Page 65 of The Memory Wood

There’s no good news to share. Elissa’s electronic devices have revealed no useful information. Interviews of those closest to her have unearthed nothing new. People on the periphery – such as Andrea Tomlin, the Wide Boys waitress – have been interrogated and discounted. Despite reviewing thousands of hours of CCTV footage, the team hasn’t reacquired the white Bedford van. And while the public response has been phenomenal, so far not a single lead or possible sighting has borne fruit.

‘Based on previous cases,’ she says, ‘we’re expecting further communications. They won’t be easy to watch, but we’ll need your help assessing them.’

A heaviness settles across Lena’s features. Her head lolls, as if the muscles in her neck have failed. ‘He’s done this … how many times?’

‘Six, that we know of.’

‘Six children on YouTube?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Going back how far?’

‘Around twelve years.’

‘How old is YouTube?’

‘Two thousand and five,’ Mairéad says.

‘So there could be more kids.’

‘That’s true. We don’t know it, but it’s a possibility.’

Lena closes her eyes, opens them. ‘Of the six you mentioned, how many have you found?’

Mairéad thinks of Bryony Taylor, of her mum’s beseeching eyes. ‘So far, they’re all still missing. But that doesn’t mean … It doesn’t mean they’re not alive. Just that they’re active cases.’

‘Active … cases.’ Lena rolls the phrase around her tongue, as if trying to decipher it. ‘Who is he? Why is he doing this?’

‘I can’t answer that definitively. But looking at what he made the other girls say, it’s possible he harbours some kind of grudge against single parents – single mothers, in particular.’

‘Agrudge?’

Elissa’s grandfather, a mild-looking man in a green sweater and tie, enfolds his daughter’s hands in his own. ‘You think this man knows us?’

‘It’s possible, although it’s likely he doesn’t know you well. Based on what we know from previous abductions, it seems he takes children from mothers he deems unfit.’

The grandfather flinches as if he’s been struck. ‘Detective, I assure you my daughter is far from unfit.’

‘I know that. We all know it. But we’re not dealing with a rational mind. The justification, in this individual’s head, could be something as mundane as letting Elissa watch too much TV, or allowing her too many McDonald’s. The good news is that irrational people frequently make mistakes. As I said earlier, we have a vast number of police officers working on this, and they’re one hundred per cent focused on finding Elissa.Iam one hundred per cent focused on finding her.’

Lena rocks back and forth. ‘Are you good at this?’ she asks. ‘At your job, I mean?’

Right now, there’s only one answer that’s merciful. ‘I am, yes.’

‘Do you … Are you a mum? Do you have a child of your own?’

Mairéad’s breath freezes in her chest. She thinks of her bathroom, filled with Clearblue kits; the two spots of blood on her underwear; her promise to Scott, two hours ago, that she’d drive straight to the surgery. ‘I’m married,’ she says softly. ‘That’s enough for now.’

‘Will I see my daughter again?’

‘I hope so, Lena.’

‘You hope.’

The woman swallows. Her face looks as brittle as glass. The silence lasts nearly a minute before the trill of a mobile phone breaks it. The ringtone is the chorus from ‘Let It Go’. Snatching up her handbag, Lena digs through it for her phone and answers. ‘Elissa?’

Mairéad trades glances with Judy Pauletto, trying not to wince.

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