He took the paperwork and scanned over it before signing the bottom of the page. ‘I don’t think for one minute this will come up with anything, but I suppose we have to be seen to be doing things right. I’ve read the notes on the attempted break-in last night. We need to get to the bottom of this as soon as.’
‘Mr Jenkins also mentioned that he’d seen someone watching him, sitting on the wall at the entrance to the close. Too much of a coincidence?’
‘Definitely.’ Briggs began to chew the end of his pen.
‘Timings of Deborah’s baby being found and all this happening?’
‘Definitely too much of a coincidence.’ He threw his pen on his desk. ‘I enjoyed last night.’
She smiled, grabbed the form and closed the door. As she headed towards the interview room, she grabbed a swab pack and a pair of blue medical gloves. She got on well with Briggs, but a relationship in the conventional sense wasn’t going to happen. Though she didn’t even know if that’s what he wanted.
Her thoughts leaped back to Terry and the night he had been pronounced dead in their home. The night she had been liberated, finally able to live the life she wanted. People still extended their sympathy when they’d heard that she was a widow, but she’d never wanted it, never asked for it and was certain that she didn’t deserve even an ounce of it. She took a deep breath and tried to shove Terry from her mind. Free from abuse, but never free from his memory.
She approached the interview room. Wyre was standing outside. Her black suit was beautifully tailored and her posture was perfect. Gina barely had time to shower and eat properly. The woman mustn’t sleep, Gina thought. ‘Here to assist?’
Wyre nodded and held up a swab pack, smiling when she saw that Gina held one too. ‘Great minds and all that, ma’am.’
The desk sergeant called her over. ‘Mr Jenkins has arrived.’
‘Thanks, Nick,’ she replied, as she waved Luke over. ‘Thanks for coming. Sorry to spring this on you.’ The tired-looking man hobbled beside her. ‘Are you okay? I don’t suppose you got much sleep after last night.’ She noticed that his suit looked a little creased and he hadn’t shaven.
He rubbed his eyes. ‘I trod on a broken cup.’
‘Sounds painful.’
‘Look. Why am I here? It’s obvious that the baby isn’t mine.’ He sighed as they reached the entrance to the interview room.
Wyre held the door open. ‘Please take a seat, Mr Jenkins. As you know, we have procedures to follow and this will be totally painless.’
He scraped the chair across the floor, sat and folded his arms. ‘I’m meant to be at work. What am I meant to tell my employer?’
‘Shall I contact them for you?’ Wyre asked. ‘I can tell them that your house was broken into last night and you’re here giving a statement.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine. This just seems ridiculous, a bit over the top, that’s all.’
‘Mr Jenkins, we have to do this as a process of elimination. May I just remind you that you are not under arrest and you are here voluntarily? What you are doing is helping with your wife’s case, so thank you so much for coming. This will only take a moment and won’t cause you any discomfort at all.’
He unfolded his arms and sat up straight. ‘I know. I guess I’m just feeling a bit uptight. It’s not every day that a man whose wife has been missing for years ends up being the mother of an abandoned baby. It’s not every day some weirdo stares through your window and it’s not every day you come face to face with an intruder in the middle of the night. I’m sorry, but nothing in life has ever served to prepare me for this. I just want you to do your job and find my wife.’
‘I understand,’ said Gina. ‘I can’t imagine being where you are, Mr Jenkins. Really, I can’t. But we’re doing this for Mrs Jenkins, for Deborah.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘You have nothing to apologise for. Right, let’s get this done.’
Wyre slipped the blue gloves on and ripped the packet open. ‘Can you open your mouth, please, Mr Jenkins?’ He leaned back and did as she requested. She rubbed the swab against the inside of Luke’s cheek before removing it and dropping the head from the stick into the sealed tube. She did the same with a second swab then placed them into an evidence bag. She sealed the envelope, removed her gloves and completed the details on the front of the bag as well as those on the form.
‘Thank you, Mr Jenkins. All done,’ Wyre said as Gina leaned over and countersigned the envelope. ‘I’ll just go and drop this off. Do you need me for anything else?’
Gina shook her head and smiled as Wyre left.
Luke began biting the skin on his lip. ‘What happens now?’
‘You can go to work and we’ll be in touch. Obviously, if you see, remember or hear anything, you have my number. We’ve set up an incident room for the case. We’re working flat out as hard as we can on finding your wife.’
‘Thank you, and I do appreciate what you’re all doing.’ Luke flinched as he stood. ‘Bloody foot. Literally, bloody foot.’ He let out a short burst of laughter then bit his lip again. ‘I suppose I’ll be off then.’ As he reached the door, he paused. ‘Please do everything you can. I mean everything. My children would love nothing more than to have their mother back. I would love nothing more than to have my wife back.’
‘I promise you I’ll do everything I can,’ she replied as she followed him out. Nick was putting up some new posters aiming to deter people from being tempted to drink and drive over the festive period. ‘Bye, Mr Jenkins. I’ll keep you updated.’ He didn’t turn around. He hobbled towards the car park and vanished out of view.
Gina walked to the window and watched as he stepped into his car and drove off. It was only morning, but she’d have sworn that it was about four in the afternoon. It was as if daylight had barely broken for days. She watched as a few heavy raindrops plopped into the large puddle gathered in the pothole in their car park.
‘Mince pie?’ Nick asked.
‘Working here is making me fat,’ she replied as she took one.
‘Nonsense. They’re good for you. They’ve got fruit in them – one of your five a day.’ He put another poster up, highlighting the number to call for reports of female genital mutilation. Gina took a bite of the pie and left him to it.
She wandered through reception and back to her office. She picked up the file of the investigation four years ago. A photo of the woman found in the river dropped onto her desk. She stared at the waxy face with the crooked nose then looked away. She and Driscoll would start by re-interviewing the staff at the Angel Arms in Cleevesford. Maybe, just maybe, someone might be able to add to her notes. She read over the dog-eared pages and spotted some names she recognised. She had originally interviewed the four members of staff that were there at the time. She remembered smarmy Samuel Avery and the other members of staff: Jeff Wall, Ally Perrins and Charlene Lynch.
She picked up the phone and pressed Wyre’s extension. ‘Can you and O’Connor track down Deborah Jenkins’ friends who played pool with her at the pub? Also, give Lynne Hastings at Avant Conservatories Limited a heads-up. Let them know we’ll be coming in tomorrow to discuss Deborah Jenkins and we’re likely to be there a while. Ask if we can use their boardroom.’ Wyre acknowledged her request and ended the call.
She finished off the rest of the mince pie and flung the case in the bin. It tasted of Christmas. All the decorations were up in the town but she didn’t feel very Christmassy yet. Mince pies were a start, but so were the drink drivers and antisocial behaviour offenders, and the general traffic through the station. Welcome to the festive season.
She placed all the case notes back in the file and grabbed her coat. The ticking of the clock in her office pierced her thoughts. They’d get down to the pub at twelve, bang on opening time. If Deborah’s abductor was someone they’d already spoken to, she was determined they wouldn’t fool them this time.
Twenty-Eight