Chapter 37

Edward Pembroke had never been within a hundred yards of the Yildizes’ house in rural Wales. He had waited outside a nearby barn to kidnap Leila in the dead of night, watching the house only from a distance. Now, he was intrigued to be shown around it by Leila’s mother.

“That awful night,” Elif said, wearing a tight pair of jeans that showed off her figure—conservative, yet fitted—and a loose white T-shirt, her black hair braided back and trainers on her feet. She showed Pembroke a photo of herself, Mehmet, and Leila, all smiling at the camera like a happy family. “Now there’s only me left,” she whispered, dabbing at her eyes.

Pembroke had a rather different opinion of that night. He tried to hide a smile as he recalled bundling Leila into the van, ripping her clothes off and driving her far from the loving arms of her family. The acquisition had gone like clockwork.

“Would you like some tea?” Elif asked.

“Yes, please. One sugar and some milk,” Pembroke replied.

Elif thought he reminded her of her father—strong, tall, weathered, an older man. A guardian angel, perhaps. She was badly in need of one now.

“May I see her bedroom?” Pembroke asked.

Elif led him to a child’s bedroom, filled with stuffed toys, animal figurines, and posters of boy bands. “Exactly as she left it,” she whispered, hoping Pembroke would spot something the police had missed.

Pembroke wished he had more time alone as he eyed the clothes drawer. “Very similar to Grace,” he mused. “Kidnapped from inside her own house. Somehow, the intruder gained access in the middle of the night. Is that what you think?”

“It must be,” Elif said. “Why else would the window have been open?”

Pembroke smiled. The idiots had never twigged to the social media posts about her going outside to feed the owls at night.

“Perhaps someone who knew you had access to your house? Access to your keys?” Pembroke was happy to plant a false trail while raising her hopes.

Elif’s eyes narrowed. “I have some people I suspect,” she said, thinking of Mehmet’s brother, who had visited a week earlier and seemed to take an unhealthy interest in Leila. The fact that he had come on to her since Mehmet’s death only made her more suspicious. “I would like you to investigate them for me.”

“I’d be happy to,” Pembroke said, feigning concern as he touched the toys and bedclothes. Everything was being recorded from a camera hidden in his glasses. He was looking forward to showing it to Leila later, on screen.

Later, they sat in the living room, sipping tea and nibbling biscuits. Elif wiped away tears as she recalled happy stories about Leila and Mehmet.

Leila had not taken her father’s death well. She had buried her pain beneath a layer of grief, and it had seemingly broken her spirit. The fact that Mehmet had killed himself out of shame—after learning the world had seen Leila’s naked, having filthy degrading sex online—had made her feel responsible, as if she were dirty, as if she had shamed her parents. She should have been more careful. She should have fought harder. Now her father was dead, tortured to death by guilt. In her mind, she deserved her fate now as a slave, and had nothing to go escape to now.

Elif spoke haltingly at first, then with warmth as the memories came. “Mehmet was such a kind man,” she said. “Always patient, never angry. Even when the car broke down in the rain, he’d just laugh.”

Pembroke nodded, thinking of what a fucking loser the man was, he had a beautiful daughter, he should have at least tried to fuck her while he had the chance. Now he was dead, and Pembroke was fucking his daughter every day of the week.

“And Leila,” Elif continued, a faint smile playing on her lips, “she loved cooking. Every Saturday she’d insist on helping me with the soup—always too much salt.” She laughed softly. “And she adored squirrels. We used to feed them in the garden. But ants...”

Her voice caught on a small laugh, then wavered. “She was terrified of ants. Even one would send her running out of the room. Completely irrational, I know.”

Elif pressed a tissue to her eyes, half laughing, half crying at the memory.

Pembroke looked down into his tea to hide the curve of his mouth. Ants, he thought. How interesting. Another fun idea with which to torture her with. He looked forward to seeing the look on Leila’s face when she realised her mummy had just revealed her deepest vulnerability.

“She sounds wonderful,” Pembroke said gently. “I can see why you miss her so much.”

Elif smiled weakly. “Every minute of every day.”

Pembroke raised his cup, his eyes glinting over the rim. “I’ll do everything I can to find her.”

“Now Edward, if you’d like, you can look over the house,” said Elif earnestly. “Seriously—just look for anything you find interesting.”

She gave a small, nervous laugh. “I trust you not to steal anything.”

Pembroke grinned. “Of course, Mrs. Yildiz. Old habits die hard—I’m still a policeman at heart.”