He stood for a moment, holding onto the heavy door, trying to regain his balance and control his heaving stomach.
After a few moments he was able to sit on a kitchen chair and think about eating. He couldn’t face it. He shouldn’t consider another drink either, but he couldn’t face being sober.
Since that Brit cop had visited him, he had been possessed by thoughts of Suzanne.
He’d told the guy a lot, more than he’d ever told anyone. But he hadn’t told him all of it. Now Harvey was wondering if maybe he should have done.
A yellow-and-green magnet with a shield and a canary on it pinned the young detective’s card to the fridge door. Right now Harvey was a very long way from Norwich City and his beloved Canaries.
He stared at the card and pondered. Should he call? Should he tell that persuasive copper the awful truth about Suzanne? Or should he have another drink?
Harvey opted for the second option.
*
The overwhelming response to the EFIT picture in the papers and on television had come as a shock.
Superintendent Ruth Crooke tapped her finger on the massive pile of typed sheets. ‘I’m sure it has something to do with social media. The whole world and his bloody brother think they know this man.’ She scowled at Jackman. ‘Are there really that many men who wear their hair like that?’
‘A reliable source called Max tells me that long hair is very popular nowadays. A lot of women think it’s pretty hot.’
Ruth snorted. ‘Sorry, but I think it’s ridiculous. They just look . . . oh, never mind. The thing is, I’ve had to allocate about a thousand civilians to this. We can barely cope.’
‘It’s frustrating I know,’ Jackman said reasonably, ‘but maybe one of them really does know him. Let’s just hope the sorting process filters something of use.’ He noted the dark circles beneath Ruth’s eyes. ‘How are you?’
‘Me?’ There was a long pause. ‘I’m shaken, Rowan. Shaken to the core.’
‘I’m sure you are. And Leah?’
‘That girl is amazing. She’s gone from being all nervous and unsettled to some kind of super hero since she was actually abducted. It’s bizarre.’
‘It’s a good way to be. Where is she now?’
‘Business as usual. Back to uni, although I’ve insisted she stays with me until we know whether or not someone else was involved.’
‘I’m taking Professor Wilkinson to see the Holland house, and after that Danny Hurley should be fit to interview. He is my number one priority.’
‘Good. Thank you, Rowan. I appreciate it. Just the thought of some shadowy figure waiting in the wings to make another attempt on her turns my blood to ice.’
‘Uniform still have her under surveillance, don’t they, ma’am?’
‘Oh yes. I would never have let her go back otherwise.’ She gave him a weak smile. ‘Just keep me updated regarding Hurley, would you?’
‘Absolutely, ma’am.’
*
Rory Wilkinson took his time. He walked slowly around the cottage, looking constantly from the forensic photographs to the stains themselves. Uncharacteristically, he made no comment.
Finally he turned to Jackman and said, ‘Bloodstain evidence has always fascinated me. It’s far more complex than the layman would believe.’
Jackman looked at him with interest. Rory hadn’t made a single sarcastic or humorous comment.
‘I’m only guessing, but I think our Squirrel was covering his back somewhat when he submitted his report. This woman died right here. There’s no doubt at all.’
Jackman digested the news. ‘Can you give me any idea what happened?’
‘Luckily, the record of the bloodstain and spatter patterns was beautifully done. If you give me a little longer I can probably reconstruct the scene, using some spanking new technology, and tell you exactly what happened.’ He grinned. ‘I am a genius, after all.’
‘You won’t find me disagreeing.’
Rory put the photographs and reports in his brief case. ‘I’m going to enjoy this. I have already ascertained that we have spatter, transfer, cast-off and drag marks, plus an arterial bleed with its distinctive rhythmic spurts. It’s a positive haemo-cornucopia of delights!’
‘Glad you think so,’ said Jackman drily.
‘Give me until tonight, and I will present the next episode in this nail-biting drama.’
‘You’re a diamond, Prof.’
‘I am rather, aren’t I?’
*
Marie and Carter were back in the car, considerably more relaxed than before.
Carter passed her a bag containing a jam donut, and balanced a cardboard beaker of coffee on the dash. ‘They didn’t like her, did they? Not one of them.’
‘They did not. And we’ve spoken to a lot of people this morning. Work colleagues, people she met in different places, like her gym and her hairdressers, and not a single one of them liked her.’
‘Yet poor Tom idolised her.’ Carter sounded very sad. ‘Or he seemed to.’
‘What was Tom like?’ Marie just managed to stop herself from looking over her shoulder.
‘Gentle. That’s the first word that comes to mind. Kind, thoughtful, and a great laugh, but never in an unkind way. The kids in our outward bound group all loved him.’
Marie bit into her donut. ‘Was he maybe too soft? As in almost na?ve? You said he thought love was all that mattered, not his wife’s dubious past.’
‘No, not na?ve. He was quite simply a good person. He preferred to think the best of people. Not like us cynical coppers, who always expect to find the worst.’
Marie brushed sugar off her trousers. ‘I’m so sorry you lost your friend, Carter. He sounds like a really great guy.’
‘He is — uh, he was. One of the best. I miss him. I miss them all.’
Marie felt tears forming and changed the subject. ‘So what do we make of Suzanne?’
Carter slurped his coffee. ‘That my initial impression was bloody right. Tom Holland was a fucking goofball to marry the tart. He must have had shit for brains.’
Marie burst out laughing, and after a moment, Carter joined in.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘I don’t know who he was! How many times do I have to tell you?’ Danny Hurley raged.
Jackman looked on impassively.
Jackman had studied sociology at university, and he hadn’t forgotten what he’d learned. He listened, of course, but he also watched. Body language and mannerisms spoke as loudly as words. Sometimes they positively shouted.
‘So, you were paid to follow and abduct the very girl you were obsessed with. Can you see how that looks to us, Danny?’ He turned to Gary Pritchard. ‘Wouldn’t you say it’s just a little bit far-fetched, Constable?’
Gary nodded sagely. ‘Oh dear yes, sir. Quite a stretch of the imagination.’
Danny punched a fist into his cupped hand. ‘No! You’ve got it all wrong! Why won’t you listen?’
‘We are listening, Danny, but what we are hearing doesn’t make too much sense.’
‘I was paid to do a few things. Send her flowers, chocolates and stuff like that.’
‘But you don’t know who the person was?’
‘I never met him.’
‘Him? You know it was a man? How?’
Danny stammered. ‘Well, I don’t, but a woman wouldn’t be doing that, would she?’
‘How did you get paid?’