He dialled Wendy again but the phone rang out and he stared at it in frustration. Wendy’s depression was getting harder to cope with, especially now this case demanded all his attention. He pictured her lying in bed, where she’d been for the past two days, the duvet wrapped tight over her ears to shut the world out. Tommy was used to it, had grown up with it, but Paton had to ensure his son was safe. Even with Wendy in bed upstairs Tommy could be at risk. What if he set light to something in the kitchen again? When he’d tried to warm a pan of soup the other day and left the corner of the tea towel in the gas flame, he’d panicked and run out of the room. What if Paton hadn’t been there to whip it off the cooker and throw it into the sink?
Tommy would arrive home from school in half an hour. Paton would have to go home and prepare Tommy a snack and settle him in front of an old police drama before he could return to the office. He rang Cheryl to say he had to go somewhere but he’d be back for the team meeting at four. He didn’t need to tell her where or why. She knew.
Paton listened to the evidence gathered by his team and his spirits sank further. The investigation wasn’t going well and his DCI wasn’t happy. A week had already lapsed, they still didn’t have a definite identity for the victim and the forensics would take another couple of days yet. Who the hell was this man? Surely someone was missing him by now.
The tyre tracks had revealed that the treads could belong to numerous types of small, compact cars, and the vehicle had departed at a steady speed. Whoever had left there had been driving cautiously so as not to get noticed, but the tracks did show which direction they took as they left the lane. The tyre tracks heading into the property must have been washed away by rain. Judging by the recent weather, that meant the victim most likely stayed in most of the week.
‘Any luck with looking at the recordings of cars entering the motorway in the right time frame?’ Paton asked Mitchell. He knew he was clutching at straws but the roads might have been quiet at that time.
‘We counted over two hundred, boss. We’ve got the number plates. Do you want us to check them all?’
Two hundred? Damn. Paton thought for a moment. It would be time-consuming but it might give them a lead. ‘Yes, please, but just the cars with tyres that might fit the tracks. They’re a universal tyre type used for a number of small cars so focus on them. Forget the vans and 4x4 Range Rovers.’
No doubt the DCI and the SIO wouldn’t be pleased at the expense but he was running out of ideas to move the investigation forward, and desperate to make a good impression with this case. Cheryl raised her hand. ‘Do we know yet how Richard Newman got to the cabin in the first place, Boss?’
Before he could answer, a young woman from the incident room put her head around the door and everyone turned to look at her.
‘We’ve just taken a call and we’ve got a possible match for your victim.’ She looked excited and Paton wondered briefly if she aspired to being a detective. ‘A woman in Leeds has reported her husband missing and he fits the description.’
Chapter 14
The Following June | Jenna
‘Surprise!’ A crowd of brightly dressed people are crammed into the lounge as we open the door, all holding glasses aloft. ‘Happy Birthday!’ they chorus.
Mum clutches her chest. Is that a flash of dismay in her eyes or is it just shock? ‘Oh, my word!’ She laughs but so loudly that it sounds forced. ‘What are you all doing here?’
Her face is shining but is it more from the exfoliating facial she’s just had than the excitement of a birthday party she didn’t ask for? I watch her closely as she hugs and kisses her friends and colleagues from the University. Lucy stands a few feet away, hair and make-up perfect, and wearing a new summer dress – a sharp contrast to me in my T-shirt and leggings, and not even a trace of make-up. She has a self-satisfied smile on her face.
Grace has helped with the party arrangements so she’s there too. She’s made an effort to dress up for it in a neat blue top and skirt that bring out the chestnut of her hair instead of the drab browns and blacks I’m used to seeing her in, but she doesn’t look quite comfortable in a crowd and there’s concern in her eyes as she watches Mum. Clearly, Grace doesn’t think this is a good idea either.
Poor Mum puts on an award-winning performance of enjoyment. ‘This is wonderful.’
She sweeps her arm to indicate the double doors leading to the garden where the open flap of a marquee gives a glimpse of tables laden with food and trays of sparkling wine. Miniature lights strung through the trees glimmer with the promise of a fairy tale wonderland when the sun goes down, and music plays softly from the borrowed sound system.
‘I’m pleased you like it. I want to make your birthday special. I’ve been busy setting up all day!’ Lucy grins like the winner of Britain’s Got Talent.
I wait for her to mention that Grace and I helped with the preparations, but she’s embracing Mum and wishing her a happy birthday.
