The Girls Who Disappeared(43)

‘And for what?’ I ask. ‘And why would someone wait twenty years to kill Ralph if he did know something about the girls’ disappearance all that time?’

He exhales in frustration.

I pick at the corner of my bread. ‘Did you find anything else?’

Dale sits back in his chair. ‘Well, yes. A huge stash of money. In a box.’

My eyes widen. ‘How much?’

He lowers his voice and leans forwards. ‘Nearly ten thousand pounds.’

I gasp. ‘That’s a lot of cash to be lying around. Where would he have got it from?’

He sighs. ‘There are some things I’m not at liberty to tell you. Yet. Things that cross over with another case I’m not working on. We’re not even sure if the two things are linked yet.’

I feel a thud of disappointment. Of course Dale can only tell me so much. He’s a police officer. A detective. After everything that happened last night – our long spell waiting in A and E confiding and chatting, him making me laugh – I haven’t exactly forgotten but perhaps I’ve allowed the boundaries of our roles as police officer and journalist to blur. It just feels so easy with him.

I finish off my bap in silence. Dale takes the photos and puts them back into his briefcase. He knocks back the remainder of his Coke. ‘I’d better be off,’ he says, replacing his glass on the table.

‘Before you go, I tried to ring you earlier, but the reception was bad.’

‘Okay.’

I quickly fill him in on Jay Knapton’s visit to me earlier, then the notes I found with the same handwriting.

‘Do you have the notes?’

‘Only the one from my car, but I’ve left it in the cabin,’ I lie. I’m not sure why. ‘But I took a photo.’

‘Can you send it to me?’

I reach for my phone and do so while he’s still sitting there. ‘And the cabin being empty is weird, isn’t it?’ I continue, after I’ve sent the image. ‘Jay said there was no guest staying in Foxglove, the cabin opposite mine,’ I clarify, ‘but I definitely saw someone in there.’

‘And you’re sure you weren’t mistaken?’

‘Definitely not. The lights were on and someone walked out of the front door on the night I arrived with a big dog, like an Alsatian or a German Shepherd.’

Dale’s lips twitch. ‘Think that’s the same thing.’

‘Oh, yes.’ I laugh at my mistake. ‘I prefer cats. Less needy.’

‘Then you haven’t met my dad’s.’ He checks his watch. ‘I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes so I need to go. But I can pop over later. Around seven p.m., if you still want to interview me.’ He looks around as a group of six teenagers walk in and noisily grab a table. ‘It’ll be quieter than here.’

‘Okay. That’s great. Thanks.’ I watch as he lumbers away, almost bumping into one of the teenagers, who has got up to move seats. Dale has to duck his head to get out through the doorway. I drain the rest of my drink, still reeling from my conversation with Dale. I’m confused about the photos, still not convinced it had been Ralph following Olivia. But the money. He must have been involved in something dodgy to have that much cash sitting around.

I’m still thinking of Olivia and our conversation on the bench earlier as I drive through the high street. She had looked so sad but something else too. Almost resigned to her unhappiness. Defeated.

Just as I’m nearing the end of the high street, with the Co-op on the corner before it merges onto the Devil’s Corridor, I see a woman up ahead, on the grass verge. She’s gesticulating at the man she’s with. I slow down to get a better look. It’s Olivia’s mum. She’s pointing angrily in the direction of the high street. The man is tall, straight-backed and wearing a navy blue overcoat, with the collar turned up. He has close-shaved grey hair, and even though I can’t see his face, I’m certain it’s Jay Knapton. It looks like they’re having a heated discussion. Why would Olivia’s mum be so cross with Jay? He told me earlier that he didn’t really know the Rutherfords. She looks over Jay’s shoulder, her eyes landing on my car. Has she seen me? I drive faster, and when I look in my rear-view mirror she’s storming away, leaving Jay standing there with his arms wide.





27



Olivia


Olivia is just coming out of the stables after replacing Sabrina’s hay-net when she notices a dark shadow looming over her. She turns, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, to see Wesley watching her.

‘Wes,’ she says, in surprise. She thought he’d gone back to work. It’s nearly 4 p.m. He doesn’t clock off for another hour. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You really upset me earlier,’ he says, thrusting his hands into his pockets. ‘So I pulled a sickie.’

‘Another? Oh, Wes. You don’t want to get sacked.’

‘They won’t sack me. I’ve been there too long.’ He toes the hard ground. She knows he won’t apologize for earlier. He never does. Instead he’ll moon around her, like he’s the victim, until she’s forced to say sorry or make it up to him in some way even though she’s the wronged party.

‘I thought we could spend tonight together.’ Wesley’s voice is plaintive. ‘It’s an important night. Twenty years. I don’t think you should be on your own.’