‘And what about Mr Prescott?’

‘He returned to the terrace with me.’

‘And as far as you know Rachel carried on walking towards the lake?’

‘I suppose so. But that wasn’t my fault. She was pissed and in a foul mood.’

Her mother reacted sharply by removing her arm from her daughter’s shoulder and leaping to her feet.

‘I can’t believe you’re prepared to talk about your sister like that,’ she snapped. ‘Or that you couldn’t recall the last time you actually saw her. That’s important information.’

Libby shrugged. ‘Well, I’m sorry. But I was in a state and it slipped my mind.’

Denise jabbed a finger at her. ‘But it’s not just that,’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘You should have done more to stop her walking away.’

As Libby stared at her mother, her face seemed to collapse in on itself.

‘Jesus, Mum. It sounds like you’re actually blaming me for what’s happened.’

Denise lowered her arm and shook her head. ‘Well, let’s be honest. You are indirectly responsible. If you hadn’t insisted on getting married to that man even though we didn’t want you to your sister would still be alive.’

It was an explosive remark and Libby responded by getting up and rushing into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Denise dropped back onto the sofa where her husband wrapped his arms around her.

‘If it’s all right with you, Inspector, could I have some time alone with my wife?’ Fraser asked quietly.

James took that as his cue to halt the interview, but before leaving the suite he asked Fraser if he knew which room Mrs Prescott was staying in.

‘It’s at the other end of this corridor on the left, room number twenty-two,’ Fraser answered. ‘She called to check on us just before you arrived so I expect she’s still up.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was 3 a.m. when he tapped the door to Claire Prescott’s room and James got a surprise when the door was opened by her son, Ethan.

‘Detective Inspector James Walker,’ he said, showing his ID. ‘Would it be possible to speak to Mrs Prescott if she’s still up? I spoke to her earlier.’

Ethan nodded. ‘I know. She told me. Is there any—’

He was interrupted by his mother’s voice from inside the room.

‘Let the inspector in, Ethan,’ she called out. ‘He might have some news.’

Ethan stepped back, saying, ‘I’m her son, by the way. My room’s next door, but I don’t want to leave her by herself right now.’

Close up and in the flesh, Ethan Prescott struck James as a rough-looking individual. His eyes were small and deep set and his jawline was coated with stubble. He was wearing a tight blue shirt and James detected firm muscles bunched beneath it.

Ethan’s mother was in an armchair next to the large double bed. Her eyes were inflamed from crying and blood vessels bulged out of her neck.

‘Hello again, Mrs Prescott,’ James said.

‘I know about Rachel,’ she replied, her voice hoarse. ‘Fraser told me. It’s the worst news possible and I don’t see how any of us can ever come to terms with it.’