I gulp as the seriousness of the situation sinks in. One of them looks at me – the female of the duo. Her gaze is penetrative, and every bad thing I have ever done comes bubbling to the forefrontof my mind. I’m about to confess that when I was seven, I stole a chocolate bar from the supermarket, but she speaks before I get the chance.
‘Please, come in,’ she calls.
Obediently, I slip inside the house and slide the doors shut behind me.
Over the years, I have spoken with officers at all levels of seniority for research purposes, but this isn’t research – it’s real life. Being confronted by the officers’ closed but curious expressions makes my bones freeze, and not just because of the icy rain that has seeped through to them.
While I move towards the dining table, I make notes in my mind of their appearance. The woman is in her early forties. She wears an ill-fitting, cheap suit, but her natural aura of authority compensates for her shabby outfit. While her expression is businesslike, the lines around her eyes confess she is someone who laughs a lot when not in situations like this.
The man beside her is a little younger, with round cheeks and a receding hairline. His creased white shirt tells of a long day behind a desk. He doesn’t command the same respect the woman does, but from the way he stands, I can tell he possesses an attitude that does its best to overcompensate for that.
‘Mrs Rey, is it?’ he says.
‘It’s pronounced “rye”, actually, but you can call me Janine,’ I reply.
‘Janine Rai, also known as S. K. Atherton. Gabby here has filled us in. We’re big fans,’ the woman replies. ‘I’m DS Fatima Rani. This is DS Christopher Mullins.’
Gabby leaves Otis’s side to hand me a towel. ‘I thought you might need this.’
‘Good thinking. It’s torrential out there,’ DS Rani says, nodding to the world outside the window. My stomach plummets as I realise how dark it is – and therefore, how late.
Kamal.
I glance at the clock on Otis’s oven. It’s well after six o’clock already. Kamal’s anxious face flashes in my mind. I am never not there when he comes home, not since we moved to Bramblethorpe. Not since what happened in Manchester.
‘Do you need me to stay, or…?’ I ask awkwardly.
‘It’s my understanding that you were with Mr Clarke today, is that right?’ DS Mullins replies.
‘That’s right.’
‘In that case, it would be better if you could. We will need to ask you a few questions.’
I debate asking if I can make a quick call first, but the way the detectives move without waiting for a response silences me. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I fire a quick text to Kamal.
I’ll be home in a bit. Will fill you in when I’m back x
I have no idea what I will say, but as I press send, I’m just grateful I got the chance to message my husband some kind of reassurance.
The detectives sit on one sofa, Gabby and Otis on another. I take the third, burningly conscious of the mess my sodden clothes will leave on the fabric.
While DS Mullins pulls a notepad from his pocket, DS Rani leans forward to address Otis. ‘Mr Clarke, your call earlier said that you would like to report your wife as missing.’
Those words supercharge the atmosphere with electricity.
‘Report my wife as missing,’ Otis repeats, then he dissolves into tears.
Panicked, Gabby glances at me, but I’m as clueless about what to do as she is. DS Rani and DS Mullins, on the other hand, don’t look alarmed. They sit calmly, waiting for the story to unfold.
‘Alexa hasn’t been seen since Saturday morning,’ Gabby says, her voice faltering at the responsibility of being the one to recall this twisted tale. ‘She left the house while Otis was at work. We’ve no idea where she is.’
DS Mullins cocks his head. ‘Today is Tuesday. Is there a reason why you’re only just reporting Alexa missing?’
‘Alexa tends to go away whenever she argues with Otis, then returns a few days later,’ Gabby explains. ‘We thought that’s what was going on here.’
‘And were you arguing with your wife the day she went missing, Mr Clarke?’
Gabby’s cheeks colour, but Otis is so defeated he barely even notices her distress.