There was the sudden sound of a bolt being drawn back and the front door swung open in one fluid movement to reveal a big man in a navy towelling dressing gown, pale blue pyjama legs protruding beneath, feet bare. Despite his state of undress and the bed hair, Jessie recognized him immediately as the solid, dark-haired man she had seen waiting for Carolynn a few weeks ago. It was clear from the way his eyes widened fractionally when he looked from Marilyn to her, that recognition was reciprocated. Not ideal.
Stepping forward, Marilyn held out his hand. Glancing down, Jessie noticed that he had planted one suede Chelsea boot firmly over the threshold. He wasn’t taking any chances.
‘You remember me, Mr Reynolds?’
‘How could I forget?’ His grey eyes were cold. He made no move to take Marilyn’s outstretched hand. ‘What do you want?’
‘Can we talk?’
‘We have nothing to talk about.’
‘You’ve heard about the young girl found dead on West Wittering beach on Thursday, I presume? Jodie Trigg?’
‘I’d have to be living on Mars not to have done, but it has nothing to do with us.’ His tone was measured, a ‘poker’ tone, if there was such a thing.
‘She was strangled.’
Reynolds lifted his shoulders. His expression remained unchanged. ‘I’m very sorry for her parents, but as I said, it has nothing to do with us.’
‘Like Zoe, she was strangled.’
Reynolds didn’t react.
‘Her body was found very close to where your daughter was found, two years to the day, lying in a heart of shells with an identical doll left by her side.’
‘What are you implying, DI Simmons?’
‘I’m not implying anything. I’m here purely out of courtesy, to assure you that finding your daughter’s murderer is still one of my key priorities. I will find out who killed her.’ There was an edge to his tone that was at odds with the reassuring message.
‘I sincerely hope that you do find out who murdered my daughter. My wife and I have been waiting two years for a result. Waiting in vain.’
‘Is your wife in, Mr Reynolds?’
‘No.’
‘Where is she?’
Reynolds shrugged. ‘Out running, probably.’
‘Does she often go running early?’
‘Most days, I believe.’
‘Her car is missing.’
Marilyn waited for Reynolds to contradict his statement.
Another shrug. ‘Shopping then.’
So Jessie had been right – they were a two-car family.
‘Does she like to shop?’
Reynolds’ wrinkled his nose. ‘Don’t all women like to shop?’
Jessie would have liked to interject in the negative, but kept silent. Her feminist principles would just have to let that one go.
‘What car does she drive?’
‘Small, silver.’
‘Like about five million others then?’
Reynolds suppressed a smirk.
‘Make, model and registration plate?’ Marilyn asked.
‘I’m not good with cars, DI Simmons, so I don’t remember.’
‘Where are your ownership documents?’
‘I can’t recall where I left them,’ Reynolds said. ‘I’ll have a think and get back to you.’
‘How predictably convenient,’ Marilyn snapped. ‘What time did she leave?’
‘I was working late last night and slept late. I only woke up a few minutes before you rang the bell. She was gone when I woke.’
Reynolds’ appearance validated his story.
‘Where do you work?’
‘None of your business.’
‘I’m sure I can find out.’
Jessie gave a subtle warning shake of her head, but Marilyn didn’t notice, wasn’t looking at her. He was eyeballing Reynolds, and Jessie could almost see the hackles raised, like a dog sizing up for a fight. This wasn’t the approach they had agreed on. The plan was to go softly, softly, engender cooperation, however obtuse Roger Reynolds tried to be. Marilyn was letting his bias guide his actions, but however much she wanted to, she couldn’t pull him up in front of Reynolds.
‘Where was your wife the day before yesterday, between three and five-thirty p.m.?’
‘At home.’
‘Any witnesses?’
Reynolds’ knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the front door. ‘This is sounding suspiciously like an interrogation, DI Simmons. Should I call my lawyer?’
Jessie stepped forward. ‘No, Mr Reynolds, you don’t need to speak with your lawyer. As DI Simmons said earlier, we’re here out of courtesy, to ensure that you had heard about Jodie Trigg and to inform you that the police believe the two murders are linked.’
Reynolds eyeballed her, unsmiling. ‘Very uncourteous courtesy. And you are?’
Jessie was tempted to tell him that she was well aware he knew exactly who she was.
‘My name is Dr Jessie Flynn and I’m a psychologist working with the police. I’ve been counselling your wife.’
‘Poacher turned gamekeeper.’
‘I’ve worked with the police on a few other cases. It’s another aspect of my job and one that ideally doesn’t overlap with my freelance clinical psychology work. I give my assurance that nothing your wife told me in our sessions will be shared with the police. I take patient confidentiality very seriously.’
Reynolds’ lip curled. ‘Back when our daughter died, we trusted. Everyone we knew let us down. Forgive me if I don’t believe a word you’re saying, Dr Flynn.’
Jessie continued to look him straight in the eye, though it was an effort. Fury and mistrust pulsed from him.
‘I understand why you wouldn’t believe me, but my word is good.’
She sensed Marilyn shift beside her.
‘Can we come in, Mr Reynolds?’ he asked.
‘Why do you want to come in, DI Simmons?’
‘To continue our chat in comfort and privacy.’
‘We’re done chatting.’
Reynolds moved to shut the door. It bounced off the toe of Marilyn’s boot.
‘I can arrest you,’ Marilyn said, extending his arm to hold the door open.
‘What the hell for?’ Reynolds hissed.
‘Living under a false name, non-payment of taxes. I’m sure I can think of something that will stick.’
‘Jesus Christ, you really are scum.’
‘I’m just trying to do my job, and I could do with your cooperation.’
‘And you think this is the way to achieve it, by coming here and throwing out accusations? After all you’ve done, all the harm you caused before?’
‘I’m concerned that your wife may have gone. Run, for want of a better word.’
‘She wouldn’t have gone anywhere without me.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Positive.’ Reynolds said it with the tone of a man who had been brought
