‘You wish, Bryant. You’re coming in there with me.’
After the morning they’d had so far, there were more than a few questions that Kim wanted to put to Steven Harte.
Twenty-Four
‘Hello, Mr Harte, thank you for coming in to speak to us again,’ Kim said, sitting down.
‘My aim is only to help, Inspector,’ he said, sitting up in his seat.
‘Of course,’ she said, reaching into her back pocket. She slid a £20 note across the table towards him. ‘That should cover Penn’s supper for last night. He gets expenses.’
He held up his hand in refusal.
She pushed it further. ‘Mr Harte, I must insist.’
She was not prepared to face bribery slurs in any potential trial. His defence could make a meal out of that one. Literally.
‘Understood, Inspector, but I don’t like the feeling of going backwards. I’m sure we agreed yesterday that you would call me Steven.’
‘Okay, Steven, why are you here and what do you want?’
‘I want nothing more than to assist you with your enquiries.’
‘Okay, where is Grace Lennard?’
He smiled and sat back in his chair. ‘I’m sure Grace Lennard is fine, wherever she is. We have many other things to talk about.’
Kim felt Bryant bristle beside her. Like her, he didn’t appreciate Harte’s attempts to control the direction of the narrative but they had agreed outside that she would lead the questioning.
‘Where is Melody Jones?’
‘Did you speak to her family?’
‘We did and I’m intrigued to know why you sent us in that direction. Did you want to cause even more hurt? Don’t you think they’ve suffered enough?’
‘I’m not sure they’ve suffered at all, but I thought you’d be interested in her background.’
‘Yes, we were very interested, but how did you know so much about her background? How closely did you follow her family?’
‘Please ask me one question at a time,’ he said, tapping the side of his head. ‘I struggle to keep up.’
Bryant shifted in his seat. She was sure it was taking all his effort not to reach across the table and try to shake the information from him. Luckily for her, Bryant had excellent self-control because brute force was not going to work.
‘I’m sorry, Steven, but I don’t believe that for a minute. You are simply trying to control the conversation.’
He was no idiot, and neither was she.
He smiled. ‘In answer to your first question, I knew so much about her background because like any concerned citizen at that time I watched the news, I read the articles, I saw the interviews. I watched as Lyla Jones frowned less and smiled more. I watched as the make-up she wore became thicker and better applied. I watched as her hair darkened and became styled. I watched her confidence grow along with her bank balance.’
‘You know her finances?’
‘I can imagine she was paid for many of her appearances. I watched as Melody’s disappearance became less about Melody and more about her.’
Kim disputed none of it. ‘But what were you hoping we’d find?’
He shrugged.
Kim couldn’t help wondering if he was trying in some way to ease his own guilt for taking Melody’s life by trying to convince them her life hadn’t been all that great.
‘So, what else have you dug up while you’ve been gone?’ he asked, meeting her gaze.
Kim was sure she heard a low growl from Bryant’s throat at Harte’s play on words but she’d decided before entering the room that she was going to share nothing of the discovery at Hawne Park.
If she was correct, that he was here because he had known Melody’s body was going to be uncovered, he would be expecting her questions to centre around that. She wasn’t going there until she had more information and could ask the questions she really wanted to ask. It was also important that he understood that he was not in control.
‘We met with a woman named Suzie Keene. You might remember her.’
Amusement danced in his eyes, but he offered no response.
‘Suzie Keene was nine years old when she was abducted in 1994. Kept from her family for a year.’
‘Oh yes, I remember Suzie. I read a lot of articles about her and her family too.’
Kim saw what game they were playing and realised she had no choice but to play along.
‘And what do you remember from those articles, Steven?’
‘I remember thinking she was a shy and sensitive girl. Withdrawn. I felt she was having problems with her family when she disappeared. Her parents didn’t appear very close when they did their television appeal. I heard they became close again while Suzie was gone, and then she miraculously reappeared sometime later and rejoined a happy family.’
‘A year later,’ she emphasised.
‘It’s a long time.’
‘She claimed she was untouched.’
His face creased in disgust. ‘Only a sicko would do that.’
‘Then one wonders what kind of sicko had her at all.’
He fought down any emotion that was trying to show on his face. She noted that particular trigger for use if she needed it.
He recovered quickly. ‘And how has she fared in life after her terrible experience?’
Kim would not give him the satisfaction of answering that one.
He tipped his head. ‘I’m sure I read somewhere that she was now an architect. Is that correct?’
Again, Kim said nothing.
‘Unbelievable, isn’t it? That someone can experience an event in their life so unsettling and for it to have no impact on them in later life. In fact, one could even wonder if the experience was a positive one that—’
‘She was ripped from her family and held captive for a year,’ Kim said, unable to listen to his twisted perspective.
‘I wonder if that’s how she remembers it?’ he said, tipping his head.
Kim took a moment to reflect over the things he’d said. There was nothing that he couldn’t have got from the media outlets at the time. There was nothing specific to tie him to the crime. He was an intelligent man, and his answers were well rehearsed.
‘I would imagine it was a staycation for Libby Turner two years later too, wasn’t it? I’ve got a feeling you read a lot about her too?’
Kim was coming to realise that he couldn’t hide the small bursts of triumph that came into his eyes. She made another mental note as he answered.
‘Funny you should say that, Officer, because I remember her very well indeed.’
Twenty-Five
‘One minute I was playing hide and seek in the woods and the next I woke up in a room I didn’t recognise.’
Penn nodded and encouraged her to continue.
Libby Turner had graciously agreed to speak to him and had guided him through to a sun room at the back of her detached new-build home on the outskirts of Wrexham.
It had the best light in the house to aid her business as a jewellery maker. The sun shone in and reflected off the stones, clasps and tools that littered an antique workbench.
‘I was scared but I wasn’t hurt. No one spoke to me. Food arrived in the night while I slept, but I couldn’t eat because I thought the food was poisoned. On the second or third day there was a note. It simply said: “No one is going to hurt you”.’