He leads me to the lift. Once we’re inside his office he offers me a coffee, which I politely decline. He seems uncomfortable. The thoughts I mulled over last night return. Were Daniel and Joanna somehow working together, to get money out of herfather? However, sending a photo of her body doesn’t make sense. And how does Stuart King fit into any of this?
‘The investigation remains open,’ I say. ‘We still haven’t found your wife’s body. I’m sure that if we could, it would give you some closure.’
He turns to the water dispenser, his back to me. ‘Yes, it would. Very much,’ he says.
‘And, of course, there are the bloodstains that we haven’t accounted for.’
He then turns and looks at me. ‘I’ve put the house on the market. The memories are too painful.’
I nod. ‘Of course. We don’t need access to the house. I just want you and Gil to know we haven’t given up on finding your wife.’
‘Gil?’ he asks, surprised.
‘She asked if we were still following leads.’
He sighs. Something about Gil contacting me seems to bother him.
‘We need to get on with our lives,’ he says. ‘Joel, especially.’
‘Absolutely,’ I say with a smile, walking to the door. I turn before leaving. ‘Oh, by the way, did Joanna have a habit of buying and writing out birthday cards well in advance?’
If I had hoped to catch him unawares, it doesn’t work. He just looks confused.
‘What? I don’t understand. What’s that got to do with anything? Anyway, Jo was the worst at remembering birthdays,’ he says.
His response suggests he has no knowledge of the card. I force a laugh. ‘Sorry, I’m getting confused, too many cases. Thanks for seeing me.’
I walk to the lift, my mind buzzing.
Something’s not right.
If Daniel Neal didn’t send that card, then who did?
Chapter Fifty-Three
Nicola
Mr Neal has mentioned he’ll be taking Joel away for a holiday. ‘Only for four days,’ he told me. But it gives me a break, too.
Mum and Dad want to visit Norfolk for a change of scenery, even if it will be a bit chilly.
As I arrive at preschool, the children are streaming out of the doors. I spot Joel holding the head teacher’s hand. She approaches me with a serious expression.
‘Could Mr Neal come in at some point?’ she asks.
Joel hands me the painting he has just made.
‘I can ask him. I know they’re going away for a few days.’
‘Can you and I have a chat now? I’ll find someone to entertain Joel.’
A wave of anxiety washes over me. What has Joel done? I follow her into a classroom. A pretty young woman takes Joel, and I tell him, ‘I’ll be back soon.’
I realise I’m still holding his painting tightly.
We enter a small office, and the headteacher gestures for me to sit opposite her at the desk.
‘I’m Mrs Wright,’ she says.
