Page 28 of The Tapes

TWENTY-TWO

Owen looks so young. I’d guess the photograph was taken when he was sixteen or seventeen. As I look into his eyes, I know it’ll never be renewed.

A debit and credit card are slotted into the other sections of the wallet, each with Owen’s name. There’s no cash, though maybe he never carried it anyway.

I sit in Mark’s big chair, checking each of the wallet pockets.

There’s a scrap of paper with Owen’s address, and another with his mum’s phone number – saying to call in an emergency.

As well as his bank cards and driving licence, there’s a crumpled photo of a shaggy brown dog sitting on the lap of a young boy I quickly realise is a twelve- or thirteen-year-old Owen.

Why has Mark got Owen’s wallet?

I sit, staring at the poor man’s driving licence photo, when I realise there could be an obvious answer.

I saw the Instagram photo of Owen playing football the night before, with Mark on the same team.

Perhaps he left his wallet behind by accident, and Mark took it for him?

They don’t necessarily have to be friends to play on the same team – but maybe they were outside of work, and I never knew?

After Dina and I identified Mark to Detective Sergeant Cox, she said she would contact him to ask about football from the night before.

Had Owen told anyone he was having problems? Did he seem down?

I wonder whether Mark told them he had Owen’s wallet. Whether they have any idea he worked at the same place as the first Earring Killer victim so many years ago. If any of it matters.

It probably would have helped if I’d told Detective Sergeant Cox that Owen had my mother’s cassette.

I’m not sure what to do, though sitting in an office I shouldn’t be in isn’t going to help.

I move back to the safe, return the wallet, and push the door closed, which is when I notice something poking out from the slim gap behind.

I start to pull and it takes a moment to realise it’s a curled loop of twine.

Not quite thick enough to be rope but stronger and heavier than it looks.

I’ve already dropped it back into place and started towards the door when I realise what I was holding.

Cox said that Owen hanged himself.

I have no way of knowing what he used – and something like twine is always useful to have around a landscaping yard. And yet…

I don’t know what to do. I could call an anonymous tip into the police but how do people realistically do that?

I couldn’t use my own mobile, and phone boxes haven’t been a thing in a long time.

Even then, I now realise my fingerprints are on Owen’s wallet and his bank cards.

If I somehow did manage to get the police out here, I could implicate myself.

I return to the safe and retrieve Owen’s wallet, then drop it into my bag.

I’m going to have to come up with a better idea – but that’s for another time.

Instead, I hurry to the door, let myself out and then re-lock it.

I can still leave the keys in the mailbox, then text Mark to say I’ve done so. No need to let on I was in his office.

All of which would be fine – except the yard gates are somehow open. They were closed minutes before, which means someone else is here.

I get the answer a second later. There’s a flash of Mark’s shiny black BMW, and then his headlights glide across me.