The Boy in the Suitcase - Lene Kaaberbol [54]
“But why … what made you think that she was the one who took Mikas?”
“Two things,” explained Valionis. “Item one: the Belgian had an alarming alcohol content in his blood in spite of swearing to us that he had had only one drink in the company of the delectable Miss Woronska. When our doctor examined him, he found lesions in the man’s throat consistent with intubation—in other words, someone could have inserted a tube and poured alcohol directly into his stomach while he was unconscious. It’s a good way of demoralizing and incapacitating someone, if you are willing to take the risk. People have been known to die from it, from acute alcohol poisoning.”
Sigita’s head came up.
“But … but that is… .”
Evaldas Gužas nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry no one believed you. At this stage, unfortunately, we cannot prove that this was what was done to you, as it is not now possible to distinguish any orignal injury from those stemming from the intubation you had to undergo at the hospital. But everyone I have spoken to has characterized you as a sober and responsible person, so… .” He left the conclusion hanging in the air, unsaid.
Some of Sigita’s general misery eased a little. At least they believed her now. At least they would be serious about looking for Mikas.
“And … Mikas?”
“The other thing that rang a bell was the fact that Barbara Woronska had been identified as one of four possible suspects in another case involving the disappearance of a child,” said Valionis, consulting his notebook briefly.
Sigita’s hands shook.
“A child?”
Valionis nodded.
“A little over a month ago, a desperate mother reported her eight-year-old daughter missing. She had been picked up from the music school where she took piano lessons twice a week by an unknown woman who presented herself as a neighbor. The piano teacher was not suspicious, as the mother works as a nurse and has often sent others to pick up the child when she herself has a late shift. Unfortunately, the piano teacher was not able to give us a very good description and would only say that it might be one of these four women.” He tapped the photographs with one forefinger.
“But where is she now?” said Sigita. “Haven’t you arrested her?”
“Unfortunately not,” said Gužas. “Her place of employment tells us that they haven’t seen her since Thursday, and she has apparently not been living at her official address since March.”
“But how come she is not in jail? With all this, how come she is still out there, stealing other people’s children?”
Valionis shook his head with a disgusted grimace.
“Both cases were dropped. The Belgian went home very suddenly, and all we got from him was a letter from his lawyer to the effect that his client was dropping all charges. And the nurse just as suddenly maintained that it had all been a misunderstanding, and the child was home and quite safe.”
“Isn’t that a little odd?” asked Sigita.
“Yes. We are convinced that they both gave in to some form of pressure.” Evaldas Gužas’s gaze rested on her with an ungentle emphasis. “Which is why I have to ask you yet again, Mrs. Ramoškienė. Does anyone have any reason to subject you to that kind of pressure?”
Sigita shook her head numbly. If it hadn’t been Dobrovolskij, she couldn’t imagine anyone else feeling any need to pressure or threaten her.
“Surely they would say something?” she said. “I haven’t heard a thing.”
Helplessness gripped her once more. Again, an unbearable image flitted through her mind: Mikas in a basement somewhere, on a dirty mattress, crying, afraid. How can anyone stand this? she thought.