‘Tea or coffee?’ Gabby’s voice rose from a kitchen just off the living room.
‘Whatever you’re having, milk, no sugar, thanks.’
‘Make some room on the sofa,’ Gabby said a minute later, carrying the cups in. Dark shadows beneath her eyes suggested sleep had been a stranger, but Gabby was still smartly dressed in a designer shirt and jeans.
‘How are you doing?’ Sarah said, after quickly updating her on the case.
As she sat across from her, Gabby’s frustration was evident on her face. ‘I’m not doing, that’s the problem. I’m sitting. I’m pacing, I’m screaming at the television. I’m hounding Bryony for updates whenIshould be the one updating them! But I’m notdoing.I should be in the office with the rest of the team. Both of us should.’
‘Then go there,’ Sarah said. ‘Tell the DI you want in.’ Sarah hadn’t spoken to Bernard lately because he was so wrapped up in the case.
‘I can’t,’ Gabby exhaled a terse sigh. ‘He won’t let me near the place. As for your acting sergeant …’ She rolled her eyes. ‘She thinks her shit’s custard, that one.’
As she sipped her tea, Sarah bit back her smile. She could have told her about Yvonne’s condescension this morning but decided to hold her tongue. One stirrer in the office was enough.
‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ Gabby quickly followed up, her professionalism winning through as ever. ‘Yvonne’s doing her best. It’s just frustrating …’ Her gaze roamed to the window. ‘I don’t have a right to sit here in the warmth, not while Jahmelia is out there.’ The low drone of a cello vibrated through the walls, and Gabby rolled her eyes in response. ‘That’s George. He practises for two hours every day.’ She sighed wearily. ‘It doesn’t usually bother me because I’m always at work.’
‘Jahmelia’s still alive,’ Sarah blurted out, leaning forward, cradling her cup. ‘That’s what Elliott told me.’
‘Did you get anything else out of him?’ Gabby didn’t seem encouraged by the news, probably because she didn’t have faith in Elliott’s insights.
‘Only that she’s somewhere dark and cold, that smells bad. She’s not in Blackhall Manor. Police have scanned every inch of that place.’ Thermal imaging was quicker than physically ripping down the walls.
The cello practice continued. The musician was obviously talented, and the sweeping sounds were a comforting backdrop to their words.
‘They’ve checked every derelict building in Slayton,’ Gabby replied. ‘They’re drafting in extra teams to widen the search.’
Sarah’s eyes flicked to the windows as shards of rain pelted the glass. The inclement weather would not help the search. ‘She could be in Christian Abraham’s car. He reported it stolen after Angelica disappeared.’
‘Bernard said they’re planning on bringing him in.’ Gabby’s brown eyes searched Sarah’s face for answers. ‘You’ve met him. Do you think he’s capable of something like this?’
‘Maybe,’ Sarah said, feeling a surge of pity for the woman before her. ‘But it’s not sitting right with me. He found Libby. He called the police.’ She rested her cup on a pile of books next to her feet. ‘Angelica was his half-sister … Why would he want to hurt her? His father’s supporting him financially. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I hope it was him,’ Gabby replied. ‘Unless Christian talks, we’ll never find Jahmelia. The game stops here.’
‘The game doesn’t stop until the Midnight Man says so,’ Sarah thought aloud. The image of the players floated into her mind. The twins, each holding a candle. Angelica exploring Blackhall Manor, treating it all like a joke. Libby and Jahmelia, peer-pressured and putting on a brave face. What on earth had possessed them to play the Midnight Game? As Sarah looked at Gabby’s face, her expression relayed that she was also deep in thought. They sat, allowing the cello music to wash over them from the other side of the wall. It was the saddest, most expressive piece of music Sarah had ever heard.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Gabby said, her eyes heavy with unshed tears. ‘He’s very gifted.’
‘He is.’ Sarah held her gaze for a moment before looking away. It was hard to see so much pain. ‘Do you need a hand unpacking?’ She sipped the last of her tea. She could spare a bit of time to help out.
Gabby snorted. ‘I’ve been here months, Sarah. If I had any intention of unpacking, I would have done it by now.’
‘Right. Of course. Well, in that case, I’d best be getting off.’
Gabby tilted her head to one side, as if struck by a sudden thought. ‘Don’t you think it was odd, Irving turning up at the town meeting like that?’
‘All in the name of Mammonism.’ Sarah’s voice was cynical and she took in Gabby’s questioning look. ‘The greedy pursuit of riches tantamount to devotion.’ Her eyes fell on an old Missing poster of Angelica which was lying on the rug at her feet. ‘I feel for him, I do. But there’s a time and a place for talking business and that wasn’t it.’
‘Your English teachers must have loved you.’ A sad smile rose to Gabby’s face.
‘Not when I was the one correcting them.’ Sarah chuckled.
‘Right, well, I’m going to do a lap around Blackhall Woods. Where did I leave my trainers?’ Gabby bent to look beneath the sofa.
‘And I’d better get going.’ Sarah picked up her bag from the floor.
‘Before you go,’ Gabby rose, ‘I know I read you the riot act when you came to me about Elliott.’ A pause. ‘I stand by my guns. But …’ She rubbed the back of her neck. ‘Thanks for speaking to him.’
