Page 18

CHAPTER 18

MELANIE – D AY T WO

Melanie sits very still a moment before closing the news app on her phone. Alongside her, Sam shifts in his seat.

‘It’s great they kept the graphic on-screen so long. With the phone number.’ Sam’s still looking at his own phone, trying to spin it. Lift her spirits.

‘Yeah – but why the hell did they mention Matthew rejoining the force? Everything we don’t need.’ Melanie badly needs to discount Dawn Meadows from the inquiry. But what if her gut is wrong and she is involved? That press conference will not have helped. Might have wound her up.

‘You reckon the husband will have seen it? The coverage?’ Sam glances at the shiny green front door several houses down. Adam Meadows’ place is only just within sight, given the bend in the road. They had to park up close by to catch the news, having been held up by an accident on the motorway. Even putting out a plea to traffic police locally for support hadn’t helped. A lorry had jackknifed, and the priority was getting the fire brigade through.

‘Of course he will have been watching. Right. Before we go in, there’s something I need to share.’ Melanie feels her stomach tense. It’s a risk showing Sam the most recent anonymous letter. He’ll wonder why it’s not up on the incident room board, but she has no choice. She spools through her phone and holds up the screenshot. ‘This is an additional anonymous letter that came in to me after the media stories about Matthew Hill joining my new team.’

She watches Sam reading the letter on-screen.

Matthew Hill is a child killer. You take him back on your team and you will all be sorry.

‘Jeez. That’s a bit stronger than the other letters. How come it’s not on the digital file?’ Sam turns to her, his expression wary. He’s bright and Melanie trusts him, but she needs to be careful.

‘Forensics found nothing again. Probably posted in Dorset. But no prints. It was put aside as more of the same. Nasty but probably harmless. You know how much hate mail we get.’ Melanie feels herself colouring. ‘Point is, I don’t want this getting out to the media so I’m keeping the details of this letter tight for the moment. I don’t want it leaked and splashed all over the front pages.’

Sam frowns. ‘But we need to put it to Dawn Meadows. We need to—’

‘Of course. Which is why I’m showing you. I’m going to talk round it to Adam Meadows but I don’t want to give him the words. I want to spook him. And I want something up our sleeve to trip Dawn up when we find her. You OK with that?’

‘Sure.’

‘Also Matthew Hill hasn’t seen this letter yet.’ Melanie is speaking very fast, trying to cover her discomfort. ‘And I don’t want it leaked to him either. With the state he’s in. So just between the two of us for now. Yes?’

‘OK, boss.’ Sam still sounds wary.

‘So let’s do this. Let’s look this Adam Meadows in the eye and see what we think.’ Melanie removes the key from the ignition and springs from the car so quickly that Sam only just has time to shut his own door before she fires the lock.

Adam Meadows’ property is impressive and once she’s standing in front of the green door, Melanie realises it’s not what she expected. A large, double-fronted property with bay windows, smart shutters and carefully manicured box trees in large pots on either side of the door. Adam’s construction business must be doing OK. All the same, she’ll get the team to check his finances.

As Melanie rings the doorbell, she thinks of the update from the local force. The search found nothing in the property and Adam Meadows was apparently calm under initial questioning. The local team sent the draft statement through. His story is that he and Dawn split up years back. They have no contact and he has absolutely no idea where she is. He only phoned in to get this all over with.

Melanie gets out her badge as they hear footsteps on the stairs inside. Adam Meadows, when he finally answers the door, is older than she expected. Melanie holds up her badge, quickly doing the sums in her head. He’d be fifties but looks sixties.

‘DI Melanie Sanders. Are you Adam Meadows?’

‘I am.’

‘I understand you were told we’d be calling. Can we come in?’

‘If you must. I’ve had hours of it. Your bloody search teams. What did you expect? That they were going to find that little girl hidden away here?’ He scoffs as he swings the door wider. ‘ Seriously? ’

Melanie walks into the hallway, followed by Sam. They wait at the entrance to the sitting room. ‘In here OK?’ Melanie asks but Adam Meadows just shrugs his shoulders.

The sitting room is large with a black wood burner and a curved open-sided basket stacked with logs alongside. Two large matching sofas in deep burgundy are set around a rustic coffee table. All very tasteful. Expensive looking.

‘May we sit?’ Melanie tilts her head.

‘Please yourself. But forgive me if I don’t offer drinks. Like I say, I’ve had quite enough of all this today. Just want to get this over with.’

‘So – remind me again why you phoned in, Mr Meadows?’ Melanie sits on one of the sofas. She immediately regrets the decision. The sofa’s lower than she expected. Adam Meadows remains standing.

‘I saw it online about the girl missing. It mentioned her dad. Matthew Hill. And I guessed you’d start pointing fingers at Dawn, so I thought I’d nip all that in the bud. As I say, I just want to get this over with.’

‘And why exactly did you think we might point fingers, as you put it?’

His head twitches and he finally sits. ‘Let’s not play games, DI Sanders. We both know why you’ve driven here.’

Melanie pauses, taking in his expression. She can’t quite make out his mood. Anger or just exasperation? His face is strained but difficult to read. There is clearly a lot going on underneath as if there is some internal struggle, but that could be hurt rather than guilt.

She decides to wait. Alongside her Sam does the same, both of them just staring at their interviewee. It takes a while but at last he speaks.

‘Matthew Hill stole my life, DI Sanders.’ Adam Meadows is staring at her, unblinking. ‘First, I lost my boy. Jacob. And then I lost my wife. I have my faith now. That sustains me – but pardon me for not being a fan of the police.’

‘I’m sorry for the loss of your son. A terrible tragedy. But you knew we would need to do a search, Mr Meadows. After all the threats your wife made. And the letters which were sent.’

‘My wife never sent those letters. You never proved they had anything to do with her.’ He pauses. ‘Look. My wife was ill with grief. She didn’t know what she was saying back then. And me?’ He looks away to the bay window and then back. ‘My life unravelled because of Matthew Hill. But, like I say, I have my faith now.’ He glances to a small crucifix above a bookcase in the corner of the room. ‘I don’t wish anyone any harm. Certainly not a child. Quite enough sadness already, thank you very much.’

Melanie can feel Sam turning his head towards her as she watches Adam Meadows who’s still staring at the crucifix.

‘I hear from your initial statement that you and Dawn split up a couple of years after your son died.’

‘That’s right. She couldn’t get past it. Couldn’t find a new purpose. Other than anger.’

‘At Matthew Hill.’

‘Yes. At Matthew Hill. At me. The world. Everything.’

‘Why at you?’

‘Because I was with her every day, I guess. And I didn’t handle it brilliantly myself at first. There was a bit too much drinking.’ He turns to look back at Melanie. ‘I’m not proud of that.’

‘And the drinking. How bad did that get?’ Melanie tilts her head.

‘No violence if that’s what you’re implying. I’d never hurt anyone, least of all someone I loved. But I did withdraw into myself, which must have been hard for Dawn.’ He pauses. ‘I’m told it’s not unusual. Couples breaking up after the loss of a child.’

‘Again. I’m very sorry for your loss.’ Melanie looks once more at the photograph of Jacob Meadows on the mantelpiece. A big smile. His school tie all askew. All at once she’s thinking of her son George. Unbearable thoughts that she tries to push away. But next there’s the crushing thought of Sally and Matthew. The weight of what might lie ahead for them.

Melanie clears her throat and sits up straighter. ‘Can you tell us more about the break-up?’

‘I went to my doctor about the drinking. Got help. And through the counselling, I got back into church. Used to go as a kid. Found it comforting. The thought of an afterlife. For Jacob, I mean.’

‘And Dawn?’

‘She was very anti. Very bitter. It was hard for her to believe in anything. We ended up arguing about that as well.’

‘About your renewed faith?’

‘Yes. It wound her up.’

‘Wound her up how?’

‘She felt there couldn’t be a God who would let a child die the way Jacob died.’ Adam Meadows closes his eyes and a deep frown distorts his face. ‘I tried to explain that’s not how God works. But it just caused more fights.’ He opens his eyes.

‘So she was still angry and bitter when you parted?’

‘I guess you could say that.’

‘So it’s perfectly possible that she did send those nasty letters. May even have sent some more letters? She may have stayed more angry at Matthew Hill than you realised. Maybe that anger spiralled after you parted. Every time he’s been in the news—’

‘I get where you’re going with this but I’m telling you, you’re wrong.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘Dawn wouldn’t have anything to do with this. With the girl being taken. The divorce was sad. I felt bad about it but I needed peace. I couldn’t stand the fighting. I just wanted calm. I couldn’t help Dawn and in the end we just couldn’t be around each other. We split things fifty-fifty. Dawn made it plain she didn’t want to stay in touch. No point. Too painful, she said.’

‘We need to speak to your wife urgently. There’s no trace of her on social media. Do you not have any mutual contacts? Mutual friends? Her relatives? Can you think of anywhere she might be?’

‘No. I told you. We’ve had no contact.’ He’s looking once more towards the window. ‘She had a sister in New Zealand. She said she might go there but I don’t know if she did. They had a falling-out in the past. Typical sisters. I have no idea if it was just talk – moving to New Zealand.’

‘You have a name and an address for her sister?’

‘Anne Peters. Christchurch. But I don’t have an address.’

Melanie watches Sam writing in his notebook. ‘Anyone else?’

Adam shakes his head then looks at the floor before taking a deep breath.

‘Look. My wife lost all hope after Jacob died. She lost faith in life itself. But she didn’t mean those threats she made. She was eaten up with sorrow. I tried to help her get past it, to accept what happened to Jacob as a horrible accident. But she just couldn’t do that.’ A pause. ‘She ended up on antidepressants. She was like a totally different person. But she wouldn’t hurt anyone. She didn’t take that little girl.’

‘You seem very sure of that. How can you be so certain?’

‘Because all that anger came from loving her child so much. You can’t love one child that much and want to hurt another. You just can’t. You’re wasting your time if you think Dawn had anything to do with this.’

Melanie continues to ask questions, taking in Adam’s slightly robotic replies, all the while Sam making the official notes. After about fifteen minutes, she asks about his building company.

‘Any current projects? Working on any sites?’

‘No. Fully retired now. As I say, Dawn and I split things fifty-fifty. We sold our house together and I bought this one. It was a wreck. I didn’t do much to it while I was still working. But once I wound the business down, I put all my time into this place.’ He glances around. ‘Doing up this house was my last project. I told all this to the local police earlier.’

Melanie hands over her card. ‘Well, we’ll stay in touch, Mr Meadows. And if you think of anything. Or if you hear from Dawn—’

‘I won’t hear from Dawn.’

‘She might see it on the news too?’

He shrugs. ‘If she does it will simply stir very sad memories, as it did for me. That’s all. She won’t ring me.’

‘And yet you phoned us.’ Again Melanie watches him really closely for his reaction.

‘Just being a good citizen. Getting it over with rather than waiting for you lot to bash my door down,’ he says. ‘I’m regretting it now though because you’re not listening, are you? You’re determined to bark up the wrong tree.’ He pauses to smooth imagined crumbs from the knee of his jeans. ‘It’s very sad this little girl is missing. Very sad. But it has absolutely nothing to do with us.’