Never Coming Home (13 page)

She moved to stand at the entrance to a side chapel. She was perfectly safe. And if there
was
anything to alarm her, which there wouldn’t be, Devlin and the two Americans were just a shout away, beyond the church door. Munroe and Rossi – big, taciturn, built in the same mould as Devlin. He’d introduced them simply as associates, with a security business here in Florence, but there was more to it than that. They’d worked together in the past, she was sure of it. It didn’t matter. If Devlin trusted them, then so could
 
…

She didn’t hear him approach.

‘Kaz.’ She jumped. ‘Don’t look round.’ His voice was hoarse,
low-pitched. He moved to stand beside her and she risked a sidelong glance. His hands were resting on a low rail in front of them. The wedding ring was gone, but she recognised the gold signet. The wristwatch was new. And expensive.

On a spurt of impatience, she began to turn. ‘Jeff, what the hell is all this? I’m only here to talk
 
–’

‘Don’t.’ It was almost a hiss, no more than a whisper. Anguish?

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Something here wasn’t right.

‘Jeff, what
 
–’

‘You have to stop this, Kaz.’ The words were rapid now, breathless. ‘If you don’t
 
–’ His voice hitched, rose, fell back to a frantic whisper. ‘You have to stop coming after me. It can only be about Jamie. But I don’t
have
her any more!’

‘What?’ Kaz spun round in shock.

And froze.

In all the years they’d been married she’d never seen fear on her husband’s face.

‘Jeff, please
 
–’ She reached out, grabbed his arm, saw the fear ratchet even higher. ‘Jamie
is
still alive? Where?’ Hands tightened into claws. ‘What have you done with my daughter?’

‘She
 
… she’s safe.’ Jeff’s eyes were everywhere, scouring the recesses of the church. ‘You have to stop, Kaz. Stop looking. Go home. Before we all die. Go home!’

With a violent jerk, he broke her hold.

Behind them the door of the church slammed open.

Kaz jumped and swung round. A chattering group of tourists poured towards her, led by a woman with a striped umbrella. She swerved sideways, to avoid being engulfed, pushing her way to the edge of the crowd. The space beyond the group was empty.

Jeff was gone.

Chapter Fifteen

When she erupted out of the church into the sunlit square, Devlin was running towards her.

‘It’s okay.’ He caught her in a tight hug, against his chest. ‘Munroe and Rossi are following. They picked him up as he left the church.’ He dived into his pocket as his mobile phone chirped. ‘Yeah. We’re on our way.’ He nodded to Kaz. ‘He’s heading out of the city. Let’s get the car.’

Munroe walked towards the hire car, shaking his head. Devlin shoved open the door and got out.

‘Sorry, man. That car of his has one turn of speed. He just disappeared.’

‘That may not be entirely true.’ Rossi snapped open a map and spread it on the bonnet of the car. Kaz slid out to join Devlin, as Rossi traced a finger over the unfolded chart. ‘I know this area. I did a job out here a few years ago. Elmore must have turned off here. There are only three properties off that road. Shouldn’t be too hard to find out which.’

It was, of course, the third and last. They could see Jeff’s dark red Lotus from their vantage point in the car, on the hill overlooking the property. It was a tile-roofed, white farmhouse, with a cluster of outbuildings – what looked like a couple of rental cottages, in the process of refurbishment, stables and a barn. The blue of a pool showed beyond the house. Jeff’s car faced the barn. Devlin studied the terrain with a pair of field glasses.

‘No sign of anything moving.’ He handed Kaz the glasses. ‘Wonder why he didn’t put the car inside?’ The barn door stood open.

‘Maybe he’s planning to go out again?’ Kaz speculated. ‘He can’t have realised we were following.’ She lowered the glasses. Munroe and Rossi had driven on, beyond the house, checking for any more approaches – or exit routes.

His eyes still on the buildings, Devlin pushed the start button on the recorder that lay between them on the seat. The exchange in the church re-played, soft but clear. ‘He was pretty keen for you to back off.’

‘He was scared.’ Kaz shivered. ‘I’ve never seen Jeff like that. He doesn’t scare.’

‘How good is his acting?’

‘Very. But not this time.’

‘All that stuff about everybody is gonna die. Sounds like cheap theatrics to me.’

‘You had to be there. He was trying to make it look as if we didn’t know each other. As if someone else might be watching.’ She slewed round in her seat. ‘He knew I was looking for Jamie.’

‘Or assumed it. Guilt has a habit of jumping to conclusions.’ Devlin avoided her glance. ‘Yes?’ He flipped the buzzing mobile phone open, frowning. Kaz tensed. ‘Rossi and Munroe are in position.’ Devlin dropped the phone back in his pocket. ‘I guess we can go down and pay your ex-husband a visit.’

There was nothing threatening about the house. It was just a building shuttered against the sun. No sign of Jeff. No sign of anyone. Kaz’s chest was tight. What did she expect? That he’d come flying out, yelling at her to leave? Heart thumping, she surveyed the courtyard and the building.

The silence suddenly seemed odd, oppressive. She tried to imagine Jamie running around, splashing in the pool. Had her daughter been here? Was she still? Were she and Jeff hiding, somewhere in the house? Had he told her they were playing a game?

Behind her Devlin was turning the car, so that it was facing the road, but she hadn’t been able to wait. Unexpectedly unwilling to approach the silent building alone, she craned to peer into the red Lotus. Would there be something – a child’s book or toy? There was nothing but an empty mineral water bottle and a man’s linen jacket, tossed over the seat. She prowled around the car to look on the opposite side, checking the barn through the open doors.

And saw. And screamed.

Devlin came up behind her at a run. He had her around the waist in a second, pulling her back. She hit out blindly, caught him on the chin and heard him curse. ‘Let me go!’ She squirmed to face him. ‘For God’s sake, we have to get him down. Get help
 
–’

‘Kaz.’ Devlin shoved her head hard against his chest, holding her eyes away from the thing that was hanging inside the barn. ‘It’s too late for that. He’s dead.’

‘How can you know?’ She was shaking, teeth rattling against each other. ‘He might
 
–’ She looked up, saw the bleakness in Devlin’s face and abruptly stopped struggling. ‘How can you know?’

‘Think about it. We’ve been here watching for at least half-an-hour. No one’s been in or out of there.’ He jerked his head. ‘He was dead before we got here, baby. We go in there and all we’re doing is contaminating a crime scene.’

‘Oh, God.’ Kaz put her hands to her mouth. ‘After he saw me he came straight out here and did that. He killed himself.’ Abruptly she twisted out of Devlin’s grip, to retch into a patch of weeds.

Devlin waited until she was done, studying the scene in the barn from the safety of the doorway. Jeff’s body hung from a beam, swaying slightly in a cross breeze. Even from a distance the distortion and discoloration of the face was visible, and the unnatural angle of the neck. A set of steps lay overturned under the dangling feet. The guy could have been dead before they hit the floor. Devlin turned away to hand Kaz a handkerchief as she straightened up.

‘Thank you. I’m sorry
 
…’

‘Natural reaction.’ Devlin shrugged, looking back at the house.

‘We need to call the police.’ Kaz put her hand to her head.

‘Not yet.’

‘What?’

‘Once we call the cops, we get hustled straight out of here.’ The phone was in his hand. ‘Munroe? Get down here. We have a situation.’ He folded the phone. ‘Another ten, twenty minutes isn’t going to matter. If there’s any trace of Jamie here, we’ll find it.’

‘Anything?’ Devlin came out of the dining room, into the hall, intercepting Munroe as he came down the stairs. Munroe was shaking his head.

‘Most of the top floor is empty. Nothing that looks like a child’s room.’ He slid off the thin latex gloves, storing them in his pocket. ‘We’ve been here long enough. You need to call this in.’

‘Yeah.’ Devlin stared back through the open door of the dining room and the French windows beyond. There was a battered-looking football resting against a pot on the terrace. Would a five-year-old girl play with something like that? ‘You and Rossi head out. I’ll take it from here.’ Slipping off his own gloves, he handed them to Munroe and went to find the house phone.

Kaz was sitting on a bench outside one of the partly renovated cottages. He paused to give them a critical once over. Typical rural idyll stuff. Pretty. Elmore would have done well with them. He sat beside Kaz on the bench. If she’d been crying, she wasn’t now.

‘I called the cops.’

Kaz nodded, eyes distant. ‘If she’d ever been here, we’d have found something.’

‘I think so.’

She turned stiffly, focusing on him, eyes bleak. ‘Where is she? What are we going to do now? Jeff was
 
–’ She broke off, swinging round.

Devlin was listening, but not to her. The distant sound of sirens was growing louder, more strident. She watched, open-mouthed, as three police cars bounced along the drive towards them. Devlin hoisted himself to his feet as the cars rolled to a stop, spitting a dozen yelling, gun-wielding police into the courtyard.

Chapter Sixteen

‘Tell me,
Signora
Elmore, your ex-husband – he was a violent man? Jealous perhaps?’

‘No!’ Kaz put her hand to her temple, trying to ease the pounding in her head. Her Italian was too rusty for a police interrogation. Finding that she was having trouble keeping up, the policeman had switched to English. The events at the farmhouse were a dizzy blur. She and Devlin had been bundled into separate cars and driven away, as the police swarmed over the house. Now she was sitting in a windowless room, being asked the craziest questions.

‘Look, I don’t understand what you want.’ She pulled herself up straighter in the chair. ‘I told you already. Jeff didn’t have a violent temper, he didn’t drink to excess, he didn’t do drugs. Not when I was married to him.’
He was a serial adulterer. That’s all
. ‘I don’t know what this has to do with him killing himself.’ Her voice cracked. ‘When I met him this morning he was frightened, not angry.’

‘Ah, yes. Your meeting in the church. Can you describe please the clothes your husband was wearing?’

Kaz closed her eyes and opened them again. ‘Chinos, dark shirt and jacket – linen, loafers, I think.’ The policeman was making notes.

‘None of these clothes were marked or stained in any way?’

‘No. There wasn’t much light where we were standing, but I didn’t see anything.’ She gripped the edge of the table. ‘Will you please tell me what all this is about?’

‘Mrs Elmore, do not distress yourself. I will get you a cup of coffee and then I wish you to tell me again all that you have done here in Florence. This time it is for the record. What you would call making a statement? You will do that?’ He was already on his feet. Kaz found herself nodding blankly at a closing door.

Outside in the corridor a young officer, smoking a cigarette cupped guiltily inside his palm, was leaning against the wall. He looked up as his colleague joined him, raising his eyebrows. ‘Well?’

‘Their stories match.
Signora
Elmore came here looking for her daughter.’

‘You think the child is still alive?’

‘With what we saw this morning? No. Jeff Elmore was a head case.’ The first man made a gesture of distaste and shoved himself away from the wall. ‘Let’s get this finished.’

Kaz sipped coffee she didn’t want and stumbled again through her story, trying to read the police officer’s expression. He was plump and balding, probably in his mid-40s. He’d given her his name and rank, but she couldn’t remember it. When she’d stammered to a close, finally, he lifted a file and put a photograph in front of her. ‘You recognise the woman in this picture?’

‘Yes.’ Kaz had no doubt who the laughing, dark-haired girl was. ‘That’s the waitress who told me about Jeff – Giuliana.’

‘Giuliana Sforza.’ The policeman nodded. ‘And this?’

It looked like a school photograph. The child’s hair was carefully combed, the shirt and sweater unnaturally neat.

‘I think
 
… I think it may be the little boy in the restaurant. The one who gave me the message.’

The policeman nodded again. His eyes were grim, but his mouth suggested satisfaction. ‘Dominic Sforza – Giuliana’s son,’ he confirmed. ‘And can you tell me, Mrs Elmore. Is this your husband’s writing?’

The paper was in a plastic bag. Kaz smoothed it down.

‘I never meant things to end this way. I’m sorry for Dom and Giuliana and for my daughter. I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t stop it. This is the only way I can repay.’