We follow him through to an impressive kitchen at the back of the house. It didn’t look like this when my grandmother owned the place. Everything is stylish and spotless now, so devoid of personality it’s almost unrecognizable. Harrison’s laptop is on the granite kitchen counter facing away from us, so I can’t see who he was talking to, but he wasn’t lying about a Zoom.
“Everything okay?” asks a female voice coming from his computer.
“I have to go,” is all he says to the screen before closing his laptop. Then he looks up and fixes his eyes on me. “Have you found her?”
If he means his wife there is very little emotion in his voice.
“Not yet. Please take a seat,” I tell him, sitting down at his kitchen table without waiting to be invited. “Can you make us a cup of tea, Carter?”
Carter pulls a face, as though I just asked him to wipe my arse, but reaches for the fancy kettle anyway. Harrison glares at me before sitting down. He looks reluctant. Defiant. Guilty. I notice how Carter seems to know exactly where to find everything; mugs, tea, sugar, spoons, but decide to focus my attention on the other man in the room. Harrison Woolf.
“I wonder if we could start again?” I ask, and Harrison stares at me. “Sometimes it helps to go back to the beginning. How long have you been married?”
His face does something strange, as though I asked a difficult question.
“Your colleague already asked me that—”
“He doesn’t have any thoughts of his own so tends to borrow mine,” I say, and Carter shakes his head. “If you don’t mind just answering some questions again.”
“I presumed you were here because you had something to tell me—”
“This won’t take long, and it might help us find Eden. I know that’s what we all want. You and your wife lived in London until recently, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“So why the move to Hope Falls?”
“Eden always dreamed of living by the sea. She had this strange obsession with the ocean, nothing made her happier than staring at it and painting it. This house came on the market and seemed perfect. She was happy here.”
Pasttense.
“And, despite the move to Cornwall, you still work for a company in London?”
“Yes.”
“A company called Thanatos? Is that right?”
He stares at me and his reaction is surprisingly hard to read. A curious mix of shock, contempt, and defiance, with a side order of simmering rage. I get the impression Mr. Woolf is normally the person asking the questions, not answering them. He soon recovers, his handsome features resetting to neutral.
“Yes. I’m the CEO.”
“And what kind of company is Thanatos?”
“Is that relevant?”
“Might be.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “Pharma tech.”
“Sorry, you might need to explain that—”
“It’s a little complicated.”
“Enlighten me.”
Harrison shifts in his seat. “We deal with high-end pharmaceutical research and scientific technology.”
“What does that mean? AI?”
