Close to Home (DI Adam Fawley #1)(17)

He hesitates, then nods. ‘Well, if you’re sure. But we may get some kickback in the press. They’re bound to dig it all up again. Are you prepared for that?’

I make a face which I hope comes over as ‘Complete Contempt’. ‘They’ll soon find something better to do. And in any case there’s nothing to find.’

‘No,’ he says quickly. ‘Of course not.’



* * *



—

Quinn shoots me a quizzical glance when I emerge.

‘Admin,’ I say, and he’s too smart to push it. I start off down the corridor. ‘Where are we with the school?’

‘Everett and Gislingham are there now. Thought Chris could use some female back-up on that one.’

‘Still nothing from the search teams?’

‘Nada. We’re widening the perimeter but with no intel about where to look it’s needle-in-a-haystack stuff.’

‘Intel’, by the way, is another word that really gets on my tits.

At the family room, I pause at the door.

‘Separately or together?’ says Quinn.

‘On their own. But I want to be in both.’

‘So him first, then?’

‘Right,’ I reply, ‘him first,’ as I knock on the door, which is opened by Maureen Jones, who steps back to let us pass.

I know the police are supposed to make more of an effort these days, but this is hardly my idea of a reassuring environment. It’s a step up from Interview Room One at St Aldate’s, I’ll admit that, but with the cheap furniture pushed back against the walls it looks depressingly like a doctor’s waiting room, which only reinforces the overwhelming sense that you only come here to get bad news. Barry Mason is sitting back on the settee, his eyes shut and his legs apart. He’s sweating. His skin looks oily, as if it’s covered with a fine layer of grease. But it’s chill today, for July. Sharon is on one of the hard-back chairs, her feet exactly together, her handbag on her lap. It’s one of those replica designer jobs. The brown ones with the cream pattern. The chair is so uncomfortable I’d expect her to be fidgeting, but she’s perfectly still. She doesn’t even look up when we come in. Leo does. And then after a moment he gets up from the floor where he’s been sitting playing with a train and backs slowly towards his mother, his eyes all the time on mine.

I clear my throat. ‘Mr Mason, Mrs Mason, thank you for waiting. I have some information I can now share with you. We wanted to be absolutely sure, before we said anything.’

I pause. A cruel, deliberate pause. I know what they must be thinking, but I need to see how they react.

Sharon brings her hand slowly to her face and Barry gasps, the tears already coursing down his face. ‘Not my little princess,’ he wails. ‘Not my Dais – ’

Leo grips his mother’s sleeve, his eyes wide with pure terror. ‘What are they talking about, Mum? Is it about Daisy?’

‘Not now, Leo,’ she says, not looking at him.

I can’t hold the pause any longer. Not with any decency. They’re expecting me to sit down, but I don’t.

‘What we have ascertained,’ I begin slowly, ‘is that Daisy was not at the party on Tuesday.’

Barry swallows. ‘What do you mean, she wasn’t there? I saw her – we all did – ’

Sharon turns to her husband and grips his arm. ‘What are they saying – what do they mean, she wasn’t there?’

I slip a glance to Leo, who has dropped his gaze to his scuffed shoes. His cheeks are flushed. I was right – he knew all along.

‘We’ve spoken to Millie Connor’s parents and they’ve confirmed that she was wearing the daisy outfit at the party. Not Daisy. As far as we can tell, your daughter was never there.’

‘Of course she was!’ cries Sharon. ‘I told you – I saw her. And don’t try to tell me I don’t know my own daughter. I’ve never heard such – such rubbish.’

‘I’m afraid there’s no room for doubt, Mrs Mason. And as I’m sure you will realize, this changes the whole investigation. We will now have to go back through the events of that day and establish a definitive last sighting of your daughter: when Daisy was last seen, where and who by. We will also have to widen our inquiries beyond the guests at the party to Daisy’s schoolmates, her teachers and anyone else she may have come into contact with in the days leading up to her disappearance. And as part of that process, we will have to interview you again, to ascertain exactly where you were during the day on Tuesday. Do you understand?’

Barry’s eyes narrow. It’s as if a switch has flipped. Or perhaps a tap turned off is the better analogy. Because there are no tears now. ‘Are we under arrest?’

I look at him steadily. ‘No, Mr Mason, you are not under arrest, we are interviewing you as what we call “significant witnesses”. We have a special suite here, for interviews like that, and you should be aware that we will be videoing the conversation. It’s important we capture everything you can tell us. So if you could come with me now, Mr Mason, we’ll then talk to Mrs Mason afterwards.’

Sharon refuses to look at me. She shifts her position on the chair and her chin lifts with a sharp, defiant little movement.

‘We would also like your permission to conduct a forensic search of your home.’