Clarke peered in through the grubby window, carefully avoiding the lumps of bird poo caked onto the windowsill. The place seemed pretty bare. There was a distinct lack of pictures and artwork, no trinkets or ornaments. This was definitely a man’s place. It reminded him of his student digs, before he’d moved in with Emily. As soon as they’d moved in together, his house had become filled with the feminine touch.
He turned to Rebecca, who was waiting patiently at the front door. Finally, the man with mousey hair from the photo answered, although now his hair was cut short. He looked a lot sharper than in the picture and seemed to have lost a few pounds off his beer belly.
“Afternoon. Ray Jackson?” Rebecca held out her badge for identification. Clarke briefly flapped his jacket to flash his own badge.
“Aye, that’s me.” Ray looked nervous, a fake, awkward smile on his face as he scratched his head. He spoke with a thick Norfolk accent, unsurprisingly, considering he’d lived in Diss his whole life.
“Detective Sergeant Clarke and Detective Constable Reynolds,” Clarke gestured, as he made the formal introductions. “Can we come in?”
They were waved in — as if Ray had any other choice. The house smelt of the strong, pungent aroma of Indian food. Clarke followed the smell down the poorly carpeted hallway through to the kitchen. There were several unwashed plates piled up on the side, along with various takeaway boxes. Rebecca’s nose wrinkled up in disgust.
“Curry night, was it?”
“It were. I had a couple of the lads over to watch the footie, had a curry, a few beers, well … too many, to be honest. I’m right feeling it today. D’you need an alibi from me or something? Because the lads can all vouch for me. We were here all night.”
Clarke made a mental note that it was interesting Ray was already considering alibis. Either he watched too many police television shows, or he had a guilty conscience. They stayed in the kitchen, Rebecca hovering by the door to the hallway. Clarke got the impression that she wanted to be as far from the stench as possible.
“Not last night, no. How about Thursday?” Clarke watched as Ray looked from him to Rebecca. He looked genuinely confused.
“Um, well, I were at work from, like, seven thirty. I had an early job, you see.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a handyman, me. Bit of everything, you know.”
“Mm-hmm, and what time was your last job of the day?”
“Oh, about six, I reckon? Then just came home and slobbed out, like. Just an ordinary day. What’s this about, like?” Ray had a friendly face on him. He certainly wasn’t somebody Clarke would describe as threatening.
“If you could just give us the details of those jobs so that we can confirm the timings with your clients, that’d be great,” Rebecca chipped in.
“Oh, okay. You won’t tell them I’m in trouble or nothing, though, right? Word of mouth and all that. That’ll be bad for business, you know?”
“Why would you be in trouble?” Clarke cocked his head slightly and looked imploringly at Ray. He was gauging his reaction, seeing what buttons he could press with this man.
“Well, I don’t know, but you’re obviously here for a reason, ‘int you?”
“And what reason do you think that is?”
Ray shook his head with a bemused expression on his face, his eyes wide with confusion. “I got no idea, mate, I’m just trying to answer your questions. I respect the police. Always been on the right side of the law, me. Well, bar the odd bit of weed in the old days, but you know.” He waved his hands frantically as he realised what he had said. “Smoking, I mean, not selling or nothing.”
Clarke paused for a moment, slightly thrown by Ray’s accidental drug confession. “Right, well. What can you tell me about your relationship with Teigan Walker?”
Ray’s mouth dropped open, and his cheeks immediately flushed a deep red. He lifted his hands, palms up, towards Clarke, an open body stance, one that pleaded, I’m being honest with you.
“Whoa, whoa. I don’t know what you’re getting at, like, whether you’ve been tracking down weirdos talking to young girls on the Internet or whatever, but I swear that’s not what you think.”
“Well, we think you’re her father and may know something about her disappearance.”
Ray’s hands dropped to his side, and the pitch of his warm voice jumped up. “Wait, what? She’s missing? Since when?”
The father in Clarke instantly sympathised with Ray. He hadn’t been in her life long, but it was clear that he genuinely cared for his daughter. He softened his approach. “Since Thursday morning, at least, that’s when her mother last saw her. Have you seen her?”
“Since Thursday? No, nah, I ‘int seen her for a month, I reckon.”
“You’re sure about that? You wouldn’t, say, hide Teigan for a while? Perhaps if she’d argued with her mum and needed somewhere safe to stay?” Clarke edged slightly closer to Ray, keeping his gaze on him. “You wouldn’t get in trouble for that, as long as Teigan had consented to it, of course. She’s a teenager and able to make decisions about where she stays.”
“No, no — I mean, I would always offer her a place to stay — she’s a good kid. I’ve proper loved getting to know her … finally.” There was a sadness in his eyes, a sort of deep regret lingering within them.
Rebecca, who Clarke was sure had been quiet for so long just to avoid opening her mouth to the overwhelming curry smell, spoke softly. “Why did it take you so long to get a relationship with her? Did Suzanne stop you?”
Ray leant back against the kitchen surface as he crossed his arms in front of his body. He sighed heavily, as if about to plunge into a tale of woe. “Nah, not exactly, like. She didn’t make it easy, though. It were pretty complicated back then.”
“Complicated how?” Rebecca moved slightly closer into the kitchen, oozing the presence of a feminine listening ear. Clarke stayed quiet, letting her take control of the conversation.
Ray shook his head, as if he didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details. “Oh, just, family stuff. Her family went through a rough time and that. She lost her mum in that car accident when she were twelve, then her dad took the lead. They didn’t get on too well, though. Then he died when she were pregnant with Teigan. It were all a bit chaotic.”
Clarke and Rebecca exchanged a knowing glance. It was the sudden death of her father that had flagged Suzanne on the PNS check. She’d been the one to find him and therefore had been pulled in for questioning. A potential murder suspect for her own father’s death at the age of nineteen, while heavily pregnant. Chaotic was an understatement.
Rebecca nodded, her blonde hair brushing her shoulders. “That must have been hard to deal with at nineteen. Especially with the baby on the way.”
“Yeah, it, uh, weren’t ideal. She stayed with me for a while after that but …” He frowned and sighed again, the weight of the memories clearly playing on his mind. “It were all too much. It wouldn’t have worked, not after all that. She went and got herself a council place, which was easy for her, as she were heavily preggo by then. Then that were that. She shut me right out.”
“Didn’t you get any legal advice?” asked Rebecca. “You had a right to access, after all.”
Ray shook his head. “Nah, couldn’t afford it, could I? I tried a few times to go see Teigan once she were born, but she were in Norwich by then, and that ‘int all that easy to get up the city. I didn’t have a car then or nothing.”
“They could have supported you with that, though. They could have suggested a mutual meeting place for you both.”
Ray shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, like. But she’d made up her mind. She didn’t want me round no more. So that were that.”
Clarke’s heart ached in empathy for the man standing in front of him. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if he’d been preventing from seeing Kacey … although, a part of him thought that Ray had given up too easily.
“I know you think I gave up,” said Ray, as if reading his mind. “But I were only nineteen, after all. I thought I’d tried me hardest at the time and that.”
Clarke nodded in agreement. “Yes, no, of course. I know a lot of nineteen-year-old kids who wouldn’t have even tried. They’d have thanked their lucky stars they were rid of the responsibility.”
Ray smiled. “Yeah, true, mate. So, what’s happened, then? She done a runner from home or something? You don’t think she’s in danger or nothing, do you?”
Clarke shot him a sympathetic look. “We really don’t know, I’m afraid. We’re not excluding anything at this stage, but it is quite possible she’s with someone. Did she ever mention anything to you about a guy she was seeing? An older ‘friend,’ perhaps?”
Ray’s face deepened with concern. “Jesus, I hope she’s all right. Nah, she didn’t mention nothing to me ‘bout a boyfriend. We just spoke about normal things, really. Like tastes in films and music and that.” Clarke thought he saw the beginnings of tears welling in Ray’s eyes. “I were just starting to get to know her.”
“I assure you we are doing everything we can to find her. There’s nothing to suggest she’s in danger at this stage.” Clarke’s eyes briefly flicked to Rebecca, willing her not to mention the traces of blood found in the house. “She argued with her mum that morning, so there’s also the very real possibility she’s run away from home. Normally, when that happens, they’re back before too long.”
Ray’s eyes seemed to darken. “She argued with Suzanne, you say? Badly, like?”
“Suzanne said it was a ‘normal parent-teen argument,’ but there were no other witnesses.” Clarke’s eyes squinted in suspicion. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I mean, I ‘int seen her for years and that, but she always were a fiery one. I can imagine her getting pretty scary if she were stressed out.”
Clarke stepped forward. “Do you think Suzanne is capable of scaring Teigan away?”
Ray looked down at the floor, his hands balling into fists. He brought his gaze back up to meet Clarke’s, his eyes full of sincerity and experience.
“Suzanne is capable of anything.”