She worked her way through the sitting room, a cloakroom, drawing room, music room and snug, looking for anything obvious but she couldn’t help noticing the floor-length curtains, the intricate pelmets, the ornate cornicing and delicate chandeliers. Every room had a spectacular view of the surrounding land.
By the time she reached the kitchen, her hopes of finding Grace were dwindling. She opened the door of the double fridge and freezer. Both of his earlier victims had been taken care of with one hot meal, sandwiches, drinks and occasional sweets. It was the greenest, leafiest fridge she’d ever seen. It looked nothing like her own, which held a half tub of Lurpak butter, a few cheeses and her one nod to good health, which was a few small bottles of Actimel.
She saw no evidence of feeding a child.
But wouldn’t he be expecting this? she asked herself. He had come to the police station. He’d arranged for the digging to be done at Hawne Park. It wasn’t much of a stretch to believe he’d cleared out his fridge.
He saw this coming before he’d even stepped into the station.
Kim continued her journey around the kitchen and back into the hallway with a sinking feeling. Grace Lennard was not here. There was no way Steven Harte would have led them to her until he was good and ready.
She had the unsettling sensation of being an actor, that she was following a script that had been written a long time ago.
‘Nothing obvious upstairs,’ Bryant said, arriving in the kitchen.
‘All ten bedrooms and three bathrooms checked as well as another two reception rooms.’
‘Cellar is all clear,’ Mitch said, following closely behind Bryant. ‘Although if you did want to keep someone captive, you could easily do it down there. Six separate rooms all as creepy and dark as each other.’
‘Not his style,’ Kim said, considering the accounts of the girls he’d brought back. Both had spoken of a van parked right outside a front door. There had been no mention of dark, enclosed spaces.
‘Still gonna start down there,’ Mitch said, right before she suggested it. Melody Jones had never come home. There was no body but there might be traces of DNA. Steven Harte had bought this house around the same time Melody had disappeared. There was a chance she could have spent time here.
‘Floor plans?’ she asked.
Mitch nodded. ‘As they were when the property was sold.’
Bryant nodded his agreement.
No rooms had been added since he’d taken ownership of the house. There were no secret spaces added designed to keep someone prisoner.
‘Nothing obvious outside in the coach house and outbuildings,’ Inspector Weaver said, arriving in the kitchen.
Kim refreshed her phone and held up the details of the house to the inspector.
‘How many acres?’ he asked.
‘Forty-seven. And every one of them needs to be checked and searched.’
He ran a hand through his brown hair. ‘Well that’s me sorted until retirement,’ he said, reaching for his radio. ‘Best get on to the boss and get some more bodies.’ He paused. ‘Actually, that wasn’t the best choice of words I could have used but you know what I meant.’
Kim nodded. Thank God there was no blooper reel at the end of each case.
‘Just one more room,’ she said, stepping towards what she was sure was Steven Harte’s study.
The push of the door met with no resistance, and the impact upon opening the door was immediate. This room was located at the back of the house. Double doors were right in front of her. As with every other room, the view was breathtaking. Every angle had something different to offer: mature trees, the lake. She’d even seen a couple of geese.
But none of that compared to the view of a wisteria tunnel framing a path that led to the gate of a walled garden.
‘He’s not short of stuff to look at, is he?’ Bryant said, following her gaze.
It was getting more and more difficult to keep in her mind that this was the home of a man who liked to abduct and murder young girls.
She stood and took a moment to inhale what was probably the most personal space in the house for Steven Harte.
It was the space where he would keep the things most important to him.
Bryant was already opening and closing desk drawers. He was going to come up empty. She knew that now. Harte knew they’d be here sooner or later and had prepared his home accordingly.
Her gaze took in the walls and the glass display cabinets fixed to every available space. Many of them were encased butterflies.
She took a closer look. She’d never paid much attention to butterflies, but seeing them so close together she could see the different sizes and shapes and, above all, the colours. Each butterfly was labelled with a name like Macedonia Grayling, Sinai Baton Blue, Island Marble. With twenty to twenty-five in each frame, she was guessing there were hundreds. There were other frames, all housing some kind of colourful insect. One was labelled as Planthopper, some kind of hard-backed insect with unique camouflage design. There were Jewel Beetles, Flame Skimmer Dragonflies, Orchid Mantis, Nettle Grub Caterpillar.
Kim knew this was no ordinary insect collection. Every item was unique and vibrant and exotic. She was sure you could look at these displays every day and still find something you hadn’t noticed before.
‘Okay, Bryant, we’re out,’ she said as he completed his first circuit of the room. ‘Mitch, special efforts for the hard drive that’s running the CCTV.’
He nodded his understanding.
‘Guv, don’t you think a secondary search—?’
‘She’s not here, Bryant,’ Kim said. ‘There may be some kind of clue, which I’m confident Mitch will find, but right now I want another chat with Mr Harte. I think I’ve worked out one of his secrets.’
Thirty-Seven
‘Anything on his phone?’ Kim asked once she’d taken her first sip of coffee. The day was moving fast, and every hour without evidence to charge Steven Harte was running down the clock.
‘Sent to Ridgepoint, boss,’ Stacey said. ‘I can’t get into it. I mean, he’s a software developer,’ she said as a defence.
‘That’s how he watches them,’ Kim said. His home was open and available because he knew he’d left nothing to find. If his phone was locked then there was a reason for it.
‘His phone must monitor the gate security system too,’ Penn offered. He’d known their every movement when they’d had him under surveillance.
‘Mitch has already prioritised trying to find the hard drive at the house, but gee up Ridgepoint, Stace, and make sure they understand the urgency of getting into that phone.’
‘Well, he sure couldn’t stay off it when you weren’t around,’ Alison said.
‘Fuck,’ Kim growled. He’d probably been watching Grace the whole time. The path to finding her was in that phone, and they just couldn’t get into it.
‘But if he’s watching her she’s still alive,’ Bryant offered as the printer kicked into life. Kim had asked Stacey to print off photos of all of the little girls. Little blobs of Blu-Tack were rolled and ready for her to put them on the board.
‘Okay, Penn, projects he’s undertaken?’ Kim asked.
‘We’re talking hundreds, boss. Some local, some national. He’s funded small projects and others costing thousands. I still haven’t got all of them.’