Chapter Six
Mr. Tucker? It’s Jane again, and Dexter. Can we just have another quick word?”
The door opens and Mr. Tucker appears beside the army jeep, his arms folded across his slight paunch, eyeing them dubiously. “Everything OK?” he asks.
“Well, yes and no. I’ve just had a phone call from the vet who treated Hugo and she tells me that Hugo had been staying at a local holiday rental with a young woman who has subsequently disappeared.
I just wondered—I mean, I know you said you thought Hugo might have been stolen, but is it possible he was taken by someone you know? ”
Jane watches the man’s face, and she sees it all pass in a flash: confusion, fear, anger, worry.
But then his face resets into its original placid expression and he nods.
“Weird,” he says, leaning back against the side of the jeep, his arms still folded across his belly.
“Really weird.” One hand reaches up to his stubble and rubs it absent-mindedly. “No,” he says. “Definitely not.”
Jane’s gaze goes to a scooter with pink-and-silver tassels. Mr. Tucker’s follows it. “That was my stepdaughter’s,” he says. “She’s an adult now.”
Jane nods. “Her name is Rose apparently. The girl.”
“Don’t know anyone called Rose. But I think it sounds like we’ve found our dog-napper.”
“It does,” Jane agrees. “And I suppose, if the police are getting involved, they might be in touch with you? At some point?”
“Police?”
“Yes. My neighbor has reported her missing. The girl called Rose.”
There is a small twitch at the corner of the man’s mouth. “Right,” he says. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“I can let them have your details? If you want to follow up the dog theft?”
“No. Nah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Whatever. It’s probably my fault. Should have done a better job of keeping him indoors. Maybe that girl—Rose?—maybe she thought she was helping. Maybe she was rescuing him. He’s home now. That’s all that matters.”
He smiles but the smile is hard, almost rigid.
Slowly he unfolds his arms and pulls himself to standing. “Thanks for the update. Have a nice day.”
He turns and heads back into the house; the door closes behind him, but not before, for just a brief bolt of a moment, Jane sees the side profile of a middle-aged woman in the hallway, her eyes turned to them, something sad and blighted about her expression as the door closes again.