Free Backlash by Lynda La Plante Page A

details of what happened to
Justine Marks, but just say that Oates was awaiting trial for her murder.

Chapter Four
    T he Jordan family were still in the same house in Hammersmith. Anna’s call had, as she knew it would, made a deep impact on Emily Jordan.
Before she’d even rung the bell, the door was open wide.
    ‘I am Detective Chief Inspector Anna Travis. Thank you for agreeing to see me.’
    ‘Please come in. Stephen will be right down, he’s working upstairs.’
    Anna was led through the narrow hallway into a long, eye-catching and modern galley-style kitchen with a black-and-white tiled floor and black granite worktops. The Aga, along with all the
wooden cabinets and cupboards, was white with every large kitchen appliance integrated into the design. A sizeable T-shaped dining and relaxation area had clearly been added as an extension to the
original kitchen. It had a glass-domed roof which filled the room with natural light and French doors that opened out onto a small but well-maintained garden. There was a white two-seater sofa and
small television in one corner and the walls were adorned with large blow-up photographs of two handsome blond boys and many of Rebekka, one of which had a string of paper daisies threaded around
the frame.
    Emily had coffee brewing and Anna accepted a cup of lovely fresh Brazilian. As Emily offered her a plate of home-baked biscuits, her hand shook. Stephen Jordan then walked in and directly
introduced himself. He was a very handsome man, wearing a pale blue cashmere jumper and old brown cord trousers, with dark blue suede loafers and no socks. Stephen had dark hair with flecks of grey
at the sides and soft brown expressive eyes. In contrast his wife had pale blue eyes with silky thick blonde hair down to her shoulders. She was wearing jeans and a chequered shirt, and was taller
than Anna, at least five feet eight or nine, and very slender. They made a very elegant couple and she saw him catch his wife’s hand gently as he sat on the arm of the sofa. Emily remained
standing.
    ‘I want to be totally open with you both and explain why I am here,’ Anna began. ‘I wish I had more information for you, as what I do have isn’t much to give you any
comfort and for that I am deeply sorry.’
    They looked at each other, and their pain, the pain that Langton had described, was plainly still extremely raw. She could feel it.
    Anna knew that she had to be careful not to mention the name of Henry Oates or his legal team could dismiss any identification the Jordans might make. So she explained to them that they might
have seen in the papers or on TV that police had arrested and charged a man with the abduction and murder of Justine Marks, and that during interview this man had said that he had killed two other
women: a girl he referred to as Julia and their daughter Rebekka. Anna told them that she was taking the admissions very seriously and would be making a full and thorough investigation. Neither of
the Jordans spoke, but Stephen’s hand gripped his wife’s more tightly.
    ‘However, he now claims that both admissions were a lie and the only reason he made them was for a laugh as he had read all the media coverage about Rebekka at the time she went
missing.’
    Still they remained silent.
    ‘He has been re-interviewed but given us no further details and now still denies any involvement in your daughter’s disappearance. I have a photograph that I would like you to look
at to see if you recognize him or can give his face a name.’
    Anna opened her briefcase as Stephen stood up, releasing his wife’s hand. He delved into his pocket and took out a pair of glasses as Anna handed him the photograph of Henry Oates. They
stood very close together, both looking at the picture, and then Stephen turned to Anna.
    ‘No, I don’t recall ever seeing anyone like this.’
    He passed the photograph back to Anna.
    ‘I’m afraid I don’t either. It’s the sort of face I think