44
When Jack got to Evie’s, the house was quiet. Peering through the windows, he spotted her curled up and asleep on the sofa, but there was no sign of her police guard. Not wanting to disturb her, he made his way down the path to where his car was, then called PC Sara Evans as soon as he was inside it.
Jack didn’t give her a chance to talk. “Who did you speak to when I asked you to arrange someone to meet me?”
Sara sounded baffled. “One of forensics? I’m not sure. It’s been nonstop today. You wouldn’t believe—”
Jack interrupted her. “Was it Miller?”
Sara’s shocked silence echoed down the phone. “Miller? How did you know? Actually, I was on the phone to him when you called. I put him on hold, and then he asked what was going on. I told him how busy I was. He said that he had to call forensics, anyway, that he’d pass on your message. I was just grateful for some help. Honestly, Jack, all kinds of shit has been going on. You’ve no idea. . . .”
Jack tuned her out. He’d always suspected Sara’s inability to deal with pressure. Today she’d proved him right—she’d inadvertently made the biggest mistake of her career. He wondered what other evidence Miller had withheld from them.
“Sara? Can you get on to forensics and ask them to resend their reports from Evie’s house?”
What if Miller had somehow prevented them from seeing any references to the presence of a child? Jack was kicking himself. He should have thought of this before. But it was done now. The question was, what next?
“Do you know who’s scheduled to be at Evie’s the next few nights?” he asked.
“Hold on and I’ll tell you. . . .” He could hear her typing on the keyboard behind reception. “Miller for the next couple of nights, then Underwood.”
Miller again. “Get someone over to Evie’s. Now, Sara. And I want them to stay with her. Twenty-four-hour protection. Anyone except Miller. I don’t want him anywhere near.” Not that Miller would volunteer. Now that he knew they were on to him, he’d be keeping away.
It had never been Jack’s job to oversee this case, but no longer sure who he could trust, he wasn’t taking chances. He went on. “Sara? I want you to have someone ready to go with Abbie to the Pascoes’ farm. More than one person . . .”
“There isn’t anyone. They’re all out.”
“Then call Newquay. Tell them we need backup.” Jack was raising his voice. Sara knew the drill. He shouldn’t have to tell her, least of all now, when time was running out.
“Underwood’s just walked in.”
“Perfect,” Jack said. “Tell him about Miller. Tell him I told you to tell him. And find someone else to go to the Pascoes’.” Then he hung up.
The uneasy feeling was back. In his gut, not just letting him know something was wrong, but twisting, screaming at him. What if more police were involved? How did he know Miller didn’t have an accomplice? Like Underwood? What if Sara was involved, too? What if she didn’t call for backup, and Abbie was on her way to the Pascoes’ farm, and Xander was waiting for her?
His hands were sweaty on the steering wheel as he tried to tell himself he was being paranoid. Underwood was a good officer, but it wasn’t helping. Right now he couldn’t trust anyone.
Just then, his phone buzzed. Jack glanced at it, wondering if it was Abbie, but it was Sara again. “Yes?”
“Jack, I’ve just had a call from the forensics team at the site in the woods. It’s about that third grave. The remains are those of a child. They’ve been there a long time. They’re not saying how long exactly, but it’s more than a few years.”
“Did they say any more about the victim?”
Sara’s words seemed to fill the car. “Only that it’s a child.”
“Thank you, Sara.” Jack’s mind was racing. “Let me know if you hear anything else.” Thank God the remains had been there too long to belong to Evie’s daughter. Was it possible that after all this time, they’d at last found the body of Leah Danning?