Chapter 10
Elea entered the SCT office, a smile tugging at her lips.
She had done the serious crime team a favour, proving her worth less than twenty-four hours in.
The old feeling was back, that delicious sense of exhilaration from a job well done.
The Finnish author Maria Jotuni’s quote had always resonated with her: “A few moments of distress teach a person more wisdom than decades of stable circumstances.” Phil Hobbs now knew all about that.
It was still there, the faint flicker of hope that refused to dim, because surely finding Chelsea would lead her to Liisa.
The image of her daughter was like a faded Polaroid in her mind.
What did she look like now? She was out there, somewhere.
She had to be. Otherwise what was the point in carrying on?
Now it was time for Elea to clear things with Swann.
She wanted him to be as pleased as she was about the new lead.
But Liisa was not his daughter. Swann had only been acquainted with the ghost of her presence and with the remains of her sodden school bag after it was found the morning after she went missing, in the snow.
How could Elea expect him to feel the same?
She envied his relationship with his children.
She only hoped that now he had them, it would make him more understanding of her cause.
But judging by the look on his face as she joined him, fatherhood was not having the desired effect.
“Where the hell have you been?” He rose abruptly from his chair.
Elea refused to be deterred. “When’s the last time you had your blood pressure checked? You’re looking a little red around the gills.”
“Elea . . .” Swann began. “What have you done?”
“I have intel on Chelsea Hobbs. Her mother’s in a refuge, all thanks to me, and her father—actually, stepfather,” Elea mumbled.
“He made that quite clear. He was helpful . . . in the end.” Another wry smile.
She couldn’t help herself. She didn’t mention her chat with Gary Reynolds from The Birdcage. That was off the record, after all.
“Oh God,” Swann groaned. “What have you done? Is he still in one piece?”
Pieces, Elea almost corrected him. She could still hear the satisfying snap of his bones in the back of her mind. But Swann looked upset enough as it was. “Of course he’s all right.” She spoke with an off-kilter cheeriness. “He just needed a little gentle persuasion to see the error of his ways.”
Swann picked up his desk-phone receiver. “Gentle persuasion to you is a force-five hurricane to everyone else.”
“What are you doing?” Elea asked.
“What am I doing?” Swann snorted. “I’m requesting a unit to do a welfare check on him.”
Elea tilted her head to one side. “Shouldn’t your priority be his wife? Because judging by her bruises, she hasn’t had any welfare checks in a while.”
“She wouldn’t give a statement. You know the drill. There’s nothing we can do if she won’t go to court.”
“You could’ve launched a victimless prosecution.”
“Don’t you think we tried?”
“Well, I tried harder.” Elea slipped the worn blue address book from her bag. “Put down the phone, so I can show you what I’ve got.”
Swann glowered in response.
“Sit,” Elea instructed, as she pulled over a swivel chair.
She pushed the address book across the desk.
“This will lead us to Chelsea. Phil was in over his head with his dealers around the time that she disappeared. I reckon that they agreed to wipe his debt if he forgot to pick her up from school. I haven’t bagged it up because I need to photocopy it first.”
“What has that cost me?” Swann eyed the battered notebook cautiously. “If you’ve put me in the shit, I need to know how deep.”
Elea shifted in her seat. There was no getting out of this. “Just a couple of broken fingers. It was self-defence.”
“And . . .” Swan stared, unblinking, as he waited for more.
Elea chuckled. “I might have threatened to shoot him in the balls.”
“Jesus!” Swann muttered. “We need to update this on the system.”
“Relax, it’s all under control.” She stared at the address book, willing Swann to pick it up. “If he wanted to make an official complaint, he would have done it by now.”
“And what if we get a result and this goes to court? It won’t stand up as evidence.”
But Elea had already thought of that. “His wife is giving a statement as we speak. It was self-defence, like I said. She gave me the address book—no duress. She’s behind us all the way.
Look,” she tapped the cover. “We’ve got all these lovely names to chase up.
Think of the intel. What if they didn’t only deal drugs?
They might have trafficked people, too.”
“And what about the white feathers? Traffickers treat people as commodities. They’re hardly the sentimental type.”
“I don’t know!” Elea snapped. “But you can be sure as hell I’ll find out.”
Swann seemed unimpressed. “We’re not in Finland anymore. If you’re hoping to find Liisa, well, it’s unlikely, you know that, don’t you?”
Elea couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
She wasn’t expecting fanfares, but she’d reeled in a lead within hours of getting here.
“This isn’t just about what I want. Chelsea is someone’s daughter, too.
Don’t give up on her, like you gave up on Liisa.
” She pinned him with a glare until he looked away.
“I never gave up on her.” His words became hushed, his anger diminishing.
Elea folded her arms, unconvinced. Outside, police car sirens blared, but she was focused on the past. “You gave up the day you left Finland. It was quite the defining moment in our relationship.”
The sudden ring of the desk phone interrupted her flow.
“I know what you’re doing.” Swann leaned forward and silenced the phone. “But here’s the rub. Your police powers hold no weight here. You’re a consultant. You’re expected to toe the line.”
Elea didn’t like where this was going. Her muscles tensed as her frustration grew.
“You’ve changed. We used to be the perfect team.
” In the years following Liisa’s disappearance Elea had thrown herself into work.
She and Swann had progressed to leading a team of detectives and their success rate was second to none.
But there was one case they could not crack. The Ice Angels.
“The world has moved on.” Swann’s voice rose once more. “If you don’t follow the rules, then where will it end?”
Elea pushed back her swivel chair as she got to her feet. “It will end with my daughter walking in the door!” She took a sudden breath. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out. But Swann had a way of getting under her skin.
Heads swivelled in the outer office, but their observation was momentary, as work soon resumed.
“Then I have no choice.” Swann stood. He had taken risks in the past, but those days were over.
“Answer me one thing. Why did you employ me to consult on this case? Did you think I had stopped caring? That I’d mellowed over the years?”
“Of course not.” Swann spoke in stiff, measured tones. “The feathers were one thing. But the Martta doll . . . I saw the look on your face when you found out. It’s too close to the bone. I’m scared of what you might do.”
“Well, I’m scared of what you won’t do!” she countered.
She grabbed the notebook from his desk and waved it in the air.
“Why are we wasting time when I have the evidence in the palm of my hand?” A heavy silence filled the space between them as Swann seemed to contemplate his next move.
Elea watched as he logged off his computer.
“Photocopy the notebook, upload it onto the system, and book it into property. We’ll take it from here.”
“What in the smoking hell? Where are you going?” Elea’s annoyance flared as she watched Swann make his way to the door.
“To speak to the super. Go back to your hotel and pack. We won’t be needing your services anymore.”