‘Sit down, please,’ the DCI said firmly and with a hard stare. She sat. The DCI rose and sat beside her, and she let him. He surprised her by taking her hand. It was as warm as the tone of his next words.
‘Mrs Seabury, your husband is not where you expected him to be. He’s missing and he didn’t take his vehicle or his phone. We found a weapon that I think came from something we’ll find in your shed. On his phone was a picture of the man we found dead in his shop. Now, I understand you believe your husband’s story about last night and this morning, but nobody can know anything for sure until we speak to him. It’s very important that I speak to Karl to hear his version of events. If he had to run somewhere, to hide, where would he go?’
Somewhat soothed by his kind words, Katie replied: ‘Nowhere. I don’t know. I would assume he’d come here. Or at least call. Look, he’s not a murd—’
‘And has he called?’
‘No.’
‘Mrs Seabury, this is a mess, and you need to trust the good men here. I am the man to help your husband, and you need to understand that. I want killers in prison, not innocent men—’
‘I don’t know where he is. I know he’s not a killer.’
‘Don’t worry. I believe it’s not in his heart. If your husband is innocent, I will do what I can for him. But the evidence is telling us a story, and to get the truth we need to talk to him. He needs to come in. Running doesn’t help his case. It’s better he finds us before we find him. If he contacts you, you must convince him that he must hand himself in to me.’ He handed her his card. ‘Do you understand?’
She said nothing, but nodded, looking down at the card in his hand.
‘Do you mind if we do that search? We’ll be careful.’
She nodded again. He stood, but she grabbed his arm. ‘Do you think my Karl did this?’
The eyes staring down at her held a warmth that made her regret her earlier suspicions about this man. ‘I’ll say again that I believe it’s not in his heart. If he’s innocent, the truth will come out. Will you tell him to call me, if he contacts you?’
Katie nodded her agreement.
The DCI sent his assistant to search the shed, while he went upstairs. Alone in the silent living room, she sat clutching her coat again, staring at the wedding photo, unable to fully process what was going on. She looked at the phone and willed it to ring. Wherever Karl was, surely he would call her the first chance he got?
The DCI was back a few minutes later to search the kitchen and living room. So, she went upstairs, out of the way.
* * *
She went into little Jane’s room because it was a place that always calmed her. Except that now it didn’t, because she couldn’t evade wondering what kind of life little Jane – or little Michael – would have without a father. She couldn’t stop imagining their unborn child visiting their father in prison, with bars between them.
She slumped into the seat before Karl’s computer desk. There, on the screen, inches from her face, was a CCTV video paused on the image of a man. Night vision, from the garden cameras. The video that the detectives had been talking about.
The timestamp on the video said early morning. Karl must have accessed the video footage from his mobile after she told him about the break-in at the shed. Was this the man they thought Karl had killed? The man who had tried to break into the house last night and who had gone to the shop in search of Karl.
The man Karl had killed in self-defence.
There was a strange mix of emotions making her head feel light. Anger at Karl for bringing all this mess onto their doorstep. Fear of losing him to prison. But relief was there, too, because he was alive, even if he had had to kill a man to guarantee that. Baby Jane or baby Michael would have a father, at least. There would be someone to visit and talk to, which was better than a one-sided conversation with a headstone.
She heard the back door. The DC returning from the shed. Now the two men would talk about what they had found. Katie put her hands on the laptop. She wanted to know what they were going to say, but knew they wouldn’t speak their minds in front of her. And she didn’t want to go back downstairs anyway. She needed some space.
The screen displayed a feed from a camera in the living room. The tiny device was hidden in a strange painting of a pair of dragons playing chess. Karl had chosen the hiding place because he thought the painting would draw stares and give him a good face shot of anyone who robbed the house. And a lovely cleavage view of your friends, he’d joked. Always the joker. She hoped she’d get to hear him laugh again.
There was a powerful microphone hidden in the ceiling lampshade, and she turned it on, listening to the policemen.
The younger man stood in the centre of the room, talking to his boss’s back because the DCI was once again inches from the wedding picture, boring his eyes into it.
‘Lawnmower with a missing blade,’ the DC said. ‘The video showed your Król and his accomplice at the shed, so it looks like they took it. Looking very much like your informant went there in search of Seabury when he couldn’t get into the house. And Seabury got the better of him.’
‘Let’s not jump to conclusions yet. Finding Seabury is our priority. And Grafton’s wife, if indeed it is her.’
‘You think the wife’s hiding anything? Seabury’s wife, I mean. She didn’t seem right.’
‘Just shock. I don’t think Seabury’s called her. Come on, let’s search some more before she comes down. You do the kitchen.’
There was a camera in the kitchen, but Katie didn’t care to watch the younger man. She heard a racket as he searched a drawer full of pans, but her attention was on the DCI. His search of the living room was cursory, as if he sought a large item or was already convinced he wouldn’t find what he needed. Her unease at having someone root through her belongings was heightened when he found a photo album and leaned against a wall to flick through it. Nothing of importance to their case could be in there, surely, yet he took his sweet time flicking through, and there was a grin on his face throughout.
He snapped it shut when the DC returned from the kitchen, empty-handed. Katie decided it was time to go back downstairs and get rid of the two of them. She took a breath to fortify her nerves and got up.
Seconds from the living room door, she heard a mobile ring and the DCI answer it. She froze, knowing the man would retire to another room for secrecy if she appeared.
Silence for half a minute, and then he bid the caller goodbye and said: ‘Henderson just got to Król’s flat, and it’s a smouldering wreck inside. Fire’s burned out, so the exterior is okay. But the inside is gutted. That’s the evidence gone, if there was any there.’
‘Seabury?’ the DC said.
‘Let’s not guess. Maybe he did it, and maybe it was someone else. Maybe it’s not connected at all. Król was not a popular man.’
That final line boosted her confidence. If this ‘Król’ was unpopular, maybe someone else had followed him to the shop and killed him. Not Karl.
But that still didn’t explain why Karl was missing.
The living room phone rang. Karl! She barged into the room. Both men were staring at the phone, but their heads whipped her way as the door smacked open.
‘If that’s him, you hand me that phone,’ the DCI snapped.
She rushed across the room, watched the whole way, and picked it up. She was sure it was going to be a salesman or someone unimportant and bothersome, but then she heard his voice, and her growing anger was washed away by grief and gratitude. ‘Oh God, Karl, what’s going on? They’re here, they just came in, they want you—’
The phone was ripped from her hand. The DCI roughly pushed her aside and slammed the receiver to his ear.
‘Seabury,’ he said, his voice croaky, ‘you’re a hard man to find…’
Forty-Five
Karl
‘… and I need you to listen carefully to me.’
‘Karl, what’s going on?’ he heard Katie yell. And then a commotion, which he thought was his wife trying to grab the phone and the policeman stopping her.