Impression (DI Gardener 4)

Sally Summerby blew her nose and wiped her tears away with her hands. In a softer voice, she asked, “What’s happened?”

Gardener nodded in Reilly’s direction. “My partner and I were called out to an incident in Batley in the early hours, midnight to be precise.”

“What does this have to do with my daughter?”

“Does the name Nicola Stapleton mean anything to you?”

“That Goodman woman asked me the same question earlier. I told her no. I’ve never heard of the woman.”

Gardener passed over the best photo he had of the prostitute. Thanks to Photoshop and the wonders of modern technology, he couldn’t actually tell she was dead. “Do you recognize her?”

Sally glanced at it, but immediately shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen her before in my life. What does she have to do with my daughter?”

Before Gardener had a chance to answer, Sally Summerby flew off the handle again. “Are you trying to tell me she has Chloe but you still don’t know where she is?”

“We hope not,” said Reilly.

Sally Summerby stood up very quickly. “I want to know. Just give me five minutes with her. I’ll kill her! I’d kill anyone who put my daughter at risk.”

“You won’t need to,” said Gardener. “Someone else already has. That was why we were called out. She was found dead in her house.”

“Dead?” she repeated. “Who killed her?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Where’s your husband, Mrs Summerby?” Reilly asked.

“He’s at work, one of the farms in the village.”

“Is there any chance we could talk to him?”

“I doubt it. It’s their busiest time of the year, they’re harvesting. He could be anywhere.”

“It’s no problem, we can always arrange another visit.”

“What do you want with Gareth?”

“We need to ask him some questions,” said Reilly.

“About this woman? Why would my husband know her?”

“How long have you been married?” Gardener asked.

“Seven years.”

“Had you known him long before that?”

“A couple of years, maybe. We met a bit later in life, which means we’re a bit older than most to have a five-year-old daughter.”

So there may be something in Gareth Summerby’s past that his wife doesn’t know about, thought Gardener.

She continued. “I can’t see why my husband would have any involvement with this woman. He’s a very good husband and an excellent father. He’s a God-loving Christian who lives his life by the book, as do all born-again Christians, and I have no problem with it.”

“Born again?” questioned Reilly.

“Pardon?”

“You said, born-again Christian?”