Behind Closed Doors by Susan Lewis Page A

phone . . .’
    ‘Which hasn’t been used since last Wednesday,’ Andee interrupted.
    ‘But it has been used, to tell her father she’s with friends . . .’
    ‘Who she failed to name. What if someone’s forced her to send those messages?’
    His frown deepened. ‘Is there any evidence of that?’
    ‘No, but frankly I find it odd that she’s suddenly cut contact.’
    ‘With her parents, maybe, but you haven’t spoken to the best friend yet.’
    ‘We’ve checked with the service provider. The phone hasn’t been used at all since last Wednesday.’
    ‘So she’s got herself a pay as you go. You know how savvy kids are these days.’
    ‘She hasn’t been on any of the social media sites either, or not that we’ve found so far, and she was a regular Facebook user up to a week ago.’
    His eyes held hers in a level gaze. ‘Has she threatened suicide in any of her postings? Is there any suggestion of stalking, bullying, trolling, grooming?’
    ‘OK, none of the above, but that doesn’t mean we should rule them out.’
    ‘You need to speak to the best friend. What’s her name?’
    ‘Estelle Morris, and Barry Britten’s already spoken to her on the phone. She swears she doesn’t know where Sophie is.’
    His eyebrows rose incredulously. ‘And you’re taking her word for it?’
    Andee stared at him hard, knowing it was a reasonable point. ‘Let me tell you why this case should be categorised as high risk,’ she said forcefully. ‘It’s extremely likely she’s sexually active. At fourteen that makes her . . .’
    ‘Andee, you know what it makes her, a bloody nuisance, exactly like half the other fourteen-year-old girls out there . . .’
    ‘Who haven’t been missing from home for over a week. What if she went off with someone who was staying at the campsite and now he’s holding her somewhere?’
    ‘Unless you tell me differently there’s nothing to say that’s happened.’
    ‘Nothing
yet
.’
    ‘When there is, we’ll review the situation, until then let uniform deal with it, while you get back to the burglaries on Wermers Road. We’ve got Wickes on the list now, Debenhams, Curry’s . . .’
    ‘How can stolen electricals be more important than a missing girl?’ Andee cried angrily.
    His jaw tightened, reminding her that he didn’t appreciate insubordination, even from her. ‘We need to know how the hell anyone’s getting this stuff out of the stores undetected,’ he continued, as if the offence hadn’t occurred. ‘It’s looking very like we have a crime syndicate operating on our patch, and if we have we need to let them know they’re not welcome. So now, do me a favour, make them a priority and leave the missing girl to the boys in blue.’
    Andee held her ground. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do that,’ she stated boldly.
    His face darkened. ‘That wasn’t a request.’
    ‘I realise that, but, sir, there’s more to this . . .’
    ‘Andee, you’re forcing me to say things I’d really rather not.’ Ignoring her challenging look, he went on, ‘OK, we both know you can’t see straight where missing girls are concerned.’
    Though her face tightened she said nothing. He continued, not unkindly, ‘You’re letting your own experiences colour your judgement, but no matter what shade you paint it, Andee, finding that girl isn’t going to bring your sister back.’
    Andee’s heart caught on a beat. He was right, of course, but that wasn’t what this was about.
    ‘Burglaries,’ he said quietly. ‘Make some arrests. Show us country bumpkins what you girls from the Met are made of.’
    Though she knew it was meant to be a self-deprecating joke to defuse the moment, she couldn’t quite manage a smile as she left his office and returned to her desk.
    ‘I get the feeling it didn’t go well,’ Leo Johnson commented, looking up from his computer. He was a striking young man with a shock of wiry red hair, a wrestler’s physique and an enthusiasm for his job that could be as