Light streamed through the open curtain, making Jack groan. He lifted his head off the pillow and the bed seemed to shift. He shouldn’t have opened that second bottle of wine, and he could still taste it as he smacked his lips.
He put his hand out, expecting to feel the rise and fall of Laura’s body, or the spread of her dark hair across the pillow, but she wasn’t there. He squinted at the alarm. Eight o’clock. He flopped back onto the pillow. Everything felt heavy, and quick movements sent flashes of pain through his head. He lay back and listened for the sounds of Laura downstairs, chatter with Bobby or the noise of the hairdryer, but there was only silence.
He tried to think through what had happened the night before. He couldn’t remember Laura coming home, but he remembered her weight against him in bed, her naked skin, warm and close. Yesterday’s clothes were discarded on the floor and he could smell the flowery haze of her perfume spray.
He clambered out of bed and shuffled to Bobby’s room, just to check that he was awake. He wasn’t. His dark hair peered out above his England football duvet, a remnant of his World Cup mania from the year before. Jack rubbed his eyes. He would have to rush now, and he didn’t feel much in the mood for speed.
Jack nudged Bobby gently until he stirred and then pointed at his school clothes, set out by Laura.
‘Time to get moving,’ he said, although his voice still had a slur.
It was going to be a slow morning.
Laura threaded her way through the Incident Room, her coffee in her hand, the smell of stale booze hitting her, the remnants of the trip to the pub the night before, everyone more bleary-eyed than the previous day. Mornings were always the toughest part of a murder investigation, because they were no nearer the killer and hours of uncertainty lay ahead.
As she got to Joe, he looked up and smiled. ‘Did you get in trouble for being back so late?’
‘Jack was all tucked up when I got back,’ she said, and returned the smile. ‘I enjoyed myself. Thank you for making me go.’ She took a sip of coffee and then nodded towards some sheets of paper in front of Joe. ‘Is there anything new?’
Joe looked down and then shook his head. ‘Not much to get excited about,’ he said. ‘Just last night’s calls, and unless Don Roberts had a change of heart overnight, all we’ll have today is tips from friends.’
‘So when was Jane last seen?’
‘Last Saturday,’ Joe said. ‘A routine night out, she was supposed to go to a friend’s house. There was a group of girls waiting for her, but she never showed up. They called her house but Don said that he didn’t know where she was and told them not to worry. They went out and forgot about it. Some of her friends texted her, but didn’t think much of it when they didn’t get a reply.’
‘They don’t seem like close friends,’ Laura said.
‘They were used to the disappearing act,’ Joe explained, as he reached for a photograph. ‘It seems like the ex-boyfriend wasn’t that ex.’ He passed her the picture of a young man, good teeth and skin, dark hair teased over his forehead. ‘Adam Carter. They were making like single people, but they weren’t, because they were still an item. They just had to keep it quiet from Don.’
Laura picked up the photograph. ‘Why is that?’
‘We’ll find out later,’ he said. ‘But that’s why Jane’s friends weren’t worried, because they thought she was with Adam.’
‘So is Adam a witness or suspect?’
‘Everyone’s a suspect,’ Joe said. ‘All we know about Adam is that he’s just finished university and is trying to find a job. Jane’s friends seem to like him, but I suppose that doesn’t mean too much.’
‘But if he’s anything to do with Jane’s death,’ Laura said, ‘he’s done it as a copycat, to make us think that Jane was killed by Deborah’s killer. How would a young student find out so much about Deborah’s murder to pull that off?’
Joe smiled. ‘I didn’t say he was high up the list.’
‘At least we’ve got a list,’ Laura said, looking at the picture and then tapping it against her hand. ‘What about her workplace?’
‘The same as with her friends,’ Joe said. ‘She didn’t show up, and when they called home, they spoke with her father. The same answer as before, that he didn’t know where she was but not to worry.’
‘I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘Why would Don shut everyone out when his daughter was missing? Was his hatred for us more important than finding Jane?’
‘Maybe it is more complicated than that,’ Joe said. ‘People who behave in that way often have something to hide.’
‘What, you think that Don Roberts might be involved?’
‘I don’t know, but we have to look,’ Joe said, and then pointed to two detectives at the back of the room, scouring through papers and then looking at a computer screen. ‘That’s their job.’
‘What are they looking at?’ Laura asked.
‘Just old intelligence reports, to check for any allegations of sexual abuse within his family.’
‘Do you think she was about to expose him?’
‘Maybe there was nothing to expose,’ Joe said, ‘but I would rather we looked and found nothing than not look and miss it. A lot of men who kill their daughters do it because they are about to be exposed. It’s a mixture of betrayal and sexual confusion and downright fear that they are about to be shown up for what they really are. So they lash out.’
‘And stuff their daughter’s vagina with leaves and dirt?’ Laura said, her eyebrows raised.
‘Well, that’s pretty extreme,’ Joe replied, ‘but like with the boyfriend, that would be all part of the cover-up, to deflect attention, to make it look like the murder was done by the same person who killed Deborah Corley.’
‘But we didn’t disclose the details of that murder,’ Laura said.
‘So we need to see if there is a leak anywhere,’ Joe said. ‘Don might have some friends in the police. Yes, he’s a crook and a thug, but some officers think that they might pick up some useful information if they keep their enemies close, but in reality, it’s more than that. There’s a bond, like opponents shaking hands away from the arena. I’ve seen a lot of hardline coppers end up working for defence firms, working hard to keep the crooks free. There is one I know who works as a driver for a defence firm, acting like a taxi for criminals, picking them up and taking them to court.’
‘That sounds demeaning,’ Laura said.
‘It is, but it’s not about the money,’ Joe said. ‘It’s just about finding a way to stay in the game, because as much as the cops like to fight the crooks, they love the game more than anything, and they miss it when they retire.’
‘So you think Don Roberts might have received information about how Deborah Corley died and re-enacted it to pass the blame?’
‘It’s just one more possibility.’
Laura sat down and sighed. ‘This could be never-ending.’
‘Worse than that,’ Joe said. ‘We might only find out that Don Roberts isn’t a copycat killer when someone else dies, because he would be stupid to repeat it, just for effect.’
‘We could arrest him,’ Laura said.
Joe shook his head. ‘You’ll get nothing from him. Even if he’s innocent, he’ll clam up.’
‘So what now? A visit to the boyfriend?’
Joe checked his watch. ‘In a couple of hours from now.’
‘Why so long?’
‘Because we’ve got a post-mortem to attend,’ he said, and then pointed towards the door.
When Laura looked around, she saw Carson beckoning them over. She took a deep breath. The queasy feeling in her stomach told her that it was too early in the day to watch a young woman sliced open.