Free Sleep Tight by Rachel Abbott Page B

talk to you about my wife.’

13
    ‘
What?
’ Tom Douglas was not given to yelling at people down the phone, but then he’d rarely had people on his team as daft as Ryan Tippetts. ‘Ryan, we waited until you said you were in place before we left. We’ve no idea what’s happened to Olivia Brookes and her children. They could all be dead, or he could be holding them somewhere. We don’t know, so I wanted you to keep eyes on the house in case she came home or he went out. What part of that did you fail to comprehend?’
    Tom listened impatiently to Ryan’s explanation, and didn’t believe a word of it. Some rumpus at the end of the road that he had felt obliged to investigate? Not a chance. He was probably asleep. And how come he’d realised only now – hours later – that the Jag was missing from the drive?
    ‘Yes, I do accept that he could have put the car in the garage, but did it not occur to you to check as soon as you realised it wasn’t visible? We can’t justify formal surveillance on Robert Brookes at this stage, but it’s common sense to let us know if he leaves, isn’t it?’
    He listened to more excuses for about ten seconds and then noticed Becky was signalling him from outside the door of his office, clearly with something that she urgently needed to tell him. He’d had enough of DC Tippetts for now.
    ‘Ryan, watch that house like a hawk – understand? And let me know the minute he gets back, if indeed he
ever
gets back.’ Tom put the phone down carefully. Early in his career he had learned that slamming the phone down did no good to anybody, and the person at the other end heard nothing more than a click, the same as if the phone had been replaced normally. So it was his first step to restoring calm after a frustrating call. He took a deep breath and beckoned Becky to come in.
    ‘We’ve just heard from the police in Anglesey,’ she said. ‘They got to the guest house, B&B – whatever – at about eight o’clock. They thought it would be early enough, but they were wrong. The landlady had already had a visitor. Robert Brookes was there just after six this morning.’
    Shit
. This was all they needed: a suspect in what may or may not be a crime going on the rampage and trampling over potential evidence. He’d crucify Ryan when he got hold of him.
    Becky was still hovering just inside the doorway, so Tom signalled her to sit down, glad to see she was looking slightly better today. Perhaps the excitement of a new case had driven out some of her demons, whatever they were.
    Becky gave an exasperated shrug. ‘Bloody witnesses. Sometimes I could string them up. The police said that Mrs Evans seemed really uncomfortable talking to them, but she apologised. She said she’d been completely wrong. Robert Brookes hadn’t visited his wife last week. In fact, she’d never met him until this morning.’
    ‘So why did she tell us he was there, then?’
    ‘Well, she now says she was probably a bit confused. There had been a visitor one night, and she’d been sure it was Mr Brookes. But perhaps it was one of her other guests who had somebody to stay over for the night. She says she has so many that sometimes she gets muddled.’
    Tom thought for a moment. ‘Did the local guys believe her?’
    ‘I’m not sure they did. They said she seemed flustered and keen to move on. They tried to push her, to find out why she’d changed her story, but she just got upset. She was adamant that she’s never seen Robert Brookes before, though, and that bit they
did
believe.’
    ‘All a bit too convenient, if you ask me. What did Brookes say to her? Anything significant?’
    ‘Not really. He asked if he could see the room Olivia had slept in, but when she showed him he just stared at the bed, then walked over to the window and looked out at the beach. She said he was muttering about the colour of the sand, but she didn’t know what he was talking about, because it’s just, well,
sand
coloured. And that was