Chapter 24
Lottie read through the texts from Caroline’s phone again. Some of them were explicit. Who had time for this sort of talk? Then her eyes lit on one sequence.
And you know what T? We can never let S know about this. About us. It would kill her.
Won’t hear it from me.
No one can know.
She wondered if this was proof that Caroline was talking to Thomas Clarke. T and S? Thomas and Sadie. If it was Thomas, she had her smoking gun. She had to run with it, because she had feck-all other clues in her arsenal.
The rain was incessant, and Lottie’s coat smelled like a wet dog that had fallen into a bog hole. With Boyd by her side, she rang the bell then knocked loudly on the Clarke front door.
‘This is the pits.’ She looked at the sky, rainwater running off her face.
‘The house?’ Boyd asked.
‘No, the damn weather. It’s like someone turned on a tap and forgot to turn it off.’
‘Can’t last for ever.’
She was thinking they’d have to go round the back when Thomas opened the door.
‘She’s not here,’ he said, and made to shut it.
‘Pardon?’ Even though she figured him for a narcissistic prick, his bad manners stunned her.
‘Sadie. She’s not here, if it’s her you’re looking for.’
Lottie felt a tremor of unease. ‘Actually, it’s you we want to talk to, Thomas. Can we come in?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘Won’t take long.’ What she really wanted to say was fuck you, but she added, ‘I just want to clear up a few things.’
He continued to stand his ground, holding the door slightly ajar. ‘What things?’
‘Mr Clarke,’ she said, dropping the familiarity, ‘you either admit us to your home so that we can talk to you or we bring you down to the station. Which is it to be?’
‘The place is a mess. Sadie must have thrown a wobbly.’ Beads of sweat peppered his brow.
Now Lottie was seriously worried. She eyed Boyd.
He stepped forward. ‘I think you had better let us in now, or we will come back with a warrant.’
Clarke sighed. It sounded more like a groan, but he nodded.
He hadn’t even opened the door fully when Lottie pushed in by him. A rush of anxiety tore through her chest. Too much had gone on this week for her not to be concerned.
The hall was messy, with coats and scarves flung around as if someone had rifled through them.
She moved to the kitchen. Cupboard doors hung open.
Shattered crockery lay all over the floor and countertops.
Dried food, maybe cereal and coffee beans, crunched underfoot.
It was a scene of destruction. Or a major domestic row.
‘What happened here, Thomas? Where’s Sadie?’
‘I don’t know where she is. That’s the truth. I came home from a site meeting to all this. And I told you yesterday, you should contact my solicitor, not ambush me.’
Lottie instructed Boyd to stay with Thomas while she raced up the stairs, dread stamping every step.
She found the main bedroom in disarray. She glanced into the en suite.
Damp. There was a stain that could be blood on one of the tiles nearest the shower door.
She turned back into the room. A small amount of blood on the floor.
Without having to touch anything, she could see that the stains had dried in.
What the hell had happened here? The wardrobe doors were open, and a bathrobe with a mismatched belt hung from one of them.
Any clothing that hadn’t been thrown to the floor hung haphazardly on hangers.
She raced back down the stairs. Boyd had brought Clarke into his home office.
He was slouched in an Eames chair by his desk near the window, his tie undone and shirt buttons opened.
His suit jacket lay in a heap on the floor.
She could not see any sign of blood on his skin or clothing.
All that told her was that he might have had time to clean himself up.
‘What happened, Thomas?’
‘I have no idea. I told you, I came home to this mess. Sadie can be a hothead at times; she must have lost it.’
‘Like you lose it? What’s with the blood upstairs?’
‘Blood? What blood?’
‘On the carpet in the main bedroom and the shower. You better start talking before I arrest you.’
‘Arrest me? Are you mad? I’ve done nothing.’ He jumped up, shaking his head, sweat flying from his hair. ‘I can’t begin to think what you’re talking about.’
‘You better start thinking about it then. Where is Sadie?’
‘I don’t know. I looked everywhere for her when I came home. She’s not here. How many times do I have to tell you?’
‘Detective Sergeant Boyd,’ Lottie said, addressing him formally in front of Clarke, ‘call the station to issue an alert for Sadie Clarke, and get some people out here to search the house and gardens thoroughly.’ That was all she could do for now, so she focused on the reason they were there.
‘We have something to discuss with you, Thomas. It’s to do with Caroline Healy. ’
‘What about her? If you want to know anything about Caroline, talk to Sadie. And what are you doing to find my daughter?’ He slumped back into his chair.
Ignoring his question, she walked to the edge of his desk and looked down at him. ‘Tell me about your affair with Caroline.’
‘What? Are you crazy? I’m a happily married man.’
She placed the printout of text messages on the desk. ‘Explain these, then.’
He sat up and scanned the multitude of words, then looked at her. His face was a mask of dismay. ‘What’s this? That’s not even my number.’
‘It’s not your main phone number, I admit. It’s a burner.’
‘Gangland criminals use burners. Not me.’
‘A pay-as-you-go, if you’re being pedantic.
A handy device if you want to hide an affair from your wife.
’ She watched him carefully. Not a blink.
‘I can get a warrant to search your house for said phone. If it’s here, we will find it.
’ She worried that he’d dumped it. His face showed a smirk of arrogance that reminded her of McKeown.
‘Search away.’ He sat back again. ‘You won’t find it because I never had it.’
‘We will search your car and office as well.’
A flicker of uncertainty flashed across his eyes. ‘Will that be in your warrant too?’
‘It can be, or you can cooperate.’
‘Look, lady, I did not have an affair with Caroline Healy and I haven’t got a burner phone. Search away.’
Was he telling the truth, or had he got rid of the phone? Probably the latter.
‘What happened between you and Sadie? Explain the blood.’
He blew out an elongated sigh. ‘We had a row. Last night. She knows which buttons to press. She wouldn’t let up. I may have swiped out at her. I barely touched her. She must’ve cut her finger on something. I don’t know.’
‘There’s no sign of broken glass in the bedroom. So what did she cut herself on? Your fist?’
His face reddened. ‘I’d like you to leave.’
‘Did you go berserk in the kitchen?’
‘I did not. Why don’t you stop asking these absurd questions and get on with finding my daughter. Seems to me you’re completely incompetent.’
Now it was the turn of his eyes to change hue. They darkened into inky navy blue and he gave Lottie a crooked grin. It curdled her blood. In that instant, she could believe he was a killer. If he was, she just needed to prove it.