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Bovis knew a liar when he saw one and this lad was terrible at hiding it, gulping and tugging at his jacket collar like it was choking him. He really did appear to be worried, though more for himself maybe than his missing girlfriend.
‘Had you quarrelled at all?’ the reporter wanted to know. They too seemed to know there was more to the story than he was letting on.
‘I wouldn’t say we’d beenquarrelling, more that… she got upset, and she ran off. Spur of the moment sort of thing.’
‘You only reported her as missing yesterday. Why?’
Panicked, he spoke quickly. ‘She’d been spotted all along the coast so we knew where she was, and she’s a good sailor. We all thought she’d have turned back by now.’
‘Yet, there have been no sightings of the ferry known as theDagaliensince the seventeenth of December, and no radio messages at all. We understand that the search was initially planned for Christmas Eve but has been brought forward to start later today due to the storms. Will it find her, do you think?’
‘I hope so,’ the man gulped, and his eyes swam with tears.
Bovis wondered if it wasn’t just the wind whipping at the lad’s face doing it. He didn’t like the look of him one bit, but he felt sorry for the older man standing behind him, visibly anguished.
‘Ben Thomas, thank you very much.’ The reporter turned back to the camera, telling of the mounting Storm Nora that was expected to make landfall in the next twenty-four hours and how if the search didn’t turn up any clues as to the missing ferrywoman’s whereabouts soon, there’d be little chance of finding her until after the storm passed, which could, the reporter warned, be many days.
Bovis peered at the still image of the missing blonde woman on the screen, angling his body so he could compare it with the woman wiping down the counter and singing a song to herself. His eyes narrowed.
Wordlessly he stood, flicking the news site shut. As he left through the café door, making the five-pound notes on the table flutter to the floor, he talked into his phone. His words were caught up in the wind and carried away, out of Alex’s hearing.
‘Coastguard? The runaway girl? She’s ’ere at Clove Lore.’
