They reached the landing, which was also of polished wood, with tapestry rugs, and there was a huge glass chandelier with coloured glass flowers.
Emily opened a bedroom door and stood back.
‘I’ve kept it exactly as it was. This is Rebekka’s room.’
It was bright with pale blue draped curtains tied with big floppy bows. There was a single bed with oversized dolls laid out on the pillows and a white wardrobe with one door open to show racks of dresses and shoes. Against one wall was a large mirror, ballet shoes left beside it, and a pink net tutu hung over one of the carved arms. Like the rest of the house the floor had bare wood boards, but these were painted a pale blue colour. Next to the wardrobe there were rows of worn riding boots and crops in a heap beside a long trestle table. The table was covered in bits of material and a small red sewing machine stood alongside boxes of fabric that were neatly labelled as lace, velvet and wool. One large box was open to reveal a stack of tiny naked dolls, some without limbs or heads. There were also pots of glue and a paint box with a jar beside it filled with brushes and crayons.
‘She spent hours up here. She’d make the dolls for her doll’s house and even the furniture. She was very inventive. She made little mirrors with tin foil for the glass, and the wigs from her own hair; she’d collect it from her hairbrush and we even found her cutting one of the boy’s curls when he was sleeping.’
‘The doll’s house?’ Anna said, recalling the one she had seen at Langton’s and the Jordans’ home video she had watched.
‘Well, Stephen made it for her, but she had started to really want a bigger one, she said she couldn’t fit in all her families. He is halfway through designing a new one; you’ll see it in his office. It’s very grand and exactly how she wants it, with the main wall opening up to show off the different rooms.’
Anna gave a sidelong glance to Emily as she lightly touched her daughter’s hairbrush on the small kidney-shaped dressing table.
‘So what happened to her old doll’s house?’ Anna asked as she pretended to be interested in the tiny figure of a dog; it was made out of plaster and no bigger than her thumbnail.
Emily hesitated and then gave her bracelet a twist. ‘James was telling us it was his stepdaughter’s birthday, he said he felt dreadful as he had meant to buy her a gift, but had been held up interviewing someone, so Stephen gave him Rebekka’s.’
Anna was quite shocked on two counts. One, she presumed the woman’s mention of James referred to Langton, and the other that they would part with something of their daughter’s.
‘She didn’t want it,’ said Emily, maybe sensing her reaction. ‘She’d grown out of it and Stephen was so sure she’d come home that he wanted to finish the one he was building as a surprise.’ Again Emily twisted her bracelet round and round and her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘He hasn’t. I think he finds it too distressing, you know, to finish it.’
Emily covered her face as she started to weep, awful shaking sobs, and Anna instinctively went to put her arms around her. She felt terribly frail and Anna could smell a soft flowery perfume.
‘I am so sorry, so sorry. I don’t want Stephen to see me like this.’
She broke free and backed away from Anna. ‘He’s upstairs. Please go and see him. I’ll be downstairs.’
Anna waited a moment and then headed up a narrow staircase to the top floor, where she found Stephen sitting at a large trestle table similar to his daughter’s. The room included high-tech computers and sound equipment, but nothing much else. In one corner was, as Emily had described, a half-finished huge elaborate doll’s house.
‘I have really come to say that I’ll be leaving now, but I will be in touch if I have any further news.’
‘She’ll be nineteen next month. Hard to come to terms with how she would have grown up. She’ll always be thirteen, won’t she? Always young, always a child.’
‘It must be heartbreaking.’
‘It is. Maybe if we get something that will let us bury her. We have no grave; we have just hung onto hope for five years. It’s harder for Emily because she won’t leave the house.’
He got up and moved closer to Anna, putting his hand on her shoulder.
‘I beg you to find out where she is and what happened to her, then we can move on and sell this house, because it’s like a haunting, she’s still everywhere. I love my wife and I just want her to get over this terrible guilt she feels.’
Anna found the warmth of his hand on her shoulder and his closeness uncomfortable, and she stepped back.
‘I’ll show myself out. Thank you for your time and I promise I will do everything in my power to give you some peace.’
Anna did not return to the kitchen, but let herself out and hurried towards her parked Mini, bleeping it open and getting in as fast as she could. It all came down like a heavy weight. The pain inside the white, sparkling-clean house and the anguish of Rebekka Jordan’s parents became confused with her own past. She broke down and wept for the man she had loved and for the future she had lost with his murder. The scene she had just witnessed also brought something else home to her very strongly: she had no one, no one to take care of her like Stephen Jordan, who obviously loved his wife Emily.
Pete Jenkins, an old colleague and friend, called Anna that evening. She hadn’t heard from him for a long time. He explained that he had tried to contact her in the incident room at the station.
‘You were out and about and didn’t answer your mobile.’
‘I’m sorry, I had it on silent and haven’t checked it since.’
‘Well it’s nothing urgent, more of a moan, as I’ve been told you want all the crap they removed from your suspect’s home sifted. I didn’t get a clear indication from fatty Barolli what I’m to earmark so I thought I’d ask you.’
‘Well, I need you to examine anything that may connect Oates to the victims he claimed he murdered; female underwear especially, something he might have kept as a sick token like jewellery as well.’
‘The obvious?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. The young girl Rebekka was wearing a pink Alice band, no press release on it, but then her backpack and riding helmet were never recovered. Did you get details of her clothing sent to you?’
‘No, and nothing for Fidelis Julia Flynn either.’
‘I’ll sort it out in the morning.’
‘Okay. In the meantime, I’ll put a mask on and start digging around. You know we have about fifteen disgusting black bin liners full of stuff. I’ve had a couple of assistants start to comb through it all, but I’ll get on with it personally in the morning.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Dinner should be on the cards.’
‘You got a rain check on that.’
‘Maybe come to my house, meet the wife; she’s lumbering around as we’re expecting a baby next month.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know. Congratulations. Do you know what it is?’
‘No, but if it is a boy, he’s going to be called Harold. It’s taken some time to get her to agree to it, but it’s my grandfather’s name.’
‘Lovely. Fine, I’ll wait to hear from you.’
She sensed that Pete would have liked to chat more, but she didn’t feel like it. Her brief affair with him had been a long time ago.
As she hung up she felt another pang of sadness. Pete and his wife were about to start a family, and she remembered laughing and talking with Ken about raising a big family together. He’d wanted a rugby team! He had been a very good rugby player and she had watched him playing a match, along with his sister and his two boisterous nephews cheering on their uncle Ken from the sidelines. Now there were no tears, not like earlier in the afternoon; it was just the sadness that enveloped her. She didn’t want to go over any of the files and instead had an early night, taking two strong sleeping tablets to make sure she slept. She liked the feeling of sinking into her pillow as they took effect and her mind went blank.