“I expect my sergeant in about an hour. Some constables from Deeping Well will join the two kept on watch on Flintlock. If I am not here, tell Sergeant Stark to continue and intensify the search started yesterday. And give him this.” The chief inspector lifted his computer bag. “Is there somewhere I can…”
“I have a safe in the back,” Teype said. “I can put it there.”
“Thank you.” Ravyn handed him the bag,
Ella Treadwell looked up when he approached. “I’m sorry if I sounded like a madwoman, Chief Inspector. It’s just…”
“No, you sounded like a mother with a lost child.” He sat down.
“I keep telling myself that she’s probably come back, that she slipped out before dawn, maybe to meet a boy or something.” She pressed her hands around the warmth of the coffee mug, but did not lift it to her lips. “She hasn’t a boyfriend, far as I know, but she’s not very open with me; more with James’ mother, but not even there, not as much as Gail thinks. With her father, not at all.”
“Tell me what happened,” Ravyn said. “Take your time and try to leave out nothing.”
“I was in bed, having trouble sleeping,” she said. “I was very disturbed by your visit yesterday, by the questions the sergeant asked us. James hates Lisa Martin, thinks she’s a bad influence on Annie, but at least she would have a friend. You can’t demand perfection from your friends, else you have none. No matter what James says, Annie needs friends.”
Ella was in her late-thirties, but she appeared older, not in looks, but in the aspect of her eyes. Ravyn saw a young woman turned old, one who in talking about her daughter was also talking about herself.
“I understood they were friends,” Ravyn said. “They do things together in the village and have even gone to Stafford on the bus.”
“I never knew,” she said. “If James had ever found out… No, I never knew.”
“You were having trouble sleeping…” Ravyn prompted.
“I’m not sure now why I got up, why I went to check on Annie, but I felt I had to,” she said. “I’m sure I did not hear any noises. I went to her room. I knocked on the door, softly, you understand, so as not to disturb James.”
“Your husband was asleep?”
“I think so,” she said. “We have separate bedrooms. When I found Annie was gone…”
“What time?”
“About an hour ago, maybe a bit more.”
Ravyn looked at his watch, saw it was half six. “Around five-thirty, a quarter after?”
“More like five,” she said. “I wanted to come earlier, but James would not allow it, said it was all a bother about nothing, that she had run off, that Annie would be back once she came to her senses, that she was foolish and…”
The woman burst into tears. Ravyn reached into his trousers pocket, pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her. He saw Patsy enter from the kitchen, then freeze at the sound of sobbing. He signalled her, not frantically or even urgently, but as if he were ordering another drink.
“What’s the matter, luv?” Patsy sat and took her hand.
“Her daughter is missing,” Ravyn said.
Patsy threw an arm around the woman’s heaving shoulders. “You have to calm down, Ella, tell Mr Ravyn what he needs to know. That’s the only way you’re going to help Annie.”
Ella nodded, wiped her eyes and nose, and forced herself to stop crying. “When there was no answer, I went in. She was gone.”
“Was the bed unmade?”
“Never slept in.” Ella said. “I looked all through the house, then went to James’ room. I told him about Annie.”
“Was your husband dressed or undressed?”
“He had his pyjamas on,” she said. “I told him Annie was not in the house, that I was afraid the Beast had taken her. He said it was more likely Annie had run off, that she had taken after Lisa. He was very put out. I can understand that, though. James likes his little routines, his little patterns of life. I don’t think he was as angry that Annie was missing as he was annoyed by the interruption.”
“Did you check with your mother-in-law?”
“She didn’t know anything. She’s upset, or acts like she is.”
“Then what happened?” Ravyn asked.
“I heard you were staying here, wanted to come her, but James forbade it,” she said. “He said I could call the constable, see if he had seen Annie.” She paused. “Delbert…I mean PC Vainglory is a friend of James’. No, not a friend, really—James doesn’t believe in having friends—but the constable is very useful to him.”
“Useful?”
“Keeping track of Annie…of other people.” A smile curved her lips. “You say Annie has even been to Stafford on the bus? The constable is falling down on his job.” The smile vanished. “He did not know anything about Annie being gone, where she might be. He wanted to go to you too, but James would not allow it, said that our business was our own, not the concern of any outsider. Actually, James put it rather more crudely.”
“And yet you are here,” Ravyn said.
She nodded and looked around. She looked down, eyebrows arching as if for the first time noticing the hot mug around which her hands were cupped. She lifted it and sipped the bitter drink.
“It was PC Vainglory,” she said after a moment. “He waited till James went to the kitchen, then pulled me out of the house and down here. I was so terrified.”
“Do you know where PC Vainglory went?”
She shook her head. “He stared at me. So grim. I thought he was angry with me, resented me for forcing him to defy James. But he wasn’t looking at me, more like looking through me. Then he turned and walked out.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have a picture of Annie?”
She pulled a snapshot from the pocket of her jumper. “I brought this.” When he tried to take it from her she held on. “This is my picture of Annie.”
“It will be returned, Mrs Treadwell,” Ravyn said. “To you only, not anyone else.” He passed it to Patsy. “If I have not returned by the time my sergeant is here, give this to him. Have him make copies at the post office and distribute to search parties.”
“I can knock up Wendell, get copies made,” the barmaid said. “Have them ready by the time he gets here.”
Ravyn nodded and started to pull out some money.
“No, Mr Ravyn, it’s not necessary.”
“Thank you, Patsy,” he said, handing her twenty pounds.
Ella smiled her gratitude.
“Mrs Treadwell, will you come with me back to your home?”
Terror flickered through Ella Treadwell’s eyes. Her lips parted, but only a ragged breath emerged.
“You can stay here, Ella,” Patsy said. “I’ll fix up a room.”
Ella shook her head. “No, I’ve got to face James.” She looked to Ravyn. “You’ll go with me?”
“I’ll stay with you every moment,” Ravyn said. “And when I leave, you will come with me.”
She started to protest.
“No,” Ravyn said, cutting her off. He was not about to make the same mistake twice. “Trust me, Mrs Treadwell.”
She nodded.
They walked through a village not yet touched by dawn. A light mist hung in the air. Colours were muted to varying shades of grey. Midriven was unstirred, and yet Ravyn felt sly eyes upon them as they made their way back to The Garlands on Water Street.
Ella hesitated when Ravyn opened the gate, gazing at the mist-wreathed house with apprehension and dread. He offered her his arm. She grasped it as a drowning woman might take hold of a life preserver thrown into the surging sea. They walked up the precisely laid path through a landscape planned with mathematical perfection and zero tolerance.
The door opened when they were not yet halfway to the house. James Treadwell planted himself on the porch, arms crossed, eyes blazing. Never had Ravyn seen a man so gripped by fury. Ravyn’s arm hurt as Ella tightened her grip. He kept them moving forward at the same
steady, even pace.
“I blame you for this.” Treadwell pointed a stubby finger at the chief inspector. In contrast to his physical appearance, his voice was low, soft, almost devoid of emotion. “You come here, violate my house, interrogate my child, upset her to no end about a chit of a girl who’s a waste of skin. Now my Annie’s run off ‘cause of you. And now my wife is so mad with grief that she…”
“But, James, I…”
“Shut up! I am talking!”
Ella cast her gaze to the ground and shuddered.
Ravyn disengaged her grasp and mounted the steps. Treadwell was forced back by Ravyn’s advance. The man placed his fists on his hips. Ravyn met Treadwell’s fiery glare with an unflinching glacial gaze. Treadwell’s eyes shifted, only for an instant, but an instant too long.
“Your wife has reported your daughter missing,” Ravyn said. “I would very much like to talk to you. I can interview you here or I can do so in Stafford. May we come in?”
If at that moment Treadwell’s fury had burst its bonds and the man had attacked him, Ravyn would not have been surprised, nor would have been unprepared. Treadwell tensed, but after a moment he stepped aside. Ravyn extended his hand to Ella, which she took. They entered under Treadwell’s seething stare.
They went to the same parlour in which Ravyn had interviewed Annie about her friend’s disappearance. Ella sat next to Ravyn on the divan. Treadwell eventually sat in a chair across from them. Gail Treadwell, who had emerged from behind the stairs at their entry, stood behind James. Her hand rested on the back of the chair, but did not touch him.
Ravyn searched Gail’s face for some trace of the woman he had seen yesterday, the grandmother concerned about her granddaughter. He saw eyes like cracked glass, a mouth that was a thin bloodless gash, and a stare that was inflexible. Annie was her granddaughter, but James was her son, and in the current confrontation, Ella was the silly girl he had married.
“When was the last time you saw Annie?” Ravyn asked.
Treadwell remained silent.
“When was the last time you saw Annie?” Ravyn repeated. He waited a moment. “Did you argue? Was there an altercation?”
Treadwell braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “I never laid a hand on that child. I never do, no matter how much she deserves it. If I had, maybe she would not be the spoiled brat she is, with no respect for authority, associating with all the bad elements of the village.”
“When did you last see Annie, Mr Treadwell?”
“Yesterday,” Treadwell said. “Before dinner.”
“Not during or after?”
Again, Treadwell immersed himself in a brooding silence.
“Annie did not eat dinner with…” Ella faltered as her husband shifted his gaze to her. She felt the warmth of Ravyn’s presence beside her. “James sent Annie to bed without her supper. He was displeased by your visit, blamed Annie for it. I checked her before I went to bed, that was at nine. She was reading.”
“What time did you go to bed, Mr Treadwell?” Ravyn asked.
“About ten,” Treadwell said. “After the news. I don’t stay up late because I have to rise early. It’s a long drive to Stafford.” He glared at his wife. “I am missing work because of this foolishness.” He looked back to Ravyn. “If I am not there to control them, the prats in my office will wreak havoc and play silly buggers all day. They’re worthless without an iron hand to guide them.”
“Did you go to sleep immediately?”
“I checked my e-mails, five or ten minutes, then went to bed.”
“You and your wife have separate bedrooms, I understand.”
“That’s none of your bloody business.” He glared at Ella.
“Can you confirm that your wife did not leave her room during the night?” Ravyn asked.
“No,” Treadwell said after a long moment. He gazed at Ella till she turned her head from him. “No, I cannot. She might have been anywhere, doing anything, and I’d be no wiser.”
“What time did you go to bed, Mrs Treadwell?”
Gail Treadwell started. She gripped the back of the chair with both hands, as if to keep herself from falling. “I retired to my room after dinner, about seven. I read for maybe two hours, then went to bed. I was fatigued by the events of the day. I also found your visit and your questions very troubling.”
“You didn’t check on Annie before you went to sleep?”
“No,” the woman said. “There was no need to. James had said everything that needed to be said. There was nothing I could add. Unlike some people, I give respect where respect is due.”
“Did either of you hear anything in the night?” Ravyn asked.
“No, nothing,” Treadwell said. “I slept soundly, until my wife became hysterical.”
Gail Treadwell shook her head. She tightened her grip on the back of the chair till her fingers were bloodless. A little tic pulled at the left corner of her mouth.
“No sounds at all?” Ravyn persisted. “Doors opening or closing, footsteps in the dark, nothing?”
Both Treadwell and his mother shook their heads.
Ravyn looked to Ella. “I’d like to see Annie’s room please.”
Treadwell shot to his feet. “You need a warrant for that.”
“No, James.” Ella had whispered the words, but Treadwell could not have been more stunned had she shouted. “No, James, Mr Ravyn does not need a warrant. He needs my permission.”
“This is my house!”
“Paid for with my money.” She turned to Ravyn. “Please come with me, Chief Inspector. I’ll show you to Annie’s room. If there is anything else you’d like to see, please let me know.”
Ella led Ravyn out of the parlour. After a moment, Gail left her post and followed them, keeping her distance, not meeting Ella’s gaze. Whatever bond had existed between the two women, created by a common fear, vanished the moment Gail chose to stand with her son. Ravyn doubted anything would ever reunite them.
Ravyn glanced back, fixing in his mind the image of Treadwell with his shoulders squared, his arms slightly apart from his body, and his face red with blood. He was trembling with impotent fury. In his futile anger, Ravyn thought, Treadwell was very much like the savage Briton of elder times, wanting to kill the unarmed and seemingly weak emissary sent by Rome, yet knowing that if he did he would call down his own destruction.
“Here it is,” Ella said.
When she made no move, he reached forward and opened the door. He entered, Ella followed, but Gail remained in the corridor.
The room was neat, ordered, uncluttered. No posters or photos adorned the cream-coloured walls. As Ella had said, it appeared the bed had not been slept in, and Ravyn was sure a coin dropped on its taut surface would bounce high. Clothes in the wardrobe were hung with precision. None appeared missing. A three-shelf bookcase contained classic fiction and academic non-fiction, all arranged alphabetically. He poked through the desk and looked behind the few pieces of furniture. A tree’s spreading boughs blocked the view from Annie’s window. Ravyn flipped the latch, but a piece of wood outside prevented him from opening it. He looked back at Ella.
“When she was younger, Annie used to climb down the tree,” she said. “James sealed it, said he didn’t want her hurting herself.”
“Does Annie keep a diary or journal?” Ravyn asked.
“Not that I…” Ella paused, then sighed deeply. “Almost any question you could ask about Annie—not that I know. What kind of a mum doesn’t know anything about her daughter’s life?”
“Is there anything you need to get before we leave?”
“Some clothes,” she said. “I don’t have anything else.”
“Get them,” Ravyn said. “Quickly.”
She went to her bedroom. He waited outside as she packed a bag. Gail approached him.
“Ella’s leaving?”
Ravyn nodded.
“Jimmy won’t like that.” She glanced down, as if through the floor she could see her son still st
anding, still simmering in the parlour. “Not at all. He’ll be livid.”
“You could…”
“No, Mr Ravyn, I can’t,” she said.
“Do you know where Annie is?”
“No, I don’t,” she said. “If I did, I would tell you, and Jimmy. He seems a hard man. but he’s merely set in his ways. He likes things done a certain way and no other. He has always been like that. Jimmy made a poor impression on you, I know, but he loves his family very much. Jimmy gives Annie a standard of living other children would envy. Here, she has everything a girl could want.”
“She should have come with me yesterday,” Ravyn said. “I should not have left her here.”
“But, Annie ran away,” Gail protested. “Or she went off to see what had happened to Lisa.” She suddenly paled. Her eyes widened in fear. “If she did, then the Beast might have got her too.”
Ravyn searched Gail Treadwell’s face for a trace of mockery, a hint of suspicion, but saw only devout belief in a tale with which she had lived her entire life. The Beast was as real to her as the man who stood before her, perhaps more so.
“We live in a world of beasts,” Ravyn said. “They usually do not dwell in legend-haunted forests.”
“What are you saying?” She took a step back. Her hand flew to her mouth. “You can’t believe… No, that’s impossible. Jimmy has rough edges, but he would never harm Annie.”
“He seemed to take it rather personally when I suggested there might have been an altercation,” Ravyn said.
“Any man would.” The fear in her eyes was replaced by the cracked-glass coldness he had seen in the parlour. “I know you said it because Jimmy was being truculent, but it was monstrous of you.” The concerned grandmother was now an enraged mother ready to protect her child. “How dare you! I know my son, Chief Inspector.”
He had raised the issue to force an end to Treadwell’s silence, but not for that alone. A long-sleeve blouse and a scarf in an overly warm house was no evidence, he knew, but the discontinuity had created a sniggle of doubt that eventually made its way into his gut. Over the years, he had learned, generally though mistakes made and regretted, not to hinder the passage of insignificant details through his subconscious. He could always dismiss idle ruminations that led nowhere, but occasionally they took him somewhere.
Beast of Robbers Wood Page 8
