The Disappearance of Katie Wren by Amy Cross Page A

looks in their direction. “I'm sorry, M'am, but I don't -”
    “They should be in jail cells!” I shout, filled with a sense of pure fury as I realize that Fernando and Agnes seem to be laughing at me. “They should be being questioned! Why have they been let out?”
    “M'am -”
    “Stop!” I call out, as the two reprobates turn and start walking away. “Wait! What are you doing here? Come back at once!”
    Fernando turns and laughs at me, before raising his right hand and showing me his middle finger. Agnes elbows him hard and he puts his arm around her as they hurry off into the night. After a moment, however, Fernando turns back to me and holds his arms out to the sides, flapping them and making a loud cawing sound before he and his wretched little rag of a girlfriend disappear. It's almost as if he knew about the crow, and was mocking me.
    “Stop those two!” I shout, hurrying after them. “They must have escaped!”
    “M'am, wait!” the officer calls after me. “M'am, you have to stop!”
    I hurry to the end of the street, but there's no sign of either Fernando and Agnes, and they could have slipped into any of the dark side-roads that spread away from the riverside. I look around, determined to spot them, but finally the police officer catches up to me and I see the exasperation in her eyes.
    “Why are they not in jail cells?” I ask, unable to hide my anger a moment longer. “They know what happened to Katie! Why are they walking free?”
    “M'am -”
    “Why aren't you doing anything?” I sob, yelling at her and pushing her back. “What's wrong with you people? Why aren't you out there finding my daughter?”

Chapter Thirteen
    A Deal With the Devil
     
    “I knew you'd get in touch,” Annabelle Churchill says as she leans down toward her coffee. She blows some steam away, before trying to take a sip and then letting out a curse-word under her breath. “Fuck, this is still too hot! Fuck!”
    “The police let them go,” I tell her, wincing at her strong language but not bothering to say anything. I suspect I'd be on a hiding to nothing, anyway. “They just let them walk away scot-free. They said there's nothing more they can do. Those were the actual words they used.”
    “Let me guess.” She tries her coffee again, before leaning back in her chair. “Fernando Royas, a Spanish national, and his French fuck-buddy Agnes Bresson. If that's who you mean, then I can tell you right now that they were released yesterday afternoon, once their police interviews had been concluded.”
    “Released?”
    “Not even on bail. I managed to snag a copy of the interviews from an obliging source. They didn't say a goddamn thing that's worth listening to. Just forty-three minutes of blather from him, and thirty-five minutes of blather from her. Not even long interviews. Of course, it would've helped if the asshole cops had bothered to bring in some interpreters. Fernando and Agnes suddenly found it much, much harder to converse in English while they were being interviewed. Funny coincidence, huh? They seem pretty fluent the rest of the time.”
    “I don't understand any of this,” I stammer. “The police should be helping, they should be out there hunting for Katie, but instead...”
    My voice trails off as I think back to the shocking indifference I've encountered at every stage.
    “Yeah, well,” Annabelle mutters, before blowing on her coffee again. “I've been around long enough to know that even by their usual standards, they're being particularly unhelpful this time around. Almost suspiciously so.”
    “But those two awful -”
    “They've been let go,” she continues. “It's very clear to me that they're being treated as witnesses, not suspects. Forget about them for now. They're not our focus.”
    “What are you talking about?” I ask, trying not to panic. “They're the only people who can tell us what happened to Katie! They might have been the last people who saw her -”
    I catch myself