‘I’m sorry, Beth,’ Stacey said, trying to appease her. ‘Maybe we did jump to conclusions too soon. Access to his briefcase would certainly help us establish where to go from here.’
‘So you haven’t stopped looking for him?’
Stacey shook her head.
‘What do you need?’ she asked, seemingly satisfied with the answer.
‘Whatever he used to take with him regularly to meet with clients.’
‘One minute,’ Beth said, leaving the room.
Stacey could taste the humble pie in her mouth, and she’d happily eat some more if it got her what she wanted.
‘Here it is,’ Beth said, placing the briefcase on the coffee table.
It was a combination lock.
‘My birthday, his birthday. Nineteen twelve and eleven eleven,’ she offered.
Stacey turned the dials and the case sprang open. She felt a brief flash of guilt, wondering if a man’s briefcase was like a woman’s handbag. Was she overstepping some kind of personal boundary?
Beth peered over too.
In the lid of the case were various pockets and compartments. A quick look told her the letter wasn’t in there. In the body of the case were two sets of bound accounts ledgers with the nameCHANGEin bold capital letters on the front. She took both sets out and inspected the bottom of the case. Nothing. She held them by the metal spine in each hand and turned them both upside down. A single sheet of paper fell from the one on the left.
‘Is that what you’re after?’ Beth asked as Stacey reached for the folded sheet.
The note was handwritten and began with the words:
Please help
Stacey nodded as her heart thudded in her chest.
‘What does it—’
‘I’m sorry, Beth. I can’t share it with you,’ she said, refolding the letter and putting it in her satchel. ‘Thank you for allowing me to do this, and I promise that as soon as I can give you an update, I will.’
Beth looked as though she wanted to press further but chose not to.
Stacey headed for the door and closed it behind her.
She got back into the squad car and let out a breath. Yesterday she’d told the woman her husband had likely left her because he’d developed feelings for another woman. Eventually she might have to tell her that her husband was now missing and presumed dead.
SIXTY-THREE
‘Read it out again,’ Kim said, putting the phone on speaker so Bryant could hear. They had left Jerry Dwyer’s house fifty minutes ago after the door had been secured and the man himself put into a squad car to be taken to Stow-on-the-Wold.
Stacey coughed and started again.
‘“Please help. Both staff and patients are sworn to secrecy. This is not the professional clinic it seems to be. Patients are being starved, beaten, humiliated and raped. Please let the authorities know so they can investigate properly. They need to access the third floor. Please help before someone else dies.”’
‘Jesus,’ Bryant said, pulling into a spot in front of Megan Shaw’s premises. ‘It was like a letter to nowhere. Just sat in Gabe’s briefcase. A cry for bloody help.’
And a poor, desperately frightened man had been hiding in his attic since sending the letter.
‘Okay, both you and Penn feel free to make a nuisance of yourselves until that search warrant comes through.’
‘On it, boss.’