by Matt Brolly
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tracey was standing outside Paul’s ground-floor flat. She smiled shyly on seeing Louise as if somehow the break-in was her fault. Louise examined a hole in the front window, surprised the pane of glass hadn’t collapsed.
‘They threw something from the inside,’ said Tracey. ‘They broke in through the front door. Looks like they just kicked the lock through.’
‘When do we think it happened?’
‘Last night probably. One of the locals reported the broken window this morning after seeing the front door was ajar.’
A cold draught welcomed Louise as she prised open the front door. She’d walked down this very same corridor hundreds of times before, Emily running towards her to jump into her arms. It had only been a few days since the girl had left, and Louise had to remind herself she’d only gone on holiday, but with the shattered lock on the door a place that usually felt welcoming was now bleak and desolate. Photographs of Paul, Emily and Dianne filled the walls. It hurt to look at them, particularly Paul; it was as if the carefree, smiling man captured in the images no longer existed.
She prepared herself as she entered the living room. She’d attended break-ins as a matter of course over the years. To those involved, the invasion was the most traumatic thing in the world, and Louise had soon learnt how important it was to disassociate herself from the emotions such break-ins aroused. It was the only professional way to cope and as she viewed the scene – the sofa torn and upended, the dark patch of wallpaper where the television had once been – she tried to do so with a dispassionate eye. This was just another house burglary, she told herself, probably some chancer kids who’d seen Paul and Emily leave for a holiday. But as she moved through the flat, her resolve faded. In Emily’s room, she sat on her niece’s bed holding one of the torn paperbacks that had been scattered around the room. Thankfully Tracey had remained downstairs and couldn’t see her hand shaking as she flicked through the book. Heat rose through her body as she pictured the strangers ransacking Emily’s room, her despair turning to anger as she gripped the book tight and thought about what she would do to those responsible.
The pattern was repeated throughout the rest of the flat. Every room was upturned but little had been taken beyond the missing television. Louise understood that it wasn’t what was missing that affected the victims of house burglary. It was the intrusion. She’d known countless families who’d been forced to relocate following break-ins, unable to live in a place where others had invaded.
‘We think it’s part of a spree. There have been a few other break-ins in the area,’ said Tracey, who was waiting for her in the kitchen.
‘They don’t seem to have taken much, though they’ve turned the place upside down,’ said Louise.
Tracey shrugged. They both knew there was no explaining the actions of those responsible. Louise was worried she was looking for something that wasn’t there, but the whole enterprise felt wrong as if the burglars had taken the television just for show.
‘You’re thinking this could be linked to Paul and Emily leaving, aren’t you?’ said Tracey.
‘Now why would you think something like that?’ said Louise, with a joyless grin.
‘I can understand it, Lou, but think about it. Imagine you were investigating this yourself. It’s just coincidence. Your brother’s behaving like an idiot, yes, but there’s nothing more beyond that. This is just kids having some idiotic fun. You wouldn’t give it a second thought if it wasn’t Paul’s flat.’
Louise knew she was right. ‘You can shoot off. I need to call a locksmith.’
‘I can stay, help you tidy.’
‘No, you’re fine. I’ll get the place secure and then come back tomorrow.’
Tracey hesitated before giving her a quick hug goodbye. ‘You know where I am,’ she said.
With nothing else on offer, Louise made herself black instant coffee as she began to straighten up the kitchen. Tracey had been right of course but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that the break-in was linked to Paul disappearing.
She winced as she drank the tasteless coffee; another thing to blame Paul for. Who drank instant coffee any more? As she emptied spilt cereal into the bin, she told herself her brother was to blame for everything. The place would never have been burgled if he hadn’t left with Emily, and Louise and her parents wouldn’t have to be enduring this kind of half-life waiting for them to return.
The tidy-up job was harder than anticipated, her energy fading as she went from room to room straightening things up as best as possible. She would have to tell her parents at some point but couldn’t face burdening them with this just yet. She would have to come back tomorrow. She blamed Paul again for the inconvenience. She had better things to do than tidy up after him – something she felt she’d been doing for too long.
Louise made one last tour of the flat before leaving. She considered compiling a list of things that were missing, but didn’t get beyond the television. Paul would know better but nothing obvious had been taken.
She ventured into Paul’s room last. The smell reminded her of his room as a teenager, the slight fungal tang of body odour in the trapped air. She had to wonder if the burglars had been in the room at all, or if the clothes and empty pizza boxes scattered across the floor had been there all along.
She checked the bedside table and found one of Paul’s old iPhones. She knew the names of some of Paul’s friends but didn’t have any of their numbers. If she could open his address book she might be able to speak to someone who knew what the hell was going on with her brother’s life, and that could hopefully bring her one step closer to finding Emily.
Chapter Thirty-Five
After a brief search, Louise found a charger for the phone. It was an old phone and Paul hadn’t protected it with a pass lock. As she called Paul’s old acquaintances – so far none of them had seen Paul since Dianne’s death – Louise flitted from murderous thoughts about her brother to the on-going case back in Weston. An image of Jay Chappell filtered into her mind, her skin prickling with heat as she recalled speaking to him earlier that day. He’d been processed now, his DNA and fingerprints would already be in Portishead waiting to be cross referenced. If they could only link him with either Claire or Victoria, there might be something to talk to him about again.
Louise was surprised by the intensity of her feelings that thought aroused in her. It would be days before the DNA and fingerprints results came back – at the moment Chappell was technically a non-suspect to a non-crime so there would be no rush at HQ – and Louise knew she was approaching hunch territory, but she was convinced they were not finished with the man just yet.
She got lucky on the sixth call. One of Paul’s old school friends, John Everett. Everett had been at Paul and Dianne’s wedding. He’d been pissed before the speeches had started, his behaviour rapidly deteriorating during the evening. She couldn’t recall Paul speaking about him much since the marriage, and she hadn’t given him another thought since that day.
‘Who’s this?’
‘John, this is Louise Blackwell. Paul’s sister.’
The line went silent and Louise thought Everett had hung up on her. ‘Oh, Louise,’ he said, eventually. His response was elongated as if he was taking meticulous care over each word.
‘Hi, how are you?’
‘Good,’ he said, the answer sounding as if it were a question.
‘I was wondering if you could help me. Paul’s not answering his phone and I’m trying to locate him.’
‘Oh.’
It was clear Everett had been drinking, clear too that he knew something. ‘John?’
‘I don’t really know nothing, Louise, I’m sorry.’
‘That doesn’t really clarify things, John. Where are you? It would be good to catch up. To have a drink.’ She’d seen the way he’d looked at her during Paul’s wedding, and the occasional time they’d both been out together with Paul in the past, and tried to play up to the attraction.
She could hear him thinking on the other end of the line. The quick, shallow breaths as he contemplated why she wanted to speak to him. ‘That be great,’ he said, slurring the words. ‘Tomorrow night?’
‘I’d like a drink now, John. Where are you?’
Again, a hesitation in his voice. He knew she was in the police and his hesitancy made her wonder if he was hiding something from her. ‘Tomorrow would be better . . .’
‘It’s a one-off offer, John.’
That got his attention. ‘Okay, I can meet you at the Commercial Rooms. In an hour?’
‘Okay, John, that would be great.’
She felt a little sorry for Everett, as she grabbed her keys. The Commercial Rooms was a bar in the centre of Bristol, a world away from the local dives he would normally drink at in south Bristol. He was either trying to impress her, or hoping no one would see them together.
She spotted him immediately. He radiated insecurity, standing at the bar nursing a full pint of bitter, scoping the crowd as if everyone was a threat. ‘John?’ she asked, as she reached the bar.
Everett had been at school with Paul but looked at least a decade older than her brother. His career in alcohol consumption had started earlier than Paul’s and had continued long after Paul had given up his old ways and moved in with Dianne. It showed in Everett’s features: the dank greasy hair, the skin sagging from his skeletal face, the bump of his stomach that seemed incongruous on his scrawny body. His hand was shaking as he reached for an imaginary cigarette. ‘Good to see you, Louise,’ he murmured.
As she ordered a sparkling water, and another drink for Everett, she searched for something in the man’s features, anything to reconcile him with the young man he’d once been, but came up empty. He was so far removed from the man she’d known, it was like seeing a completely different person. She closed her eyes, drowning out the noise of the bar, and hoped it wasn’t too late for Paul and that he could retain what Everett had lost.
‘You seen much of Paul recently?’ she asked, once they’d finished exchanging pleasantries. She smiled at Everett, trying to get him to relax.
He was almost too easy to read. His eyes gave him away as he pretended to think about the question. ‘We have a drink now and then,’ he said, downplaying his answer.
So Everett was one of Paul’s enablers. She couldn’t blame him specifically. It was obviously a symbiotic association. She’d seen countless examples of such relationships in every early-opening bar in the city. When Paul had failed to pick up Emily from school the other week, he’d spent all day drinking in the local bar. She pictured him with Everett, sharing war stories as they drank their cheap booze.
‘He’s been drinking a lot recently?’
‘Depends what you count as a lot,’ said Everett, with a hint of defiance.
‘Enough say to forget to pick up his daughter from school?’
Everett’s pale face blossomed into a patchwork of red blotches. ‘I heard about that,’ he said, eyes downcast.
‘Have you spoken to him in the last few days?’
Everett shook his head.
‘John, look at me. This is important.’
Everett looked up. Louise wondered what his state of mind was like at that moment, what incoherent thoughts were running through his head. ‘I’ve called him a few times but his phone is switched off,’ she said.
Louise drummed her fingers on the bar counter. Everett had always been kind to her at school. She’d been a few years younger than him but he’d never been mean, never teased her for being Paul’s younger sister. If anything, he’d treated her as if she were grown up and she’d never forgotten that. She decided to trust him now, hoping that part of the original him still existed. ‘Do you know that Paul’s taken Emily away?’
‘What do you mean, taken her away?’
‘They’ve gone on holiday, but Paul didn’t tell anyone, and we don’t know where he is.’
‘So?’
‘What do you mean, so?’
‘She’s his daughter, isn’t she?’
‘She is, John, but that isn’t the point. Paul has a network of support. We all look after Emily. It isn’t like him to just take off like that. We’re worried about him. We’re worried about Emily, John.’
Everett buried his mouth into his drink. He looked on the verge of tears.
‘You knew he was going away, didn’t you, John?’
‘I told him not to go. Or at least not to take Emily.’
‘Why would he go without Emily?’ said Louise.
Everett shook his head, his gaze focused on his nearly empty glass. ‘I promised,’ he murmured into his drink.
‘You need to think about Emily, John. Paul is not in the right frame of mind. You must know that, John.’
Everett couldn’t look at her. His neck muscles tensed as if it was taking effort to keep his head upright. ‘Paul’s in trouble,’ he said. ‘He owes some money to people you shouldn’t owe money to.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Amy peered through the window at the figure in the courtyard. As if he knew he was being viewed, Jay glanced up at her. He waved, Amy’s body shaking in reaction. ‘I’ll be down just now,’ she said.
Amy wished he’d warned her that he would be coming over. He’d only ever been to her place the once, on the day she’d moved in. She’d been ashamed of the place then but it was even worse now. Her clothes were scattered throughout the room and the air inside was dank and cloying. She recoiled from her reflection in the mirror, the grease from the café in her shiny hair and patchy skin. She wanted to take a shower, to scrub herself clean but couldn’t leave him waiting. She hurried into a change of clothes, disrobing from her grey jogging bottoms and T-shirt into jeans and a black vest.
She made herself walk down the stairs when every nerve in her body told her to run. Despite her recent doubts, she was so desperate to see him.
She took in five deep breaths before opening the communal front door but was still speechless when he smiled at her. ‘Amy, I am so pleased to see you,’ he said, pulling her close.
She savoured his warmth, the smell of his skin, and the timbre of the heartbeat in his chest. As it always did, his presence made her forget about everything else. She could quite easily have stayed this way forever. ‘Can we talk?’ he said, his deep rich voice vibrating through her bones.
‘My place is a mess,’ said Amy, as Jay eased away from her.
His smile told her none of that mattered. He reached for her hand. ‘Show me the way,’ he said.
Amy felt his eyes on her as she climbed the steps to her bedsit. She held on to Jay’s hand as she led him upwards but it was as if somehow he was guiding her, his grip strong. ‘I’m sorry, if I’d known you were visiting . . .’ she muttered, as she showed him into her room.
Jay placed his finger to his lips. ‘None of this matters,’ he told her, as he sat down on the wooden chair by the side of her beaten old bed settee.
‘No,’ said Amy, agreeing as a matter of course.
She didn’t ask him if he wanted a drink or anything to eat. Instead, she took a seat on the settee as close to him as possible. He was slightly higher up on the chair, and it created the impression that he was looking down on her. It wasn’t a bad thing. She liked gazing up towards his smile and she rested her hands on his knees as she waited for him to speak.
‘Have you seen the newspapers?’ he asked, taking her hands.
She could never lie to him, yet she couldn’t hold his gaze as she nodded.
‘I imagine you were worried?’
Amy fought the emotions that the simple question evoked. She was always worried about one thing or another, but something about the concern in Jay’s voice as he asked her made her want to cry. Had she come close to doubting him? It seemed absurd now. He’d shown her things. Demonstrated, physically demonstrated, that something waited for her beyond this mundane way of living. Yes, she’d been concerned and she revealed herself by burying her head in Ja
y’s lap, as the tears she’d been holding in for an eternity were released.
Jay murmured comforting words as he stroked her hair. If she could have passed on now she would have accepted exiting the world in this manner; the combination of his soothing words, and the way he ran his fingers through her hair to her scalp, made her want to close her eyes and fade away.
‘We’re so close,’ he whispered and she agreed. ‘But we need to be careful now.’
Reluctantly, Amy pulled herself up from his lap and wiped her eyes clear. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve closed the online group. We can’t risk it at the moment.’
Amy blinked. ‘Can’t risk what?’
‘I went to speak to the police today. There’s nothing to worry about but we can’t risk them interfering with our work. We’re going to meet tomorrow evening. I’m telling everyone personally.’
Amy struggled to breathe. She understood she wasn’t the only one. She’d struggled with her jealousy on seeing Jay with Sally, and then latterly hearing about Megan’s day – and night – with him. But she’d hoped that this visit had been special to her. To hear that it wasn’t, that he was simply making the rounds, hurt her more than she could have imagined. She wanted to know the order he’d seen everyone in. Was she the first or the last person he’d called on?
As if reading her concerns, Jay reached for her hand again. She tried to pull it away but he held her tight. ‘You are so special to me, Amy, you must know that. Your time will come but it has to be right. You have to be ready to see Aiden again.’
Jay relaxed his grip and Amy allowed her hands to be held. The mention of Aiden was enough to banish her doubts before they had time to fully materialise. Did he know that Megan had told her about their time together? She would be surprised if he didn’t. He knew everything about her, about all of them; had done so from the day she’d met him.
He gave her directions for the meeting place the following evening. She wanted to ask if it was to be Megan’s turn but the question would be an act of betrayal so she just smiled and agreed to see him there.