‘He could just be very convincing,’ Dexter said. ‘If we’re talking genuine psychopathy or something along those lines, they’re experts at pulling the wool over people’s eyes.’
‘True, but I don’t think so. I’ve met enough in my time to know when it’s being faked. He’s either telling us the truth or he’s another level entirely. And right now I don’t know which is scarier.’
Dexter sighed and nodded. ‘You’re right about the emails. It’s weird that Martin would delete that one and not the others.’
‘We’ll know soon enough. Not that it’ll explain anything either way.’
As if on cue, Dexter’s phone rang. He answered it, looking at Caroline and nodding as he listened to the caller.
‘That was them,’ he said a few moments later. ‘Gavin did send the email. It’s still in his sent items.’
‘So Martin deleted it?’
‘It seems so,’ Dexter replied. ‘Like you say, it doesn’t explain why.’
‘No. No, it doesn’t. Why would he want to remove all trace of that email, but not the others?’
‘Maybe he was angry or annoyed and deleted it because Gavin called him a coward.’
‘Do you think he’d be that bothered? It doesn’t quite ring true.’
‘Might’ve even been accidental.’
Caroline nodded slowly. It was a possibility, but she didn’t think it likely. There was something there — something that didn’t quite make sense — but it was just beyond her grasp.
41
For all Caroline’s cautious confidence that they’d be able to ruffle Gavin Tanner’s feathers, it hadn’t worked. Even more disappointingly, their desperate search for evidence that might prove his guilt had been fruitless. In any case, they still had most of the day left before his twenty-four-hour custody clock ran out, and that was without seeking an extension.
Caroline’s minimum target at this point was to secure enough evidence — even if only circumstantial — to secure an extra few hours on the clock. That way, they’d maximise their chances of finally nailing him. If all else failed and they had to bail him, they at least had his interview under caution, which could be used at a later date once evidence came to light. Some cases were slow to charge at the best of times, but dealing with fifteen-year-old evidence made that task all the more arduous. Still, she’d remain hopeful and quietly confident that they were on the right track.
A little later that morning, Caroline went to the toilet, where she found Sara Henshaw leaning against the cold tiled wall.
‘Everything okay?’ she asked.
‘One of those days,’ Sara replied. ‘I just needed a few minutes. Hope that’s alright.’
‘Course. Are you okay? I don’t want to sound rude, but you look like shit.’ Sara had always been the calm, level-head of the team, a stable presence even when emotions ran high. To see her looking so brow-beaten was a shock to Caroline.
Sara smiled through one corner of her mouth. ‘Thanks. I think.’
‘Has something happened?’
Sara sighed. ‘Sort of. I mean, yes. But not something that should’ve affected me, really.’
‘Would it help to talk about it?’ Caroline asked, standing beside her and leaning back against the wall, mirroring her stance.
‘I dunno. Probably. But it’s not something I ever do talk about, really. I had a call first thing this morning to say my mum had died.’
‘Oh god, I’m so sorry.’
‘No, it’s okay. Not my real mum. I mean, yes, my real mum, but not my proper mum. I was adopted as a baby. My birth parents were drug addicts. Criminals. My birth dad died when I was a kid, but she hung on and caused as much havoc as she could for a few more years. Mum and Dad — the real ones, the ones who brought me up — called me this morning and told me she’d been found dead yesterday evening.’
‘Christ. I don’t know how you’d even go about processing something like that.’
Sara shrugged, her top rasping on the grouting of the tiled wall. ‘I dunno. I don’t even know how I feel, to be honest. There’s sadness, I guess. It’s always sad when a life ends like that, especially when it’s been wasted. But at the same time it’s the end of a chapter. I always knew who they were, but they never wanted to bother with me. They didn’t care. As far as they were concerned, I was an unfortunate accident. But there was always that worry, that fear she might want to get back in touch and that I’d have to get to know her. I already knew enough to know that wouldn’t be a good idea. But every time the phone rang, every time someone knocked on the door, there was always that fear at the back of my mind it might’ve been her. It’ll take some getting used to realising it won’t be.’
‘Is that a good thing, then?’ Caroline asked.
‘I guess it is. It’s sad I’ll never know her. But then I never did know her, did I? And I never really wanted to, after the things I’d been told. But I guess that question’ll never be answered now, will it?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘My parents were great. My real ones, I mean. Not my birth ones. They brought me up brilliantly, but it’s amazing the things that still linger. So much that happens in those first few weeks and months goes on to shape your life for years. Decades. It’s quite worrying, really.’
‘What sort of things?’ Caroline asked.
‘Oh, I dunno really,’ Sara replied, through a deep exhalation of breath. ‘I don’t do well at getting close to people, I guess. I don’t trust easily. Maybe there’s a fear of rejection in there somewhere.’
‘I tell you what,’ Caroline said, stepping away from the wall. ‘How about we pop out for some fresh air for half an hour. Grab a coffee.’
Sara thought for a moment,
