The Cold Road (Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Saturday, 15th November, 1986

Day Four.

The sun was bright in the sky and the cold air was crisp. The two temperatures, the one bearing down from the sun and the one that covered Franks was conflicting. Neither made sense yet coexisted at the same time. Franks pulled his coat around his body as he trudged towards the front door of the Perette's manor. His feet were slow, weighted down with hesitant thoughts and apprehension.

Paul Perette answered the door and welcomed him in, a smile warm on his face.

'I'm sorry to be calling by,' began Franks, removing his coat and allowing Perette to hang it by the door. 'I'm sure you've heard of the latest developments in the case?'

'Detective Holland arrested Rico,' answered Perette, scowling at the other detective. 'I heard. And he was released yesterday afternoon after Holland failed to bring forth any evidence.'

'The evidence gathered disappeared.'

Perette's reaction was just a little too slow for Franks' comfort. The man looked at him blankly, and then his lips curled, fell back into a straight face and then one of relief. 'Is that just a policeman's excuse for a fuck up? That there was really no evidence against Rico to begin with?'

'No!' replied Franks sharper than he meant to. He forced his shoulders to relax. 'There was no fuck up on anyone's part. The only difficult thing I have to say, and the real reason I am here, is the possibility of getting your daughter back is becoming slimmer with every moment. We are trying everything, but I want you and your wife to prepare for the worst.'

'I see.'

The two men walked into the lounge, Franks trailing behind Perette. His hands pushed deep into his pockets, he uncomfortably surveyed the room. There was something missing from it. A cosiness usually found in family homes. A warmth. Shrugging it away, he placed himself in the seat opposite Perette.

'Where are you in the investigation?' asked Perette, settling himself back and staring blankly at a spot above Franks' head.

'It's not my case so I'm afraid I can't tell you that.'

'Then whose is it? It's not Holland's, Plant removed him.'

'How do you know about that?'

Perette bristled. Franks watched in astonishment as it happened. 'He told me! That's how. So where are you now that the investigation has been moved to you?'

'We have a few suspects, but there is no concrete evidence,' said Franks, watching as Perette nodded his head. 'I'd like to look at Lindsey's room again, and the mirror where we first found the note?'

'Why?' snapped Perette, sitting up straight, alarm on his face. 'What was wrong with the first time you lot looked?"

'Nothing, sir, I'm just curious to see if we missed anything. As hard as it is to say, time is running out.'

Pursing his lips, Perette sank back into his chair and shook his head. 'I don't think you'll find anything useful there, after we got the room back we cleaned everything out.'

'Why?' Frank's eyes widened in confusion. 'You had hoped that wewouldfind Lindsey?'

'You can see the room.' Rising quickly, Perette stumbled from the chair and hurried out of the room. Franks quickly followed, a heavy frown on his face.

The stairs creaked under his weight, but the carpet muffled his footsteps. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, he had lost sight of Perette. The upstairs hall was empty. Franks walked along it slowly, looking at the closed doors as he tried to make sense of the man's behaviour. With the sun quickly setting there was little chance the police would find Lindsey. He knew it had been wrong to mention to Paul to prepare for her not coming back, but the man had to know. Yet Perette's behaviour did not seem to fit that of an upset parent, as much as he did not want to admit it.