue eyes, pale skin and red hair that was gelled and sticking up came out of the backstage darkness. He looked to be around eighteen and was about six feet tall.

‘I heard the piano and thought it was the priest playing,’ Anna said.

‘That was me; did you like it?’ he asked brusquely, and sat back down on the piano stool.

‘Yes, it was very accomplished indeed. Is the priest about?’ Anna asked as she stepped up onto the stage.

‘No, Father O’Reilly’s out on parishioner visits. I’m keeping an eye on things till he’s back. I’m Jack Brennan. You’re not from round here, are you?’

Anna couldn’t help but notice that Jack spoke in a machine-gun staccato manner and showed little facial expression, though he seemed very pleasant. His surname sounded familiar but she wasn’t sure if she had seen it in the case file.

‘I’m Anna Travis and I come from England.’ She smiled.

‘England, wow, I’ve always wanted to go there. I’d like to see the Tower of London and go to the Royal Opera House. Have you been to them?’ he asked, suddenly full of enthusiasm. His eyes lit up when Anna said she had.

‘Do you know when Father O’Reilly will be back?’ she asked.

‘Before five, ’cause he has a vigil mass then. Have you seen Manchester United play soccer?’ he said, the tone of his voice again changing when he asked about something he was interested in.

Anna confessed that she hadn’t and Jack looked a bit dejected, as if she had let him down by not having watched United play. From his reactions and behaviour, Anna wondered if Jack had some form of autism spectrum or attention disorder. He began to play ‘God Save the Queen’, telling Anna it was to remind her of home, and she nodded her approval at his note-perfect ability.