He resented the fact that she didn’t believe him, but before he could say another word the living room door was pulled open by a thickset man in a grey suit. He was in his thirties, with dark curly hair and a blotchy complexion. He flashed a warrant card at Harry.
‘DI Dean Warley. You’re Mr French?’
As Harry nodded, Alice said, ‘They just got here, so it’s quite handy you’re home.’
‘Knocked off early?’ the detective asked, but Harry still hadn’t found his voice.
‘It’s a rare treat, believe me,’ Alice said on his behalf.
DI Warley backed into the living room, allowing Alice and Harry to follow. Evie was on her playmat, cheerfully kicking and waving. A young woman was kneeling beside her. She wore a blue suit, and shoes with stiletto heels that jabbed into the sofa as she leaned over and cooed at the baby. Warley introduced her as DC Cassell.
‘Sian,’ the woman said. She was pale and thin, almost malnourished. She had long red hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her features were sharp and severe, and seemed designed to portray hostility.
Harry remained standing, as did DI Warley, while Alice took a seat close to Cassell. It was Warley who spoke first.
‘We were just asking your wife what she could tell us about the men who broke in last night. Very little, it appears?’
‘I’m afraid so. They wore masks and gloves.’ Harry turned to Alice. ‘Did you mention their feet?’
‘What? Oh, no.’
Harry explained: ‘They’d tied plastic bags over their boots. I assume it’s so they didn’t leave any trace evidence.’
‘Could be.’ The detective looked faintly amused. ‘Sounds very thorough. What about their voices? Would you recognise either of them, if you heard them again?’
Harry was deliberating when Alice said, ‘ Yes .’ It was so vehement that they all looked in her direction. ‘When somebody puts a knife to your baby’s throat and says he’ll drain the blood out of her, you don’t tend to forget it.’
Warley sucked his teeth, as if affected by this show of emotion. He wandered across the room, peering at a couple of family portraits on the wall, eased past the dining table and came to a stop by the patio doors.
‘And this is where they got in?’
Harry nodded, and Alice said, ‘We thought it best to fix it quickly. My uncle replaced the lock this morning.’
‘That was handy.’ DC Cassell grinned, and after a second so did Alice, but rather uncertainly. She glanced at Harry and her expression changed. It was like watching a cloud passing over the sun.
Almost to herself, she said, ‘How did—?’
Twelve
S he broke off mid-sentence . Harry saw the panic in her eyes and guessed what it was. If the detectives had only just arrived, Alice wouldn’t have had time to describe the break-in.
So how could they know this was the point of entry?
Harry saved her with a question of his own, phrased in the same way. ‘How did you hear about this? We didn’t report it.’
DC Cassell, who seemed just as eager to dismiss the awkward hesitation, said, ‘We’re acting on information received from, uh, a confidential source …’
A sharp look at DI Warley, who nodded. ‘This is part of a wider investigation.’
‘Into what?’ Harry asked.
‘I’m afraid we’re not able to say.’
Harry pretended to look annoyed. He sat down next to Alice, his mind working frantically to get a grip on this situation. The crucial thing to avoid was the sort of accusation that Alice’s question had nearly provoked.
You’re not detectives.
It would be so easy to say. So easy to demand a closer look at their warrant cards, and call the local police station to verify them.
And then what?
The woman, Cassell, was kneeling beside Evie. One wrong word and she could snatch their daughter into her grasp, just as the man with the knife had done last night.
Harry nudged against Alice, his hand finding hers and squeezing it. He was praying that she too understood the danger they
‘DI Dean Warley. You’re Mr French?’
As Harry nodded, Alice said, ‘They just got here, so it’s quite handy you’re home.’
‘Knocked off early?’ the detective asked, but Harry still hadn’t found his voice.
‘It’s a rare treat, believe me,’ Alice said on his behalf.
DI Warley backed into the living room, allowing Alice and Harry to follow. Evie was on her playmat, cheerfully kicking and waving. A young woman was kneeling beside her. She wore a blue suit, and shoes with stiletto heels that jabbed into the sofa as she leaned over and cooed at the baby. Warley introduced her as DC Cassell.
‘Sian,’ the woman said. She was pale and thin, almost malnourished. She had long red hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her features were sharp and severe, and seemed designed to portray hostility.
Harry remained standing, as did DI Warley, while Alice took a seat close to Cassell. It was Warley who spoke first.
‘We were just asking your wife what she could tell us about the men who broke in last night. Very little, it appears?’
‘I’m afraid so. They wore masks and gloves.’ Harry turned to Alice. ‘Did you mention their feet?’
‘What? Oh, no.’
Harry explained: ‘They’d tied plastic bags over their boots. I assume it’s so they didn’t leave any trace evidence.’
‘Could be.’ The detective looked faintly amused. ‘Sounds very thorough. What about their voices? Would you recognise either of them, if you heard them again?’
Harry was deliberating when Alice said, ‘ Yes .’ It was so vehement that they all looked in her direction. ‘When somebody puts a knife to your baby’s throat and says he’ll drain the blood out of her, you don’t tend to forget it.’
Warley sucked his teeth, as if affected by this show of emotion. He wandered across the room, peering at a couple of family portraits on the wall, eased past the dining table and came to a stop by the patio doors.
‘And this is where they got in?’
Harry nodded, and Alice said, ‘We thought it best to fix it quickly. My uncle replaced the lock this morning.’
‘That was handy.’ DC Cassell grinned, and after a second so did Alice, but rather uncertainly. She glanced at Harry and her expression changed. It was like watching a cloud passing over the sun.
Almost to herself, she said, ‘How did—?’
Twelve
S he broke off mid-sentence . Harry saw the panic in her eyes and guessed what it was. If the detectives had only just arrived, Alice wouldn’t have had time to describe the break-in.
So how could they know this was the point of entry?
Harry saved her with a question of his own, phrased in the same way. ‘How did you hear about this? We didn’t report it.’
DC Cassell, who seemed just as eager to dismiss the awkward hesitation, said, ‘We’re acting on information received from, uh, a confidential source …’
A sharp look at DI Warley, who nodded. ‘This is part of a wider investigation.’
‘Into what?’ Harry asked.
‘I’m afraid we’re not able to say.’
Harry pretended to look annoyed. He sat down next to Alice, his mind working frantically to get a grip on this situation. The crucial thing to avoid was the sort of accusation that Alice’s question had nearly provoked.
You’re not detectives.
It would be so easy to say. So easy to demand a closer look at their warrant cards, and call the local police station to verify them.
And then what?
The woman, Cassell, was kneeling beside Evie. One wrong word and she could snatch their daughter into her grasp, just as the man with the knife had done last night.
Harry nudged against Alice, his hand finding hers and squeezing it. He was praying that she too understood the danger they
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