‘I’m sure I read that both her parents were career driven. They both worked exceptionally long hours.’
‘How very awful of them both to try and make a decent life for their family.’
‘I read that she spent more time with nannies and childminders than with her own parents. Such a shame.’
‘It’s a shame she’s dead,’ Kim snapped.
‘It is, and she seemed like such a sweet little girl,’ he said calmly.
Kim felt her fists clenching at his tone. She knew she had to rein in her anger. He was using it to control the course of the conversation.
Swift’s tense expression told Kim she was eager to move on.
‘Do you have any idea how she came to be buried at the site of a project worked on by both you and a convicted sex offender?’
‘I have no idea,’ he said easily.
‘Okay, I’d like to talk to you about another little girl named—’
‘My client is under arrest for the abduction and murder of Lexi Walters. Why would he know—?’
‘Your client has demonstrated an impeccable memory when it comes to the historic accounts of missing girls, Ms Swift. He may remember something we missed.’
Harte held up his hand to his lawyer. ‘It’s okay. I’ll certainly help if I can.’
Until they had results one way or another from Wyley Court or Clent, she could at least try and identify them using the cat-and-mouse game they’d been playing. Both she and Steven Harte knew the rules of the game, but his lawyer and, unfortunately, the video did not.
‘Do you recall the case of a girl aged eight called Paula Stiles?’
He frowned, and Kim’s breath caught in her chest. They were digging up Wyley Court fountain based on the timeline of her disappearance.
‘Could you refresh my memory?’
‘Eight-year-old Paula was on a day trip with other kids from the children’s home where she lived.’
‘Oh, dear, doesn’t sound like she had the best start in life.’
‘Indeed, Mr Harte,’ Kim said, suspecting she didn’t have the best end to her life either.
He made a show of thinking about it.
Kim held her breath.
‘Wasn’t she last seen in the Cotswolds somewhere.’
‘The wildlife park,’ she clarified, letting out a breath. His acknowledgement confirmed they were on track with the identification. She crossed her fingers that the location was just as accurate.
‘Yes, I read somewhere that she was a lonely child, that her stints in and out of foster care had turned her into a secular girl, at ease in her own company.’
‘And yet she never returned. I wonder why.’
‘Perhaps she’s still out there somewhere. Perhaps she ran away and made a good life for herself.’
‘Or maybe she’s buried beneath another project you and Butler worked on together.’
Swift leaned forward. ‘Inspector, I suggest you keep your idle musings to—’
‘Do you remember a little girl named Helen Blunt? She was seven years old when she was abducted from a summer fayre in Shrewsbury in 2002.’
‘Not a town I know well, although I have visited it on occasion. They have a summer fayre?’ he asked.
‘They do indeed. Does anything spring to mind?’
He tapped his chin. ‘You know, I do recall reading about a little girl who was taken. If I’m right, the witnesses recalled the event slightly differently to the mother. Wasn’t there violence involved?’
‘A slap.’
‘Oh, I think the papers said it was a bit more than that. Didn’t the mother take her time in reporting the disappearance of her daughter? Of course, if she’d been beating her—’
‘Or it was an isolated incident of frustration from a frazzled mother dealing with three young children on her own.’
‘You condone violence towards children, Inspector?’ he asked, trying to twist her words.
‘Absolutely not, but there is a distinction to be made between—’
Kim paused as her phone began to ring. It was Inspector Plant at Wyley Court.
She nodded towards Bryant, who terminated the interview as she headed into the corridor.
‘You got something?’ she asked, closing the door behind her.
‘Nope, and that’s the problem. This Brad guy with the satchel says that excavating any further beyond this point will mean permanent damage to the fountain’s integrity.’
‘Why?’
‘One of the side walls that they’ve been trying to preserve is on the point of collapse.’
‘How far down are they?’
‘Almost four feet and both guys want it stopped. The machine operators are having a fag break but we’ve only got a couple of hours of good daylight left.’
Kim had to give herself a moment to think.
Never had she and the rest of her team worked a case where the apparent murderer had presented himself at the station.
After consideration, they had believed him and entered into the game he wanted to play. Every decision, every move had been based on that single fact. There would be repercussions for her next move if she’d called it wrong.
Did she have the courage of her convictions?
‘Carry on digging,’ she said before ending the call.
Sixty-Six
It was almost seven when Kim re-entered the squad room after briefing Woody about Harte and the dig at Wyley Court. He had commented that daylight was fading fast, which had done nothing to calm her nerves.
Her team had been at it for twelve hours straight, and their desks bore the evidence of meals taken while they continued to work. The search team had expanded by a further three square miles around the day-care centre, and crews were in place at both Wyley Court and Clent. Keats and Doctor A were on call for any developments, and Harte was off limits until he’d had his prescribed rest period.
‘Okay, guys, I’m calling it,’ she said, pouring the last coffee from the jug. ‘Tidy up your mess and bugger off.’
‘But, boss…’
‘Nothing more we can do tonight. We can’t have another crack at him until tomorrow. His lawyer has left the building, and we’re all exhausted. We’re not doing Grace any favours if we miss stuff because we can’t see straight.’
The crinkling of packets came from all directions as they did as she’d asked.
‘Not you, Alison. You can stay,’ Kim said as jackets were lifted from chairs.
Penn offered a mock bow to Stacey.
‘Your chariot awaits, milady, if you’d like a lift home. I would imagine a timely return home to your good wife is in order this fine evening.’
He held out his arm.
She took it. ‘Why, thank you, kind sir. I would indeed benefit from a hasty retreat.’
Bryant groaned. ‘It’s like a low-budget Downton Abbey.’
Kim smiled as he followed them out, bidding them both good night.
She waited for a few seconds.
‘Okay, Alison, with all due respect, that was a shit plan. You told me to go in there and appeal to the side that wanted to talk and, as you saw, that side of him has left the building.’
‘It’s not left. It’s still there. He wants to talk. He wants to tell the truth, but something is holding him back.’