‘But could Helen have been trying to make provision for a foster child?’
‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘Do you think they could have been planning something long-term?’
‘With what?’
‘The little boy. Do you think they might have been planning to adop—’
‘No, that would have been imp—I mean…no, definitely not.’
‘Mr McGregor, you went to say that would have been impossible.’
‘Improbable,’ he said as his face tightened. ‘Given their age, I would have thought that would rule them out as adoptive parents.’
He looked at his watch pointedly. ‘If you have no further financial questions.’
Kim paused, wondering if there was anything else she could ask him. It had seemed so straightforward, but given his response to that one question, she wasn’t quite so sure.
‘No. We’re done. Thank you very much for your time.’
There was no doubt in her mind that the man knew something he wasn’t sharing, and she wondered how many people were keeping this couple’s secrets.
What she had learned was that Helen had wanted to open the purse strings possibly to include seven-year-old Jonathan Pike. The bigger question in her mind was whether Zach had been aware of that when trying to persuade his mother to change her mind.
SIXTY-THREE
Stacey watched the video clip another twenty times before accepting that she was getting nothing more from it. There was no point calling the boss to say that an unidentifiable male appeared to have crossed the road about six hours before the murders took place.
She opened the folder that held the footage from Rachel’s accident in the high street.
‘Hey, Stace, got any more of these?’ Penn asked.
‘What, ten years of bank statements isn’t enough to see if there’s anything dodgy?’ she asked, reaching for another pile off the printer.
‘Nope. I need more.’
‘You got something?’ she asked.
‘Not sure yet,’ he said, taking the pile from her.
Even that was way more than she’d had.
She looked at the first file, which was the video taken from across the road. The top edge of the footage caught only the legs and feet of the people sitting at the tables outside the coffee shop.
Jeans and ankle boots landed at the middle table at the exact moment she was expecting to see Rachel appear. A bag Stacey recognised as a Michael Kors was placed by her feet.
Within a minute, another set of legs appeared, and Stacey could just make out the lower hem of an overall. The waitress taking her order.
Rachel retrieved her handbag from the ground and put it out of sight on the table. Her hand appeared, resting on the arm of the metal chair. The street was growing busier, and Stacey’s view was often obscured by passing traffic and pedestrians, but she was able to see the cigarette in Rachel’s hand.
The overall returned with what she assumed was Rachel’s order. Another cigarette just minutes after finishing the first. Stacey found herself trying to look around the people and cars so she missed nothing, but the image was not three dimensional, and no amount of shifting in her seat was going to give her a better view.
There was always something eerie knowing you were watching the last moments of a person’s life, almost like you knew something they didn’t, even though it was in the past.
Some part of you still wanted to shout a warning back in time.
Stacey kept her eyes glued to the screen as the overall reappeared. Based on the time, she suspected that was a second drink. Eventually she saw the movement of the legs that indicated she was about to leave. Again, she tried to look around a pair of stonewashed jeans to catch any detail.