Page 15 of The Memory Wood

Inside, the hotel lobby is abuzz with activity. Quickly, she finds the duty officer, Neil Carr.

‘Missing girl is Elissa Mirzoyan,’ he says, handing her a purse-size photograph. ‘Thirteen years old, visiting from Salisbury for the chess tournament. We got that from her mum. It’s pretty recent.’

The photo shows a serious-looking girl – black hair, pale skin, unusually vivid green eyes. She looks young for herage, achingly vulnerable. For someone, perhaps, she looked like prey.

Mairéad feels her knees sag. Suddenly, the light inside the lobby seems far too bright, the scratch of police radios far too loud. For one terrible moment, she’s convinced she’s going to collapse, right here, in this room full of fellow officers.

If Carr notices something’s wrong, he doesn’t say. ‘I’ve kept anyone connected to the tournament in the ballroom for now,’ he tells her. ‘Didn’t want people leaving until we’d confirmed identities. Meanwhile, I’ve got a team doing an open-door search of the premises. Doubt they’ll find Elissa, but there’s a chance our suspect was staying here and left something behind.’

Sweat rolls from Mairéad’s armpits. She feels it gathering again on her forehead. ‘What do we have on the van?’

‘Very little so far. Only witness is Charles Kiser, an American tourist in his seventies. He watched it happen from the third floor. Can’t tell us much except Elissa was dragged into a white van that’ – Carr pauses to consult his notes – ‘“looked old and pretty beat-up”. Nothing on the make or number plate. No distinguishing marks.’

‘CCTV?’

‘Lots in the hotel, but the camera outside hasn’t been working for months. I’ve sealed off the car park. Scenes of Crime are on their way to see what they can dig up.’

‘No one touches it in the meantime,’ Mairéad says. ‘When’s our last confirmed sighting?’

Carr nods towards a ceiling-mounted camera aimed at the main doors. ‘We’ve got time-stamped video of Elissa going outside at 14.10. Emergency call came in at 14.16.’

‘Six minutes later? Why the delay?’

‘Kiser didn’t know what number to call so he took a lift down to reception and got them to phone it in. Few minutes after that, Elissa’s mum approached the tournamentorganizers about her daughter. Uniform arrived just as everyone was putting two and two together.’

Mairéad grimaces. She rolls her tongue around her teeth, wishing she had a breath mint. ‘OK, we’re going to need a search adviser down here to assist. Get a call into Winfrith and ask them to locate Karen Day. I want her, if at all possible. While you’re at it, make sure everyone knows we’re dealing with a Critical Incident and reacts accordingly. And warn the news office that I’ll want to launch a Child Rescue Alert straight after I talk to the mum. Get them this photograph and everything we have so far.’

While Carr summons his sergeants, Mairéad glances at her watch. It’s 14.36. Elissa disappeared between twenty and twenty-six minutes ago. This first hour – the golden hour, as it’s called – is critical. Already they’re nearly halfway through it. A CRA will notify print and broadcast media of the girl’s disappearance, triggering an immediate public appeal. An army of civilian volunteers will amplify the message through social media. But Mairéad can’t launch the CRA straight away. The contact centre needs to prepare for a spike in calls; neighbouring forces will have to be co-opted into handling overflow. Otherwise, vital information could be lost. Winfrith can organize everything pretty quickly. Even so, it’s not instantaneous.

Her stomach clutches. She needs to be sharp here and she knows she’s not. If only she can get through the next hour, she knows she’s the best person to lead this. Trouble is, Elissa Mirzoyan might nothaveanother hour.

Mairéad tastes bile, or the memory of it. To Halley she says, ‘We need a list of all the guests who’ve already checked out. Also, this is a hotel, which means there must be coffee. Find some.’

As he heads towards the reception desk, her phone rings. It’s Snyder, the Dorset ACC, confirming her appointment asSenior Investigating Officer. She thanks him and turns back to Carr, who’s just finished briefing his sergeants. ‘Where’s the mum?’

‘We’re looking after her in the manager’s office.’

‘Dad?’

‘Not together, apparently. We’re trying to track him down.’

‘Let’s get a photo of him, too. Show it to our witness.’

Mairéad glances around the lobby. She wants to go home and crawl under her duvet. Instead, she rotates her wedding band three times. It’s a practised movement, almost subconscious, a routine that sometimes clears her head. ‘What’s the mum’s name?’

‘Lena Mirzoyan.’

‘Take me to her.’

III

The manager’s office – high ceiling, tall windows, stiflingly hot – is carpeted in Black Watch tartan. All the wood is mahogany.

Two uniformed PCs stand by a leather-topped writing desk fiddling with their radios. Lena Mirzoyan sits in a club chair beside a cast-iron radiator spewing out heat. She’s suffered no mortal injury, but she still looks like she’s dying. Blood has retreated from her face, leaving skin as dry as bandages. Her expression suggests agony on a scale unimaginable.

‘Lena,’ Mairéad says. ‘My name’s Detective Superintendent Mairéad MacCullagh. I’m the officer in charge of finding Elissa.’

Lena jerks as if she’s been slapped. She glances up, eyes wide and white. ‘There’s still time.’

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