I nodded; he was right, she couldn’t be dead. They had found her top but that didn’t necessarily mean she had been…
I stopped, shook myself, as if to rid my head of the haunting images. I could go home but I couldn’t bear to be surrounded by the constant reminders of Zoe. I checked my mobile. It still had plenty of battery life; Stephen or Carter would ring if they heard anything. So instead, I headed in the direction of our cars. I brought my coat up around my ears and walked with purpose. I moved quickly, my feet beating the pavement, my eyes scanning the road for any sign of the police or journalists. As I approached, I noticed police tape across our cars to alert the public that the police were aware of the vandalism problem.
I unlocked my car and tore off the tape. It was as if my car had been branded as evidence of some sorts and then, I realised, sickeningly, it was evidence: of my affair with Robert, of being a terrible mother. I didn’t know any more whether Zoe had run away or whether she had been taken, but it felt like someone was enjoying the slow poisoning of my life. I looked around me, feeling, once again, as if someone was watching me. I shuddered, clambering into my car as quickly as I could and locking the doors.
I started the engine but, after a moment or two, killed it again. What was I doing? Driving around in my car, in its current state, would only attract more attention and so I got out, locked up and started to walk. I had no idea where I was walking to, but I had to release the nervous energy bubbling away inside me. It was only as I approached the top of the hill, the highest point in the village, that I caught sight of Rook Farm. Police cars swarmed the fields and news vans sat at its edges.
A figure was walking quickly away from the farm and up the hill; it looked like a woman, her head bent in concentration and, as she grew closer, I knew it was Eleanor Wyre, the farmer’s wife. My heart caught; I needed to speak to her but she wouldn’t want to speak to me.
I waited and, after ten minutes or so, she was literally feet from where I stood.
‘Mrs Wyre?’
She looked up, saw me, and frowned. ‘What do you want? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?’
Anger flared inside me. ‘I want to know where my daughter is. Why her top was found on your land.’ I moved closer to her, adrenaline pumping around my body. ‘I want to know what your husband has done with my daughter.’
‘My husband does not have your daughter and has certainly not done anything to her.’ She stood a foot away from me now, and I could see her face was quivering with rage. ‘I’ve been questioned; my husband has been questioned again. You shouldn’t even be speaking to me.’
I strode towards her, our faces inches apart. ‘I’m not sure you’re understanding the situation. There is evidence of Zoe on your land and you’re claiming you know nothing about it? I swear to God, if you or your husband have laid a finger on my daughter, I will kill you.’ Spittle landed on my lips as I held eye contact.
Eleanor Wyre’s plethoric, pinched face whitened. ‘You think you’re clever, don’t you? You think you’re cleverer than the rest of us because you’re working up at the university. I can tell you now, you’re not. What you are is a woman who wouldn’t understand a hard day’s work in the field, who wouldn’t understand that we survive day to day, year to year, counting every penny; that you’ve ruined my husband’s reputation with your accusations.’ She peered at me. ‘But you come from your posh house and complain to the police because your daughter’s making stuff up.’
‘Making stuff up!?’
She pushed past me, calling out, ‘Just leave us alone.’
***
When I arrived home, Carter was in the kitchen and there was no sign of Stephen.
‘Freya,’ he said as I entered the room. ‘I need to speak with you.’
I couldn’t breathe. ‘What have you found? Tell me.’
‘No, nothing, sorry.’ He hung his head momentarily. ‘It’s Stephen. He’s been taken to the station.’
I felt myself tense. ‘What? Why?’
‘We’ve been running some other tests on the information we got off his computer.’ He cleared his throat. ‘We found something.’
I grabbed the chair with my hand, steadying myself. ‘Like what?’
‘Abnormal financial activity.’
I felt an odd rush of relief. ‘Yes,’ I said simply.
He eyed me. ‘Are you already aware of this?’ I couldn’t bear the pity in his eyes, so I just nodded and looked away.
‘It’s complicated, Detective. Marriage is hard, and God knows I’m no expert at how to make it work.’
He blinked slowly. ‘Okay. Let’s leave it there, shall we?’
I wished I hadn’t asked. Keeping secrets was hard, but telling the truth was harder.