by Alex Lake
He thought about the best place to dispose of them. The Thames, probably, but he didn’t want to be seen throwing them off a bridge, especially since his face was increasingly well known.
Down a drain, maybe. Or in a skip.
No. He wanted them destroyed. He decided to take them home. When Mick was gone, he’d smash them into thousands of pieces with a hammer, then scatter the pieces all over London.
He picked them up and froze.
There was a text message on Henry Bryant’s phone.
He stared at it, then clicked it open.
Miss me? it read. Miss you too. See you soon?
He dropped the phone on the desk with a loud cry, then read it again.
Miss me? Miss you too. See you soon?
It was a blocked number. Was it Claire? That would make sense, but why hadn’t she signed it? And where had she got this number? More to the point, why would she have sent it?
He grabbed the phones and stuffed them into his pocket. He couldn’t wait to destroy both of them.
iv
When Alfie got home, Mick was still sleeping. Alfie took a blanket and spread it over him on the sofa.
Then he took a bottle of whisky from the drinks cabinet – some kind of expensive Scotch his father-in-law had brought over – and poured a large measure.
He pulled an armchair to the front window and sat down, looking along the street. The reporters were gone, although they’d no doubt be back at some point. It was a normal night on a London street. A man in a suit was making his way home, laptop bag hanging from his shoulder, eyes fixed on his phone. Two women in expensive jeans and patterned tops were standing on the other side of the street. He watched as a cab pulled up and they climbed in.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Except for the fact his wife was missing and in his pocket was a phone with a message from her – or someone pretending to be her – on it.
He sipped the whisky. He kept the glass at his lips and then sipped again, more this time. His mind was buzzing.
He sat, and drank, and watched the street.
Sunday
i
Alfie was woken by the doorbell ringing. He had no memory of going to bed; at around two a.m. he’d had a final whisky, but it had not made him sleepy. It had only made his heart race and given him the hangover now clouding his vision as he stumbled down the stairs to the front door.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror. He was dishevelled, his face dark with stubble and his eyes red with lack of sleep. At least today he did not need to act the part of a grieving husband. He looked exactly like people would have expected him to look.
He opened the front door. DI Wynne and DS Lawless were standing there.
‘Apologies for disturbing you,’ DI Wynne said, not looking in the slightest apologetic. ‘We have some questions we were hoping you could help with.’
‘Right now?’ Alfie said. ‘It’s early.’
Wynne glanced at her watch. It was a 1980s Casio digital, which looked original.
‘It’s eight a.m.,’ she said. ‘We don’t want to waste any time while we’re looking for your wife.’
Alfie took the hint. It wasn’t exactly subtle.
‘Come in,’ he said. ‘I’ll get dressed.’
When he came downstairs again, DI Wynne was sitting in the living room. DS Lawless was on her feet and Mick was sitting by the window, cradling a mug of strong tea in his hands. Alfie had no idea whether he had stayed on the sofa all night or made it up to bed in the meantime.
Wynne looked slowly around the room. ‘Mr Daniels,’ she said, ‘I’d like to go over the night Ms Davies-Hunt disappeared. Could you perhaps walk us through what you did that evening?’
‘I already told you everything,’ Alfie said.
‘I’d like it if we could go through it again. It’s important to know the whereabouts of everybody concerned.’
‘What do you mean, “concerned”?’ Alfie said. ‘I wasn’t involved. I didn’t know Pippa.’
‘It’s routine,’ Lawless said. ‘If you could bear with us, Mr Daniels, it would be appreciated.’
Alfie sighed. ‘OK. I was upset that day. I’d had an appointment with Dr Singh and learned some bad news. We don’t need to talk about it again, do we?’
‘No,’ Wynne said. ‘What happened after the appointment?’
‘I went for a walk. To clear my head.’
‘Where did you walk?’ DI Wynne asked.
‘Honestly,’ Alfie said, ‘I don’t remember. I know it sounds bad, but I was in a daze. I walked a long way. I bought a half-bottle of vodka somewhere and drank most of it.’
‘Where did you buy it from?’ Lawless asked.
‘I don’t remember. A corner shop.’
‘Did you pay with a bank card?’
‘Cash,’ Alfie said. ‘At least, I think so. I can check my bank records.’
He knew there would be no transaction, because there had been no vodka. He’d been on his way to meet Pippa in Barnes, in the car he kept in the garage of a house owned by some Russian as an investment. It was unoccupied; Alfie’s agency had the keys and were named as the emergency contact.
‘Do that,’ DI Wynne said. ‘We’d like to see those records, if we could. And after your walk’ – she put a heavy emphasis on the word – ‘you went to a series of pubs?’
‘That’s right.’
‘We did talk to the staff at those pubs,’ DS Lawless said. ‘And some of them remember seeing you. You were quite drunk, by all accounts.’
‘I’d had half a bottle of vodka, which is a lot for me.’
‘The earliest time we have you identified is around nine p.m.,’ Lawless said. ‘Before that, we only have your word for your movements.’
Mick snorted. ‘You need to stop wasting time on this and start finding Henry fucking Bryant,’ he said. ‘Get his bank accounts, passport, birth certificate. Find a photo and circulate it. Alfie has nothing to do with it. This is ridiculous.’
‘Maybe,’ DI Wynne said. ‘And maybe not. We have to pursue every—’
Alfie banged his hand on the arm of the chair. ‘I had nothing to do with Pippa’s disappearance,’ he shouted, with all the conviction and anger of a man who had not slept. ‘Or Claire’s! And I resent you suggesting that I do.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ DI Wynne said, her even tone unperturbed. ‘But we need to establish everybody’s movements. It’s normal procedure. That’s all we’re doing.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ Mick said. ‘Alfie had nothing to do with this Pippa woman. It was Henry Bryant. Alfie would never do that kind of thing. Trust me, he loves Claire like a puppy loves its master. He had no reason to harm her, and even if he wanted to, he hasn’t got the balls.’
He glanced at Alfie apologetically. Alfie looked away.
‘Thank you all the same,’ DI Wynne said. ‘But we will come to our own conclusions.’
Alfie was about to suggest that she and Lawless leave when DI Wynne’s phone rang. She looked at the screen and frowned.
‘One minute,’ she said, and lifted the phone to her ear. ‘Wynne,’ she said, then: ‘Yes, ma’am.’
She listened, her face expressionless, then spoke.
‘Did she say anything about where? And who?’
She looked at Alfie, then at DS Lawless. Something passed between the two cops.
‘Yes. Of course, I’ll pass it on.’
She hung up, then folded her arms. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘It looks like I may have spoken too soon. It seems we won’t have to come to our own conclusions after all.’ She stared at Alfie. ‘We found your wife.’
Alfie’s eyes widened. His stomach contracted. He was about to find out what the hell was going on.
‘Is she OK?’
‘From what I was told, yes. I don’t have all the details.’
‘What happened to her?’ Mick said. ‘Where’s she been?’
‘It seems she was held captive,’ DI Wyn
ne said. ‘And she escaped. She hasn’t given many details yet. She’s been asking for her husband. Apparently, she was very concerned to get a message to Mr Daniels. She wanted to make sure someone passed on these exact words: “Tell Alfie I love him.”’ The cop caught Alfie’s eye. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked uncomfortable. ‘And she said to tell him she’s sorry.’
ii
Alfie walked into the police station alongside DI Wynne and DS Lawless. They had driven him there and on the way he had asked for whatever details they had been given. There weren’t many.
Mick had followed in a cab. He said he had never been in a police car and wasn’t going to start now; as they opened the door to the station, he pulled up.
Alfie waited for him. When they walked in, Wynne and Lawless were standing at the desk. A uniformed PC pressed a button and there was a buzz as a door unlocked. His gaze lingered on Alfie for a moment.
‘Interview Room Three,’ he said.
They followed the two detectives along a corridor. They stopped by a door, and DI Wynne turned to him.
‘Ready?’ she said, her hand on the handle.
Alfie nodded and she opened the door.
Claire was sitting behind a table, a female officer in a chair beside her. There were two mugs of tea on the table in front of them, one full, one – Claire’s – empty. She was wearing a pair of jeans – not hers – and a loose-fitting navy-blue police sweater. Her feet were bare and very dirty. Alfie was carrying a small rucksack containing some of Claire’s clothes and shoes. DS Lawless had suggested he bring it.
As he walked in, Claire looked up. Her skin was pallid and her eyes were puffy with lack of sleep, or tears, or both.
‘Alfie,’ she said, her voice low and cracked. ‘Alfie. You’re here.’
He hurried across the room and bent over, wrapping his arms around her body. She had a strange smell, rich and earthy, but not unpleasant. She hugged him back, her grip weak.
‘Claire,’ he said. ‘I was so worried. I’m so glad you’re safe.’
‘Can we go home?’ she said. ‘I want to go home.’
Mick put a hand on her shoulder and Alfie stepped back so he could hug his daughter.
‘Of course you can go home,’ Mick said. ‘You can do whatever you want.’
Alfie looked at the cop. ‘Can we leave?’
The cop looked at DI Wynne. ‘We took a statement,’ she said. She handed her a folder. ‘But you may have more questions.’
‘I’ll answer them,’ Claire said, her voice strained. ‘If it helps catch him.’
DI Wynne smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘The earlier we get information the better.’
‘Can Alfie stay here? While we talk?’ Claire asked.
‘Of course,’ DI Wynne said. ‘If you’d like him to. Mr Daniels?’
‘I’ll stay.’
‘Me too,’ Mick said.
Claire shook her head. ‘Just Alfie.’
Mick frowned, but he nodded and followed the officer out of the room. When everyone had left, DI Wynne opened the folder and scanned the paper inside.
‘OK. Let’s get started. The sooner we’re done with this, the sooner you can get home.’
Alfie held up the rucksack he had brought. He thought Claire would probably be happy to get the questions over with, but he wanted a few minutes with her so she’d have a chance to tell him anything she wanted to without the cops there. He also wanted some kind of control over this mess.
‘How about she gets changed?’ he said. ‘It’ll be nice if she’s in her own clothes.’
Claire nodded. ‘Yes. I’d like that.’
‘Of course,’ DI Wynne replied, getting to her feet. ‘Knock on the door when you’re ready, and the officer will come and get me.’
When Wynne had left, Alfie handed Claire her clothes.
‘So,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘OK. Not great. But OK.’
He hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to ask this, but he needed to know. He needed to know what the hell was going on. ‘What happened? … Do you want to tell me?’
‘It was—’ she said, and closed her eyes. When she opened them they were full of tears. ‘It was awful.’
He didn’t press her, despite how desperate he was to know who this new version of Henry Bryant was. One thing he did know, though, was that he was real. Someone, masquerading as Henry Bryant, had imprisoned Claire. She had, presumably, escaped somehow and now she was back.
But he was no nearer to understanding who it was and why they were doing it.
The door opened and DI Wynne came in. She sat opposite Claire. DS Lawless stood behind her.
‘OK,’ DI Wynne said. ‘I’ve read your statement. I’ll start with that, if it’s OK?’
Claire nodded.
‘So you left work to meet Bryant on Thursday evening last week. You told your husband you were going to a dinner with some clients but you were in fact going to meet Mr Bryant?’
‘Yes,’ Claire said. She looked at Alfie. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry. You deserved better.’
Alfie hugged her. ‘It’s fine,’ he whispered. ‘It’s really fine. Whatever happened, we can work it out. I’m just glad you’re safe. That’s all I can think of right now.’
‘Was this the first time you had met him?’ DI Wynne said.
‘No. We’d seen each other a few times before.’
‘You met Mr Bryant on a website?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was he the first person you’d met on such a website?’
‘Please,’ Alfie said. ‘What has this got to do with what happened? Claire and I can work through this together, but we don’t need to talk about it now.’
‘It’s OK,’ Claire said. ‘I’ll answer whatever questions DI Wynne has.’ She brushed her lips with her fingers. ‘He was the first person I met on a website. But he wasn’t the first person I had an affair with. I had an affair with a colleague a few months back.’
Alfie groaned. He looked away. Claire put her hand on his knee. ‘I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I was – I was feeling lost, Alfie.’
‘But you did not meet that man – your colleague – online?’ DI Wynne said. ‘You don’t have to stay for this, Mr Daniels.’ She looked at Claire. ‘If it makes it easier?’
‘I want him here,’ Claire said. ‘If it’s OK with you, Alfie?’
Alfie nodded. There was no way he was leaving. He needed to hear what Claire had to say. He needed to know what was going on.
‘I didn’t meet him online. He was from the office.’
‘I see,’ Wynne said. ‘Let’s move on to Henry Bryant. We will need details of all the places you went with him. We’ll look for CCTV footage, speak to bar staff, talk to any cabbies who drove you around. We’ll also be able to go through credit card payments and maybe get a card number for him.’
Claire gave a rueful smile. ‘He always paid in cash. At the time, I thought it was because he didn’t want any records for his wife to find, but it seems there was a more disturbing reason.’
‘He’s married?’ DS Lawless asked.
‘He said so,’ Claire replied. ‘He wore a ring.’
‘Maybe a fake,’ Alfie said. ‘To make him look trustworthy.’
‘Maybe,’ DI Wynne said. ‘Could you describe Henry Bryant?’
‘Slim … slim, but very strong. Dark hair, wide-set eyes. Handsome. He looks a bit like Alfie, but taller. Maybe six one, or two.’
‘We’ll get an identikit drawing of him,’ Wynne said. ‘You can adjust it, although hopefully we find some CCTV pictures with an actual image.’ She sipped her tea. ‘Could you describe what happened the night he took you captive?’
‘We met for a drink. In a pub in Holborn.’ She looked away. ‘I ordered a gin and tonic, but that’s all I remember. I woke up in a room. I was’ – she choked on the words – ‘I was tied to a bed.’
‘Some kind of drug,’ DS Lawless said. ‘It might show up in the toxicology report, b
ut probably not. It’s most likely out of your system by now.’
‘Yes,’ DI Wynne said. ‘Do you recall anything about the room?’
‘No,’ Claire said. ‘It was pitch-black.’
‘No sounds? Smells?’
Claire thought for a moment. ‘I did hear cars. And what sounded like a truck unloading. But I wasn’t really concentrating on it.’
‘Had Bryant assaulted you? Sexually?’ DS Lawless asked.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Did he? Later?’
Claire shook her head. ‘No. He didn’t seem interested in – in that.’ She blinked. ‘I was there for a day or two, I think. Something like that. He came in and out. Brought water and some food.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘No. He untied me from the bed and put a hood on me. He tied my hands behind my back and led me out of the room and down some stairs. I guess we went into a garage, because I heard the sound of a car door opening and he pushed me into the boot of a car. He tied my ankles together and then he left again.’ She started to cry. ‘It was terrible. It was hot and I was crunched up. I started to panic, banging my head against the lid of the boot. But he didn’t come.’ She glanced at Alfie. ‘And then, of course, there was Jodie’s friend, Pippa.’
‘What about her?’ DI Wynne said. ‘Was she there?’
‘No,’ Claire said. ‘But as I was lying there I remembered how she’d disappeared, and I wondered whether she’d gone through something like this. And then I remembered what Jodie had told me. About the guy she’d been dating. I remembered his name. Henry Bryant.’
‘You hadn’t made the connection earlier?’ Lawless said. ‘When you were meeting up with Bryant?’
Claire shook her head. ‘At first I only knew him as Henry. His profile only gave his name and initial – Henry B. It wasn’t until he emailed me that I saw his last name. At that point it rang a bell, but it was only when I was in the boot and I started thinking of Pippa that I remembered he was the guy who had broken up with her by text, right before she disappeared. Jodie had mentioned his name in passing.’ Claire looked at Alfie. ‘I was terrified I’d never see you again. I thought he’d do it to me, too.’