Emma’s mouth dropped open. ‘But you were interested. You cared.’
Alex laughed. Oh dear, the woman’s delusion as to the nature of their relationship was worse than she’d thought. It would be a frivolous diversion to set her straight.
‘I could not care less about you, Emma. I am not the slightest bit interested in your mundane life, annoying kids, husband or your next-door neighbour’s cat. I lied, I deceived and pretended to like you so I could see your value and, to your credit, I found some useful qualities I could use.
‘It was immediately clear to me that you were easily led and eager to serve. You are so used to looking after people on the outside. A fine quality in your home life and a totally exploitable trait for me. You wanted someone to follow around, to help, and so I did you a favour by being that person. I gave you a purpose. You were happy to run off and do all the little errands. It’s no bad thing. It’s your personality type.’
‘But I thought we were friends.’
Again, Alex laughed. ‘I don’t have friends. I don’t want them or need them. I need assets, tools, grunts that are useful to help me get what I want. And to be fair, you have been useful. Your invisibility amongst these women has meant that I’ve found out much more information than I ever could have gained on my own. Your need to gossip has brought me knowledge on other assets that I’ve been able to exploit. Do you see how this works now?’
Emma’s crestfallen expression told her that the woman was waiting for the punchline, that she was still hoping that it was some kind of joke.
Alex sighed. You tried to be honest with people and it wasn’t worth it. Some people didn’t want the truth if it wasn’t a truth they liked.
Yes, Alex could have left Emma thinking they were good friends. The woman would have been none the wiser, but where would have been the fun in that?
Alex could see Emma’s lower lip trembling. Oh, Jesus, save me from the frailties of human emotion.
Alex stood and saw there was still hope in Emma’s eyes.
She shook her head and carried on down to breakfast.
Seventy-One
‘What exactly are you hoping to achieve?’ Alison asked as they gathered around the computer screen.
‘Let’s watch and find out,’ Kim said as Stacey entered the interview room.
Kate Swift had arrived ten minutes earlier, and both she and her client were seated in silence.
Harte eyed Stacey suspiciously.
‘I’m Detective Constable Stacey Wood and you’ve already met Detective Sergeant Bryant.’
‘Where is Det—’
‘Please wait one minute,’ Stacey said, holding up her hand.
Kim watched as Stacey stared at the tape recorder for a second as though remembering how to use it. She then pressed the wrong button, realised her mistake, began the tape recording and reminded him of the reason for the interview.
‘Okay, Mr Harte, you have a question.’
‘Where is Detective Inspector Stone?’
‘I’m sorry but she had to be somewhere more imp… er… urgent so I will be leading the questioning this morning.’
‘His lawyer is pleased about that,’ Alison observed.
‘Of course she is. With one hour to go before charge or release, she’s already singing Christmas songs.’
‘I have another question. May I have a cup of tea?’
Stacey appeared puzzled. ‘Were you not served a beverage of your choice with breakfast this morning?’
‘I was but I’d like—’
‘In that case, I think we’ll press on.’
Kim silently congratulated the young officer on her acting ability.
Stacey opened up her folder.
The first page was an official police statement. On it were words that were typed in 8-point font. He had no way in hell of reading it upside down.
Stacey made a show of reading it word for word.
Harte watched her closely, continually looking down at the page and then at Stacey.
‘Oh, he’s getting annoyed now,’ Alison said. ‘You see his right fist clenching? He thinks it’s buried in his other arm but look at the crease of the material. By constantly looking from Stacey to the page, he is trying to exert control. He wants to catch her eye. He wants to begin.’
Yet it was Kate Swift who leaned forward.
‘Constable, do you intend asking my client a question any time soon?’
‘Why, does your client have somewhere else to be?’
Kim felt a jolt of pride. Stacey was under instruction to annoy the hell out of the man, and she was doing a damn good job.
She continued to watch.
‘Mr Harte, I’d like to talk to you about your memories of Paula Stiles. You recall a great deal of detail about her abduction in… Hang on…’
‘My client is here to talk about Lexi Walters only,’ Swift interjected.
‘And I’ve already been over this in detail with Inspector Stone.’
Stacey made a show of looking through her folder.
‘My apologies. I must have somehow missed…’ Stacey’s words trailed away as Harte and Swift looked at each other.
‘Okay, maybe we should move on. Your relationship with Jenson Butler started at school, is that right?’
‘No, it bloody well isn’t. I met him at university. Have you even read the file?’ he asked, stabbing the table.
‘Well, yes, I am familiar with the case,’ Stacey said, leafing through all the paperwork, as though she was looking for something in particular. She was doing it quickly, adding panic into her movements.
‘Have you done this before, Detective Constable?’ Harte asked.
Kim didn’t need to read his body language. The contempt was dripping from his words.
‘Yes, I once interviewed…’
‘Once?’ he exploded.
Kim couldn’t help but laugh.
They had decided to play on every weakness they knew of him. His self-importance, his attachment to her and his need for a cup of tea.
She wanted him annoyed; she wanted him agitated. She wanted him bursting with negative emotion.
Stacey had primed him brilliantly, and now it was her turn to go in for the kill.
Seventy-Two
‘You not gonna come and watch this, Penn?’ Alison asked him as the boss left the room.
‘Not right now,’ he said without looking up. He’d heard enough to know his colleague had knocked it out of the park.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
‘Fine.’
Alison tipped her head. ‘Did Jasper stay at Billy’s last night?’
‘No, I decided it was a bit much for Billy’s mum.’
Alison opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind and returned her attention to the screen. He was glad because he didn’t want to admit to her that he had made a terrible mistake.
He’d known it as soon as he’d walked in the door.
Jasper didn’t do sullen. He wasn’t a moody teen, but he did do quiet. And the quiet broke Penn’s heart.
Jasper had been at home for at least two hours before he’d got back from work. Hours he’d been waiting for Penn to come home when he could have been having a laugh at his friend’s house.