Waterhouse And Zailer: The Carrier Part 22

"Nothing happened to her," Hamer insisted. "Gaby looks after number one, always. She never slips up. Shes . . . whats the word?"

Gibbs was tempted to say something random-"wheelbarrow"-in order to hear Hamer say, "No, thats not the word I was looking for."

Yes, it is. And let me "prove" it by saying once more: yes, it is.

"To be honest, Ill be happy if I never hear the name Gaby Struthers again," Hamer said.

"Youll be deaf if you never hear the name Gaby Struthers again," Gibbs told him. "Youre sure shes not made contact since she left here yesterday evening?"

"We barely had contact before she left." Hamer craned his neck again to check on the muted footballers. This time he didnt turn back, but carried on talking with the back of his head facing Gibbs. "Thats why Im not going to miss her. She was never here, and even when she was, her mind was on her next work trip, or . . . him, probably. Tim Breary. Shes only done this to worry me: faking this attack, making me think shes been kidnapped or something."

"Kidnapped?" The word leaped out at Gibbs. "Why do you say that?"

"Thats what she wants me to think, probably. Or worse: raped, murdered, chopped up into little pieces." Reluctantly, Hamer turned back to Gibbs. He shrugged. "Who knows?"

"You dont seem worried," said Gibbs.

"Im not. From now on, Ill be worrying about number one. Ive been all about Gaby for too long. Not anymore."

Gibbs didnt believe for a second that Hamers air of "Why should I care about anyone but me?" was less than twenty-four hours old. If hed been devoted to Gaby as recently as yesterday, he wouldnt be casually talking about her being chopped up into little pieces today.

"Did you follow her when she left?" Gibbs asked him. "In your car, or on foot? Or maybe you phoned her."

"No, I let her go."

"Really? Your live-in girlfriend walks out on the relations.h.i.+p after years and years, and you dont run after her?"

"Id had lots of practice," said Hamer. "Ive been letting Gaby walk out on me since we first got together. She was always going away. I was used to it."

"For work, you mean?"

Hamer nodded. "I dont know many blokes whod put up with it, to be honest."

Gibbs found this idea interesting, being a bloke who both would and wouldnt put up with it. From Debbie: no chance, but if he were married to Liv, or if they lived together . . . The way Gibbs felt at the moment, hed willingly have accepted Liv being away six nights a week if he could spend one out of seven in the same bed as her. He wondered if he was only feeling this way because her wedding was coming up.

Could all women be divided into two categories: the ones whod alter their behavior depending on what a man would or wouldnt put up with, and the ones who wouldnt?

"Where were you when Gaby left the house?" Gibbs asked Hamer.

"I was in here. I told you, wed had words. It was clearly over between us. I left her upstairs, came in here, shut the door, watched the footie. When I heard the front door close, I knew what it meant and I thought, Good riddance."

"You didnt go out into the hall and look to see where she was going, then?"

"No. I stayed in here."

Gibbs eyed the silky dragons on the bag that dangled from the doork.n.o.b. Shame they couldnt corroborate.

"So you didnt see if she had a suitcase with her?"

"No, but shes taken a lot of her clothes. I had a look when I went up to bed last night."

"You didnt see if she did or didnt drive off in her car?"

"I didnt care."

Gibbs was becoming increasingly convinced that Hamer cared about Gaby a lot, albeit in a sullen and counterproductive way. The way lots of men cared about women. Including him? No, he hadnt been sullen with Liv for a long time. He spared her that side of himself, took it home to Debbie instead. It wasnt fair, he knew that, but it was simpler for him to keep the light and dark separate; a relief, in an odd sort of way, to be two completely different people sharing a body instead of what hed been for so long before he met Liv: a d.i.c.khead on permanent autopilot who never considered how he felt and wouldnt have been able to work it out even if he had thought about it.

Liv had saved him. His biggest fear was that her marriage would change things between them, throw him back to where hed been before.

"Did you hear Gabys car at all?" he asked Hamer. "Or any cars?"

"Nope. I turned the volume up and concentrated on the footie. Tried to, anyway. Your lot made that a bit difficult."

"According to PC Joseph and PC Chase, you were the one who made things difficult for them," said Gibbs. "They said you refused to answer their questions and wouldnt let them in without a warrant. Both described your behavior and att.i.tude as suspicious."

Hamer shook his head as if he couldnt believe it. "Look, I just wanted rid of them as soon as possible, so I kept them on the doorstep."

"Thats the part they found suspicious, given that they were trying to find your missing girlfriend."

"Ex," Hamer said.

"Know what PC Joseph said to me? I shouldnt tell you, but I will. He said you were acting like you had a dead body propped up behind the door and couldnt wait to get rid of him so that you could bury it in the garden."

Hamers mouth twitched. Then he chuckled. "Thats funny," he said.

"Well be applying for the warrant as soon as Gabys been missing twenty-four hours."

"Search the house now if you like," said Hamer. "And the garden. Be my guest. I didnt have a dead body propped anywhere. I just didnt want to miss any more of the football. Thats why I sent your copper mates packing. Ive wasted enough of my life on Gaby-I didnt want to waste any more. Id have told them that, but . . . well, it sounds a bit harsh, doesnt it? If you dont know the context."

Gibbs would have enjoyed updating Hamers definition of the word "harsh," but that would have been unprofessional. He hoped that, wherever Gaby Struthers was and whatever had happened to her, she was at least able to appreciate not being here anymore.

He stood up. "Ill start upstairs, then," he told Hamer.

- "We all knew Tims ID: @mildcitizen," Kerry Jose told Sam. "Its the t.i.tle of one of his favorite poems, by a poet called Glyn Maxwell. His pa.s.swords 'dowerhousetim. We all knew that too. Actually, we suggested it, when he was having trouble thinking of anything."

"Who suggested it?" Charlie asked.

Kerrys face reddened. "I cant remember," she said. "We were all here, together. In this room. Tim was sitting here, where Im sitting now, with his laptop on his knees."

Lauren Cookson-skinny, pale as a hologram and wrapped in a fluffy brown dressing gown-nodded along to Kerrys words as if urging them on.

"Here?" Charlie made no attempt to hide her sarcasm. "Cl.u.s.tered round the fire, gla.s.ses of wine in hand, all discussing what Tim should call himself on a social media site, and what his pa.s.sword should be?"

"Yes," Kerry half whispered.

"Was Jason here too?"

"Yes."

Again, Lauren nodded vigorously in support of Kerrys answer.

"How sociable that all of you were involved," Charlie said in a flat voice. "How inclusive. Definitely not just one of you who knew Tims details, then."

"So, any of you could have tweeted three times from his account last night," said Sam. "We know he didnt; we have a prison librarians witness statement telling us that. So which one of you did it?"

"None of us." Kerrys voice shook. "We were here all evening, together. From when Jason brought Lauren back from the airport at four-thirty until we went to bed. At eleven."

"Safety in numbers," Charlie muttered. "Okay, lets try this: Kerry, youve proved youve learned all your lines-well done. Youve had your turn as spokesperson. Lauren, why dont you take over for a bit? Wheres Jason this morning?"

Sam was trying not to think about Agatha Christies Murder on the Orient Express, in which all the suspects had committed the murder together. It was hard. The Dower House was exactly the sort of house that might turn up in an ITV Poirot adaptation, and, though Kerry and Dan Jose called the room they were sitting in "the lounge," Sam couldnt think of it as anything but a drawing room, with its ornately carved stone fireplace, shutters, deep wooden window seats and decoratively plastered ceiling. It was immaculately tidy, in startling contrast to the kitchen, which was the messiest room Sam had ever seen. It was rare to encounter the two extremes in the same house.

Charlie had walked over to the window, and stood facing the greenery beyond and the drizzle-grayed air. Was she also thinking about Murder on the Orient Express?

Tim Breary, Kerry Jose, Dan Jose, Lauren Cookson, Jason Cookson. Perhaps they werent jointly responsible for Francines murder, or for the attack on Gaby last night. In which case, why did they tell each new lie as a perfectly coordinated group? They also stared and turned away in unison, Sam had noticed. When he looked at them-at any of them-they all lowered their eyes, but whenever he averted his, he could feel three pairs boring into him. Two of them, Kerrys and Laurens, had been red and swollen when Sam and Charlie had arrived this morning, and, though Dan Jose didnt look as if hed been crying, he seemed even more embedded in despair than the women. Hed hardly spoken, but Sam had noticed a stunned heaviness to his words and movements that suggested he couldnt quite believe where hed ended up and couldnt see a way to get himself out. Like Lauren, he was wearing pajamas and a dressing gown; Kerry was the only one of the three whod managed to get dressed, though Sam had given them an hour and a halfs notice.

"Lauren?" Charlie prompted.

Lauren burst into tears and buried her face in the brown collar of her dressing gown. "Why cant you lot f.u.c.king leave us alone?" she said through its material.

"Jasons working on a friends house renovations today," said Kerry. "h.e.l.l be out all day."

"Doesnt matter," said Charlie. "You can just tell us what he would have said if hed been here. Or is there a script somewhere, with his lines highlighted?"

"No, there isnt," Kerry answered as if it had been a serious question.

"Any questions youd like to ask us?" Sam said, looking at Dan.

"I thought you were here to ask us stuff, not the other way round!" Lauren snapped. Sam was swiftly coming to the conclusion that she wasnt as helpless as hed a.s.sumed when hed first seen her.

"Im just wondering why none of yous asked what was in the tweets sent from Tims Twitter account last night," he said. "Unless you already know?"

Dan gripped the thin upholstered arms of his chair. Kerry recovered quickest. "I would have asked, but I didnt think youd be willing to tell us," she said.

Sam produced a folded piece of paper from his pocket, spread it open on his lap. "Tims only tweeted six times, and three of them werent him. Numbers one to three were from May last year. The first two were a quote from a poem that wouldnt fit into one tweet. No mention of the t.i.tle or who wrote it: 'I have portrayed temptation as amusing. / Now he can either waver or abstain. / His is a superior kind of losing / And mine is an inferior brand of gain. The third ones also a quote. No t.i.tle this time, but the poets C. H. Sisson: 'The best thing to say is nothing / And that I do not say / But I will say it, when I lie / In silence all the day."

"Tim loved that poem," Kerry said. She and Dan looked at each other, exchanged a silent message that Sam couldnt interpret. He caught the emotional charge, though: pain.

"Tweets four to six are from last night," he said. "Theyre a bit less poetic. 'Call police urgent women being attacked outside her house horse fair lane spilling dont no number please dont ignore-thats the first one. Then 'URGENT women Gaby Struthers being attacked in drive back of house he will rape kill her if someone doesnt call police. And the last one: 'help Gaby Struthers ring police NOW I cant do anything freekin out THIS NOT A WIND UP!!!"

"Any of you know anything about those last three tweets?" Charlie asked.

Lauren and Kerry shook their heads. Dan stared down at his lap.

"Dan?" Sam asked.

"No. Nothing." He couldnt have sounded more defeated.

"Is that true?" Sam asked. "Because we dont know where Gaby is. Anything you can tell us might help us find her."

"You dont know where she is?" Lauren erupted, flying up out of her chair like a wild animal. "What the f.u.c.ks that supposed to mean?" She stood in front of Sam, shaking with rage, as if it was his fault-as if hed deliberately mislaid Gaby Struthers out of spite.

"Lauren, calm down," Kerry warned.

"She means 'Be quiet, Lauren," said Charlie. "Shes worried youre going to say something by mistake that isnt a lie."

"Why arent you out looking for her?" Lauren sobbed. "Why are you p.i.s.sing about here when you should be out finding Gaby?" She turned to Kerry. "What if shes done something stupid? She wouldnt, would she? Gabys the last person to do anything stupid, someone as clever as her?"

Kerry closed her eyes.

"Were doing everything we can to find her," Sam said.

"No, youre not! Youre sitting in a f.u.c.king chair, doing f.u.c.k all!"

"Were not the only two police officers in the Culver Valley," said Charlie.

"I never said you were, did I?"

"Other detectives are doing everything they can to find Gaby, before shes even officially missing," Sam explained. "The hotels nearest to HMP Combingham are the first port of call. If we have no luck there, well contact her family, friends-"

"You could be doing that now," Lauren said accusingly. "Instead of sitting on your a.r.s.e in a big posh house!"

"Sam isnt here to improve his social standing," Charlie told her.

"Ive already spoken to some of Gabys closest colleagues this morning, including the one who rang in about the tweets, Xavier Salvat." Sam had been suspicious of Salvats explanation at first-that hed found the tweets while searching for Gabys name on Twitter for no particular reason. Hed claimed he did it often, out of curiosity, to see if there was any mention of Gaby, Rawndesley Technological Generics, the work they were doing. Sam had found the randomness of this rather implausible, but he knew Charlie disagreed. Her sister, shed told him, was always searching Twitter for mentions of her own name and the names of people she knew, to "keep up with the gossip," apparently.

Lauren had appeared right in front of Sams face. She jabbed her finger at him. "Stop talking and start doing," she ordered him. "If Gabys done something stupid . . ."

"Just hold on a second, Lauren," said Charlie. "However convenient it might be to blame us, what about your own role in this? If Gabys in danger-any kind of danger, from herself or anyone else-do you really think youre helping her by lying to us? I know you want to help her, and I understand that youre scared-"

"Im not!"

"You are. Youre terrified of the truth, whatever it is." Charlie started to walk toward her. "Thats why you went all the way to Germany to talk to Gaby, isnt it? You wanted to tell her what was happening to Tim-you wanted to tell her he was innocent, so she could do something about it-and you knew the only way you could bring yourself to go through with it was in another country, thousands of miles from home. A different world, nothing to do with the rest of your life. Even then, you couldnt do it, could you? You ran away."

Lauren was biting her nails, staring down at the polished wooden floorboards.

"If you care so much about Gaby-"

"I do!"

"Then why did you only get upset when you heard she was missing?" Charlie asked. "Why didnt you get upset when Sam read you three tweets about her being attacked, maybe raped and killed? Do you want me to tell you why you didnt?"

"I want you to f.u.c.k off!" Lauren yelled in her face.

Sam jumped. He wished he could emulate Charlies composure in the face of aggression.

"You didnt get upset by the tweets because you already knew about the attack on Gaby, didnt you?" Charlie turned to Kerry and Dan. "You all knew-thats why the red eyes this morning. But you thought Gaby was all right after the attack: alive, in one piece, not too badly harmed. How do I know that? Because when you heard she was missing, Lauren, you asked Kerry if she might have done something stupid. Even though you knew from the tweets that there was a good chance Gaby had been attacked outside her house, you knew her attacker wasnt responsible for her going missing, didnt you? Maybe you were there, watching-one or all of you. Maybe one of you was the attacker. Maybe all of you were."

"How can you think that?" Kerrys voice shook. "Thats . . . disgusting. I love Gaby. Id never hurt her."