Jacob scribbled a few notes down.
‘Gone off on one? What do you mean?’ Gina wondered how he could be so uncaring. The mother of his three children had now been missing for two nights and he seemed to be blaming her.
‘Attention-seeking. I wanted the kids more, she put her foot down so she’s punishing me. She’s saying, right, you can have them now. I’m ill-prepared and she knows it. I haven’t had time to sort out a breakfast club for the girls and Rory is still with Mary. She knows she’s dropping me in it and I bet she’s somewhere, smirking away while I’m juggling all these balls.’
He really had no appreciation for what his wife did on a daily basis. Gina wished it was all one big joke on Susan’s behalf but she wasn’t having any of Ryan’s explanation. From what she’d read on her file, the nursery staff said she had never given them cause for concern when it came to picking Rory up. Mary, Susan’s own mother, was convinced that she would never leave her children. ‘Mr Wheeler, we are taking your wife’s disappearance seriously and we urge you to do the same.’
He stared at the ceiling, a sarcastic grin spreading across his face. ‘In that case, I have nothing that can help you. She was seeing some bloke but I have no idea who he was. Maybe you should look into that. She’s probably with him. I have to go, work to do, money to earn, kids to look after.’
‘Dad, Jasmine hasn’t got her PE kit.’
‘Okay, Phoebe. I’m coming. I’ll sort it.’
Gina leaned forward in the chair. They weren’t going to get much else from Ryan Wheeler. She couldn’t force him to speak and she didn’t have anything to arrest him for.
As they headed back towards Gina’s car, she glanced back through the window. Ryan walked back and forth, searching for things under piles of clothes and junk. It was obvious that he’d been plunged into chaos and it was even more obvious that he thought very little of his missing wife.
‘Guv, we have to get to Susan Wheeler’s house. Mary is there now. She said we can have a quick look around.’
Ten
After showing DI Harte and DS Driscoll around Susan’s house, Mary ushered them back into the hallway while Clare rummaged through the kitchen. She was determined to be the first person to go through Susan’s things, not the police. Mary didn’t want them snooping around her daughter’s personal belongings – not yet, she wasn’t ready for that.
‘You say Susan lived here with the two girls and her son?’ DI Harte asked as she stood in the hallway next to the console table.
‘That’s right, since Ryan left a few months ago it’s just been her and the kids.’
‘Do you know if Susan had started a relationship with anyone else?’
They were prying. Mary could feel the weight of that question as she wracked her brains for something to say. Her daughter went out a lot, she enjoyed herself but she was still young. ‘No, she’d not mentioned anyone else. I know she would have told me if there was someone else.’
‘Her husband seems convinced she was in a relationship.’
Mary shrugged, not knowing how to respond. It was the first she’d heard about any relationship. She knew Ryan would try anything to discredit her daughter. ‘He’s wrong. There was no one else. Look, if I come across her diary or anything that might be useful, I will call you straight away.’ She ushered the reluctant pair out of the hallway and onto the path outside. ‘Please just keep looking for her, thank you.’ With that she closed the door and took a deep breath. She needed to begin her own search of Susan’s house and she needed to do it in her own time without anyone breathing down her neck. If there was a clue to be found, she was going to find it. She hurried to the living room and peered out of the windows. Detective Harte glanced back at her as she drove off.
‘Clare, make sure you go through the junk drawer. Check the magazine rack and the coffee table. There has to be something, somewhere.’ Mary walked up the stairs, leaving Rory and Harrison downstairs with Clare. It would only be a matter of time until the police would want a proper look around. Mary had to be first. If there was anything to find that would give away her daughter’s whereabouts, she needed to see it with her own eyes.
‘What exactly am I looking for, Mum?’
‘Anything. Look for notes she’s made about where she might have been. Her diary – that would be useful. See if her phone or tablet are around. Maybe she left her phone behind, which may be the reason she hasn’t been answering.’
That was all she could tell her daughter as she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. She pushed Susan’s bedroom door open, releasing the damp odour once again. The police must have thought her daughter was having some sort of breakdown given the state of her house. Clothes were strewn across the floor and the little waste bin was full of make-up wipes. A ray of winter sun stretched across the room through the join in the curtains, highlighting the dust motes in the air. The house felt empty and cold, unlived in and abandoned. Susan had never been this messy. Her home had always looked like a show home up until Ryan had left.
She opened the window, releasing the musty smell that came from the toppling tower of crumpled towels. A chilly breeze whipped up the curtains. Shivering, Mary slammed it shut. She didn’t want Susan to come home to a freezing cold house. She rooted through a pile of magazines and books that lay beside her bed. At the bottom of the pile lay a plate with what had once looked to be toast. The burnt bread had long been stuck to a copy ofGood Housekeeping. This wasn’t like Susan.
Mary grabbed Susan’s pillow and hugged it as she sidled onto the bed. She should have recognised the signs. If the police suspected she’d had a nervous breakdown, they were probably right. The more Mary glanced around the house, the more it seemed to be a plausible explanation. The divorce had started. She was going out more and turning up the following day to collect the kids with a hangover. Her youngest had been losing it before her very eyes and she’d stood by and done nothing. She almost burst into tears as she imagined her daughter, roughing it so that she could be alone while she gathered her thoughts. Maybe her daughter had tried to hurt herself and was lying in a ditch somewhere, in pain, hoping to be rescued. No, Mary had it wrong. She had to keep positive. Susan was tough and she would come home.
She slid open her bedside drawer and rooted through the fashion jewellery and old pairs of sunglasses. Tissues, condoms – packet unopened. Was her daughter seeing someone else like the police had thought? Or, did she and Ryan use the condoms? Mary had no idea. It wasn’t the type of thing they’d ever spoken about. Sleeping tablets. She remembered the night terrors that Susan had as a teenager, the ones in which she would lie on the bed in the dark, eyes stark and paralysed as she screamed like she was possessed. It had terrified Mary as much as it did Susan.
Mary had been so wrapped up in Clare and Harrison’s daily dramas, she hadn’t asked Susan what was going on in her life or if the nightmares had come back. Maybe the sleeping tablets helped.
She placed the pillow back in its rightful place and headed to the landing, leaving a dip in the bed where she’d been sitting. A damp smell still hung in the air. She’d turn the heating on for a bit before they left. Dry the house and hope that the smell would dissipate. Maybe she’d come back later and have a good clean up. Clare yelled at one of the kids to stop something. Harrison screamed and Rory began to cry. Another day of much the same. Noise and chaos.
She pushed open the door to the girls’ bedroom. Phoebe and Jasmine always had a messy room. The clothes, magazines and games that were scattered everywhere didn’t cause any alarm. She headed to Rory’s bedroom. His little bed at the one end of the box room was topped with a tangled-up quilt. Just like Susan’s room, the curtains were still closed. Pull-up pants were scattered over the floor and Mary winced as the smell of urine overpowered the room. Mary followed the odour and it led her to Rory’s bed. Susan had obviously left in a hurry on Tuesday morning if she hadn’t put the dirty sheets in the wash. Mary would definitely have her work cut out in cleaning the house. It was the least she could do. Susan deserved to come back to a fresh, clean home.
The door to the last room was closed – Susan’s office. The door creaked as she let herself in. This was the only room in the house that appeared to be organised. Susan’s in-tray, markedcurrent jobs, seemed to be toppling over. The pile continued beside her desk, a pile of precariously balanced paperwork and ring binders. Was Susan behind on her work? Mary crept towards the large oak desk and stared at the doodles on the notepad in front of the chair where the top three pages were covered in drawings, mostly of boxes and spirals, the mindless things a person draws during moments of boredom. Another pile of screwed-up paper filled the waste bin to the brim. Mary lifted it and began sifting through the pages upon screwed-up pages of doodles. Then, she opened the top drawer and caught sight of Susan’s divorce paperwork and she wanted to cry as she read through the notes. How could Ryan do that to her? She wished that Susan was here now so that she could hug her and tell her she was there for her and supported her. She had no idea what her daughter had been going through.
The front door opened. ‘Ryan, any word from Susan?’ she heard Clare asking. Mary placed the notepad and the divorce letters in her bag and headed down the stairs, ready to confront his lies about their relationship.
