‘Not a needle. I’m looking for a syringe. The type used for anal insertion.’ Lyle clearly didn’t know if they had specifically looked for that type of syringe or not, but he insisted that no medical-looking equipment of any kind had been found. ‘Hospitals use them all the time,’ Jack said. ‘Wetlock would have been able to pick one up anytime.’ Jack left Lyle with that thought as he continued searching around and underneath the mattress. ‘How long was it before the emergency services arrived?’
‘We’re local, so maybe ten minutes before we got here. And the ambulance was a couple of minutes ahead of us. Her father was in shock. He just kept repeating that there was nothing he could do. We moved her pretty quick because she was lying in her own...’ Lyle leant on the doorframe and watched Jack continue his search. ‘He’d tried calling her a couple of times earlier that day and when she didn’t answer, he came round. He was in two minds because although he was concerned about her fragile mental state, he was also used to her ignoring him. He thought she’d been doing OK.’
‘What did the person on the front desk say about visitors?’
‘She never had any. Apart from her dad and he’d not been for four days.’
Jack stood bolt upright and stared at Lyle in disbelief. ‘He was here four days before he found her body? Around the time she actually died? Think, Lyle. No father walks into this flat and thinks their kid is “doing OK”. Does this look like the place of someone who’s doing OK? She was at my house twice in the space of a week, pissed, high as a kite and offering herself on a plate.’
‘As far as I understand it, he didn’t know that.’
‘Four weeks ago, he asked my wife to ask me to help him protect his daughter from being groomed by an unidentified talent scout—’
‘Who doesn’t exist.’
‘DC Lyle!’ Jack finally snapped. ‘I respect any officer who sticks to their guns in a case, but if you’re just going to spout bullshit irrelevancies, then I’ll find the evidence against Wetlock myself and take it directly to your DCI. Elliot Wetlock, a loving father and medical professional for more than thirty years, sees his mentally ill daughter living like this, surrounded by more prescription and street drugs than any one person should take in a lifetime, and he walks away? ’Course he fucking doesn’t. And he did know that she’d been to my house causing trouble because he was the one she called to come and collect her. I know she ended up in an Uber, but he’d have had a missed call and a voicemail from her.’
Now that Lyle was on the back foot and feeling like a fool, Jack softened his tone. He continued searching on and around the bed as he spoke. ‘Tania Wetlock was a liability to his career. This isn’t me guessing, DC Lyle: I know because my wife told me. This flat — it’s not about giving his daughter independence and responsibility, it’s about keeping her out of sight. You know he pays for it all, right?’
Lyle nodded. Everything was in Wetlock’s name, and he paid all of the bills.
Jack continued. ‘I know he looks like a doting dad on the surface. So you have to dig. Find his ex-wife. Find his old mentees from years ago.’ Jack got out his mobile phone and disappeared beneath the bed. Lyle moved round to keep him in sight.
Jack was sprawled on his belly on the filthy floor, half underneath the bed. ‘Get down here.’ Lyle reluctantly joined Jack, sensing that he’d found something that he and his team had missed. Jack held his mobile on its side, so that the torch shone into a gap between the ill-fitting skirting and the floorboard beneath it. Inside the gap, was a plastic wrapping. Jack took two photos of it in situ, before Lyle took a pencil from his pocket and hooked it out.
The wrapping read: Diazepam Rectal Gel 20mg.
Lyle and Jack lay side by side beneath the bed with the springs above them on the mattress pressing on their hair while Jack airdropped the two photographs he’d just taken to Lyle’s mobile, and Lyle snapped several more whilst Jack shone his torch on the single piece of evidence that they both knew could put Wetlock away for the murder of his daughter. Lyle secured the wrapper into an evidence bag, then both men got to their feet, brushing the dust and cobwebs from their clothes.
‘Dig into Wetlock’s career history,’ said Jack. ‘Look for him being unexpectedly promoted out of one hospital and sent to another. Look for recurring names on recommendations and for him being protected by the same people again and again. Anything that doesn’t feel right. I’m guessing it won’t take you long. Then get that rushed through for prints before going to your DCI with any new evidence. Say that in the process of eliminating Elliot Wetlock from your enquiries you made one final sweep of Tania’s flat. Don’t mention me.’
Lyle silently absorbed every word of Jack’s instructions. Jack then reiterated what his policeman’s instinct was telling him. ‘Maybe Wetlock had reached the end of his tether. Maybe he finally wanted peace — for Tania as well as for himself. Wetlock was seen here four days before she died, which is roughly the timeframe for her OD. Everything he did from that moment on was calculated playacting. When he came back days later and “found” her, the scene was set for him to play the grieving father. If you go after him in the way I’ve suggested, you’re raising the bar. Your guv will expect you to leave no stone unturned from this second on. If you’re not good enough, now’s the time to admit it.’
Lyle raised his chin and pushed his shoulders back, then nodded.
‘Good.’ Jack smiled. ‘Your career just got a lot more interesting.’
Chapter 38
When Jack got back home he printed out the two photographs he’d taken of the rectal diazepam wrapper and slid them into an envelope. He then returned to Wetlock’s property, where he could clearly see his BMW parked in his designated resident’s bay. Jack wore his ski hood rolled up like a beanie hat, pulled up the collar on his jacket and posted the envelope through Wetlock’s letterbox.
Jack knew that although Lyle was now firmly on Wetlock’s case, it could be days before he gathered enough evidence for an arrest, and Jack wanted this sorted now, so he could clear his head and go after Adam Border.
Jack texted Wetlock from his burner phone:
Check your post. Your mistake is with the cops. Go to them before they come to you.
Jack walked home with the intention of meeting Maggie off her run and seeing if she was still in the same flirtatious mood as she’d been that morning. He then had the idea of taking her to shop for a new car — ideally the black G Class Merc he’d fallen in love with and knew he could get for £25k. Then he’d round off his hugely productive day by preparing to use the last few days of his leave to go to Ireland and track down Adam Border.
Jack was still on a high when his mobile rang.
Unfortunately for Jack, Maggie had other plans for the rest of his day.
Maggie had forgotten all about her early morning flirting and instead had arranged for Jack to meet her outside the small local nursery. It was located in the back garden of a large property just around the corner from their home and catered for no more than fifteen children. If Hannah did end up attending, Maggie and Jack would be given the password to the nursery’s security cameras and so would be able to log in and watch Hannah playing with her new friends. Maggie was excited about the prospect of their daughter starting to explore the world without them. The thought gave Jack palpitations.
Maggie and Jack were greeted at the locked gate by a pleasant middle-aged lady called Margo Berry. She invited them into the playground and walked them around the outside of the building. Most of the windows were partially obscured by paintings Blu Tacked to the inside of the glass.