‘Mr Croft, do you have any reason to believe that any of your colleagues would have wanted to harm any of the girls?’

He stood. ‘Of course not. How could you even ask such a question? That is a terrible thing to say. Everyone employed at the facility was there to take care of those children.’

'For a monthly salary,' Kim said before she could stop herself.

'And even people that were not,' he shot back. 'Even the pastor could not get through to some of these girls.'

‘What about Arthur?’

‘He made a mistake. He would never have harmed anyone.’

‘I understand that, Mr Croft, but we have the body of what appears to be a teenage girl buried in the grounds of Crestwood and one thing I can deduce with absolute certainty is that she didn’t get there by herself.’

He stood still and ran his fingers through his hair; the only physical reaction to her words. His facial expressions were difficult to read beneath the Botox.

‘Mr Croft, did you or anyone you know file objections to Professor Milton’s dig on the land?’

‘Absolutely not. I would have no reason at all to do that.’

She stood and faced him. ‘And finally, the last question I have before I leave you in peace. Where were you on the night of Teresa’s murder?’

His face turned crimson and he pointed towards the door. ‘I would thank you to leave my property immediately. My offer of assistance is revoked and any further questions should be directed through my solicitor.’

Kim moved towards the door. ‘Mr Croft. I am more than ready to leave your wife’s home and I’d like to thank you for your time.’

Kim exited through the front door as a silver Range Rover pulled onto the gravel patch. The driver did not take the available space between the two others, indicating that something else was normally parked there.

A slim female stepped out of the vehicle and retrieved a briefcase from the back seat. She wore a black business suit with a pencil skirt that fell just below the knee. The calves were lifted by four-inch heels. Her hair was black and glossy but pulled back into a severe ponytail.

As they passed, Kim couldn’t help but notice that the woman was absolutely stunning. She was rewarded with a tolerant smile and a curt nod.

‘Okay, what the hell does she see in him?’ Bryant asked.

Kim shook her head as she got into the car. The door closed behind the married couple. There were still mysteries in the world after all.

Bryant started the car and put it into reverse. ‘Guv, are you ever gonna find a way to play nice?’

‘Of course I am, the very moment I find playmates that I like.’

She sighed as she looked back at the property and for a moment thought about William Payne and his daughter Lucy. Fate most definitely had a flawed perspective.

‘What’re you thinking?’ Bryant asked as the gate slid open to release them.

‘I’m thinking about his reaction to the news of the buried girl.’

‘What about it?’

‘He never even asked if we’d made an identification. He wasn't shocked by anything we told him. The Botox may have numbed his face but it couldn't control his eye movement.’

Kim’s gut had reacted unfavourably to Mr Richard Croft. He knew something, of that she was sure. But she was still chasing that elusive thread, that final piece of hanging cotton that once pulled, would unravel the secrets of Crestwood.

Thirty-Nine

‘What did they want?’ Nina Croft asked, placing her briefcase down in the hallway.

‘They were asking about Crestwood,’ Richard answered, as he followed his wife into the kitchen. After fifteen years together there were two things about her that never failed to amaze him.

The first was that she still looked as fantastic as she had the day they’d met. He had fallen head over heels in love with her and unfortunately for him, that had not changed since.

The second was that the icy remoteness had not left her eyes for seven years.

Nina stopped at the floating island in the middle of the vast kitchen. He stood on the other side. She faced him through the Le Creuset kitchenware that had never been used.

‘What did you tell them?’ she demanded.

Richard lowered his eyes. Seven years ago, after the birth of his second son, he had been in the throes of euphoria. Watching his beautiful wife give birth had provoked in him such fierce protection and love he had thought the bond with his wife had been unbreakable. He had felt he could trust her with anything.

Two days later, after settling Harrison into his cot, Richard had felt close enough to his wife to reveal the secrets held at Crestwood. They had not shared a bed again.

There had been no anger, no recriminations and no threat of turning him in. A freezing fog had fallen between them and it had not lifted since.

‘What did they ask?’

He recounted the conversation word for word. She showed no emotion at all until the final couple of questions. Only then did a muscle jump in her cheek. When he’d finished he felt a bead of sweat forming beneath his hairline as he waited for her response.

‘Richard, I told you years ago that I would not tolerate your past mistakes affecting my life or the lives of my children.’

‘Was that the night you left my bed forever, sweetheart?’

Every now and again the barely tolerant tone of her voice was like a kick to the stomach and sometimes his backbone put in a surprise appearance.

‘Yes, my love, any attraction I felt died after your night-time confession. It would have been scandalous enough that an enquiry into Crestwood would have revealed your inability to keep your hands out of the facility's pockets.’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling as though speaking to Harrison. ‘To take money that was meant for those girls was reprehensible, my love,’ she said icily, ‘but what you did to cover it up. Well ... quite honestly, words defy me.’

Once more he damned his total honesty to her that night. Yes, he had taken a little extra salary for himself. He had deserved it and the girls hadn't missed it. Their basic needs had been covered at all times.

The disgust in the face of his wife found its way to a heart that refused to let her go. Croft’s immediate reaction was to strike back. To hurt her in a way that would provoke any measure of feeling.

He tipped his head and smiled. ‘Well, at least I have someone prepared to offer me love, even if my wife will not.’

Richard held his breath. Any reaction that contained real emotion would be welcome. Anything that would indicate the remnants of what they once had.

She laughed out loud. It was not a sound born of joy or happiness. ‘You mean Marta?’

This was not the reaction he’d expected. A sly smile was creeping across her face.

The room started to close in on him. ‘You ... you know about Marta?’

‘Know about it, my sweet ...? I pay very handsomely for it.’

Richard stepped back as though she had slapped him. She was lying. She had to be.

‘Oh Richard, you ridiculous old fool. Marta has a large family back in Bulgaria that she supports with this job. Her annual salary ensures that they eat. Her erm ... overtime sends both her brothers to school, so if she seems eager to have sex with you it’s because she gets paid by the hour. And I am happy to pay, because she deserves every single penny.’

Richard could feel the colour infusing his face as the ugly truth registered. Earlier today Marta had been quite insistent.

‘You cold-hearted bitch.’

Nina ignored the insult and turned to the coffee machine. ‘I’ve told you before that I will not have even the hint of scandal attached to my name. I have worked very hard to achieve the life that I live and because of your public standing in the community I don’t mind having you along as a passenger. As long as you travel silently.’