When they left The Lamb, Vera suddenly seemed to have a change of heart. ‘No point you two hanging around here, twiddling your thumbs. Get back to Kimmerston. Hol, get those notes in a form that we can present to this evening’s briefing. We’ve got a bit more background on them all now. Joe, have a little wander around Kimmerston. Places where young Lizzie might be hanging around with her friends. I want to talk to her, so give me a shout if she comes to light. And I’d really like to know if Jason Crow headed off to France to meet up with his family, as he told me he would, or if he’s still in town.’ Vera bundled them into the Land Rover and dropped them off at the big house to pick up Holly’s car. As they drove off, Joe saw the boss was still sitting there in the driver’s seat, her eyes closed once more.
From the station Joe phoned the offices of Kimmerston Building Services and asked to speak to Jason Crow. A middle-aged woman answered. ‘I’m afraid Mr Crow is in meetings all day. Can anyone else help?’
‘Will he be free tomorrow?’
A pause, the sound of pages being turned. An old-fashioned diary. ‘I’m not sure of Mr Crow’s movements for the rest of the week.’ So Crow hadn’t joined his family for a perfect holiday in the French countryside. Not yet at least. Joe thanked the woman and hung up.
He headed out into the town. He wasn’t sure where young people hung out in Kimmerston during the day. He tried the bus station first and tracked down the driver who’d driven from Gilswick that morning. It was the same man who’d carried Martin Benton to his death. Joe described Lizzie. ‘Pale. Red hair. Bonny.’
‘Aye, she was waiting at the first stop in Gilswick.’ He was outside in the designated smoking area, sucking on a tiny roll-up as if it would save his life.
‘Did she come all the way into town?’
‘Not quite. She got off two stops before the bus station. That posh estate on the hill. What’s it called? Something naff. Heather View.’ He threw the remains of his cigarette onto the floor and stamped on it. ‘They changed the whole route to take in the estate, but there aren’t many buggers from there who use public transport.’
‘Was anyone waiting for her?’ Because Jason Crow lived in one of the palaces on the edge of Heather View.
The driver shook his head.
‘Did you see which way she walked?’
‘Aye.’ A slow, conspiratorial smile. ‘She was worth watching. You know what I mean?’
‘And?’
‘She walked up the hill, away from the town.’
Joe phoned Vera and had the sense that he’d woken her up. He imagined her still in the Land Rover outside the Hall, rain from the overhanging trees rattling on the vehicle’s roof.
‘I think Lizzie’s at Jason Crow’s house. What do you want me to do?’
There was a silence. She was going through the options.
‘Go there. You’ve got a reasonable excuse. Ask him about his dealings with the Valley Farm folk. How he found them to work with. All useful stuff anyway.’
‘And if Lizzie’s there?’
Another long silence.
‘See if you can persuade her to come back to the valley with you. Offer her a lift. I’d rather know where she is.’
Joe remembered Lizzie as he’d met her in the prison. Amused and defiant. He thought it would be very hard to persuade her to do anything she didn’t want to do. He drove to Jason Crow’s house and sat outside for a moment, intimidated despite himself. The big house and the memory of Lizzie Redhead sapped his confidence. He got out and rang the doorbell. Crow appeared, looking older than the photos they had of him in the operations room, but still fit. He was barefoot, in jeans and a sweater. It didn’t look to Joe as if he’d been in meetings all day.
‘Is Lizzie Redhead here?’
‘Who wants to know?’ Crow was old enough to be Lizzie’s father, but there was the same arrogance, the same air of superiority.
Joe showed his warrant card.
‘Of course. I should have guessed. That jacket comes straight from central casting.’
‘Lizzie Redhead?’ Joe was wondering how he could get inside to have a look.
‘You just missed her,’ Crow said. ‘She left half an hour ago.’
‘What was she doing here?’
There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘I suppose,’ Crow said, ‘she came to make her peace.’
Joe didn’t ask what the man meant. He knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer.
Crow seemed to be losing patience. ‘She’s not here. I told you. Come in and check if you like. I don’t want my neighbours getting the wrong idea, seeing the filth on the doorstep.’
There was an expensive suitcase in the hall at the bottom of the stairs.
‘I’m going to France to catch up with my family tomorrow. An early start, so I’m prepared.’ Then: ‘Help yourself, Sergeant. Go wherever you like. I’ll be in my office, if you need me.’ Crow seemed suddenly amused by Joe’s discomfort. The irritation had dissipated.
Joe started at the top of the house. He had no expectation of finding Lizzie now, but he wasn’t going to walk away without looking. He was curious too. He imagined going home and telling Sal about the grand bathroom in the master bedroom, the kids’ rooms, each with their own shower, the fitted furniture and the flat-screen TVs. He opened wardrobes and saw suits that must have cost more than he earned in a month. On the ground floor he looked in the utility room and found a door into the garage. Nothing. Crow’s office door was open. He was sitting at his desk, looking at a computer screen, the bare feet on a chair. Apparently relaxed.
‘Did Lizzie tell you where she was going?’ Joe asked.
‘Back home to the valley, I think. She said she had some shopping to do, then she’d catch the bus.’ Crow kept his eyes fixed on the computer screen.
‘You didn’t offer her a lift?’
‘I’m a busy man and she’s a grown woman. She could make her own way home.’
Joe wasn’t sure what else to ask. He felt stupid standing in the office doorway, an uninvited guest in the rich man’s house.
‘You can see yourself out, Sergeant.’ Crow didn’t turn round when Joe made his way to the front door.
Chapter Forty-Three
Holly had never been a rule-breaker. At school she’d been close to the top of the class, but she hadn’t had the spark of genius or the willingness to take risks intellectually that might have set her apart. She’d won her place at university through dogged hard work and had joined the police force because she’d understood that those traits would be rewarded.
Vera had sent her back to Kimmerston to write up the notes from the day’s interviews for the evening briefing, so Holly sat at her desk preparing to do just that. Then, her fingers resting on the keyboard and without any conscious effort, suddenly she was inside Lizzie’s head, seeing the world through her eyes. She knew precisely what the young woman was planning. This flash of intuition was dizzying and was so unexpected that Holly sat for a moment without moving. She picked up her jacket and shouted to the team remaining in the open-plan office that she was going back to Gilswick. A middle-aged DC looked up and waved to her, but nobody else took any notice.
Holly arrived in the village at the same time as the bus from Kimmerston. She pulled in close to the pavement outside the post office and waited to see the passengers get off. Three people: two elderly women with baskets of shopping and Lizzie Redhead. Lizzie was last off and hesitated before setting off on foot up the lane towards the valley. Holly waited until she was out of sight, switched her phone to silent and followed. The rain was lighter, hardly more than a damp mist, but the visibility was poor. Lizzie was a shadow glimpsed occasionally in the distance; the copper hair that was so distinctive in the photo pinned to the incident-room whiteboard was drained of colour. Everything in the landscape looked grey.