‘Sure, be my guest.’
‘Thanks. I’ll be quick.’ I pick up my phone. ‘Hey Rik, how are you?’ I’m silent for a moment, listening. ‘Can we catch up later on? I’m in the car at the moment. Cath’s taking me for breakfast at a diner along the seafront …’ I pause. ‘OK. I’ll let you know.’ Blowing a kiss at the phone, I hang up. ‘He’s going to call me later on.’ I pause. ‘Do you know when you’re going back to Bristol?’
‘I haven’t decided. I don’t want to go while this is still going on. Let’s take it as it comes. Hopefully, there’ll be some good news before too long. I was thinking maybe later you and I should go back to the house. Finish putting it straight and get rid of anything there to do with Matt.’
‘Maybe.’ I don’t tell her that knowing Matt might be around, even the thought of going there terrifies me. ‘Can we see what PC Page says?’ As the diner comes into view, Cath pulls over and parks at the side of the road. Getting out, I walk onto the shingle, standing there, looking out across the sea. The sun is low, the sea millpond flat, the breeze cold on my skin as Cath joins me. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it? The sea is the thing I love most about living in Falmouth.’
‘It is lovely.’ She’s quiet for a moment. ‘Shall we get some breakfast?’
Side by side we walk across the shingle towards the diner. Done up like an American beach shack, inside it’s light and airy, decorated in a wash of colour and driftwood, with huge windows and a view of the sea. Apart from one or two tables, it’s relatively empty. Wandering over to a table in the furthest corner, Cath pulls out a chair for me. ‘You have the view.’
The waitress leaves us with menus, but as I peruse mine, my phone buzzes. Glancing at it, PC Page is flashing up on the screen. ‘Sorry. I need to take this.’ When I answer it, she’s brief and to the point.
‘It’s possible you’re right. There’s definitely been someone in Mrs Guthrie’s house. No-one was there when we went to check, but there’s evidence of the sink being used and the sofa being slept on. But no-one’s broken in. Whoever’s been in there has a key, possibly coming and going when they need to.’
‘I’m sure he’s going to go back to the house,’ I tell her urgently. ‘If nothing else, he’s going to want the painting.’
‘Quite possibly. Jess, to try and flush Matt out, we’re issuing a press release, that the police have closed the case, concluding that he’s been murdered and washed out to sea. It’s presumed his body might never be recovered.’
‘When are you doing it?’
‘As soon as we can organise it. We’ll make sure it goes out on local radio, TV and press. Before it happens, we’ll have a plainclothes team monitoring the house. He’s certain to be following local news. It’s a long shot, but if he thinks we’re no longer looking for him, he’s free to go back to pick up that painting and whatever else he wants to take – preferably soon, before you’re back there. I’m going to have to ask you to stay away from the house again – just for now.’
As she speaks, hope fills me. But when I put the phone down, I’m frowning as I turn to Cath. ‘Someone’s been in Mrs Guthrie’s house. They have a key. The police are issuing a fake press release. They want Matt to believe that the case has been closed and the police are no longer looking for him. It isn’t true.’ Not telling Cath what PC Page said, about staying away, I stare at her. ‘But they’re hoping that if he believes it’s done and dusted, it might make him a little more reckless. Enough to go back to the house to pick up his painting.’
‘My God. I hope it works. When are they doing it?’
‘Today.’ I pause. ‘On local radio, TV and in the press.’
‘I ordered you a coffee. I didn’t know what else you wanted.’
I shake my head. ‘Just the coffee is good.’
‘Jess.’ From across the table, Cath reaches for my hand. ‘You should eat something.’
I shake my head. ‘I’m not hungry.’ My mind is racing. Matt might go there anyway, before the press release goes out, in which case the police would miss him. Suddenly I’m furious, that they’re even taking the chance. ‘We have to go there. Now. If we park the car on the main road, then take the back way across the fields into the garden, if he’s watching the front, he won’t see us.’
Forgetting about breakfast, we hurry back to her car. As she unlocks it, Cath frowns. ‘You’re sure you want to do this?’
I have a feeling in my bones I can’t ignore. ‘I have to. What’s he going to do? There are two of us. If he’s there, we call the police.’
As we drive to Steyning, my certainty grows that my hunch is right and at long last, we’re on to him. After parking away from the house, I lead Cath the back way across a sheep field, then over the far end of the wall into the back garden. Making our way towards the house, when we reach the sliding doors, instead of locked, they’re cracked open.
Startled, I turn to Cath. ‘Someone’s in there.’
Her eyes are wide with shock. ‘You think it’s him?’
Nodding, I tiptoe closer. ‘Call the police,’ I whisper.
While she gets out her phone, I carefully slide the doors open enough to let me slip through.
Turning, I glance at Cath shaking her head, mouthing at me, ‘No, Jess … don’t go in …’
But I ignore her. Without giving it a second thought, very slowly, without making a sound, I creep through the kitchen, where I
