9
Melissa couldn’t see much, but that didn’t stop her trying to watch the house in the wing mirror as Mitchell drove them back down the road towards the centre of Oakhurst. All there was to see was her grandmother, who was pottering around her front garden – of Zack Wild, who they had gone to see, there was no sign.
“D’you think he’s actually out, or in and trying to avoid us?” she asked after finally abandoning the wing mirror and settling back in the passenger seat.
Mitchell shrugged. “That fancy sports car of his isn’t in the drive, so I’d say he’s out, but you never know. I can’t think why he’d be avoiding us, though, not unless he’s the killer; even then I can’t see him avoiding us – he doesn’t know that we know Lucy is apparently missing, or that we have reason for thinking she might have visited him.
“Hiding or just not in, we’ll have to try again later. Right now, I want to speak to Oliver Ryder before we go and see the Gouldings.”
Melissa didn’t relish the thought of dealing with Oliver Ryder at that time of the morning, and she was slow to exit the car when they reached their destination. She knew from experience that Oliver and his friends were reluctant to talk to the police at the best of times, and it was usually best to wait until after noon to speak to them. Mitchell had no such concerns, however, and strode up to the front door, where he waited for Melissa to make her way around to the back door, as per his instructions.
When there was no response to the doorbell, he banged on the door, and then stepped back so he could shout, “Open up, it’s the police,” loud enough to be heard by Oliver and his friends even if they were still in bed.
The movement of the curtain in the front bedroom was minimal, no more than a quick twitch as someone peeked out, but Mitchell spotted it.
“We’re not here to arrest you, we just need to talk,” he called out, returning to the front door so he could ring the bell and bang his fist on it again, though he doubted his words would get anyone to the door any quicker.
**