And if she’d been busy with a special gig, then it explained why she’d been too busy to meet up with random men from that companions website. That conversation still bothered me. There was nothing of Evie in that conversation. Like she’d suddenly turned into someone else.
A sudden thought pushed in. What if it wasn’t really Evie on the other end of that conversation?
I recalled the crime scene that the police had shown me in the photographs. Evie’s personal effects had been half buried, not buried in the way someone would bury things if they seriously didn’t want those things to be found.
I held my head in my hands. Evie, you sure left behind one hell of a mess.
I jerked my head up again as Verity’s voice pierced the air. She was standing in the door frame. “Detective Devoe and Sergeant Moss are at the door.”
I nodded at her.
Running my hands through my hair, I checked that the girls were still in their beds and then headed downstairs.
The faces of the police were deadpan serious.
“Did you find out something else?” I asked.
“Yes,” replied Lena Devoe. “We’d like you to come down to the station to give a statement. I tried to call, but your phone was busy.”
“Yeah, I—” No, don’t tell them about the call from Constance. “You want a statement from me? Why?”
“Please come down, and we’ll discuss it there.”
It wasn’t hard to tell that they hadn’t found Evie, but they’d obviously found out something that made things look bad for me. But I needed to ask the question anyway. “Have you found out where Evie is?”
“No, I’m afraid we haven’t yet located her,” said Devoe.
“Do I have to come down to the station?”
“No, you don’t have to come,” she said. “You’re free to refuse at this point.”
“You make it sound like I soon won’t be free to refuse. What’s going on?”
“We can’t discuss that here.” Devoe took a step back, as though she fully expected me to do as she’d just asked.
I glanced back at Verity, and she gave me an anxious nod.
I might as well find out what they knew.
Grabbing shoes and my wallet, I walked out the door to my car. And drove for the second time to the police station.
When I walked into Devoe’s office, there was a pile of objects lying beneath a sheet of plastic on top of her desk.
“Sit down, please, Mr Harlow,” the detective instructed.
I sat.
Devoe and Moss didn’t sit. They arranged themselves near the items.
“Do I have your permission to record this session?” Devoe asked me.
“Record away,” I told her.
She cast a steely look at me. “First, I need to tell you that you don’t have to talk to us. You have the right to stay silent. And any statements you make might be used as evidence against you.”
“Hell, I’m getting that speech. You’re actually giving me that speech.”
“It’s just procedure, Mr Harlow.”
I eyed her directly. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“You’re sure? You can get a lawyer before you talk to us, if you wish.”
“Just . . . get started. You’ve hauled me down here, and now I just want this over with.”
Thoughts ran haywire through my head. A dead investigator. Evie in London. Evie in Greece. The string of online messages that were nothing like Evie . . .
“Okay. I’m about to start recording.” She pressed a button and then repeated her Right to Remain Silent speech. “Do you understand and want to proceed?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, first thing I need to ask before going any further is a routine question. Are you under the influence of alcohol or drugs?”
“No. None of the above.”
“Have you had either of those today?”
“No.”
She snatched the sheet of plastic away from her desk. I didn’t need anyone to explain the items to me. They were bad. A dirt-encrusted rope, a knife and thick tape.
Panic rippled through my stomach. Had someone hurt Evie after all? But then Evie’s online messages slipped back into my mind.
Evie didn’t send me those messages.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t her. It was someone who knew nothing about my wife. I was being set up in every which way.
“Okay then,” Detective Devoe continued. “We have three items on the desk. A length of rope, some tape and a knife. Do you recognise any or all of those things?”