Joanna had said she was working from home on her computer with Fiona, who was baking cookies in the kitchen. The handyman Radcliffe had stated that he had been helping Nick but had left to attend a job. Jennifer’s thoughts lingered on his van. She had only seen Radcliffe twice, and each time he had seemed keen to avoid her.

  Jennifer dry-washed her hands as an internal clock started ticking in her brain. Hearing Abigail’s voice had heightened the sense of urgency, and she wondered if her DI, Ethan Cole, had been asking too much of her, throwing her into such a harrowing case so soon after the last one. She gave her desk a critical gaze before straightening her monitor, keyboard and mouse mat with strict precision. As long as she was in control, she would get through this. She had to.

  Will’s desk told a different story altogether. Coffee-ringed paperwork lay skewed in an order only he would understand. His computer screen was framed by yellow Post-it notes with illegible scribblings, and a half eaten sandwich lay beside empty sweet wrappers which had not yet found their way into the bin. But her constant source of irritation also brought a wistful longing. She missed their banter, the work-fuelled days, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

  Working with the Duncan family was draining, and deciphering their emotions was like wading through a web of chewing gum. She glanced at her watch and sighed. It was almost 8 a.m. and time for her to go to the farm. DI Ethan Cole’s well-groomed head bobbed up from his office, and signalled her in for a catch-up. She couldn’t get used to the fact that he was her superior, particularly given that he was several years younger than her. By the time she entered the office, he had poured her a fresh cup of coffee from the percolator and placed it on the desk. It was becoming an agreeable habit, and she inhaled the welcome aroma as it mingled with the light spice of his aftershave. Ethan was lucky enough to have a window in his office, and the slice of morning sun brightened the sterile room. Jennifer smiled in appreciation as she took a seat across from him.

  ‘Hello, boss. You’re looking well.’

  He flashed her a smile. ‘Thanks. I thought it would be good to have a catch-up, discuss what’s happening up at Blackwater farm. Any closer to answers?’

  Jennifer crossed her legs. Will would have asked her how her family was, or how she was settling into work after such a horrific experience with her previous case. But Ethan was not Will, and he had her back at work as quick as her legs would carry her. Will may be a scruff bag, she mused, but he was her scruff bag, and had a caring nature beyond the realms of her DI. Still, at least he made good coffee. She took a sip and cradled the cup in her hand.

  ‘The family are distraught. They’re all dealing with their own issues. Fiona, the housekeeper, seems to be the strongest, and I’ve been very grateful for her support.’

  ‘I’ve read your reports to date. Is there anything you’re leaving out? They’ve not been giving you a tough time, have they?’

  ‘No more than you’d expect. Getting them in the same room together is like trying to herd wild cats. Between us, I’d be surprised if their marriage survives this.’

  ‘Sue’s said as much. But I want to get to the crux of this case. Dozens of officers are investigating, but you’re the one making that connection with the family. Tell me, with whom do your suspicions lay?’

  Jennifer bit back her dimpled smile. Ethan’s formal tone took some getting used to. She wondered if he had to try very hard to prove himself; prove that he was all grown up instead of a young man finding his feet. His designer suit, his authoritative tone, they hid his vulnerabilities well. But she saw right through him, because that was exactly how she had been before she met Will. She straightened her spine and looked him in the eye. ‘I have my suspicions, but it’s early days.’

  ‘Go on,’ Ethan said, his long slender fingers toying with the rim of his cup.

  ‘Nick’s hiding something, and his daughter is scared. He resents my presence, and tolerates me only because he’ll get quicker updates. But I’ve no solid evidence yet, nothing that would warrant a formal investigation.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Ethan said. ‘Sue’s been investigating Joanna’s family, what’s left of them. I’d like to know why she’s estranged from her father, particularly given he’s her only surviving parent. She certainly doesn’t seem too concerned by his condition.’

  Jennifer swallowed the dregs of her coffee. ‘Yeah, but that’s how she is about Abigail. I’ve tried asking her about her father, but she won’t say.’

  ‘Then ask Nick. Suggest taking Olivia to see her grandfather. That might get him talking.’ Ethan arched an eyebrow. ‘Are your psychic skills giving you anything?’

  Jennifer squirmed. She hated being called a psychic. The term covered such a wide range of people. The word had been tarnished by fraudsters, as far as Jennifer was concerned, taking advantage of the vulnerable and exploiting the lonely.

  ‘It’s very hard to get some quiet time, with so much going on. But you’re aware of what I’ve picked up on so far.’

  ‘Yes, that was good work with the child. Do you think you’ll get any more out of her?’

  Jennifer thought of the little girl with the pale face and spectacled moon eyes, lost in the absence of her sister. She wouldn’t use her as a pawn. The family had been hurt enough. Not that she was going to tell Ethan. She wouldn’t put it past him to take her out and put someone else in her place. Someone cold-hearted enough to extract what they needed, with little thought for the child.

  ‘Yes. I hope to. I just need more time. What she’s picked up so far . . . it’s not very hopeful.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Ethan shook his head. ‘But we have to focus on catching the person responsible. Olivia could be at risk. That’s why I need you to hang on in there as long as you can.’

  Jennifer wanted to ask Ethan how he really was, running a new team with such a high profile case hanging in the balance. Reporting to such a strict taskmaster as DCI Anderson would not have been easy. But now was not the time. She straightened her skirt as she stood, painfully aware she was needed at Blackwater farm, where a drama of some kind most likely awaited her.

  ‘I’d best get a wiggle on.’

  ‘If you need anything, just give me a call. You’ve got my mobile.’

  Jennifer returned to her desk, checking her emails as a ruse to wait a few minutes longer for Will. He and Zoe were already out on a job, an early start attending the graveyard where an occult group had set up camp and were allegedly decapitating dogs. Intelligence had stated that they were on the lookout for a human sacrifice, and the mention of Will attending a job where machetes and cults were involved had made her bristle. It didn’t help that he was with Zoe, who was all of seven stone. What good was she going to be, if they got into trouble?

  An echo of laughter floated through the air as footsteps approached the office. Pulling up her sleeves, Jennifer began to clean Will’s desk. The thought of him working in such a mess bothered her, and she wiped over the coffee stains with a quick spray of antiseptic before shuffling his papers into a neat pile.

  Zoe burst through the door, sniffing the air. ‘Ah, the antiseptic queen is back.’

  ‘Behave,’ Jennifer replied with a grin. She warmed at the sight of Will. Despite his crumpled tie and plodding apathy, she had missed spending the morning with him. ‘How was the graveyard?’

  Will dropped his briefcase on the desk, frowning at the disappearance of his chaotic filing system.

  ‘Disappointing. There was nothing but a few meth heads. They were cooking up some roadkill over a fire.’ He shouted over at Zoe. ‘Oi, Danger Mouse, I’m parched here. Stick the kettle on, will you?’

  ‘Already done,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye, shuffling off to the kitchen with the dirty mugs.

  Will returned his glance to Jennifer and gave her a wink. ‘That’s how you do it.’

  Jennifer laughed. ‘It’ll take a bigger man than you to house-train Zoe. How’s it going? You feeling all right?’

  ‘It’s like I’ve never been away. Zoe’s a nice enough girl. Weird, but nice.’

  ‘Weird is a prerequisite for the job, isn’t it?’

  Will smirked. ‘Speaking of weird, how are things going down at the crazy farm?’

  Jennifer glanced around before lowering her voice. ‘It’s difficult with Nick being a sergeant. I had to prevent a domestic between him and Joanna on my first day. He’s so bewildered, I don’t think he knows whether he’s coming or going.’

  Will rolled his eyes. ‘Well, if he gives you a hard time I’ll be having a word with him. You’re only trying to do your job. He should know that more than anyone.’

  Jennifer contemplated Will’s words during the drive back to the farm. She knew from previous run-ins with Ethan that he meant what he said. She hummed as she tapped the steering wheel, feeling better for seeing her colleagues. There was still a chance Abigail was alive. Perhaps today she would find answers. The short trip to the office had done her good, clearing her mind and setting her priorities. Because now she knew what she needed to do. It was time to confront Nick.

  Chapter Twenty

  What is it about this place? Jennifer thought, stepping out of her car. She had been hopeful just moments before, but a gloom descended as she walked towards the old grey farmhouse, sapping her good mood and replacing it with a heavy sense of resignation that things were not going to end well. The farm had the cold stillness of a graveyard, dotted with clusters of purple-headed thistles affording splashes of colour in an otherwise bleak landscape. Once filled with livestock, the fields were now barren, dotted with ramshackle galvanized huts. The sky resembled a sheet of dirty white cotton, casting a dull filter over the fuzzy radiance of the sun. Abandon all hope ye who enter here, Jennifer thought wryly, surprised to find the front door unlatched.

  She blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim corridor, silencing her steps by walking on the balls of her feet. She preferred not to announce her arrival. At least not yet. The smell of freshly baked bread and melting cheese filtered down from the kitchen, and her stomach grumbled in response. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, but now was not the time for food. Nick’s low murmurs confirmed his presence in the living room. She leaned in to the door to listen, but his words were unintelligible. Her hesitation weakened her resolve and doubts began to creep in. What if confronting Nick put Olivia in danger? Could she live with that on her conscience? Jennifer dismissed the thought. Nick was a police officer, not a killer, and there was probably an innocent explanation. I’ll be a good girl, Daddy. I promise I won’t tell. Olivia’s words replayed in her brain, more damning each time they were repeated. She had to confront him now, before she lost her bottle. Hoarse murmurs drifted through as she slowly pushed open the door. Nick was having a one-way conversation with Olivia about the pony.

  Jennifer caught Nick’s furtive glance as the door creaked to announce her presence. His jeans were stained with dried mud, and his hair was in disarray, as if he had been running his fingers through it backwards. Tiredness had finally caught up with him, days without sleep taking their toll.

  Nick jerked up, turning to his daughter. ‘Tell you what, why don’t we go out and have a look at the stable now?’

  Jennifer bit her lip, assessing the situation. It was clear he was avoiding her, but she couldn’t allow Olivia to get caught up in their confrontation.

  ‘Food’s ready,’ Joanna said, walking in behind her. She was wearing a peach 1940s-style dress, making her look like a bit part in a low-budget stage show. ‘Oh hello, Jennifer, I didn’t realise you were here. Would you like some pizza? It’s homemade.’ She tittered behind her hand as if sharing some private joke. ‘Olivia loves pizza any time of the day.’

  ‘I was just hoping for a quick word with Nick,’ Jennifer said, observing Joanna’s expression to see if she too would notice just how haggard her once handsome husband had become. But the eyes behind the smile were unconcerned.

  Joanna reached out for her daughter’s hand. ‘C’mon, sweetie, Fiona’s made your favourite.’

  Olivia gave her father a pleading look.

  ‘I said we’d go outside to see about stabling the pony,’ Nick said, clearing his throat.

  Joanna stretched an insistent hand towards her daughter. ‘Later. You don’t want your food getting cold, now, do you?’

  Joanna and Olivia left, sealing Jennifer and Nick in the room. His eyes darted to the floor as he shifted on his feet, his hands deep in his jean pockets.

  ‘You missed the drones,’ he said, his voice scratchy from calling for Abigail. ‘The helicopter came over briefly too. They couldn’t find any heat sources, but it’s difficult with the woodlands.’

  ‘What did she mean, Nick?’ Jennifer asked bluntly, locking on to him with her eyes.

  ‘What did who mean?’ Nick said, barely having the strength to return her gaze.

  Jennifer took a step forward. ‘Olivia. What did she mean when she said she wouldn’t tell?’

  ‘When did she say that?’ Nick said, his voice rising an octave.

  ‘I heard her whisper it before I left yesterday. She said she’d be a good girl and she wouldn’t tell.’

  ‘You must have misheard. She hasn’t spoken a word.’

  Nick put his hand on the door knob but Jennifer blocked his path. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, heat derived from an inner anger he had carried since Abigail’s disappearance. She stood firm, a tightness forming in her throat.

  ‘If you’re in trouble, I’ll do everything I can to help.’

  Nick bore down on her, his stale breath heavy on her face. ‘If you’re insinuating that I’ve hurt my daughter, then you are way off the mark.’

  She resisted the urge to let him past as his grip tightened on the door knob. ‘I’m not insinuating anything,’ Jennifer said, her tone taut. ‘I’m trying to help. You’d do exactly the same in my shoes.’

  Nick pressed his face inches from hers, his voice low and rumbling. ‘How could you think I’d hurt my children? They’re my whole world.’

  Their standoff was interrupted by a scream from the kitchen. Nick barged past, and Jennifer followed, barely having time to register what was happening as she burst through the kitchen door.

  Fiona was clutching Olivia tightly in the corner of the room, and Joanna was pointing to the floor. Jennifer’s gaze fell on the blood-red splatters on the kitchen tiles and gasped with relief as she spotted the Heinz label clinging to fragments of glass. It was ketchup.

  ‘What happened?’ Nick asked, checking Olivia over.

  Fiona cleared her throat to speak, her expression one of disbelief. ‘It . . . it just flew off the table by itself.’

  ‘Again?’ Nick said, shaking his head. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart, the table’s crooked, that’s all. Eat your pizza. Everything’s all right now.’

  Jennifer assessed the room, sensing a charge of static electricity. Sue had mentioned things moving by themselves, and judging by Nick’s reaction it was not the first time. Olivia nodded glumly as she slowly pulled in her chair to sit. Her eyes nervously darted around the room as she nibbled the pizza crust, like a small bird waiting for a predator to pounce. Jennifer’s heart plummeted. This was the last thing Olivia needed.

  Nick left the room, mumbling something about getting a bath. His blistered feet had prevented him searching any longer, and he plodded heavily up the stairs, hitting each step with a laboured thump. Nick’s anger seemed to have evaporated in a puff, but Jennifer grew fresh concerns about Joanna’s relationship with her husband.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Jennifer said, glad to get Joanna alone as Fiona took Olivia to the living room to watch TV.

  ‘Of course. I’m fine,’ Joanna replied, delivering her usual smile.

  ‘I mean with Nick. He’s a bit aggressive. Is this something I need be concerned about?’

  Joanna gave a short laugh. ‘Nick? He’s a big softie. He’s just stressed, that’s all.’

  ‘Because if you’re worried, I can try to get you and Olivia into a women’s refuge for a few days, give you some time apart.’

  Joanna’s retort was firm. ‘I appreciate your concern, DC Knight, but I’m perfectly safe. I’m not a battered wife. A refuge is the last thing we need.’

  Jennifer noted the coldness in Joanna’s tone and decided to leave it at that. She was right. Staying at a refuge might only add to Olivia’s trauma, and she was probably worrying over nothing.

  ‘There is one thing you can help me with,’ Joanna said, running a mop over the kitchen tiles.

  Jennifer raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll do my best. What do you need?’

  ‘I want you to contact Abigail.’

  Jennifer recalled her earlier contact, and a wave of guilt fell over her. She cleared her throat as she constructed a suitable response. ‘We’re doing everything we can to find her.’

  ‘I don’t mean that. Your colleague Sue, she said . . . well, she said you’re psychic. I want you to speak to Abigail. See if she’s on the other side.’

  Jennifer inhaled sharply, cursing Sue under her breath. How dare she act so unprofessionally?

  ‘I think Sue’s got her wires crossed. I’m a detective, first and foremost. Granted, I sometimes deal with unusual occurrences. Haven is different to other towns. It hasn’t moved on from the days of superstition and folklore. It doesn’t mean I’m psychic, sorry.’

  ‘Then you must know someone that can help,’ Joanna said, her smile loosening as her voice became frayed. ‘You hear about psychics helping the police all the time.’

  Jennifer thought of the last psychic she had had contact with and it made her shudder.

  ‘“Help” is the operative word. After all this family’s been through, the last thing you need is someone making it worse. Besides, you’re making the presumption that Abigail might have passed away. It might not be the case, and to presume such would be very upsetting for Olivia, don’t you think?’

  Joanna shrugged, returning her attention to the floor. ‘She’s her twin. She already knows.’