Chapter 44

Chapter 44

He hammered on the door, the sound echoing around the quiet suburban street. Passers-by on their way to work turned their heads to see what was happening, even as neighbours started to appear in their front yards, curious to see what all the fuss was about. PC Beth Beamer looked on anxiously, suspecting that her colleague was overdoing it, but he didn't seem to care. PC Dave Reynolds had made it clear on the walk over that Ryan Marwood had brought this all on himself – let the world see his shame.

Thankfully, Reynolds relented now, as the door swung open to reveal the angry owner.

‘What on earth do you think you're doing?' a tired Lorraine Marwood demanded, tugging her dressing gown tightly around her. ‘It's eight in the morning.'

‘Spare us the outrage, Mrs Marwood,' Reynolds replied tersely, showing her his warrant card. ‘I think you know why we're here.'

‘Your lot were all over this place last night. Ryan wasn't here then, and he's not here now.'

‘Why don't you let us be the judge of that, eh?'

‘This is harassment, pure and simple. Why can't you lot just leave me alone?'

Beth Beamer could see her colleague was about to put the middle-aged woman in her place, so she quickly stepped in:

‘We honestly don't mean to trouble you, but your house is on our beat and there is a warrant out for Ryan, so I hope you'll understand that we're obliged to take a look for ourselves. Five minutes and we'll be out of your hair, I promise.'

The ashen mum looked surprised, as if she'd never encountered politeness or humanity from a police officer before, Beth's diplomacy striking home.

‘Well, you'd better come in then,' she said, stepping aside. ‘But don't touch anything.'

Stepping aside, she let them into the house. Beth was immediately struck by the sepulchral quiet, the oddly lifeless atmosphere.

‘Up or down?' Reynolds demanded, keen to crack on.

‘Down, please,' Beth replied quickly, her feet sore after a solid week pounding the beat.

Nodding, Reynolds raced up the stairs, calling out the suspect's name as he went. Beth turned away, hurrying into the kitchen, anxious to be alone. This morning had been awful. She hadn't slept a wink last night, following her argument with Reynolds, fearing she'd done the wrong thing, yet convinced she'd been right to point out his error. Perhaps she'd played it wrong, perhaps she should have gone to her beat colleague first, but he didn't seem terribly interested in her opinion generally and she had the distinct impression he would have swept it under the carpet. Arriving knackered and apprehensive this morning, she'd greeted her colleague in as hearty and positive a manner as she could muster, but it had not been reciprocated. They were stuck together, beat buddies, but any sense of solidarity between them had been destroyed now and they walked the beat in heavy, toxic silence, Beth hating every tense minute of it. At least now they were at the Marwood residence, they had something to do, a task which allowed her to have a brief moment to herself.

But Beth suspected it wouldn't distract them for long. She had already left the kitchen empty-handed and there was clearly nobody hiding in the front room. Which just left the poky downstairs bathroom, which was empty too. Turning away, Beth clocked Dave Reynolds thundering down the stairs.

‘No sign of him, we'd best crack on. You OK to call it in?'

He didn't wait for an answer, hurrying out the front door.

‘Well, he's a charmer, isn't he?' Lorraine Marwood commented darkly.

Smiling awkwardly, Beth made her excuses and left, radioing Southampton Central as she walked down the garden path. Clicking off, she turned to look back at the house. Marwood had slipped the net last night and since then nothing. No sightings, no witnesses, no chance encounters, no sign of him anywhere in the city.

Where was he?