‘I don’t know how important this is but I feel I should mention it?’
Gina sat back down and raised her eyebrows.
‘There’s a kid in Annabel’s class who’s absolutely obsessed with her. I’ve heard her joking about him always staying after class to ask her questions. Not in a mean way. She says he’s a sweet kid and she wants to help him as he’s so clever, but she was finding being around him a bit uncomfortable. I don’t teach him but I know his name is Omar. There, you have three new leads. Jealous Miriam. Teacher’s pet, Omar, and her druggie husband who likes to smash the house up. You’re welcome.’
Gina glanced around his living room. His car being missing was a red flag. As soon as they left, they would need to put out an ANPR and get it found. Her gaze focused on the dark blue back door frame. She inhaled and could smell the slightest scent of paint in the air. ‘When did you paint your door frame?’
‘I don’t think I want to answer that. Please leave.’
Her mind focused on the rag that was found at the scene of the hit-and-run. She pulled her phone out and logged on to the system. A few seconds later, she had found the evidence photo and that blue looked to be a match for the blue paint on the rag found at the scene. ‘When?’
‘About a week ago. Okay. Now leave.’
Gina thought about the blood at the scene and the tissues found in the waste bin at the cabin. Grant Braddock was there. He had to have been. But there was something about Whittle, something she couldn’t put her finger on, that was until she saw the freshly painted door. Whittle had painted Grant in a bad light. That made the thought of them working together a possibility. Maybe they’d since fallen out. That was something Gina had to consider. She glanced at the paint again and back at her phone. There wasn’t enough to arrest him on, not yet, and not with Grant being the main suspect.
They all stared up at the ceiling as they heard a thud. ‘May we take a look around your house?’ If he was keeping Annabel upstairs, Gina was going to find out.
He stood and folded his arms. ‘You think I’ve taken her and I have her here, don’t you? Let me guess, I don’t have to let you look at anything because, that’s right, you don’t have a search warrant. You know what, I’m a good citizen so yes. Be my guest. Go on.’
Gina nodded to Wyre and they stood. Tom swallowed like he was hoping that they’d backtrack and leave. A look around his house might just give them more than a painted door frame.
TWENTY-EIGHT
With Tom Whittle leading the way through to the kitchen, Gina glanced at the worktops. Several crusted over plates stank of cat food and a bowl of water with hairs floating on the skin, made her grimace. The kitchen was dirty but that was hardly a crime. His house was literally a haven for the cats.
‘Can we get a move on, I’m tired.’ He held his arms out, indicating that they should all move a bit quicker.
Gina nodded and followed him past the litter tray to the bottom of the stairs. With each creaky step, the smell of sweat and cat became unbearable. As she reached the top, Gina could see that there were three doors.
He pushed one open. ‘Bathroom.’
She peered around. It was sparse except for a few bottles of squirty soap and body spray. The tiles had once been white but now they were mostly a stained buff colour, lacking shine.
Whittle opened the next door and a cat darted out and ran down the stairs. ‘Spare room full of junk. Most of it is my dead mother’s stuff. I still haven’t sorted it.’
She glanced at the open boxes full of books and old ornaments. Behind them was an old Christmas tree with only several branches. An open shelving unit tilted to the left because of the missing leg and several folders had begun to expel old worksheets. Gina spotted something about volcanoes on one of them.
‘My study.’ A black cat darted from under the desk, straight past Gina and Wyre, then down the stairs. ‘That’s Danni, she hates people.’
Gina glanced into the last room on that floor. This room was cleaner and clutter free. So far there were no signs of Annabel or anything that suggested she’d once been upstairs. Her mind kept coming back to the paint. It might not even be a match in colour. A desk covered in paper and several geography textbooks was the only piece of furniture in the box room. Books were also piled against the back wall, reaching Gina’s height. On top of the desk sat an anglepoise lamp and a photo of a woman bent over a toddler. ‘Who’s that in the photo?’
‘My sister with my niece when she was a baby.’ He led them up the narrower steps to the top floor and flung open the door. ‘This is my room. As you will see, Annabel isn’t here, so that’s it.’
He went to close the door again but Gina edged past and entered. A long-haired cat was scratching at the skirting board, snarling. Two bulky dark wooden wardrobes covered the one wall and the bed had been positioned under the dormer window. The old flowery wallpaper on the back wall stood out against the large vanity unit in front of it. An uncovered stained quilt had fallen off the bare mattress and the smell of urine hit her again. ‘Do you have a litter tray up here?’
‘No, the cats stay on the ground and first floor. I think I’ve proven that I’m not hiding anyone in my house. It’s time you left. I’m a sick man and this is really getting me down now.’
‘We’re sorry to have bothered you.’ Gina knew he was staring at her, willing her to turn around and leave the room.
‘Right, I’ll see you out then.’
The cat scratched again and a scraping sound came from behind the wall. ‘I just heard something,’ Wyre said.
‘And me.’ Gina walked over to the large vanity unit that stood against the back wall, and put her ear to the plaster. She flinched as she heard a tapping sound. It was a matter of preserving life. If Annabel was hidden in these walls, she had to find out. She allowed her finger to trail the outline of the wallpapered edge of a hidden door, which had almost blended into the wall from afar. ‘Open this door now.’
‘But, it’s nothing. It’s just loft space where I keep junk.’ Whittle’s forehead shone as he began to perspire. He could see that he wasn’t going to get past Wyre. Gina’s stomach dropped as Whittle pushed her colleague. All she saw was Wyre’s hair coming loose from her clip before she disappeared down the stairs, backwards. Whittle was making a run for it. Gina heard a sickening thud and a yelp from Wyre moments before the front door slammed.
TWENTY-NINE
