‘I spoke to Bernard before we went to see Diane. He has confirmed what we thought we knew about the murder weapon. It was made with something flat that resembles a mallet, like the ones that are used for knocking tent pegs into the ground.’
Briggs rubbed the light stubble on his chin. ‘Do we have Noah’s statement on file?’
O’Connor nodded. ‘He came in and gave us a formal statement. It’s on the system. He has also been calling, asking what we’ve been doing to find his wife’s murderer.’
‘Thanks, O’Connor.’ Briggs rubbed his eyes and smiled.
Gina wondered for a second if her ex-lover was looking after himself or his lack of grooming was due to him having too much of a good time and burning the candle at both ends. Her stomach flipped a little. She almost wanted to slap herself for still thinking about him in that manner. His gaze caught hers and within a second it shot to the board. Gina checked her watch. ‘We have to get to Aimee Prowse’s house. I don’t want to miss her and I want the opportunity to see the home where Rhys Keegan lives. At the moment he is one of our prime suspects being the last person to see Jade alive. There has been no sign of him since the night of her murder. Any news on his whereabouts?’
Everyone shook their head. ‘Not a thing, not on him or his car. It’s like he’s just vanished,’ O’Connor said, his shiny bald head reflecting the orangey strip light above.
‘O’Connor, I want you to delve further into Dawn Brown, the party host. I need to be prepared before I visit her. I want to know who she’s in relations with, what she does for a living, anything you can find out. Wyre, give Bernard another call and see if there are any further updates. I know they’re fire-fighting the workload but this case needs to jump the queue. I need the post-mortem to be done as soon as possible.’
PC Smith passed the door of the incident room as he headed to the kitchen.
‘Smith,’ she called.
‘Huh.’
‘If there are any sightings of Rhys Keegan, I want you to contact me immediately. Anytime of the day or night.’
He nodded. ‘Of course, guv.’ He continued towards the kitchen.
‘Right, I’ll catch up with you all later.’ Her mind wandered back to Samantha as she thought about a previous case, that of missing woman Deborah Jenkins. She’d been kidnapped and falsely imprisoned for many years, but she had been alive. Her heart began to hum with excitement. She thought of the young woman that was missing, the law student with her whole life ahead of her. She thought of Diane, the lonely, ill woman who missed Samantha more than anything. Unless they found a body, there was still hope. ‘There is a chance Samantha could still be alive. Don’t waste any time.’
She grabbed her jacket and nodded to Jacob to follow.
Sixteen
There she is again – it gives me so much pleasure to watch Aimee. It’s safe to enter now, her session with the grumpy old woman has begun. Private yoga today. My hands tremble with excitement as I follow the side of the house and peer around the wall. I’ve missed you my lovely little personal trainer and I’ve missed the smell and feel of your house.
I love the way you do downward dog in your conservatory gymnasium, it’s a sight I’ve seen on many occasion. It’s a small, but well kitted-out mini studio – you have a good eye for design and layout. It’s a shame the rest of the house isn’t as nice. Your client isn’t as good at downward dog as you, no one ever is. She’s not dedicated like you. You deserve to look that good, all firm, young and delicious.
As I open the back door, I know you won’t hear me over the chiming of recorded bells, the ones you play as you enter the meditation stage. I have until the count of eight. That’s the way you do things, isn’t it? You like doing it all your own way. I know you better than you know yourself. That’s what intimacy means in a relationship.
The kitchen is quite dismal, not like the conservatory – actually, it’s more of a lean-to that runs along the other side of the house that you spent so much money doing up, the bit your clients see. The house is so mismatched, old with extensions, misshapen but quirky.
Your fridge is almost empty like it always is. You have this lovely house and no food in the fridge. I inhale and all I smell is celery. You wear designer gym wear but there are holes in your everyday shoes.
I wish we could have met in a different way. I wish we could have a little meet-cute, like in the movies. That moment when our gazes meet across a crowded shop or café. You won’t like me to begin with. Maybe it’s raining and you’re all dishevelled. Your bouncy caramel coloured locks will be tight as they’ll be wet. I’ll bump into you as you wrestle with your umbrella, knocking something out of your other hand, maybe eggs. You’ll sound off as I gaze into your big blue eyes, then you’ll realise that you’ve just been a prize bitch towards the handsome stranger. I’ll offer you coffee and you’ll burst into laughter and apologise. That’s how it should have been. A man can fantasise.
You sound a little bell, bringing me gently out of my thoughts. The chiming stops.
Your hallway is dark and a collection of junk is piled up under the stairs. As I head up, the middle step creaks. I stop and listen as you makeaumnoises from your lean-to. You didn’t hear a thing. Just like the other night when you were staring out of your kitchen window into the darkness ahead. I could see you. You really need a new fence you know, but I suppose money’s tight. Security isn’t your priority and you’re certainly not very alert, but I already know that. I mean, you don’t always lock your back door, even when a woman from your neighbourhood has just been murdered – silly girl.
The smell of your hairspray fills the landing and I love it, I love everything about you. One day, it will be me and you; until then, I’m a man and I have needs, but you’re my special girl.
A knock at the door fills the quiet house. In a panic, I take the last step onto the landing and head into your lodger’s room, slipping behind the door. Who comes at this time of the day? You don’t book more than one client in at a time. I hold my breath as you pad along the hallway and open the door. Sweat beads form at my brow. No way – detectives? That’s all I need.
Seventeen
‘Aimee Prowse?’ Gina held her identification up and Jacob smiled.
The young woman wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. Her flawless skin sported an amazing post-workout glow. ‘Come through. Sorry, Sally,’ she called towards the conservatory. ‘Can I call you later to book you in for another session? You’re doing really well. Keep practising and stay focused. Remember your breathing.’ The young woman’s eyebrows arched as her customer flung her handbag over her shoulder.
The client brushed past Gina and smiled as she headed towards the front door. ‘Thanks, Aimee. We’ll speak later – definitely book me in for another session.’
‘What is it you do?’ Gina felt a tingle run down her neck as she spotted Aimee’s perfectly manicured nails. Her thoughts flashed back to the nail that had been delivered to Diane.
