‘I know. It doesn’t make sense to me when there are easier ways for him to get access to his daughter, but logic rarely plays a part in a crime like this. We need to start delving into his life. See what we can turn up. Ask Lynsey to check him out if she’s finished with the CCTV. I’m worried about Ashraf himself too. Is he involved in this? Has he faked the whole thing because he fears losing the child? If he has, neither of them may ever be seen again.’
Their discussion was interrupted by a shout from the other end of the room.
‘Sir, we might have something.’
Tom spun round as an officer got up and strode quickly towards them. ‘The woman across the road – Tessa O’Hanlon. Miss Palmer says that she’s single, no kids, lives alone. Yes?’
Tom nodded.
‘Sergeant Burford is with the CSI team. She’s monitoring the street and the O’Hanlon house from upstairs. She says there’s a man at the bedroom window, looking over at Miss Palmer’s house as if he’s watching it. The man is wearing glasses and is either an IC4 or IC6 male.’
Tom strode towards the door, talking over his shoulder to Becky as he moved.
‘We need to go back to talk to Jo. Right now! Tell our guys to keep a check on all doors at the O’Hanlon house, make sure that if the man leaves, we follow him.’
22
I can tell when Tom and Becky come back into the room together that something has happened. Both have their heads up, they’re moving quickly, and their eyes are fixed on me.
‘What?’ I say. ‘Have you found them?’
‘Not yet. I’m sorry,’ Tom says. ‘This is about your friend across the road – Tessa O’Hanlon. You said earlier that she lives alone. Is that right?’
I nod my head slowly, watching them both. I understand faces and body language – it’s my job to replicate people’s emotions on stage or screen so I’m pretty good at spotting changes in expression. And there’s something going on – just a glimmer of shared eagerness between them.
‘We’ve heard from the team at your house that they’ve seen a man in the bedroom opposite – in Miss O’Hanlon’s house.’
My heart sinks. This isn’t important at all.
‘Well, what’s new? Tessa has a never-ending string of short-term relationships. It’s her thing. I don’t know who it is at the moment. She dumped the last guy because he was getting too keen and was talking about leaving his wife.’
Becky sits down beside me and turns to face me.
‘The thing is, Jo, the man couldn’t be seen clearly, but our officer says he was either an IC4 – which broadly means Asian – or an IC6 male, which indicates north African or possibly Arab. And he’s wearing glasses.’
I stare at Becky, then switch my gaze to Tom. It takes me a moment to understand what they are getting at. Surely they don’t think Ash is holed up across the road with Tessa, and this is all some ruse for him to leave me but keep Millie? That’s too far-fetched. Ash and Tessa? I suppose he’s suitably unavailable, which is bound to make him appealing to her. But no. It makes no sense.
‘She doesn’t even like Ash. She’s always telling me that he’s boring and I could do better.’
I see Tom’s eyebrows rise.
‘It’s just her way,’ I tell him, voicing the same excuses that I give to Ash, who strongly disapproves of her lifestyle. ‘Tessa thinks Ash is a control freak because he’s always tidying up after me and he’s too conservative. And she thinks he’s putting too much pressure on me to marry him.’
My eyes dart from one of them to the other, not knowing what they are thinking. They thought this was a breakthrough, but surely they’re wrong? My chest tightens again, and I want to curl up into a tight ball and hug myself. I remember reading somewhere that the worst hour of your life is just sixty minutes, and after that the next hour is a bit easier. I’ve always believed it – until now. Perhaps that works when the worst hour is the hour when tragedy strikes – a defining moment in time which is quickly over. But this is not like that. I thought my worst hour was when they took Ash and Millie, but however sick with worry I was, I still thought they would be back before the night was over. Then Becky called to say Millie and Ash may have been kidnapped and my previous worst hour seemed tame in comparison. Now I feel as if there is a huge weight crushing my chest, rising up in my throat, and with each hour that passes the weight becomes heavier, more unbearable, and the next hour of my life grows darker, bleaker than the last.
And every time I close my eyes, I see Millie’s face, looking at me, begging me to help her. And there’s nothing I can do.
I try to focus on what Tom is saying. Could it be Ash in Tessa’s bedroom? I don’t believe either of them would hurt me like that.
‘What do you want me to do? I can ring her and ask her, if you like?’ I say.
‘The thing is, Jo,’ Becky says, and I can see that she’s trying to think of the best way of phrasing her thoughts to cause me the least stress possible, ‘there are other explanations for why a man might be in her bedroom, so we need to make sure we don’t alert her to our concerns.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know Tessa – she’s your friend – but we don’t, and it’s in our nature to be suspicious – to wonder if this is Ash, or if she’s in some way involved and this man is an accomplice.’
I stare at Becky. I can’t believe they are thinking like this.
‘The first thing we need to do is see if Tessa is honest about someone being there with her. And better still, if she tells you who it is. Rob says she called when you were on your way here. Is that right?’
She did, and I’d completely forgotten. Why would she call me? Tessa is someone who sends abbreviated and somewhat incomprehensible texts, or pops over the road to see me. So why call, especially when she knows all about our Saturday-night ritual of meat and potato pie and crap television?
‘Would she think it strange if you called her now? It’s after midnight,’ Becky says.
‘She’d think it strange if I phoned her at all, to be honest. Given that she called me first, though, I think it would be fine. She’s a night owl. She probably won’t go to bed until two or three in the morning, unless she’s got company, as you’ve suggested. Even then, she won’t be asleep, will she?’
I can hear a note of bitterness in my voice, and the possibility – much as I want to dismiss it – that it might be Ash in the bedroom with her makes me feel nauseous. Ash and Tessa? It’s so unlikely, but I can’t ignore anything that might bring Millie home. And if Ash really is there, where the hell is Millie, and why would either of them put me through this agony?
I’m finding it impossible to trust my own judgement. One minute I feel guilty that, just for a moment after he’d been arrested, I wondered if Ash had been hurting Millie, and the next I’m questioning whether he’s having an affair with my best friend. Nothing seems clear to me, and I no longer know what to believe.
‘I’m going to call her.’ The horror that it might be true is making my hands begin to shake again.