a confessional box. Not that anyone has anything to confess. The information Ev’s collected isn’t likely to help them much either. As far as her peers are concerned Sasha Blake is ‘really nice’ and ‘smart but cool, you know?’ She’s ‘really pretty’ and ‘everyone wants to look like her’ and she’s ‘really popular, specially with the boys’, but no one could name an actual boyfriend, or at least not one at school. Which, given the fact that Isabel and Patsie don’t know his name either, is hardly a surprise. In short, everyone seems to like Sasha, but no one has any idea where she might be.
Everett looks up at Gis and sighs. ‘I’ve ticked a lot of boxes, but I haven’t got anything else to put in them. What about you?’
Gis shrugs. ‘Not much better. None of the teachers thought she had a boyfriend either, and I’ve spoken to all of them except one, who’s gone home with a migraine, but we can catch them tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yeah, just got a call from Baxter. We’re going to Reading. To see Jonathan Blake.’
* * *
‘I’ve just had Jonathan’s bloody mother on the phone asking me what’s happened to Sasha – like it’s all my fault. Why the hell didn’t someone tell me you were going to call her?’
Somer bites her lip. ‘I’m really sorry, Fiona,’ she says, holding the phone a little closer. ‘It wasn’t actually us who spoke to your mother-in-law, it was West Yorkshire Police.’
But that’s no excuse; they should have realized that might happen. And right now, Fiona Blake needs to trust the police, not think they’re causing trouble for her behind her back. Baxter catches Somer’s eye and she makes a face: Looks like we dropped the ball.
‘I believe West Yorkshire had to speak to his mother to get his address – he doesn’t currently own a property in his own name –’
‘Presumably because he’s sponging off that bloody woman, whoever she is. I bet she’s younger than him – I’m right, aren’t I –’
‘I’m afraid I’m not able to –’
‘I’ll kill him – if he’s taken Sasha after all these years not even acknowledging she exists, I swear, I’ll bloody kill him –’
Somer takes a deep breath. She’s trying not to let on that Sasha’s already seen her father, because that’s the last thing Fiona Blake needs to hear right now. Or perhaps the second last.
‘She’s not there, Mrs Blake.’
‘What –?’
‘She’s not there. West Yorkshire searched the house. Mr Blake wasn’t there either.’
‘So where the bloody hell is he? He’s got her, hasn’t he – he’s abducted her –’
‘There is absolutely nothing to suggest that. Mr Blake was at a business meeting in Reading this morning. We’ve confirmed with the company concerned that he did, in fact, attend that meeting, and we have two officers on their way there right now to speak to him.’
She can hear the woman’s ragged breathing, can imagine the pain in her chest, the rawness in her throat.
‘Mrs Blake – Fiona – I know this is easy for me to say, but please do try to stay calm. When Sasha gets back she’s going to need you. She’ll need you to be strong.’
Fiona takes a deep breath. ‘OK. But you’ll call me? As soon as you’ve spoken to Jonathan?’
‘Of course. Of course I will.’
* * *
Even though the Dexter Masterson reception is crowded, Gislingham and Everett don’t need to ask the woman on the desk to point out Jonathan Blake. The man is on his feet and in their faces before the revolving door has even closed behind them.
‘I’ve been sat here over three hours. What the hell’s all this about?’
Gis glances round, and steers Blake to an empty sofa in the far corner. He’s wearing a slim-cut grey suit, a white shirt and a pale silk tie, along with just a hint of stubble. Trying a bit too hard, aren’t you, mate, thinks Gislingham, who, like Karen Bonnett, has seen this type before.
‘Let’s just sit down, shall we, Mr Blake? Shall I get you a glass of water?’
‘I don’t need a bloody glass of water. I want to know what’s going on. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be told by a client that you need to stay in their building because the police want to talk to you?’
‘Sorry about that, Mr Blake,’ says Gislingham, who doesn’t look sorry at all. ‘I can have a word with them if you like.’
‘No thanks. You’ve done quite enough damage already.’
Gis