‘Did he have any ideas?’
‘None that helped,’ said Maureen.
‘Have you ever seen him again recently?’
‘Not for years. But we’ve had emails and telephone conversations. He’s been helping us to keep Rachel’s name out there, and he usually sends us a clipping if he’s written anything about her in his paper. It’s in Estonian, of course, but you can still see it where he mentions her name, and he writes out a nice translation for us. It’s very difficult when you’re so far away. People forget so easily. We’ve been meaning to get in touch with him.’
‘I’m afraid there’d be no point,’ said Annie. ‘He’s dead.’
The Hewitts looked at one another in shock. ‘Dead? But... how?’
‘He was also murdered. Shortly before Inspector Quinn, we think.’
‘But why? He seemed such a nice young man.’
‘Well, his business is a dangerous one. He worked on exposing crimes and criminals, and they don’t like it when someone does that. There were probably a lot of people had it in for him because of the things he wrote.’
‘About Rachel?’
‘That’s a possibility we have to consider. Do you have these clippings? Could we take them with us and have a look at them? We’ll make sure you get them back.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Maureen opened one of the filing cabinets and pulled out a red folder. ‘They should all be in here. Translations, as well. So you do think Mihkel Lepikson’s death had something to do with Inspector Quinn’s?’
Annie could have kicked herself. She had gone too far. She didn’t want to lie to the Hewitts, but she couldn’t tell them the whole truth, either. A good investigation depended on holding back information from the public. ‘It’s possible,’ she said. ‘We just don’t know. That’s why we’re asking all these questions. I know it must seem a bit strange to you.’
‘But don’t you see?’ Maureen went on. ‘If the two are linked, they might both have something to do with Rachel. It could all be connected. This could be the sort of lead we’ve been waiting for. They might have known where she is.’
‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up,’ Annie said.
‘Hopes? What else could I have except despair? Do you know, there isn’t a day goes by when I don’t imagine the terrible things that could have happened to Rachel over the last six years. That could be happening to her somewhere, even now. Her fear. Her pain. Her desperation. People doing terrible things to her. My little girl alone in the dark with monsters, abandoned. Believe me, I don’t sleep much any more. The nightmares are too frightening.’
Her husband touched her shoulder and said, ‘Or that she’s lost her memory somehow, and has forgotten about us, but is living her life happily somewhere. That’s what I try to think about, anyway.’
Maureen moved towards the doorway. ‘Come with me. Let me show you something.’
Annie raised her eyebrows and glanced at Winsome.
‘I mean it. Just follow me,’ Maureen said. Annie and Winsome did as they were asked.
Maureen took them across the landing and into another, smaller bedroom. ‘This is Rachel’s room,’ she said, in slightly hushed tones. ‘It’s ready for when she comes back. It’s always ready. I wash the sheets every week, and her clothes, even though she hasn’t worn them for a long time. It’s important to keep things clean. That’s hope. And when our daughter comes home at last, it will all have been worthwhile. I suppose you think I’m insane now, but I don’t care. It’s one of the things that keeps me sane. The hope.’
Annie took in the room. It was quite ordinary, not pink or black or anything you might expect from a teenager, thank God, but a neutral tone of blue, with a small writing desk and chair, television and CD player, a few CDs and books in an antique glass-covered bookcase. Posters of Coldplay and Franz Ferdinand adorned the walls. There was also a glossy picture of a sleek BMW standing outside an ugly art deco mansion. Someone, presumably Rachel, had written a thought bubble with the words ‘MINE ONE DAY!!’ in a Sharpie at the top. Annie smiled. Just under window was a collection of stuffed and fluffy animals, clearly going all the way back to Rachel’s childhood. Very girly, she thought.
‘She loves fluffy animals,’ said Maureen, catching Annie’s expression. ‘Collected them. That’s Paddy.’
Annie glanced at the bed. A one-eyed teddy bear missing a fair bit of stuffing sat propped up against the pillow staring at them. It gave her the creeps.
‘Paddy was her first ever animal, when she was a baby. She took him everywhere with her. He was with her in Tallinn. In her hotel room. Inspector Quinn very kindly got him back for us. Paddy’s waiting for her, too. He was her good-luck charm.’
‘I see she liked cars, too,’ said Annie.
‘Oh, that. That was just a bit of silliness. I can’t understand what it was with her and fancy cars. That’s more a boy thing, isn’t it?’
‘Did Rachel still live at home when she...?’
‘When she disappeared. It’s all right, love, you can say the word. Yes, she did.’
‘Did she have a boyfriend?’
‘Not for a while. She’d been seeing Tony Leach for a couple of years, but they split up about a month before she went away.’
Annie remembered the name from Bill Quinn’s reports. ‘Was she upset about it?’
‘Of course. Two years is a long time. But she soon got over him. You do when you’re young, don’t you, though it seems like the end of the world at the time. She shut herself away in her room and cried for two days, then she put him behind her and got on with her life again.’
Maureen led them back into the office, but they remained standing. There wasn’t really an awful lot more to say. Annie got the names and addresses of Tony Leach and the five female friends who had been with Rachel on that fateful hen weekend, thinking one of the girls might know something and might have kept quiet for reasons of her own. At the door, she turned and asked the Hewitts if there was anything more they could tell her about Bill Quinn’s last visit to the house.
‘Like what?’ asked Maureen.
‘What sort of mood was he in?’
‘Well, he was very sad, of course. The poor man had just lost his wife. And he seemed distracted.’
‘Did he say anything odd or surprising? That sort of thing.’
It was Luke who answered. ‘He said one thing that struck me as odd when I thought about it later. We were talking about his wife’s death, and one of the comments he made was that it “changes things”. I’m sure one thinks many things about the death of a spouse, but “it changes things” seems an odd one to me. I mean, it’s sort of self-evident, isn’t it, so why say it? Probably nothing, but there you are. And he told us not to give up hope.’
‘Thank you,’ said Annie. She knew what Bill Quinn had meant.
‘You will keep in touch, won’t you?’ said Maureen. ‘If there’s anything...’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘What little secret would that be?’ Banks asked.
‘Nobody wants to stay in Professional Standards for ever. Annie Cabbot didn’t; I don’t. As you know, it’s not possible, anyway. There’s a strict time limit on the job.’
‘Don’t tell me you want to work Major Crimes,’ said Banks.
‘Well, I’d like something a bit more juicy than PS, yes, and something that earns me a bit more respect from my fellow officers.’
‘And this is a way of getting some on the job experience? In the back door, so to speak.’
‘Something like that. Believe or not, I asked for this job. I wanted the opportunity to work with you.’