‘Slow down, Justin,’ Taylor interrupted. ‘Take a breath and explain slowly. I can’t do anything until I have the facts.’
Justin sighed agitatedly. ‘You have them. There’s a possibility Sophie might not be mine. This guy turns up out of the blue and—’
‘He’s had no previous contact with Sophie then?’
‘As far as I know, no. Jesus, what does it matter?’ Justin snapped. ‘My concern is that he might be in contact with her now.’
Taylor looked puzzled. ‘Have you spoken to Alicia about this?’
Justin’s frustration, which was already way off the scale, multiplied tenfold. ‘Not in great detail, no. It’s a little difficult, as you might imagine.’
Picking up his pen, Taylor began tapping it repeatedly on his desk, which was immensely annoying. ‘Do you think he might have taken her?’
Kneading his forehead, Justin sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know,’ he said exasperatedly. ‘His interest seems to be more in my wife.’
Taylor stopped tapping. ‘And was Sophie aware of this, shall we say, dilemma?’
‘Yes,’ Justin said, guilt rising him. ‘She overheard me talking to Alicia’s sister.’
Taylor nodded slowly. ‘So, if Sophie is in contact with this… Paul Radley… it would be of her own volition?’
Justin clenched his teeth hard. ‘Yes, of her own volition,’ he said. ‘The point is, he might well know something about her whereabouts.’
Again, Taylor nodded. ‘And the address?’ he asked, poised to put his pen to its proper use.
‘Christ almighty! I don’t know! If I did, I wouldn’t be here, would I?’
‘I see.’ Taylor downed his pen and laced his hands in front of him. ‘So, let me get this straight. According to what you’ve told me, it would appear that, if Sophie has had any contact with Mr Radley, it would be willingly. Do you agree?’
‘Willingly?’ Justin eyed him incredulously. ‘He’s had nothing to do with her! Played no part in her life whatsoever. He doesn’t give a damn about her. If he has been in contact with her, it’s part of his plan to get to Alicia. I simply need to know whether he’s heard from her, so I can get my daughter back. What part of this don’t you get?’
Obviously unimpressed by the outburst of temper, Taylor glanced down at his desk and shuffled around some paperwork. ‘How old is Sophie, Justin?’ he asked.
Immediately realising the significance of that question, Justin felt his heart go into freefall. Neither he nor Alicia had mentioned it when they’d spoken, but he hadn’t doubted that his wife would have been thinking exactly what he was: that the milestone that marked Sophie’s sixteenth birthday tomorrow would carry their daughter further away from them, that she might always remain low priority to everyone but them. Unless something happened to her, of course, and the worst-case scenario that had been haunting Justin day and night came to pass. Then they would mobilise all available bodies, or whatever it was police did when there was a real crime to solve. Someone raped and strangled, bludgeoned or knifed to death. Then they would cordon off areas, go house to house, investigate – while he buried another child.
Justin felt a cold shiver run through him. He didn’t answer Taylor’s question.
‘A man eliciting contact with his sixteen-year-old daughter isn’t a criminal offence, Justin,’ Taylor said regretfully.
Justin swallowed back a tight lump in his throat. ‘And if he’s not her father?’
‘We don’t know, though, do we?’ Taylor pointed out, confirming what Justin had already concluded: that they were going to do absolutely nothing. ‘If he’s had contact with her and he’s not, obviously we will want to speak to him,’ he went on, his expression now apologetic, as if impelling Justin to understand his hands were tied. ‘But there’s nothing we can do without proof of parentage, other than make a general enquiry. Not unless Sophie herself actually comes forward with a complaint. I’m sorry.’
‘Right. Well.’ Justin shook his head, disbelieving. ‘Thanks for your help, Detective Inspector.’
‘Justin…’ Taylor called after him, as Justin strode furiously towards the door. ‘Dr Cole! Don’t do anything rash.’
Forty-Two
JUSTIN
Nice premises. Justin surveyed the Portland stone exterior of the 1930s art deco building from which Graham & Young Investment Advisers operated. The lease would undoubtedly be extortionate. Is that what Alicia had been impressed with, he wondered, his wealth? His emotions were swinging between disbelief that she would ever have got involved with Radley and gut-twisting fury. From where Justin was standing, the man had no redeeming features whatsoever.
They’d had an affair right under his nose. And this wanker had swanned back into her life and was resorting to threats, using his daughter as some kind of hold over her, presumably so he could pick up where he left off. That was a huge error of judgement on Radley’s part, and Justin had decided to point out just how huge. He was obviously the type of person who got off on getting what he wanted, whatever the cost. Not used to being turned down. Justin recalled the challenge in Radley’s eyes the first time he’d had the misfortune to meet him at the party, his obvious irritation when Alicia had turned down his offer of a lift to Jessica’s after the break-in, the day she’d buried her child. And this was supposed to be someone who cared about her? About Sophie?
Bastard! There was no way he was going to have contact with Sophie. Not while Justin still had breath in his body would he allow someone like that anywhere near her.
Curtailing his temper, Justin sucked in a breath and pushed his way through the revolving doors at the front of the building. Checking the list in the foyer, he ascertained the location of the company, nodded a greeting at the security guard and bypassed the lift, preferring to take the stairs up to the third floor. Counting the steady rhythm of his footfall against the stone steps did little to calm him.
Reasonably composed, he walked into the reception area and waited for the girl behind the desk to finish her call. ‘Paul Radley?’ he enquired pleasantly, when she acknowledged him.
‘He’s in a meeting,’ the girl said, with a bright smile. ‘Do you have an appointment, Mr…?’
‘Cole. Dr Cole. I need to speak to him urgently,’ Justin said. ‘Is his meeting here, on the premises?’
‘In the conference room.’ The girl pointed behind her, her forehead creased in obvious concern that a doctor was calling. ‘If you take a seat, I’ll ring through and get someone to let him know you’re here.’
‘No need. I’ll go straight through. He needs urgent medical attention,’ Justin said, his tone serious, his gaze on the conference room doors at the end of the corridor. Or he soon fucking well will.
‘Excuse me…’ The girl twirled in her chair as he walked purposely around her. ‘Excuse me! Dr Cole? You can’t go in there.’
Clamping his jaw tight, Justin walked on, shoving the double conference room doors open and walking straight across to where Radley had obviously been heading up the meeting. Plainly, he was some company bigshot, and Justin was about to bring the bastard right down to size.
His gaze shooting towards him, clearly registering who he was, Radley stopped mid-sentence, a startled look on his face in place of the smug expression Justin had seen what seemed like a lifetime ago. ‘What do you want?’ he said, taking a step back. ‘You can’t just walk in—’
‘To break your neck,’ Justin cut across him. ‘But I’ll settle for an arm or a leg. Maybe two.’
Radley was scared, he noted, stopping in front of him. He searched his eyes – rich chestnut-brown, deceitful, dark eyes. Nothing like his daughter’s.
‘Look, I have no idea what this is about, but I’m sure we can sit down and discuss it civilly.’ Loosening his tie, Radley glanced around him, presumably wondering whether he could get past. Not a chance, sunshine.
‘You threatened my wife.’