'Ah, but that would mean Owen's death was planned and not a random attack. And was Arina the wrong person?' posed Horton.
Gaye looked up, more alert than previously. 'Sutton?'
'You know her?' Horton asked, curious, hearing a note of recognition in her voice.
'I know a Professor Sir Christopher Sutton.' She gave a tired smile and half a shrug. 'But it's a common enough surname.'
'Who is he?'
'A neuropsychiatric consultant.'
'A what?' asked Cantelli.
Gaye smiled wearily. 'Neuropsychiatry is the study of mental disorders attributable to the nervous system. Sutton is a clever man and a very entertaining speaker, egocentric like a lot of consultants, but brilliant. He must be retired by now. I heard him talk years ago, at a seminar, when I was studying personality, profiling and criminology. He was about sixty then and a legend in his field.'
Horton doubted if there was a connection, but he'd ask Trueman to check just to be sure. Not that it had any bearing on this case. Still, any information was better than none. Addressing Cantelli, Horton said, 'Did Thea Carlsson mention anything to Birch about Arina Sutton being killed in the same spot as her parents in 1990?'
'If she did he didn't bring it up at the briefing this morning. He claims she said practically nothing before the solicitor showed up and afterwards just sat there looking forlorn. All she did say was that she went to the Duver because she had a feeling that was where she'd find her brother. Of course Birch doesn't believe her.'
And neither does anyone else, thought Horton, studying Cantelli to see what he thought. Cantelli simply raised his dark eyebrows, as though to say 'who knows?'
Gaye scraped back her chair with a yawn. 'Sounds like you've got quite a case on your hands, Inspector.'
'I'm on holiday,' Horton replied, rising.
'Looks like it,' she rejoined sarcastically. 'Well, I'm going home to catch up on my beauty sleep.'
He should have answered, 'you don't need it', but he'd never been one for smooth talking. Not that Gaye Clayton expected it, but she was eyeing him rather curiously.
'I'll give you a lift to the hovercraft,' volunteered Cantelli as they headed out of the cafe.
Outside Horton paused and peered through the heavy stinging rain. There was no one loitering suspiciously. In this weather there wasn't anyone about at all.
Turning to Cantelli he said, 'How did Thea get to Bembridge? She didn't use her brother's car.'
'She phoned for a taxi to take her to St Helens and walked down to the Duver from there. The taxi driver has confirmed it.'
'Is she still at the hospital?'
'She was when I left the station.'
'I'll pay her a visit. If someone's watching her it'll reinforce the belief that I'm a friend.'
Cantelli's phone rang. Sheltering in the doorway of the cafe, he answered it as Horton escorted Dr Clayton towards Cantelli's car parked opposite the Harley.
'I hear you had a close call last night,' Gaye said, ramming her hands in the pockets of her sailing jacket and seemingly impervious to the rain lashing into her face.
'Could have been worse.' His chest was still raw, but it would get better.
She halted and stared up at him with an expression of concern. 'Be careful, Andy.'
'Why the warning?' he asked with false lightness as alarm pricked his spine.
'Perhaps I'm just tired, but I don't like this case. There's the smell of evil around it.'
Horton grew even more concerned though he tried not to show it. She'd echoed his sentiments exactly. 'I didn't think scientists had premonitions,' he teased.
'Well, this one does and she's just had it. I haven't met Thea Carlsson, only her dead brother, but this is a clever killing by a clever killer. And, despite Cantelli's theories, it is not yobbos. Your killer never for a moment thought it would be construed as suicide, but he's done his best to make it difficult for us to ascertain time and place of death. Anyway, I've said my piece. I just don't want you ending up on my dissecting table — no matter how much I'd like to see you without your clothes.' She smiled to lessen the impact of her words but Horton shuddered at the thought of being laid out on the mortuary slab.
'That was Somerfield,' Cantelli said, hurrying towards them. Horton saw instantly that something was wrong. 'Thea's gone.'
'How? When?' Horton rapped.
'About half an hour ago. She said she wanted a shower before she left the hospital for the safe house. The WVRS volunteer had brought her some clothes. Well, she could hardly walk out in a hospital gown and Somerfield couldn't go in the shower with her,' Cantelli said defensively.
'Why not? She's a bloody woman too,' Horton snapped. Shit! This was the last thing he'd expected.
'She's not gone back to the burnt-out house,' Cantelli said, the rain pouring off his face, his dark eyes anxious. 'I suppose she could have returned to where she found her brother's body.'
Horton cursed. 'Check the hospital staff for any sightings of her,
Barney. I'll head for the Duver.' 'Andy,' Gaye called out after him. 'Remember what I said.' He would, but it wouldn't make any difference.
SIX
He reached the car park at the Duver in record time, and miraculously without getting a speeding ticket, or killing himself. There wasn't a car in sight. The rain was sheeting down. The biting wind cut into his flesh and shook the gorse with the fury of an outraged god. From beyond the beach huts came the thunderous pounding of waves crashing on to the shore. Not a day to be at sea, he thought, hurrying to the place where he'd discovered Thea leaning over her brother's body, without any real hope of finding her there. She wasn't. Only the flapping blue and white police tape greeted him.
So where was she? Had she voluntarily left the hospital or had she been abducted? Christ, he didn't even want to consider the latter, but he had to. Her abductor could be the arsonist and his intruder and the person who had been watching him and Thea here yesterday.
His eyes searched through the slicing rain for a hideout where this person could have watched the sorrowful scene being played out. There were plenty of places to hide: the numerous bushes, the caravan park to the north on the hill and the large houses on the gentle hill slopes to the west, which rose to the village of St Helens. Anyone with a pair of binoculars could have seen them.
Frustrated and concerned, he returned to the boat and punched in Cantelli's number.
'There's no sign of her,' Cantelli greeted him mournfully. 'We've put out an all-ports alert but we're keeping it from the media in case it puts her life in danger.'
'I'll skin Somerfield alive,' snarled Horton.
'It's not her fault, Andy,' Cantelli said gently, then added, 'But if it makes you feel any better Uckfield's already done that.'
Horton took a breath and mentally got a grip on his emotions. For someone whose personal motto was 'control at all times and never show what you're feeling', he was failing miserably.
Cantelli continued, 'There is one bit of news though; a nurse on A amp; E says she saw Thea climb into a car. She's definite about that because she was on duty when Thea Carlsson was brought in so she recognized her.'
'What car? Description of the driver?' asked Horton eagerly.
'She didn't get the registration or make, she was in a hurry and she didn't think much of it, but it was a dark- coloured saloon, a newish model. No description of the driver. Doesn't help us much, but the nurse says that Thea went willingly. No one was forcing her inside.'
Horton wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, especially the bit about a dark-coloured saloon. But if it wasn't Arina Sutton's killer, was it a friend? Had she lied about not knowing anyone? Had she telephoned this person from the hospital and asked him to collect her? Did that mean she could be involved in the murder of her brother after
