The gate was locked, as Stuart had said it was, but I tried the handle again anyway, wondering at what point legitimate concern slid into full-on paranoia.
The water gate nearest the house was locked, too, and I rejoined Stuart and Melanie in the courtyard.
‘Happy to report the perimeter’s secure,’ I joked.
Stuart looked as if he was about to say something, then thought better of it.
Melanie handed me another slice of cake and topped up my coffee cup. ‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to take Nate to school this morning,’ she said. ‘But he was so desperate to see Immy.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t. I think we could all use a couple of days off, don’t you?’
‘You’re not going into work?’ Stuart asked, surprised.
I shook my head. ‘Roger’s happy to look after things for now. The place has run like clockwork without me all week. I’m not sure I’m as indispensable as I thought I was.’ As if on cue, my phone, lying face down on the table, started vibrating, and I frowned and said, ‘Famous last words.’ Only it wasn’t Roger, it was DC Sam Bennett.
‘We’ve found Sheila’s car,’ she said after a brief exchange of pleasantries.
‘What about Sheila?’
‘Not yet.’
I glanced at Stuart and Melanie and shook my head. ‘Where was it?’
‘In the car park at Stodmarsh Nature Reserve. A concerned birdwatcher noticed it and phoned it in about an hour ago.’
My heart skipped a beat. ‘Stodmarsh?’ Stuart had frozen, his cup halfway to his mouth. ‘Jesus, Sam, that’s only about three miles from here!’
‘I know. But you mustn’t worry yourself.’
‘Easy for you to say.’ I paused. ‘You said the birdwatcher was concerned? Why? People park there all the time.’
‘The windows were open, and the key had been left in the ignition. He assumed it had been abandoned by joyriders. And we can’t rule out the possibility that it was. Sorry, I’m going to put you on hold for a minute. Someone has an update for me.’ The line went quiet, and I was starting to wonder if she’d hung up when she came back on. ‘Right, we have a dog unit down there and the dog handler has radioed in to say they’ve found an empty wine bottle and packets of Temazepam on the banks of the Stour about a kilometre from the car park. Looks like she may be in the river.’
My hand tightened around the phone. ‘You think she’s killed herself?’
‘It’s certainly looking like that, yes. The DI’s about to recall the search teams to look for a body.’
‘She wouldn’t,’ I said, with sudden certainty, even though a matter of days ago I’d feared just that. ‘She’s playing with us. With me. It’s like some sick game of cat and mouse. Can’t you see? Staging a suicide by the river we thought Immy had drowned in? She’s twisted.’
‘It’s totally understandable you’re feeling anxious after everything you’ve been through, but all the evidence is pointing towards the fact that she took an overdose and jumped in the river,’ Sam said.
‘Look past the evidence,’ I begged her. ‘She’s cleverer than you think.’
Chapter Fifty-Two
After lunch the sky darkened as slate-grey rain clouds blew in on a stiff westerly breeze. When the first fat drops of rain splashed onto the patio, I called the children inside and we decamped to the front room. Before long the rain was lashing against the windows and I pulled the curtains closed while Melanie found popcorn and Stuart scrolled through the channels looking for a feel-good film.
I sat on the sofa with Immy curled up like a kitten on my lap and Nate on a beanbag by my feet, and as the opening credits of The Jungle Book rolled, I began to relax.
Perhaps Sam was right, and Sheila had decided she would rather kill herself than face the rest of her life behind bars. I pictured her pulling into the nature reserve car park as dawn broke, the wine and Temazepam on the passenger seat beside her. Popping the pills out of their blister pack, one by one, and washing each one down with a mouthful of wine. Had she waited for the sedatives and alcohol to take hold before she’d let herself out of the car and staggered to the Stour? What was going through her mind as she’d stood on the bank watching the river drift lazily past?
I hoped she felt remorse for taking Immy and killing Niamh, and that she realised her actions had pushed Bill over the edge. By stepping into the river and letting the water envelope her, was she admitting her guilt and repenting her sins?
On my lap, Immy shivered.
‘What’s wrong, chicken? Are you cold?’
‘Mmm,’ she said, her eyes glued to the television. I lifted her off my lap and settled her on the sofa. ‘I’m going to get a cardie for Ims. Anyone want anything while I’m up?’
‘More cake please, Mum,’ Nate said.
‘I suppose another slice won’t hurt.’ I bent down and ruffled his hair. ‘Won’t be a minute.’
I climbed the stairs and crossed the landing to Immy’s room. The curtains were still drawn, so I tugged them open and stared out over the garden. Rain was falling in torrents from a leaden sky. Stuart, an inveterate weather watcher, had been right about the forecast. But being stuck indoors while it poured for the next three days sounded pretty appealing right now. I dug about in Immy’s chest of drawers looking for the JoJo Maman Bebe stripy Fair Isle cardigan I’d bought for her birthday back in March. With a hint of cashmere, it was soft and snuggly, the perfect antidote to a wet summer afternoon.
I left the cardie folded on top of the chest of drawers and spent five minutes picking toys off the floor and tidying shelves before fetching clean bed linen and Immy’s favourite Paw Patrol pyjamas from the airing cupboard. Downstairs I could hear Stuart and the
