‘It’s hard to believe that someone would just leave her in the road like that. They left her to die.’ Gina’s brows furrowed as she contemplated the situation. ‘We need to do a press release as soon as to appeal for witnesses but first, we have to tell her family what’s happened.’ Gina swallowed. ‘I hate delivering this kind of news but I suppose we best get it done.’
She led the way, opening the waist-height gate and heading on the downward slope to the front door of the house where a warm glow came from behind the curtains. As they approached, a dog began to bark at the door. Ivy weaved up the stone wall and there were ceramic flower pots everywhere. She almost knocked her head on a hanging basket as she stepped back a little, waiting for whoever fumbled with the locks to open up.
‘Wrong key, sorry. I’ll find the right one in a minute,’ the person behind the door shouted.
Gina glanced at Wyre. ‘He’s not Annabel’s partner or husband.’ The homeowner would know which key opened their own locks. She glanced at the neatly bordered cottage garden as she waited.
The key turned in the lock and a man stood holding a brindle lurcher by the collar. ‘Hello.’ His long nose and mound of brown hair stood out. The dog pulled. ‘Milo, shush.’ The dog continued barking and wagging its tail.
‘I’m DI Harte and this is DC Wyre. May we come in?’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘It’s best if we come in.’ She didn’t want to tell the man what had happened while standing on the doorstep. He stepped aside and they entered. As he closed the door, he released the dog who began to sniff at Gina’s feet. She reached down and stroked its head. The carpeted hallway led to a wide galley-style kitchen. ‘Are you related to Annabel Braddock?’
‘No, I’m her neighbour.’
‘Does she live alone?’
‘No, she lives with her husband, Grant.’
‘Where’s Mr Braddock?’
The man shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. She didn’t say.’
‘And you’re here because?’ Gina smiled.
‘I’m looking after their daughter. Their usual childminder has let them down and I know them well. Annabel knocked earlier to see if I could look after Cally. I’ve looked after her before. I know the family well, so I said yes. Something’s happened, hasn’t it? I’ve been trying to call Annabel as it’s so late. I was expecting her to come back hours ago. Can we go into the lounge? I don’t want to wake Cally. She took a while to go to sleep. That little girl has such an imagination on her.’ He smiled.
‘Of course.’
The man led them back into the hall and opened the lounge door. A huge open fireplace filled the main wall and the low dark beams made the room feel smaller still. Gina sat on the sofa opposite the fire.
The man grabbed the remote and muted an old film before closing the door. ‘That’s better.’ In the lamplight, Gina could tell that he was probably in his late thirties, maybe early forties at a push.
‘Could I take your name, please?’
‘Sorry, yes, it’s Evan Bryson.’
Wyre sat next to Gina and took out her notebook.
‘Mr Bryson—’
‘Evan, please.’
‘Evan. What’s your address?’
‘Number two Stonewall Cottages.’
‘Do you have a contact number for Mr Braddock?’
‘Grant, yes.’ He grabbed a piece of paper from next to the phone, scrolled through his mobile and wrote it down. ‘Here.’
Gina passed it to Wyre. ‘Have you seen Mrs Braddock at all this evening?’
He shook his head. ‘No, she left about seven with her friend and I haven’t seen her since. I tried to call her a few minutes ago and then tried Grant’s number, but he didn’t answer either.’
‘There was an accident earlier. We found Mrs Braddock’s friend but Mrs Braddock wasn’t at the scene. We’re trying to locate her.’
