THE PRETTY VILLAGE of Acklington wasn’t far away, a short distance inland from the coast, less than a mile and a half from the prison where Kent worked. If you didn’t know anyone who lived there, there would be no point ever stopping. Blink and you’d miss it – population less than five hundred.
When Kent opened the door, he looked neither happy nor surprised. Robson did the introductions and asked if they could step inside. Grunting his consent, the prison officer stood aside to let them in. Kate’s driving glasses steamed up as she entered the house. Removing them, she slipped them into her jacket pocket, eyeing the shabby room.
An open window wouldn’t go amiss. It was like a sauna in there.
An ironing board stood open in the centre of the room. Water bubbled out of the holes of the iron and on to the carpet beneath. A pile of uniform shirts had been dumped on the sofa waiting for attention. The flat-screen TV was tuned to a foreign football game. No photographs of Sophie on display, the DCI noticed.
Interesting.
‘You know why I’m here?’ Kate asked.
‘Guess so,’ he replied. ‘But I haven’t changed my mind. I’m not going to either.’
‘I don’t want to give you any more grief, Mr Kent. It would really help us if you’d cooperate.’
He didn’t answer.
‘OK, you leave me no choice. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think we may have found Sophie, even though samples taken at the time she went missing tell us different. I need to clarify who my victim is once and for all. The only way to do that is to obtain samples from you. I take it Sophie is your biological child?’
‘As far as I’m aware! Although, knowing my late wife, that can’t be guaranteed.’
An evasive answer or an honest one?
‘You do see our problem?’ Kate said.
Hard eyes fixed on her.
Shifting the ironing board out of his way, Kent sat down, dropping his head into his hands. The DCI waited. She couldn’t tell if he was going to admit switching his daughter’s samples, leap up and lamp her one, or just crumble. He did none of those things, although he was visibly upset.
Kate asked herself if his grief was genuine. Or had he replayed this moment a million times over in the past decade to the point that he was able to treat them to an Oscar-winning performance? If so, he was playing a blinder.
She waited for him to look up. ‘Will you give consent?’
‘No . . . I won’t.’
Pressing her lips together, she fought the urge to tell him not to be such a dick. Time to up the ante.
‘After what I’ve told you, there are three reasons why you’d refuse to give a sample of DNA. One: you don’t think we’ve done our jobs properly and you’re angry. If that is the case, I can only apologize, sir. I’d be livid too, in your position.’
He didn’t admit or deny it was so.
‘Two: you’re scared. You don’t want to know who we found because if it is Sophie you have to face the fact that she’s never coming home.’ Kate spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. ‘Fear is also entirely logical. We’re not robots, Mr Kent. Believe me when I tell you we feel the pain too, especially where children are involved.’
She paused.
He was nervous, waiting for her to verbalize the third reason. She wasn’t going to make it too easy for him. She wanted him to sweat. She wanted those samples and would do anything to get them. Right now, the only way open to her was to apply a little pressure.
Robson looked at the floor. He knew what was coming.
As so he bloody should. He was a murder detective, a good one too until he fell from grace at work and at home. His own doing. Well, he’d had his last chance. More than one, if the truth were known. Kate wouldn’t stand for a lightweight on her team. It was time they had a little chat. If he couldn’t cut it, it was bye-bye, Robbo.
She eyeballed Kent. He was never going to love her but he’d respect her if she were straight with him. Even the worst scumbags responded to that. And this was no time to lose her bottle. ‘I can see you’ve already worked out the third reason,’ she said. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
He didn’t speak.
‘OK, let me spell it out for you. You don’t want to give your DNA because you know full well who is in that Bamburgh grave – because you put her there.’
Still nothing.
‘Have it your own way then.’
‘You people make me sick!’ Kent stood up suddenly, his eyes full of contempt.
Kate braced herself for an attack, verbal or physical, but it never came. The warrant card in her pocket suddenly felt heavier than it had ever done before. If this man was innocent – a homicide victim’s father – then what she’d just accused him of was unforgivable. That didn’t make her feel good. But she had a job to do. And she had to do it no matter whom she upset. Her first responsibility was to her victim.
‘I didn’t murder my daughter.’ Kent didn’t raise his voice as he made his feelings known. ‘And for the record, I do think the police are a bunch of incompetent arseholes. I’ll give you the samples. What’s the point of refusing? You’re going to arrest me otherwise, isn’t that right?’
Daniels didn’t reply.