Hidden ( CSI Reilly Steel #3) (15 page)

‘I’d move heaven and earth trying to find them.
But have you ever looked at the statistics? Tons of young kids go missing here every year, and most never show up again.’

‘I know.’

Although he didn’t have any children of his own, Chris was very close to his two-year-old god-daughter Rachel, the daughter of his best friend, and he took the role seriously, having seen firsthand how having a child had changed his friend. He could only imagine what it must be like to have the incredible responsibility of a child yourself. Not to mention such unbelieveable love. He wondered if he’d ever experience it himself.

Kennedy glanced across at him. 
‘Let me do the talking for this one,’ he said suddenly.

Chris was surprised. It was generally agreed that he had the gentler touch in such situations, and was usually able to summon up more affinity than the often brusque Kennedy.
‘You sure?’

His partner nodded. 
‘I think I’d rather be the one to tell them than just stand by, feeling helpless. Parent to parent.’

The Fordes lived in a small terraced house in the suburbs of Navan.  According to the records, it was the same house they had been living in when Sarah had disappeared.

Chris parked four doors up from the house, while they waited for the Family Lia
ison Officer. The local station had called ahead to ensure that the Fordes were home and to arrange an FLO, but had not told them what it was about, simply that they had some questions. Protocol demanded that a professional be on hand to talk to the parents after the detectives had finished their questioning.

As he looked around
Chris realized it would be hard to imagine a more boring place to grow up – small-town Ireland, endless rows of streets that looked the same.  Had Sarah been happy in these quiet streets? 

Kennedy was
already out of the car, smoking his obligatory JP Blue, something to calm his nerves before they spoke to the Fordes. The breeze whipped the smoke from his cigarette and swirled it up past his face. 

Spotting the FLO pull up behind them, Chris
closed the car door and locked it. The air was cold and went straight through his thin jacket. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Kennedy dropped his cigarette, ground it beneath his heel, and walked towards  the bereavment officer.

The man introduced himself as Jeff O’Neill. ‘I’ve only just got the brief on this one.’ He shook his head. ‘Bloody tragic. Anything else I should know before we go in?’

‘
Not especially. The circumstances surrounding her disappearance are not exactly clear-cut, so we’ll need to see what their reaction is like.’

Chris moved toward the Forde house, followed  by Kennedy and O’Neill. As they walked up the path he noticed the front curtains twitch
, and an air of foreboding settled over him.

They were expected.
Anticipated.

             
Mr Forde opened the door; his wife was right behind him, peering over his shoulder. They were both in their early fifties, but looked far older. Gray hair, sunken faces, defeat and despair written in the lines and wrinkles.

Kennedy stepped forward and quickly made the introductions.

Mr Forde ushered them in.  ‘We were told you were coming.’  Hope and anguish played across their faces and Chris didn’t envy the task Kennedy had chosen to take on.

‘
This way.’  Mrs Forde was a small woman. She wore a pair of gray tracksuit pants and a pink ‘Pro-Sport’ fleece top. She led them into the lounge where a  small gas fire was on, along with a massive flat screen TV which looked far too big for such a small room.

‘You will have a cup of tea, won’t you?’ she asked, her tone jittery as she ushered them to take seats.

‘
That would be lovely,’ Chris replied smoothly when Kennedy hesitated.

While Mrs Forde bustled about in the kitchen, her husband fussed around by the fire.
‘Is it too warm in here for you? I could turn down the heat if you like …’

Chris
shook his head as Mrs Forde returned to the room with a pre-prepared tray of cups, teapot and biscuits. ‘No, it’s fine. A bit wintry out there today.’

The man nodded. 
‘Wind from the east, whips in off the sea…’

They all sipped their tea.
A decidedly uncomfortable silence settled.
Get a move on,
Chris mentally urged Kennedy
.

His partner duly set his tea cup down on the table, and leaned forward. 
‘Mr and Mrs Forde, we’re here about your daughter Sarah. I’m afraid it’s not good news.’

Mrs
Forde’s hand went straight to her mouth, and her husband automatically reached for the other one, squeezing it tightly.

Chris knew that Kennedy needed to just keep talking,
to move them through the shock, and not let them settle into their grief just yet. There would be plenty of time for that once they were gone and O’Neill had taken over with his training and bereavement pack.

‘An unidentified young lady
was killed in a hit-and-run accident in County Wicklow approximately one week ago. Through matching up medical records, we now believe the young lady was your daughter, Sarah.’

The Fordes looked at each other, completely lost for words. 

Kennedy pushed on. He reached for the file that Chris handed to him ‘This is your daughter, yes?’

He held out the photo of
Sarah aged seven – the one from the missing person file that they had used for the facial recognition match.

Her parents both glanced at it, and nodded
in unison.

‘
And she broke her right arm when she was five, correct?’

Again they both nodded. 
‘Fell off a swing,’ added Mr Forde, clearing his throat.

‘Barely even cried when we brought her to the hospital,’ sniffed his wife. ‘Always so brave.’

Kennedy reached into the file again, and pulled out a photo of the woman from the hit and run. ‘Based on her medical records – the x-rays of the broken arm – and facial recognition software, we believe that this is how Sarah would look now.’

He held the photo of the hit
-and-run victim – the adult Sarah – out to them.

For a second neither of them moved.  Finally, Mr
s Forde reached out a trembling hand, and took the photo.

The room was silent, just the quiet hissing of the gas fire, and Mrs Forde’s faint sobs as they looke
d at the picture. Eventually Mr Forde looked up at Kennedy. ‘You’re sure?’

He nodded.

‘You’re absolutely sure?’ the mother sobbed. ‘There couldn’t be some kind of mistake?’

‘We can’t be one hundred percent
sure until—’

‘So it might not be her then?’ Her voice rose a little. ‘She could still be alive?’

Chris spoke gently.
‘Mrs Forde, the x-rays and facial recognition match mean it’s very likely that the girl we found is indeed your daughter. However, we would also like to take away some personal effects today for DNA analysis in order to conclusively validate our findings.’

But Mrs
Forde wasn’t letting go of her hope that easily. She had, after all, held onto it for ten whole years. It had become her life, her reason to continue. ‘I don’t think it looks like her all, Pat, do you? It couldn’t be—’

‘Don’t
, Rita…  Just don’t…’  Her husband cut her off and Chris was somewhat taken aback by the strength of his tone. He held the photo up in front of his wife and forced her to look at it. ‘That’s our Sarah.  These men wouldn’t be here if they weren’t certain.’

For a second it appeared that she was going to protest and continue to fight,
but with a sudden sob her will collapsed and she rushed from the room.

Pat
Forde stared at the doorway, then stood up.  ‘I’ll be right back.’

They watched him hurry from the room after his wife, and could hear the quiet cooing of his voice from the kitc
hen as he tried to console her.

‘It never gets any easier, does it?’ Kennedy said sadly. ‘Those poor people …’

Chris turned his attention back to the file and looked at the pictures of the tattoo on
Sarah Forde’s back. 

‘
They won’t know anything about that,’ Kennedy said determinedly.

‘
Still, we need to ask.’

‘
What? And leave them fretting and worrying about it for the next ten years?’

Chris met Kennedy’s gaze. 
‘You know we have to follow up—’

‘And y
ou always do what you’re supposed to do, don’t you?’ countered Kennedy angrily. ‘It’s not right, Chris. Not now. I don’t think they could handle—’ 

‘Handle what?’  Mr Forde had returned without them noticing, padding silently in his soft blue slippers.

‘
We had something we wanted to ask you – something about your daughter…’ Chris looked past him but his wife was nowhere to be seen.

‘
She’s gone to lie down.’

‘
It’s a long shot …’ Kennedy interjected.

Pat
Forde perched himself back on the edge of the couch. ‘We have waited years for news of Sarah, thinking about all sorts of possibilities,’ he said. ‘We want to know absolutely everything.’

Chris
slipped the photo from the folder and handed it to him. Despite his assertions to Kennedy, he did have sympathy for the man.. Bringing up the tattoo was one thing, but the pregnancy was a different matter entirely.

Sarah’s father
gazed at it silently for a moment. ‘What is it?’ he asked finally.

‘
That’s what we’re wondering. We’ve got two girls, bodies found ten years apart, both with red hair, both with that same tattoo. Have you ever seen it before?’

Pat
Forde gazed at the photo for a few seconds more, then slowly handed it back. Chris watched him closely for a reaction but his expression was blank. Kennedy was right; it meant nothing to him.

‘
I’m sorry, Detectives, I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. What does it mean?’ Then the thought struck him. ‘Oh my … is that, is it Sarah …?’

‘Mr Forde,’ Kennedy continued quickly,  ‘we’re so sorry to have to bring this up now, but we need to talk a little about Sarah before she disappeared.’

Pat Forde nodded, but Chris thought he noticed something other than grief  pass across the man’s face.

‘Was she a difficult child?’ he asked, and noticed Kennedy give him a surprised look at the directness of the question.

The man sighed heavily. ‘She was the sweetest girl you could ever imagine. I adored her, we both did.’ 

They talked some more about Sarah, and what her childhood was like, before touching on the circumstances surrounding her disappearance. ‘She never came home from school one day,’ he told the detectives. ‘We were distraught … didn’t know what to think.’

‘Yet she’d run away before?’ Chris said, referring to the incident in the file about her turning up
at her grandmother’s house.

‘It wasn’t quite like that. Like most children of her age – any age
, I suppose – there were some … discipline issues.  There was an argument one time, and Sarah fled to her grandmother’s. Happens in every family, doesn’t it?’ Forde met Chris’s gaze.

‘Of course,’ Kennedy agreed. ‘My own are the same, I can’t keep up with them most of the time and …’ He trailed off, reddening at his poor choice of words.

‘What kind of argument, Mr Forde?’ Chris pressed.

He shrugged. ‘It was so long ago. Something about homework as I recall …’

Something about homework? If it were Chris he was certain he’d remember every second of that argument, go back over every word, terrified that what he’d said might have been the cause of her disappearance. Yet Pat Forde didn’t seem to remember much about it at all. 

‘I see.’ Chris stood up suddenly.  ‘Mr
Forde, again, you have our deepest sympathies.’ He indicated to the FLO who, up till now, had remained silently in the background. ‘Officer O’Neill will answer any questions you might have from hereon, but before we go, could we possibly have an item of Sarah’s with which to compare DNA?  A hairbrush would be ideal.’

‘Of course.’ Sarah’s father duly shuffled away again to another
room of the house.

When he was gone, Kennedy frowned at Chris. ‘What’s with the attitude?’

‘What attitude? I was simply trying to draw out whether there were any family issues related to her disapperance.’

‘It hardly matters now, does it?’ Kennedy retorted, and Chris guessed he was projecting again. He could hardly blame him, but unlike his partner, he wasn’t going to let the tragic circumstances color his thinking.

Mr Forde returned with a hairbrush that had once belonged to his daughter.