‘I am Detective Chief Inspector Anna Travis. Thank you for agreeing to see me.’
‘Please come in. Stephen will be right down, he’s working upstairs.’
Anna was led through the narrow hallway into a long, eye-catching and modern galley-style kitchen with a black-and-white tiled floor and black granite worktops. The Aga, along with all the wooden cabinets and cupboards, was white with every large kitchen appliance integrated into the design. A sizeable T-shaped dining and relaxation area had clearly been added as an extension to the original kitchen. It had a glass-domed roof which filled the room with natural light and French doors that opened out onto a small but well-maintained garden. There was a white two-seater sofa and small television in one corner and the walls were adorned with large blow-up photographs of two handsome blond boys and many of Rebekka, one of which had a string of paper daisies threaded around the frame.
Emily had coffee brewing and Anna accepted a cup of lovely fresh Brazilian. As Emily offered her a plate of home-baked biscuits, her hand shook. Stephen Jordan then walked in and directly introduced himself. He was a very handsome man, wearing a pale blue cashmere jumper and old brown cord trousers, with dark blue suede loafers and no socks. Stephen had dark hair with flecks of grey at the sides and soft brown expressive eyes. In contrast his wife had pale blue eyes with silky thick blonde hair down to her shoulders. She was wearing jeans and a chequered shirt, and was taller than Anna, at least five feet eight or nine, and very slender. They made a very elegant couple and she saw him catch his wife’s hand gently as he sat on the arm of the sofa. Emily remained standing.
‘I want to be totally open with you both and explain why I am here,’ Anna began. ‘I wish I had more information for you, as what I do have isn’t much to give you any comfort and for that I am deeply sorry.’
They looked at each other, and their pain, the pain that Langton had described, was plainly still extremely raw. She could feel it.
Anna knew that she had to be careful not to mention the name of Henry Oates or his legal team could dismiss any identification the Jordans might make. So she explained to them that they might have seen in the papers or on TV that police had arrested and charged a man with the abduction and murder of Justine Marks, and that during interview this man had said that he had killed two other women: a girl he referred to as Julia and their daughter Rebekka. Anna told them that she was taking the admissions very seriously and would be making a full and thorough investigation. Neither of the Jordans spoke, but Stephen’s hand gripped his wife’s more tightly.
‘However, he now claims that both admissions were a lie and the only reason he made them was for a laugh as he had read all the media coverage about Rebekka at the time she went missing.’
Still they remained silent.
‘He has been re-interviewed but given us no further details and now still denies any involvement in your daughter’s disappearance. I have a photograph that I would like you to look at to see if you recognize him or can give his face a name.’
Anna opened her briefcase as Stephen stood up, releasing his wife’s hand. He delved into his pocket and took out a pair of glasses as Anna handed him the photograph of Henry Oates. They stood very close together, both looking at the picture, and then Stephen turned to Anna.
‘No, I don’t recall ever seeing anyone like this.’
He passed the photograph back to Anna. ‘I’m afraid I don’t either. It’s the sort of face I think one would remember,’ Emily said.
As she replaced the photograph into her file Anna asked them if the name Henry Oates was familiar to them but they both said no. She sipped her coffee and looked over to the extension. ‘How long ago was your extension built?’
Stephen hesitated, and it was Emily who said that it was six years ago and completed just before Rebekka went missing.
‘I designed it and brought in the builders,’ she added. ‘Can you recall who dealt with the planning permission at your local council?’
‘We didn’t need planning permission because of its size. I applied for a certificate of lawful development and the building inspector visited a few times and that was it.’
‘Were you still living here while it was completed?’
‘Yes. In fact we redesigned the kitchen at the same time and it was all done at once. We sort of camped out in the other rooms.’
‘Do you remember the name of the building company?’
Emily turned to her husband, who said he would have the details in his office upstairs. Left alone with Emily, Anna asked about the photographs.
‘I did them,’ said Emily. She went over and stood by her daughter’s picture. ‘The boys made these daisies.’
‘They are at boarding school, aren’t they?’
‘They are both at university now. When Rebekka went missing I became very protective and wanted to change their school so they would be at home, but Stephen felt it was better they were away – you know, kept to a routine as it was such a terrible time. They have both been traumatized by what happened to Rebekka, she was such an adorable child and they worshipped her. She went to a school that specialized in learning difficulties, as she was dyslexic, but not badly. She was such a physical child, sports and athletics and…’ her voice dropped ‘… horse riding.’
Stephen returned with a folder and placed it on one of the worktops.
‘The building company brought in a team of men to dig out the garden as there was a stone patio and some trees directly outside the old kitchen. I’m not sure who they hired, but I have the builders’ names. I gave the detectives copies of these when Rebekka disappeared.’
Anna smiled, thanking him as he passed her a neatly written note with all the contact numbers and addresses.
‘Do you think this Henry Oates might have worked for them?’ he asked.
‘It’s possible he used a false name but we’ll be making new enquiries.’
Anna closed her briefcase and stood up, about to leave, just as the phone rang. Stephen answered. He spoke briefly to someone and then turned to his wife.
‘Show DCI Travis her room, darling. I’m going to have to take this call upstairs. Will you put it through for me?’
‘Yes of course.’
‘It won’t take long. Then maybe you’d like to come up and see my office, top floor, I keep all the press cuttings up there and…’
‘Thank you,’ Anna said, not really wanting to prolong her meeting, but having no real reason not to.
‘How is Detective Langton?’ Emily asked. ‘He’s well, thank you. Well, not that well actually, he’s had some knee surgery which is why he is not here personally.’
‘He was so good. I don’t know how we would have coped without him. He was such a support and his kindness meant so much to us. We also appreciate that he has kept in touch since.’
Emily seemed to find it hard to refer to her daughter’s disappearance and her slender hands constantly toyed with a delicate gold chain bracelet on her wrist.
‘I know he did everything possible, I know that. Please pass on our regards to him and I hope he makes a full recovery.’
‘I’ll most certainly do that.’
Emily gestured for Anna to go ahead of her into the hall.
‘You have a lovely home,’ Anna said.
‘I was a designer, and may even return to work soon. Stephen is very encouraging about me starting again, so maybe one day.’
They headed up a winding staircase with polished pine floors and white walls that had colourful paintings on them, all of the seaside.
‘These are very old. We have a cottage in Cornwall – well we used to, we sold it two years ago. We’d go there every summer.’ Midway up the stairs Emily stopped and looked back at Anna. ‘I wait, I just wait in case there is a call, you know that if we were away I’d miss it. Now I can’t seem to get out of the habit, if you can call it that. The waiting is never over.’