Chapter 18
Gabby opens the doors as soon as she sees us trudging through the garden.
‘They’re here,’ she calls.
Otis breaks into a run, reaching the house before I’m even halfway down the path. By the time I make it to the open doors, Gabby has wrapped a towel around his shoulders and steered him towards a sofa.
Two formally dressed strangers stand beside the dining table, silently observing the goings on in the room.
I can tell by their expressions that they see what I see when I watch Otis and Gabby.
The familiarity of their touch, the intimacy they share.
But what strikes me most about the two new people I am faced with isn’t their curious observation but their commanding presence.
When Otis called the police, I assumed uniformed officers would be sent to take preliminary statements, but the strangers in Otis’s house are most definitely not regular on-the-beat officers.
I gulp as the seriousness of the situation sinks in.
One of them looks at me – the female of the duo.
Her gaze is penetrative, and every bad thing I have ever done comes bubbling to the forefront of my mind.
I’m about to confess that when I was seven, I stole a chocolate bar from the supermarket, but she speaks before I get the chance.
‘Please, come in,’ she calls.
Obediently, I slip inside the house and slide the doors shut behind me.
Over the years, I have spoken with officers at all levels of seniority for research purposes, but this isn’t research – it’s real life. Being confronted by the officers’ closed but curious expressions makes my bones freeze, and not just because of the icy rain that has seeped through to them.
While I move towards the dining table, I make notes in my mind of their appearance.
The woman is in her early forties. She wears an ill-fitting, cheap suit, but her natural aura of authority compensates for her shabby outfit.
While her expression is businesslike, the lines around her eyes confess she is someone who laughs a lot when not in situations like this.
The man beside her is a little younger, with round cheeks and a receding hairline.
His creased white shirt tells of a long day behind a desk.
He doesn’t command the same respect the woman does, but from the way he stands, I can tell he possesses an attitude that does its best to overcompensate for that.
‘Mrs Rey, is it?’ he says.
‘It’s pronounced “rye”, actually, but you can call me Janine,’ I reply.
‘Janine Rai, also known as S. K. Atherton. Gabby here has filled us in. We’re big fans,’ the woman replies. ‘I’m DS Fatima Rani. This is DS Christopher Mullins.’
Gabby leaves Otis’s side to hand me a towel. ‘I thought you might need this.’
‘Good thinking. It’s torrential out there,’ DS Rani says, nodding to the world outside the window. My stomach plummets as I realise how dark it is – and therefore, how late.
Kamal.
I glance at the clock on Otis’s oven. It’s well after six o’clock already. Kamal’s anxious face flashes in my mind. I am never not there when he comes home, not since we moved to Bramblethorpe. Not since what happened in Manchester.
‘Do you need me to stay, or…?’ I ask awkwardly.
‘It’s my understanding that you were with Mr Clarke today, is that right?’ DS Mullins replies.
‘That’s right.’
‘In that case, it would be better if you could. We will need to ask you a few questions.’
I debate asking if I can make a quick call first, but the way the detectives move without waiting for a response silences me. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I fire a quick text to Kamal.
I’ll be home in a bit. Will fill you in when I’m back x
I have no idea what I will say, but as I press send, I’m just grateful I got the chance to message my husband some kind of reassurance.
The detectives sit on one sofa, Gabby and Otis on another. I take the third, burningly conscious of the mess my sodden clothes will leave on the fabric.
While DS Mullins pulls a notepad from his pocket, DS Rani leans forward to address Otis. ‘Mr Clarke, your call earlier said that you would like to report your wife as missing.’
Those words supercharge the atmosphere with electricity.
‘Report my wife as missing,’ Otis repeats, then he dissolves into tears.
Panicked, Gabby glances at me, but I’m as clueless about what to do as she is. DS Rani and DS Mullins, on the other hand, don’t look alarmed. They sit calmly, waiting for the story to unfold.
‘Alexa hasn’t been seen since Saturday morning,’ Gabby says, her voice faltering at the responsibility of being the one to recall this twisted tale. ‘She left the house while Otis was at work. We’ve no idea where she is.’
DS Mullins cocks his head. ‘Today is Tuesday. Is there a reason why you’re only just reporting Alexa missing?’
‘Alexa tends to go away whenever she argues with Otis, then returns a few days later,’ Gabby explains. ‘We thought that’s what was going on here.’
‘And were you arguing with your wife the day she went missing, Mr Clarke?’
Gabby’s cheeks colour, but Otis is so defeated he barely even notices her distress.
‘Lex… we’ve… we’re not…’ As Otis drops his head, Gabby reaches for his hand. She squeezes it tight until she spots the detectives watching her every move.
‘We thought Alexa was taking time away after a difficult few months. She was using her bank card, so Otis and Janine went to Manchester to see if they could find her. They never saw Alexa, but her account recorded a transaction. Janine thinks the card might have been stolen,’ Gabby blurts.
Her distraction tactic works. Every eye that was on her and Otis is now on me.
‘It’s just a theory,’ I say, swallowing hard.
‘May I ask, Mrs Rai, how did you become involved in this situation?’ DS Mullins asks. ‘As a childhood friend, Miss Findlay’s role here is one I understand, but as far as I can tell, you’re a stranger.’
There’s something in DS Mullins’s tone that ruffles me, but getting into a battle of wits with a dismissive authority figure is what a sassy protagonist in a book would do, and I am most definitely not one of those. I’m just a woman, seemingly in way over her head.
‘I heard Alexa Clarke was missing,’ I say, furious with my voice for betraying how dry my throat is. ‘I thought I might be able to help.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Because I write about things like this.’
DS Mullins’s lips twitch with ridicule.
‘Well, by the sound of it, it’s a good job you joined the search,’ DS Rani says, shooting her colleague a warning look. ‘Otherwise, who knows when we would have been called.’
Gabby’s cheeks burn on Otis’s behalf, but I’m too busy justifying myself to care about how he looks in all of this.
‘I’m only here to help,’ I say. ‘I looked at the information Otis had and pieced together the clues. It’s all there on Alexa’s bank statement – the day and time her card has been used at Variety Food Store.’
DS Rani turns to Otis. ‘May I see the statement?’
Otis nods and loads the transaction history on his phone. When he leans across the coffee table to hand it over, I notice he’s trembling.
DS Rani looks at the screen, scrolls a little, then hands the phone to DS Mullins for him to inspect. ‘You mentioned earlier that Alexa would leave after arguments,’ she continues. ‘How often would you say that happened?’
‘Every few months or so,’ Otis admits. ‘It hasn’t always been that way. Just over the last eighteen months. Ever since… ever since the second miscarriage.’
The sad silence that follows Otis’s words drains the room of colour. DS Mullins goes to speak again, but DS Rani gives him a subtle shake of the head. In the extra pause she provides, she allows Otis room to process having to admit his most personal grief to two strangers.
‘I’m sorry to hear about your losses, Mr Clarke,’ DS Rani says. ‘I appreciate you telling us about them. Context like that is vital for us to assess Alexa’s wellbeing before she disappeared.’
Otis nods, his chin wobbling at the mention of Alexa’s wellbeing.
‘When Alexa left, where would she usually go?’
‘To a friend’s house. She’s stayed at hotels before, too, and the village B&B.’
‘Have any of Alexa’s friends seen her since she left?’
‘Not that they’ve told me, no,’ Otis replies, sinking into the worry of the words.
The detectives exchange a look before DS Mullins takes over the questioning. ‘Before the discovery of the stolen card, was there any reason to suspect that Alexa might not have simply gone away for a few days?’
Otis shakes his head.
‘Are you sure about that?’
When Otis doesn’t reply, DS Mullins turns Otis’s phone back around to face him.
‘How about the fact that Alexa Clarke withdrew two thousand pounds in cash from her account the day before she went missing?’