Suddenly, the house seemed incredibly empty without Adam’s presence.
As she pulled the blinds down over the window, she peered out into the darkness.
Was Demiri watching her now?
She gave the blinds a final tug, and realised her hands were shaking.
It was only three days.
‘I’ll be okay.’
Chapter Sixteen
Kay pulled the seatbelt across her body and settled into the passenger seat of the car for the drive down to the coast the next morning.
While she checked her emails on her phone, Barnes manoeuvred the vehicle through the town centre, overtook a slow-moving truck and then turned down the radio once they were speeding through the Kentish countryside heading south.
‘Any information on the garage owner?’
Kay dropped her phone into her bag and pulled out a bundle of papers that Debbie had handed to her on the way out the door. She flicked to the third page and skimmed her eyes over the contents.
‘Reg Powers. Sixty-two years old. He’s been the owner of the place since 1991. Before that, it belonged to his father-in-law, who passed away in 1993. Divorced, no kids. Tax records show he employs two part-time staff.’
‘Business doing well?’
Kay shrugged. ‘It’s getting by. He’s not going to break any records with his income, but that’s not surprising given the location – he’s not in a very built up area, and Debbie said there’s a large new car dealership in Hythe that has a state of the art servicing business on the side, so a lot of people probably go there.’
‘You think most of his customers are repeat ones, then?’
‘Yeah, I reckon. Probably people that knew his father-in-law or have had their car serviced by him for years.’
‘Does he sell many second-hand cars?’
Kay flipped the page. ‘No – about eight a year.’ She dropped the bundle into her lap and stared out the windscreen. ‘Probably does it on the side as a bit of extra income if one of his customers wants to sell a car, or something like that.’
‘We’ll soon find out.’
Barnes changed down a gear and slowed as they approached the first in a line of villages they had to pass through to reach their destination.
‘I haven’t been down this way in years,’ said Kay as she took in the small post office to her left and a corner shop that appeared to be struggling for business.
‘We used to bring Emma down this way when she was little,’ said Barnes. ‘Not a great beach there, but she used to like paddling in the water when she was a toddler. Plus, there was always a decent pub on the way back to stop for a late lunch and she could play in the garden.’
They fell into a companionable silence for a few more miles, until Barnes cleared his throat.
‘Have you seen Larch lately?’
Kay frowned. ‘Actually, no. Maybe three weeks ago?’
‘Doesn’t that seem unusual to you? He’s normally sniffing around the incident room on a daily basis waiting to have a go at someone.’
‘I suppose there might be meetings and things happening we don’t know about?’
Barnes grunted. ‘I heard the Joint Intelligence Unit had an undercover operation going on. Maybe that’s got something to do with it. You think he’d be involved in that?’
‘Honestly, Ian – I don’t care as long as he’s leaving me alone. I’ve quite enjoyed the last few weeks without him breathing down my neck, quite frankly.’
Barnes grinned, and then jerked his chin over the steering wheel as he swung the car to the right. ‘This is the place.’
Kay eased herself out of the car when Barnes parked, stretching her back while she waited for him to lock the doors.
The small garage had been built on a corner block on a road that led off from the main street of the village. Four cars were parked on the oil-specked concrete apron, all in various states of antiquity and disrepair.
Kay’s eyes caught a glimpse of a tell-tale rainbow of oil sparkling in a puddle, before she turned to Barnes as he snorted loudly.
He wrinkled his nose at the vehicles. ‘Christ, that one on the left looks exactly like the heap of rust Emma tried to get me to buy her last week.’
‘Driving lessons going well?’
‘Yeah – takes her test next week. I’m not buying her a pile of crap though, that’s for sure.’
‘These look like they’re being butchered for parts.’
‘I bloody hope so. Look at the rust in the wheel arches of that one, for goodness’ sake.’
Two faded blue corrugated iron doors had been pegged open, the garage space beyond lost to a dust mote-heavy gloom.
Kay and Barnes moved closer to the threshold, a pungent mix of aromas assaulting their senses – oil, grease, cigarette smoke – all vying for attention amongst a pervading stench of body odour.
Kay opened her mouth to call out, and then jumped at a phlegmy cough from behind them.
She spun round.
‘Help you?’
The man before her pushed a dirty black baseball cap up his forehead and narrowed his eyes, his top lip curling.
‘Police. I should’ve guessed, the way you’re dressed. You stand out a mile.’
Kay flicked open her warrant card. ‘Detective Sergeant Hunter. This is Detective Constable Barnes. And you are?’
‘Reginald Powers. I’m the owner.’ He pointed at a rusting logo nailed to the wall of the building alongside a rusting MOT accreditation sign.
He stalked past her, brushing her sleeve as he went, and pointedly ignored Barnes.
‘We’d like to ask you some questions.’
‘I’m sure you would,’ he muttered over his shoulder.
‘Enough.’ Barnes stormed into the garage after him. ‘Mr Powers, we’d appreciate some cooperation. I’m sure you’ll understand we’re busy people, like you, so unless you want me to call the DVLA and the tax office to request an immediate audit of your business, perhaps you’d afford my colleague here the attention and respect she deserves?’
The man held up his hands. ‘There’s no need for that.’ His eyes shifted to Kay. ‘I’m very busy, that’s all.’
She cast her gaze around the garage, its double bay taken up by
