Free One Bad Turn by Emma Salisbury Page A

towards her, ‘They’re police,’ he said evenly.
    ‘Then do as they say and sit down,’ she chided him, ignoring his outstretched arms and placing the child instead into a travel cot that doubled as a playpen in the corner of the room. This time Wellbeck did as he was told. He looked at his watch once more, yet it was an automatic reaction, for every nerve ending told him the day would not pan out as he’d expected first thing. He settled his gaze upon the detectives standing before him. ‘Now tell us,’ he ordered. Coupland cleared his throat.
    Upstairs a baby boy began to whimper.
     
    ‘Hope you’re good with kids.’ Coupland said in an undertone to the FLO that arrived twenty minutes later. Wellbeck had taken the baby girl upstairs to change her nappy and the woman had gone into the children’s nursery to bring her grandson down for his bottle. The twins were nine months old, born prematurely they were small for their age but what they lacked in size their made up for in lung capacity. The FLO pulled a face. She didn’t mind kids really, but was wary of showing too much of an interest to her colleagues. She was going steady with an officer based at Eccles, she didn’t want him to start thinking she was broody. ‘Poor little mites,’ she said instead, and set about de-cluttering the living room in anticipation of the friends and relatives that would descend as soon as word got out. She pulled the downstairs curtains closed, ‘to keep out nosey parkers,’ she said with authority before going into the kitchen to fill the kettle with water. ‘They’ve got a fancy coffee machine,’ Coupland told her, ‘get Grandma to show you how it works, I need to get hubby on his own for a bit.’ The FLO nodded, introducing herself to the older woman when she came downstairs, asking if she would show her what was what in the kitchen. The woman’s eyes were red rimmed and she looked at the FLO confused. ‘I need to let my husband know…’ her hand instinctively flew to her throat, ‘this is going to kill him.’
    ‘Let’s do that in here, shall we?’ the FLO suggested, taking the woman’s arm as she guided her into the other room. Wellbeck returned, instead of an infant he carried a baby monitor. ‘Asleep at last,’ he grimaced, his eyes darting to the hallway and the closed kitchen door beyond. ‘I’ve been trying her mobile but it’s just ringing out.’ Behind the closed curtain the living room window looked out on to the front of the house, to Coupland’s car parked on the road, with Maria’s phone ringing inside an evidence bag. It was a common reaction, people expecting their loved ones to answer, prove the police had got it wrong. Coupland spoke in a quiet voice: ‘We recovered Maria’s phone, along with other personal items found with her bag. That’s how we knew how to find you.’ He let that sink in. Wellbeck began shaking his head, ‘Mr Wellbeck,’ Coupland’s voice remained low, ‘look, would you mind if I use your first name..?’ He paused, waiting for a response. ‘Pete…’
    ‘OK Pete, can I ask why you didn’t try phoning your wife when she didn’t come home last night? I would have expected to see missed calls from you.’
    ‘Maria was staying with a friend from her antenatal class, they’d arranged a night out at the theatre,’ he made a sound like a tyre letting out air; ‘they were really going to watch American male models take their clothes off to music,’ he pulled a face, ‘she thought it’d be a laugh. “It’s not about the show, Pete, it’s the chance of a night out, let my hair down a little,” she made it sound like she was in some sort of prison.’ Coupland remembered the early months after Amy came along, Lynn’s fear of taking her out shopping on her own. He’d taken a few days annual leave when she’d arrived, well before paternity leave kicked in. The palaver of packing the changing bag then collapsing the buggy to put it into the back of the