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4
Five minutes later they’re at the station. Locke is taken to the custody suite and allocated a cell.
Before the interview, Abraham catches up with his team. Although they have a basic timeline for yesterday’s events, huge gaps remain. At least the Locke-Povey Marine employees have now been questioned. Yesterday morning, Daniel Locke arrived at the workshop just after eight, driving off again between ten thirty and eleven. Staff at Headlands Junior School place him there at eleven, so the latest he could have left the workshop is ten minutes prior. CCTV footage shows him on Skentel’s quay a quarter of an hour after leaving the school. Five minutes after that, he sailed out of the harbour.
No other evidence ties him to a particular place at a particular time. No ANPR cameras cover the coastal route between Skentel and Redlecker. Phone data has been received for Locke’s mobile, but the dearth of local cell towers means it’s virtually useless. His phone only pinged one tower, which means no triangulation and no assisted GPS positioning. Besides, based on the timings, it’s clear he was never more than fifteen minutes from all four locations. He made three calls yesterday, all to Lucy’sphone – the last one two minutes after the coastguard logged his distress call. Abraham listened to the message. Fin Locke’s voice – ‘Daddy, no’ – is clearly audible.
Billie’s movements have been harder to pin down. Lucy says her daughter was still at home when she took Fin to school at eight thirty. What the girl did afterwards is unclear. She used her phone a few times yesterday morning. But, just like Daniel Locke’s, it only pinged one tower. Most of the activity comprised WhatsApp messages to various groups.
Did Locke return home for his stepdaughter before collecting Fin from school? There’s certainly enough of a window. And it would explain why her phone was found in his car.
Billie’s friends have been interviewed, but no one’s offered much insight. She was popular, passionate, in love with the sea and its wildlife. Her relationship with her stepdad seemed strong. Her text messages and emails show nothing odd.
While the CCTV can’t place her on the boat, there’s no reason to think she was anywhere else. Which means Billie, tragically, has probably shared Fin’s fate.
The shore-based search recommenced at first light. So far, there’s no news. Now that the worst weather has passed, a second fleet has left Skentel, supported by lifeboat crews from stations up and down the coast. The coastguard’s SARIS system has plotted a revised search plan, but its area is far larger than yesterday’s and the storm’s intensity has greatly reduced its reliability. Even if Billie or Finarerecovered, there’s zero chance they’ll be found alive.
It’s beyond heartbreaking. For Lucy Locke. For the whole of Skentel.
He breaks up the meeting and summons Cooper. ‘What was written on that notepaper you retrieved from the bin?’
‘Just his wife’s name, over and over, scratched through with a pencil.’
Abraham grimaces, thinking of the motif he keeps finding. Then he leads Cooper to the interview room, where Daniel Locke is waiting.
TWENTY
1
Lucy wakes to pain.
For a few merciful seconds, physical pain is all there is. Pain in her chest, in her side. Pain in her knees, in her hands and feet; in her neck and her throat and her cheeks.
She’s face up on her bed, still dressed in last night’s clothes. Through the window she sees bouldered sky. Atlantic wind is wailing up Mortis Point’s west face and corkscrewing over the summit, battering the house like an advancing shield wall.
Dark things swarm at the edges of Lucy’s perception. Then, sudden and shocking – cold clarity. Her brain, filling up. Memories that make no sense, falling over her like frames plucked from a cine reel.
Bee at the front door. TheLazy Susansitting low in the water. The playground at Headlands School. Miss Clay. The detective.
And then … and then …
The coastguard helicopter, the white borehole in the sea. Daniel, screaming at her from his hospital bed. Jake, inher living room, firelight reflecting in his eyes:We had to suspend the search. I’m sorry, Lucy. But I think you need to prepare yourself.
Her back arches. A sound of agony rolls from her throat. She grabs fistfuls of bedclothes, hauls herself up. Beside her, Noemie blinks into wakefulness.
Lucy stares at her friend, watches the same slow dawning. Rolling away from her, she steps on to the floor. Her body is a big-band rhythm section of cracking and clicking. She limps to her wardrobe, knees squealing in their sockets. When she halts before it, the room takes a moment to catch up.
‘Lucy,’ Noemie mutters. ‘Oh God, Lucy.’
Opening the wardrobe, she snags a hoodie from its hanger and pulls it on. Behind her, Noemie says, ‘I’ll make coffee.’
‘No time.’
‘No time for what?’
‘Got to get going.’
‘Get going where?’