by Ann Cleeves
‘Or he might be a killer himself,’ Willow said. ‘He sounds like a young man given to melodrama. Could he have seen murder as revenge for corrupting his father and betraying his mother?’
‘Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?’ It sounded like one of the gothic films Fran had sometimes enjoyed, late on dark winter nights. Besides, Perez wasn’t sure if the young had that kind of concept of sexual morality.
‘Yeah, I know. It’s clutching at straws. We have so much information now, but I haven’t any sort of feel about who’s responsible.’ Willow looked at Perez. ‘What about you, Jimmy? You know this place. What’s the next move?’
‘There’s still some basic policing. Routine stuff. We haven’t found anyone yet who saw Tom Rogerson after he left his car at the airport. He can’t just have vanished into thin air.’ He paused. ‘Apart from that, I think we have to wait.’
‘For the murderer to make a mistake?’
‘Or to attempt to kill again. We know that the Hays have secrets. Even if one of the family isn’t responsible for the deaths, it’s possible that they know who is. Or have their suspicions. So we wait and we watch them.’
Willow nodded to show that made sense to her. ‘Sandy, you have another go at the airport. Local folk will talk to you. How do you see the watching, Jimmy? It’d be hard to hide any surveillance in a place with so few people and so little cover.’
‘I can see their place from my house.’
‘Ah, so it’s just an excuse for staying home and drinking tea all day?’
He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Just give me one day,’ he said. ‘Sometimes waiting is the hardest thing.’
She caught his eye. A flash of understanding. ‘One day. If you’re sure that’s all you need.’
He walked her back to the sheriff’s house. The rain had eased a little. From the bar at the bottom of the lane, fiddle music suddenly spilled out through an open door. Wednesday night, when locals came together to share their music. In the summer it would be packed with visitors, but tonight and this early in the evening the musicians would be playing mostly to themselves.
‘Will you come in for a coffee, Jimmy? I’m sure they’d like to see you.’
He looked at his watch. He still had an hour before he had to be home for Duncan to drop off Cassie. ‘Aye, why not?’ He knew he had a decision to make about their future, but he felt very easy in her company. Whatever he decided, they would still manage to work together.
She unlocked the door and walked into a warm house. There were voices in the basement kitchen. They hadn’t been able to see in from outside because the heavy curtains had been drawn.
‘Hi there, I’ve brought Jimmy in. I hope that’s OK.’ Willow walked ahead of him down the stairs.
Rosie was sitting in the chair by the Aga and her husband was making tea. The place smelled different. Milky.
‘Come in!’ the man said. ‘Come in and meet my son.’
Then Perez saw that the dozing Rosie had a baby in her arms.
‘He was born last night,’ John said. ‘You weren’t here, Willow. We left you a note and some stuff for your breakfast. We’ve only just got back from the hospital.’
‘No,’ Willow said. ‘I didn’t get back. Something came up.’ Perez looked at her to see if that was a private joke, but he could tell that she only had eyes for the child, who was pink and wrinkled and wrapped in a yellow blanket. ‘What will you call him?’
‘We don’t know yet.’ Rosie smiled. ‘We thought we’d wait and see what suited.’
‘But as we can’t call him Prune, which is what he most looks like,’ the man went on, ‘we’d better come up with something else.’ He poured water into a teapot. ‘Will you both have a mug? And a dram to wet the baby’s head?’
‘Don’t you want to be on your own?’ Willow was still looking at the baby. ‘Your first night as a family.’
‘Oh, we’ll have years and years of that.’ Rosie lifted herself onto her feet and handed the child to Willow. ‘Here, have a cuddle while I take myself off for a pee. I might be some time.’ She was wearing baggy pyjamas and huge slippers and shuffled away to the stairs. ‘I can’t do anything at speed.’
‘You should have seen her,’ John said. ‘She was so brave.’
Willow took a seat at the table and sat, with the baby on her knee, while the tea was poured into mugs and the whisky into small glasses.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jane woke to rain on the window and a sense of dislocation. Perhaps she’d been somewhere else in a dream. There was a moment of panic when she imagined she’d been drinking again; there was a taste in her mouth that reminded her of the self-disgust and failure that had always followed a bender. Then Kevin turned in his sleep and she knew where she was, and that she was still strong and sober. Sober at least. But despite that, there was little relief in the reality and she went back to sleep.
When she woke again, Kevin was out of bed and the light was on. He’d been in the shower and stood with a towel around his waist, his hair wet. He was looking down at her in a way that was almost fatherly. She thought how grateful she should be that he’d stood by her. Other men would have ditched her years before.
‘I was thinking we should get away,’ he said. ‘Have a bit of a holiday, just the two of us. The boys are old enough to leave alone and there’s not much work at this time of year.’ He sat on the bed beside her and she tried to push from her mind the thought that the wet towel would make the sheet damp. ‘Would you like that?’
‘Of course! Where would we go?’
‘Somewhere hot,’ he said. ‘Morocco, maybe. We should have a bit of adventure in our lives.’
She imagined hot sand and a market full of brightly coloured spices. ‘I’d love Morocco. And you’re right – we could use some time on our own.’ Then immediately she wondered how she could consider leaving the boys, if the killer hadn’t been found. If the situation was still unresolved.
‘I’ll go online to see if I can find a last-minute deal.’ He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘And perhaps when we get back they’ll have found the killer and all this will be over.’ He stood up and pulled on his clothes. She watched him and thought he’d worn better than she had. He still had the body of a young man, could easily be an older brother to her sons. But although she’d been thinking of the murders too, she wished he hadn’t mentioned the killer. It was as if he’d carried a distasteful smell into the bedroom with him.
When she got downstairs she could hear Kevin in the office, tapping away on the computer keyboard, looking for a dream holiday that somehow she couldn’t believe would ever happen. She made a pot of coffee and shouted up the stairs to ask the boys if they’d like breakfast. She’d already decided that she’d do a fry-up as a treat for Kevin, taken bacon out of the fridge and started grilling it in the pan. Michael appeared, dressed for school, apart from his socks. ‘Has Andy already left then? I was hoping he’d give me a lift.’
‘He’s still in bed, I expect.’ But already she felt the familiar sickness in the pit of her stomach. At one time she’d thought she’d known what her eldest son was thinking. They were kindred spirits, weren’t they? Now he drifted between home and Lerwick and she didn’t have a clue what he was up to.
‘I’ve checked. He’s not there.’
She looked out at the yard. It was still dark, but the table lamp in the office shone like a spotlight onto the parked vehicles. ‘His car’s still there. He must be around somewhere.’ She didn’t know what else to say, but she knew she wasn’t convincing either of them. Andy had disappeared the two nights ago and turned up wet and wan in the morning, refusing to speak to her, shutting himself in his room.
‘I’m not sure he slept in his bed last night.’
‘When did you last see him?’ She knew it wasn’t Michael’s fault, but she couldn’t keep the accusation out of her voice. She needed someone to blame.
‘Last night. When you were out at your meeting.’
‘How did Andy seem then?’
Michael shrugged. He fished in the laundry basket for a pair of clean socks before answering. ‘Moody. The way he’s been since he came home from uni.’
‘Did he tell you where he was going?’
‘He’s never told me anything important. You’re the person he talks to.’ There was more resentment and something else in his tone. Jealousy. ‘Didn’t he leave you a note? He said he was going to. But I thought he’d be back late last night.’ Michael nodded towards the fridge, where recipes, photos and scraps of paper were fixed with magnets.
You might have told me last night! But Jane held her tongue. She knew Michael was right. Andy had always been . . . not exactly her favourite, because she’d known from the start that it would be wrong to have a favourite, but the son she felt closest to. ‘Oh, that’s OK then.’ She refused to rush over to the fridge to see what the note might say. She turned the bacon under the grill. ‘Would you like a bacon sandwich? I can give you a lift to school, if you like. It’d save you waiting for the bus in this weather and that’d give you a bit of extra time.’
‘That would be great.’ He didn’t sound enthusiastic exactly, but more conciliatory.
She waited until the men had finished breakfast and Michael had gone upstairs to fetch his school bag before she went to look for the note. She recognized Andy’s writing as she approached. It was wild and big and spidery:
I’m not great company at the moment, so I’m taking myself off for a while to sort myself out. Don’t worry about me and don’t try to phone because I won’t answer. I’m being well taken care of and I’ll be back when I’m more fun to live with.
She couldn’t help smiling, because this sounded almost like the old Andy. She took the note from the fridge and folded it up in her handbag, hiding it, just as she’d hidden love letters from Kevin from her parents when she was young. Michael was standing at the kitchen door in his outdoor clothes, ready to be off.
‘Where’s Andy gone then?’
‘Just to stay with a friend for a day or two.’
‘Why didn’t he take his car?’
Jane had to think about that. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he’d had a drink and didn’t want to drive. He must have got a lift. Did you hear a car last night?’ She picked up her keys and put on her jacket.
‘Nah.’ But Michael wasn’t really interested now. He was on his phone texting to one of his friends.
Jane dropped him right at the gate of the Anderson High. He met up with a mate and swaggered inside, not even bothering to wave goodbye. She thought that Andy would never have been so graceless, then told herself that Michael wouldn’t have run away, leaving only a short note behind. Driving home, she saw there was a light on in the old manse, so on impulse she pulled off the road and drove down the track out onto the headland. When she tried the door it was locked, so she knocked again and at last Simon came to answer.
‘I don’t usually lock up at night,’ he said. ‘I suppose we’ve all got a bit scared about what’s out there in the dark.’
Jane felt suddenly chilled. She’d never imagined Simon would be frightened of anything. His fear made the danger more real than seeing Tom Rogerson’s body on the beach.
There was a biro stuck behind his ear and when he led her into the kitchen, Jane saw a notebook on the arm of the chair.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m disturbing you.’
‘Not at all. It’s just an article I’m pitching, and I was going to stop for coffee anyway. I’m doing a shift in Befriending Shetland soon, though. I can’t be very long.’
So Jane found herself in a chair by the stove trying to explain why she was so worried about Andy. She took his note from her bag, smoothed it out on the table by her side and slid it across to Simon.
‘What does Kevin say?’
‘That I’m worrying about nothing.’
‘He could be right.’ A gust of wind rattled rain against the window so that she could hardly hear what he was saying. ‘Has Andy talked to you at all about what might be worrying him?’
‘No.’ Jane sipped the coffee. ‘In fact I think that’s why he keeps disappearing. He doesn’t want to talk to me.’
‘Have you got any idea where he might have gone?’
‘To a friend’s, I suppose.’ Jane paused. ‘This is Shetland. I could probably track him down if I wanted to. But he doesn’t want me to and I should probably re-spect that, don’t you think?’
‘Probably. It depends how desperate you think he is.’
‘I don’t know.’ Again the rain was blown against the window, sharp and hard. ‘He’s been different since he came back from university. He doesn’t talk to me any more.’
Simon stood up to put his mug in the sink. ‘That detective was here yesterday. The woman from Inverness. She was asking about your boys.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘Nothing. I had nothing to tell.’ He was still standing, his back to the bench. ‘Look, there’s probably nothing sinister at all in Andy taking himself off for a while. It will have been a blow to his pride, giving up on university and coming home. And then there were two murders so close to your land – all the tension and suspicion at home. He’s bound to feel troubled and confused.’
‘Do you think he knows something about the murders?’ Jane looked up at her friend. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
Simon stared back. ‘You can’t think Andy’s a killer.’
‘No!’ the answer came immediately and Jane knew that at least she was certain about that. Her son was gentle and he might have a temper, but he would never take a life. ‘But he might suspect someone else.’
‘Who are you thinking about?’ The words were soft and apologetic. ‘Who do you think Andy might be protecting, Jane?’
‘I don’t know! All these theories and suspicions – I hate it.’ She paused. ‘He was out for most of Tuesday night. I have no idea where he went, but he was in a terrible state when he got in.’
‘He needs to talk to someone,’ Simon said. ‘Send him a text and say I’ll be at Befriending Shetland all afternoon. Perhaps he doesn’t feel he can talk to you because it’s too close to home.’
‘What are you saying?’ Suddenly she thought he wasn’t being entirely honest. Not lying, because Simon had always been too brave for that. But not telling the whole truth, either.
‘I think you should give him a day. To talk to the friend who’s putting him up or to talk to me.’ There was a pause. ‘And if he doesn’t turn up, then perhaps you should tell Jimmy Perez.’
‘I’m not sure I could do that.’ Jane thought it sounded as if Simon was telling her to shop her son to the police, although she was certain he’d done nothing wrong.
‘Andy could be in danger.’ Simon’s voice was firmer now. ‘Two people have died already. His safety is more important just now than his relationship with you.’ Another pause. ‘You really don’t have any idea who might have taken him in?’
Jane shook her head. ‘I presume it would be one of his old school mates.’
‘I wondered if he might go to Kathryn Rogerson,’ Simon went on. ‘Weren’t they in the Youth Theatre together when he was a young lad, before she went south to university? I always thought he might have a bit of a crush on her. The older woman.’
But Jane didn’t want to think there might be another connection with the Rogersons. ‘If he comes to see you in Lerwick,’ she said, ‘will you ask him to get in touch with me? Just a text to tell me he’s safe.’
‘Of course.’
‘Now I’d better let you get on with your article.’
Simon walked with her to the door. It was still raining and the tip of Raven’s Head was shrouded in mist.
; On her way home, Jane saw that Jimmy’s car was still outside his house and she was tempted for a moment to stop there and ask for his help immediately. If Andy could be in danger, why should she wait to start looking for him? But she drove on past. Andy had left her a note to tell her he was safe. He’d be with a friend somewhere, nursing a hangover or tucking into a late breakfast. She’d texted him to ask him to talk to Simon in Lerwick, and Simon would let her know if the boy got in touch. There was nothing for her to worry about. Nothing more that she could do.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sandy Wilson pulled into the Sumburgh Airport car park. The traffic had been heavy all the way from Lerwick and there were still lights controlling the single-lane stretch close to the landslide. It was ten o’clock, but the low cloud meant it was barely light. In the terminal building disgruntled passengers were waiting for the weather to lift and for the delayed flights to take off. Sandy felt as if this was a wild goose chase, as if he’d been sent to go through the motions while the exciting part of the investigation was happening elsewhere.
He went into the shop to buy coffee and a bacon sandwich. He’d overslept and left without time for breakfast. He recognized the woman behind the food counter, but struggled to remember her name. She was big-boned and red-faced, and he thought she’d once worked in the chip shop in Lerwick. A few years ago, before he’d met Louisa and had tried to get in better shape, he’d been a regular customer.
‘Hi there!’ She’d recognized him too, greeted him like an old friend. ‘Where are you off to?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m here on work, not away on holiday.’
An announcement over the PA system called passengers for the Glasgow flight through to security. There was a similar call for people for Aberdeen and the shop emptied, as if by magic.