Gavin glared at him until Carys gave him a nudge.
‘Be nice,’ she hissed.
‘I don’t need to be,’ he said. ‘You’re being nice enough for all of us.’
He turned on his heel and stormed towards the whiteboard where he stood, glaring at it while he finished the rest of his coffee.
Crestfallen, Carys turned to Kay, but she shook her head.
‘You’re on your own with that one.’
‘Hey, look at this.’
Kay turned to see Debbie approaching, her notebook in her hand.
‘What’ve you got?’
‘A bloke phoned the hotline. Says he saw the press conference and reckons he saw something on the beach below his house two nights ago.’
‘Got a name?’
‘Adrian Webster. Lives in a village called Amesworth – it’s about six miles from Dymchurch.’
‘They’ve had issues with illegal entrants landing at Dymchurch before, Sarge,’ said Gavin. ‘Could be worth a look.’
‘I reckon,’ said Kay. ‘Got a phone number for him?’
‘Yes. And an address,’ said Debbie.
‘What’s going on?’
Kay glanced over her shoulder at the interruption to see Harrison striding towards her, Sharp in his wake.
‘Might have a lead.’ She indicated to Debbie to update the two senior officers.
‘That’s a great start,’ said Harrison. ‘Right, I want you all down there now. Interview as many of the locals as you can, starting with those who have houses nearest the beach.’
‘What about local uniform?’
‘I’m sure we can rustle a few of them up to help with door-to-door enquiries.’
Kay glanced out the window at the grey skies and clouds being buffeted along by a chill wind, and groaned inwardly before turning back to the DCI.
Harrison was smiling.
‘What did I tell you?’ he said. ‘The press conference worked.’
Chapter Forty-Two
Kay shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets, grateful she’d remembered to put the thick wool garment on the back seat of the car before leaving the police station.
Beside her, Carys bundled a scarf around her neck, squinting against the bitter wind that whipped off the sea and around the exposed car park.
‘I’m beginning to wish I’d brought one of those.’
‘My dad always told me to wear a scarf and cover my wrists and ankles,’ said Carys. ‘It works. I haven’t had a cold in years.’
Kay narrowed her eyes and peered across the car park as another vehicle slowed and turned onto the gravel, its chassis creaking as it bumped and swayed over the potholed surface.
Barnes climbed from the passenger seat as the car drew to a stop next to hers.
‘I swear blind the suspension’s gone on half the bloody pool vehicles,’ he grumbled, before being buffeted by a gust of wind. ‘Flipping heck. Not exactly the Costa del Sol, is it?’
‘I’m sure it’s pleasant in the summer,’ said Kay.
The older detective didn’t look convinced.
‘I can’t imagine how desperate someone must be to try and cross that,’ said Gavin as he joined them, pocketing the car keys.
They turned towards the water, the dark grey waves tumbling and boiling across the surface.
‘Fancy a surf, Gav?’ said Carys.
‘No thanks – I’d have hypothermia in seconds.’
Kay flipped up the collar of her coat. ‘Right, let’s get on with it. Uniform have three patrols starting at the opposite end of the village, so with any luck we’ll get this done by mid-afternoon and make it back in time for the briefing. We’ll split up into pairs so, Carys – you’re with me. We’ll take one side of the street each.’
The others murmured their agreement.
‘Last one to the café at the end buys the hot drinks,’ said Barnes.
‘Deal.’
‘Which house do you want to start with?’ said Carys as Barnes and Gavin walked away.
Kay pointed to a small weather-beaten cottage nearest to the car park. ‘That’s the house we’ve got the address for Adrian Webster, so we’ll start with him. From there, we’ll work our way back.’
They trudged across the mud-specked gravel to the cottage, and Kay noticed a wisp of smoke escape the brick chimney before being whisked away on the wind. As they drew closer, the building didn’t appear as dilapidated as she’d first thought, and instead its walls were covered with a naked wisteria, its leaves shrivelled while it waited for spring to appear.
The door opened as Carys pushed through the low gate set into the wall, and an elderly man peered out, a china mug in his hand.
‘You’re Detective Hunter, right?’
‘Yes,’ said Kay, her brow furrowing.
‘I recognise you from the telly,’ he said, beaming. ‘Adrian Webster.’
Kay fought down the urge to roll her eyes, took the outstretched hand, and introduced Carys.
‘Lovely to meet you. Kettle’s boiled. Come on in.’
They stamped their feet on the doormat to loosen the detritus that clung to their soles before he pointed to his right with his mug.
‘Go on through. I’ll bring a tray in.’
Kay led the way into a living room that showed its age, despite Webster’s attempts at decoration.
‘You live on your own?’ said Carys when he returned with their drinks.
‘Yes, my wife died three years ago.’ He shrugged. ‘Cancer. It was a blessing in the end, to be honest.’
‘When you phoned our colleagues earlier, you mentioned you might have some information that could help us?’ said Kay.
Webster laid his mug on a coaster on the table in front of them before easing back into his chair and placing his hands in his lap. ‘Yes. I don’t know if it’s much, but I thought I’d better say something, you know? Especially as you went to so much effort with the press conference and everything. You look just like you do on telly, by the way.’
Kay nodded and took a sip of her tea, figuring he’d take the hint and keep talking.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘since Sarah died I don’t sleep that well anymore. I find myself lying there thinking about things too much, so about a year ago I got into the habit of getting up, putting on the electric fire down here and making a hot drink. I like to sit at the window and watch the sea. It’s calming.’
He shrugged, as if to clear a memory that cut
