“This is some place,” he says. “Must be worth a pretty penny.”
“Dale Hadley is a banker,” I say, which says enough.
I glance at the detective constable. He has toothpaste in the shell of his ear. I point it out and he tilts the rear-view mirror, examining himself. Annoyed.
“The lads put toothpaste on my desk phone,” he explains. “Old dogs, old tricks.”
DCI Drury is already inside the house, trying to explain to Piper Hadley’s family why they weren’t informed that Natasha McBain had been found.
Dale Hadley is a short, stocky man with graying hair and deep lines around his eyes. His shoulders are as wide as his waist and his clothes look ill-fitting on his odd-shaped frame. He’s pacing the kitchen, fists clenched.
“What else haven’t you told us? What else are you hiding?”
“I understand you’re upset, Mr. Hadley, but the news blackout was necessary. We had to check the whereabouts of suspects. Establish alibis.”
“Which includes me! That’s why I had one of your detectives come here asking me where I was during the blizzard.”
“You have to understand—”
“No, you have to understand. I will not be treated like a fucking criminal. My daughter has been missing for three years. We’ve heard nothing. Not a whisper. Now we learn that you’ve been keeping information secret.”
“I will never lie to you,” says Drury, “but there will be certain things the police must keep to ourselves.”
Through an open door, I see a sunken living room where a girl of about eleven is holding her hands over her brother’s ears.
“Daddy!” she says.
“Sorry, Phoebes.”
The children go back to watching TV.
Dale Hadley turns again to Drury. “You must have some idea where she is.”
“We’re looking, I promise you. I have officers going door to door and dozens of volunteers searching the fields around the farmhouse. They’re going to keep looking, I promise you.”
“What farmhouse?”
“We think Natasha was trying to get home. It’s likely she didn’t know her parents had divorced and moved house.”
Mr. Hadley’s face bends like a white rubber mask. “Oh, Christ. So Piper might have been with her. They both could have escaped.”
“It’s too early to say.”
“You must have some leads.”
“We are questioning someone.”
“Who?”
“A man who was in the area when Natasha was found.”
“What’s his name?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
“Does he know where Piper is? Have you asked him? Did he leave her somewhere safe?”
Drury opens his palms. “I can’t answer those questions.”
A woman enters the room, her hair freshly brushed and make-up applied. She’s carrying a toddler in colorful leggings and a bright-red smock.
She admonishes her husband. “You shouldn’t be talking in here, Dale. Not in front of the children.”
Sarah Hadley is a tall, attractive woman in her early forties, dressed in a dark silk shirt, cashmere cardigan and designer jeans that might never have been worn.
“Phoebe, can you please feed Jessica?” she asks. “She wants Rice Krispies. Make sure she wears a bib.”
Phoebe takes her sister, lifting her onto a booster chair.
Sarah insists on talking in the drawing room. The precisely furnished room has sofas and armchairs arranged around a walnut coffee table. A Christmas tree, decorated in white, fills the bay window.
Sarah perches on the edge of an armchair, hands on her lap, knees together. The whites of her eyes are threaded with tiny red veins and her breath smells of something sweet: a drink to steel herself.
“They’ve arrested someone,” says Mr. Hadley. “They think he might know where Piper is.”
“I didn’t say that,” says Drury. “At this stage it’s not wise to speculate.”
Sarah turns her head and stares past the Christmas tree into the garden. The sun has come out and turned the frosty lawn into a carpet of diamonds.
“Natasha was the strong one,” she whispers. “If she couldn’t survive, what hope is there for Piper?”
Her husband hushes her and reaches for her hand, but she withdraws it almost instinctively. They’re an odd-looking couple. Sarah looks like a former beauty queen with flawless skin, seemingly devoid of pores and such artfully applied make-up that it appears almost non-existent. Dale is short and stocky with a moon face and acne scars.
Each seems to have reacted differently to the news. Dale has allowed himself to hope for the first time in a long while. Now he wants to be outside, kicking down doors, shaking the trees and yelling Piper’s name from the rooftops.