Last Seen: A gripping psychological thriller, full of secrets and twists. Lucy Clarke

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СКАЧАТЬ beach hut doors. I add that there may have been a disagreement, and that Caz then went back to her beach hut, leaving Jacob there. ‘That was the last time he’s been seen.’

      I pass PC Evans the list of names I have written down, along with contact details, and – where relevant – the number of their beach huts. I have done my homework. I want to make things as easy as possible for the police.

      PC Roam leans forward. ‘How has Jacob seemed to you, lately? What sort of mood has he been in?’ When she talks, her pencilled brows lift and dip above her eyes.

      ‘He’s been a little distracted,’ I admit. ‘I think it’s his girlfriend. My husband and I think it might be love.’

      ‘Things were … going well between them?’ PC Roam asks.

      Earlier in the week I’d been washing up breakfast dishes, while Jacob sat slumped in the deckchair, his feet resting on the balcony railing, binoculars pressed to his face. ‘What are you looking at?’

      Jacob whipped the binoculars away and turned to glare at me, as if shocked by my audacious attempt at communicating with him. ‘Nothing. A cormorant.’ He pushed himself up, his height still taking me by surprise. ‘I’m gonna see Luke,’ he’d grunted, then climbed from the deck and loped away across the beach.

      Exhausted by the constant sensation that I needed to walk on eggshells, I’d settled into the deckchair he’d vacated and sighed.

      Jacob had left his binoculars perched on the deck railing, so I picked them up and held them to my face, pointing them in the direction he’d been looking.

      I squinted along the shoreline, looking for a cormorant. Joe and Binks were talking to Lorrain and Isla, who’d just come in from a swim and, beyond them, I saw what had caught Jacob’s attention: Caz was sitting on the shoreline in her bikini, between two boys. She had her head tipped back, laughing. Then she playfully slapped one of the boys. I remember thinking then: jealousy can be a toxic emotion.

      I knew that very well.

      Now I answer PC Roam. ‘Jacob doesn’t talk to me about his love life. Obviously,’ I say, imitating his gruff tone. I’ve no idea why I’m trying so hard to make the officers like me. Maybe I think they’ll put more effort into finding Jacob. ‘I imagine that there were the normal jealousies and arguments and make-ups.’

      PC Roam nods, then asks, ‘What about your relationship with Jacob? How were things between the two of you?’

      ‘Fine. Everything was fine,’ I say, and I wonder if I’ve answered too brightly.

      PC Roam’s mobile rings and she glances at the screen. When she flicks it to silent, apologizing for the interruption, I catch a glimpse of her screen saver – a picture of a round-faced baby smiling with a bib on. So she’s a mother, too. I wonder who her child is with while she’s at work, and how hard she must find it to leave.

      When she looks up, I catch her eye and she seems to read my thoughts. She smiles.

      ‘And where were you and your husband the night you last saw Jacob?’ PC Evans asks.

      ‘I was here in the beach hut. Went to bed early.’

      ‘So the last time you saw Jacob was when he left for the drinks party at Luke’s hut around –’ he looks at his pad – ‘eight o’clock.’

      ‘That’s correct. My husband left an hour before that. He had to drive to Bristol ready for a pitch on Monday morning and he wanted to miss the traffic.’ As I’m talking about Nick, I hear the tread of his footsteps across the deck, and the three of us turn.

      ‘Nick Symonds,’ he says, offering his hand to both officers in turn.

      ‘We were just hearing about your whereabouts on the night Jacob was last seen. Your wife tells us you were in Bristol.’

      ‘Yes, that’s right.’ I pour Nick a glass of water while he gives the officers the details of his hotel and meeting.

      I must have tuned out for a moment, because all of a sudden PC Evans is saying to me, ‘You and your son had words, did you?’

      I turn, blinking into the spotlight of his question.

      I’m aware of Nick’s brows drawing together as he looks at me, no doubt surprised that I have not shared this detail with the police. ‘Oh, well, we did, I suppose,’ I say to PC Evans, trying to smile. ‘Nothing important – just curfew time. You know what teenagers can be like.’

      Through the corner of my eyes, I can see Nick staring at me, bewildered.

      I panic. I can’t remember what I’d said the argument was about to Nick. It wasn’t curfew time. Why did I tell the police that? I should have stuck to the same story. I can feel heat creeping up my throat, clawing into my cheeks.

      Then it comes back to me: ‘He also got a bit of a lecture about using his phone when I’m talking to him. Nothing serious. He left in a bit of a huff – but that’s nothing unusual! He’s seventeen!’

      PC Roam saves me by smiling.

      I daren’t look at Nick, but I hope he’s bought it, too.

      PC Evans asks, ‘Have there been any signs that Jacob may be depressed?’

      ‘No, not at all,’ Nick answers. ‘Not to my mind, at least. Sarah?’

      I shake my head. Jacob can be moody and challenging, but I wouldn’t say he’s depressed.

      ‘And has he ever suffered from any mental health problems?’

      ‘No,’ we both answer.

      ‘Have you been through Jacob’s belongings?’ PC Evans asks. ‘Noticed anything missing? A laptop, passport, wallet, clothes – anything that stands out?’

      ‘Jacob left the beach hut with his rucksack,’ I tell them, ‘but then he always takes it if he’s going to a friend’s hut for the evening.’

      ‘What do you think was in it?’

      ‘Not much – probably just his wallet and phone, and I think a blue hoodie. I couldn’t find it in his drawer. I’ve checked through his things here, and no other clothes look like they’ve been taken, or his wash stuff. He doesn’t have a laptop any more, just uses an iPad. That’s still here, too.’ I explain that our house is rented out during the summer holidays and all our other belongings are stored in the garage. The police suggest we visit this afternoon to be sure nothing is missing.

      ‘If it’s okay, we’d like to take Jacob’s iPad with us. Just procedure,’ PC Evans adds.

      ‘Course,’ I say.

      Nick turns to me. ‘Have you told them about the weed in Jacob’s drawer, yet?

      ‘Not yet,’ I say tightly. What is he thinking? ‘It was just a tiny amount,’ I tell the police. ‘We’ve never seen Jacob with any before. He’s not into drugs – we’d know. I imagine he’s just experimenting. He’s at the age, isn’t he?’

      ‘Could СКАЧАТЬ