Their Lost Daughters (DI Jackman & DS Evans #2)(35)

Maybe so, but she is alive, Jackman thought to himself, and safe, unlike poor Emily. ‘Of course, sir. Just a few minutes with her, and we’ll be out of your hair.’

Clarkson frowned. ‘Alone?’

‘It’s better that way, if you have no objection. Youngsters don’t like their parents hearing their secrets.’

Clarkson stood back reluctantly and pointed down the long hallway. ‘Third door along the right-hand side. Knock loudly, she’s probably got her headphones on.’

Toni’s room was a real mix of childish and more teenage stuff. Two cuddly teddy bears sat in front of a poster showing some kind of night creatures locked in a bloody, pointed-fanged embrace. Jackman’s nephews loved Twilight, but this had a more sinister, erotic edge to it. Jackman was pretty sure that her parents were not particularly happy with their daughter’s choice of artwork.

‘What’s the music?’ he asked, as Toni took out the earpieces.

‘Band called Taking Back Sunday.’ She looked at Jackman patiently. ‘You won’t have heard of them.’

‘Oh, I didn’t have you down as an Emo.’

For a moment her eyes widened, there was a hint of amusement but she didn’t comment. And that was fine, because it was total luck that he’d recently listened to an interview about the Emo subculture on Radio 4.

‘I’ve been thinking about Emily,’ said Toni slowly. ‘Did I tell you she spoke funny?’

‘What, like a speech impediment?’ Marie said.

‘No, like an accent. I think she’s from Eastern Europe.’ Toni’s fingers idly brushed the screen of her phone and brilliant-coloured pictures flashed across it.

‘I’m not sure, but I can remember something about grandparents who wouldn’t leave their village, even though it was really gross. You know? Like bombed out?’

Jackman puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly. That could be why they had no missing person report. There was a large migrant worker community of EU nationals living in Greenborough, but they stuck together and didn’t trust the police.

‘And her name’s not really Emily.’ Toni stared down at a photo of a moody-looking youth with an oily, tanned torso and bleached teeth. ‘She said the English couldn’t pronounce her real name properly, so she called herself Emily because she liked it.’

Jackman rubbed his forehead and tried to think. This was getting more problematic by the second.

‘And that really is all I can remember.’ Toni swiped the beautiful boy from her screen and replaced it with a Pokemon character.

‘You’ve done well, Toni.’ Marie’s voice was soft.

‘Do you think she’s dead?’

The bluntness of the question made Jackman shudder. ‘We are doing our best to get to her before anything like that can happen.’

‘I think she’s dead. The men at that place . . .’ Toni gave an involuntary shiver. ‘I saw their eyes. Especially one of them, the one that hurt me. He had horrible eyes.’

‘How do you mean?’ Marie asked gently.

‘Like blank. Like, yeah, he was all excited about the day that she was born and all that, but even then his eyes were still blank. Like in a zombie film, but I’ve never seen a human being really look that way.’

Jackman felt a chill descend around them when Toni spoke about the man who had taken her. He had really terrified her, and Jackman was sure that it would take more than a little time to make those horrible memories fade.

Marie looked at him, and he knew that she was thinking the same thing.

Marie moved the conversation away from dead eyes. ‘Toni, when we spoke to you at the hospital, you said that somebody was singing. Do you remember that? Could you explain what you meant?’

Toni screwed her face up in concentration. ‘I’d forgotten that. It seemed so weird! I mean totally creepy. In that stinking cellar with the candles and the wine and funky music playing, this one guy starts to sing, and his voice was . . .’ She lifted her hands in a little gesture of amazement. ‘Like some choir boy! But better, stronger. I mean, like really powerful, like he had no control over the volume. It was kind of awesome.’

Marie glanced across at Jackman and shrugged.

Jackman frowned. He was certain that this information was hugely significant.

‘Thanks for that, Toni. We are going to go now. I think it’s time you got some rest, okay?’ He took a card from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Maybe you could write down anything else that comes to you. Anything, no matter how small — and ring me?’

The girl took the card, and her cold fingers touched Jackman’s as she did so. ‘I keep seeing her. I see her face as they dragged her away.’

She placed the card on her bedside cabinet and slowly turned towards them. Tears filled her eyes.

Marie took the girl’s hand in hers.

With one hand to her ribs, Toni slipped a thin arm around Marie and held on tightly, burying her head in Marie’s chest. ‘All because of her birthday,’ she sobbed. ‘If it had been different, it could have been me they took, couldn’t it?’

The gobby little pain in the arse had vanished.

Marie stroked the girl’s hair and made soothing noises. ‘But it wasn’t you was it, sweetheart? You are safe home where you belong. Now all you need to do to help Emily is write down any new memories, anything that comes to you, okay? And then, when we find her, and we will find her, Toni, you can put all this behind you and get on with your life.’