Page 86 of Worse Than Murder
‘If he is still alive, why do you think he faked his own death?’
‘There’s only one explanation, isn’t there? He killed his daughters.’
Everyone seems to be quick to condemn Jack as a guilty man. Nobody has suggested he might have faked his death simply because of his depression, because he couldn’t cope with losing two of his children. Why are people so easily prepared to think the worst of others?
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘I’m guessing you’ve heard about Travis Montgomery’s car being found at the bottom of the lake.’ He nods. ‘It must have, I assume, gone missing around the time the girls were taken yet was never reported missing.’
‘Yes. No. You’re right. No, it wasn’t reported missing.’
‘When the girls did go missing and suddenly there’s Travis without a car, what did you think?’
Lionel blows out his cheeks. ‘I don’t recall, I’m sorry. I was very preoccupied with finding the girls. It was the biggest case I’ve ever had to deal with. I didn’t give the car much thought.’
‘But you knew it was missing?’
‘No.’
‘Did you know Travis has been listed as a missing person since December 1992?’
‘Yes.’
Lionel isn’t forthcoming with his answers, and I have the sneaky suspicion he’s going to start playing the elderly card if I ask him something he doesn’t like the sound of.
I study him. He’s sitting, straight-backed in his armchair, feet planted firmly on the floor, hands wrapped around his coffee mug. His hands are holding it just a little too tightly for my liking. His knuckles are almost white.
I lean forward. ‘Not long after Jack disappeared in the storm, you were forced to leave the police. It was believed you’d embezzled charity money. But you didn’t, did you?’
Lionel steals a glance to Tania before turning back to me.
‘No. I didn’t.’
‘But you couldn’t prove it?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know who did put the money in your bank account?’
‘No.’
Again, his answer came too quickly. He’s lying.
‘Who do you suspect it was?’
He takes a sharp breath and shakes his head. ‘I really have no idea.’
Another lie.
Lionel looks, once again, to Tania.
From my point of view, I can only see the back of Tania’s head as she’s sitting on the edge of the sofa, mug in hand, looking to Lionel. Is she communicating with him, silently, via facial expressions, mouthing words to him, hoping I can’t see what’s going on?
‘Did you know about the car at the bottom of the lake?’ I ask.
‘No. Of course, not,’ he answers. This time, I believe him.
