“I knew this would happen.” Monty Shepherd spoke in a calm voice that didn’t seem to fit the severity of the situation he was in.
“And why’s that?” DS Clarke was leaning forward, his hands pressed onto the interview table, putting the pressure on a slightly scruffy-looking Monty. Evidently the last couple of hours in the cells hadn’t treated him particularly kindly.
“Well, clearly you were always going to be gunning for me once you knew of my sexual desires. Now you’ve found some images, and you think that proves me capable of abducting Teigan Walker.” Monty pushed his sleeves up his arms. “Can we put the air con on or something, please?”
Clarke ignored him. “Doesn’t it? Prove you capable?”
Monty leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “You’ve seen the images found on my computer, I presume?”
Clarke gritted his teeth. He’d had to put the framed picture of Kacey on his desk away in the drawer. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Well, then. Let’s be honest. Teigan’s a little old for my taste.”
Clarke grimaced as he turned away. Monty had a point. The children in the pictures were all about five or six years old. Clarke had felt physically sick looking at them, knowing that Kacey’s fourth birthday was looming.
“Doesn’t prove anything,” Clarke said as he turned back to face him. “You could be branching out. Teigan looks young without make-up; she’s baby-faced.”
“She hardly looks six,” Monty said.
“Maybe she was as young as you could get your hands on.” Clarke dug his gloved hands into the clear plastic bag, thankful for the excuse to break eye contact again. “See this phone?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Teigan’s. Pretty smashed up, isn’t it? It was found like this in the park. Suggests a struggle of some sort.”
“Perhaps. That, or she dropped it, and a dog mistook it for a chew toy.”
“She’s only had it a couple of weeks, so I think she’d be a bit more careful with it than that. There are messages on it from a number saved as ‘xoxo.’ Someone she’d clearly been in intimate contact with for a while.” Clarke pulled out the printed copy of the text messages and thrust them in Monty’s face, his eyes searching for any sign of recognition.
Monty scanned the messages, his poker face still intact. “I see.”
“Do you remember sending those messages?” Clarke leaned forward again, rolling his own sleeves up. It was hot in here, but no way was he cooling it down for the benefit of Monty Shepherd.
Monty rolled his eyes as he placed the paper back down on the table. “It’s rather hard to remember messages you’ve never sent.”
“What about this one here?” Clarke grabbed the messages back and circled the message with his finger. “This reference to a bracelet, you remember that?”
Monty shook his head slowly and raised his hands, palms up in a calm shrug. “No, because I didn’t send it.”
Clarke could feel his own heart rate increasing and wondered whether Monty’s was secretly racing under that calm pretence. He picked up the other evidence bag, his confidence boosting as he did so. “That’s odd, considering you bought a bracelet of a similar description a month ago.” He slid the plastic bag across the table to Monty, containing their best bit of evidence so far. “This is a receipt we found in your flat this morning, Monty.”
For the first time, a glimmer of panic crept over Monty’s face. Clarke pounced on the opportunity. “It’s a receipt for a white gold heart bracelet. Sounds just like the one Teigan was given by her ‘xoxo’ admirer. Doesn’t look good, does it?”
Monty hung his head and sighed, before returning to meet Clarke’s gaze. “I won’t answer any more questions without a lawyer present.”