Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3)

by Somerville, Ann

  But the passport....

  “Anton?”

  For a moment I couldn’t remember who was in the house with me. I walked onto the landing. Charlotte stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Have they found him?”

  “No.”

  She came up the first couple of steps. “Anton, you look dreadful.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No...hon, I think you should come down and talk.”

  “I can’t. Actually, Charlotte...I really appreciate you taking the time to come over, but I think I need to be alone now. So could you...?”

  She frowned. “Of course. I’ll be at home if you want to talk.”

  “Thank you.”

  Squeezing the words out hurt. When I didn’t say any more, she grimaced a little. “I’ll give you a ring later?”

  I nodded, and she turned. I heard the front door open and close, but I didn’t move.

  I simply didn’t believe the story his supposed actions told me. Whoever was telling it, didn’t know Nick like I did. Anyone could have sent that message. If someone had Nick’s keys they could have got into the house and taken his passport. I already knew how easy it was to fake activity in someone’s name.

  But if I was right, then where the hell was he?

  Chapter 4

  Officer Homophobe’s less obnoxious partner dropped off Nick’s laptop that afternoon—the techs hadn’t even had a chance to look at it, apparently—and offered her condolences on the bad news. I didn’t bother arguing with her, or with Andy when he told me that the French police hadn’t managed to make contact with Nick in Calais. He did say that CCTV from St Pancras showed Nick with a dark-haired man checking in. Nick was wearing a cap, he said.

  Nick hated hats with a passion. Andy should have already known that, but to him, wearing a disguise fitted with the whole ‘affair’ narrative.

  The case was closed, so far as the police were concerned. Nick was provably alive and there was no evidence of criminality, so there was no need for them to be involved. It was left to me to tell Nick’s friends and family what they were supposed to believe.

  Nick’s dad took the news in silence, and only said when I finished speaking, “Sorry, lad. It happens.”

  “So they say. Let me know if you hear from him, please.”

  “Of course.”

  I hung up before I could be bogged down in sympathy I didn’t want, and awkward explanations I didn’t want to hear. I sent emails to everyone else, unable to face conversations.

  Then I had a drink. I may have put my head down and bawled too.

  A little later I rang Karl. Karl would understand if I bailed on the conversation prematurely.

  “What will you do?” he said, when I told him of what had happened, and how much I disbelieved the evidence.

  “Find him. I don’t know how though.”

  “Private detectives do.”

  “Do you know one?”

  “No, but I bet one of Nick’s friends do. What about that reporter chap?”

  “Harry? Yes, it’s possible. You don’t think I’m crazy then?”

  “Anton, you’re not crazy. You might be wrong, but I can’t fault your logic so far. Only....”

  “Only?”

  “How far will you take this? What if the evidence is what it appears to be?”

  “It’s not. I can’t explain to you how I know but...if Liz walked out on you today without warning, and sent that message, would you believe it or your gut?”

  “My gut. But we have children—”

  “So the fact we’re gay and haven’t got kids means Nick’s commitment means nothing?”

  “Anton, calm down. I didn’t say that. All I meant was they complicate things, and loyalties. Nick or you can cut ties with the other much more easily.”

  “You don’t believe our marriage is real. Karl, I can’t believe—”

  “Anton, shut up and listen. I’m trying to say that if Nick had walked out on you, if his commitment was that shallow, then he had fewer considerations. But I don’t believe his commitment was that shallow. I could be wrong. So could you. But I believe you when you say there’s something fishy. I believe you.”

  I exhaled, my eyes pricking. “Sorry. I, uh....”

  “You need someone with you. Come up to us.”

  “I can’t, Karl. I just can’t. I need to be here.”

  “Very well, I’ll come to you. I’ll be there by supper.”

  “You can’t. Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit. If you think I’m going to let my only sibling and best friend sit on his own, maundering about his missing love, then you don’t know me at all, Anton Marber. Now I’ll call Mum. You sit tight. See you soon.”

  Karl’s announcement shook me out of the numb depression, which was probably the best thing he could have done for me just then. It gave me something else to think about, even if only with half my mind. I readied the spare room, tidied up the small amount of mess the police had made, and made a run across the river to Waitrose for food.

  But even shopping was harder than it should have been. I stood in front of the ready meals, unable to make a simple decision about what to buy. I couldn’t stop thinking about Nick and the purported message from him. Even if I hadn’t known the man and his essential integrity, I couldn’t fathom how he would have had time to meet someone and fall in love. Through work? It would have to be another cop, and Thorpe would have been quick to bitch at me if another of his people had disappeared along with Nick. Then again, there had been a lot of overtime.

  Fuck, now I was doing it.

  “Excuse me, dear, could I...?”

  I jumped, and hastily stepped aside to let the woman pick up her choice. After she finished, I picked up the same as what she’d chosen. Pizza. Okay, pizza was good. That meant salad, and red wine. The path was clear. I grabbed a couple of packets of prepared green stuff, and two bottles of the Merlot on special. There. Shopping achieved.

  Husband still missing. Fuck it.

  I would believe Nick had fallen in love with someone else when I saw him face to face and he told me with his own mouth—and not before. I said as much to Karl once he’d dumped his bags and I’d dished up our supper.

  “Your suggestion about asking Harry’s a good idea. I thought I could do some investigating first.”

  “What about your job?”

  I honestly hadn’t given the university a moment’s thought since I’d spoken to Nick’s boss the day before. “I’ll fit it in around this.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as I have to. Nick can’t stay invisible. Sooner or later he’ll have to get in touch about his stuff. At the very least, his bank accounts are all here.”

  “What if he’s decided to ditch this part of his life entirely? He might walk away from all that.”

  “He hasn’t,” I snapped. I gulped some of my wine, and glared at him.

  “It’s a possibility,” Karl said calmly. “The whole thing’s a shock to me as well, you know. I can’t make sense of it any more than you can. All I’m saying is that Nick might have left you for real.” He held up my hand. “I don’t know why, I can’t fathom what would drive him to do it, and frankly, I’d say he must be mentally deranged if he has. But mental illness has to be considered. Has he been under stress?”

  “Yes.” I blinked. It was so bloody obvious when Karl pointed it out, but I hadn’t even considered it. “He’s been working insane hours, barely a break. But I didn’t see any sign of him cracking up. He’s always impressed me by how well he copes with pressure.”

  “Maybe this is the first sign. It’s no less worrying, I admit.”

  “So I need to find him. If he needs help, I have to offer it. If he’s fine and...well, sick of me...then okay.”

  “Okay. But get an expert onto it, Anton. You don’t need the added stress and this kind of thing needs access to records and skills you don’t have.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. He spo
ke nothing more than the truth. “I’ll email Harry now.”

  He wiped his hands on the napkin. “Good. I’ll shower and call Liz.”

  “You could go home tomorrow, Karl. I’m fine.”

  “She can cope without me for a few days, and there are a couple of things I can deal with while I’m down here. Do you really want me to go home?”

  “No. But I can cope.”

  “Anton, no one should deal with this sort of thing on their own. Now stop wittering and go email Harry.”

  I gave him the finger and he grinned. I missed Nick like I’d miss a lung, but Karl’s presence helped me breathe a tiny bit easier.

  Harry came through in minutes with the name of a respectable firm used by Angus’s brother for employee vetting and other, more sensitive tasks. Harry also offered his own services should I need them. I was grateful for that. He’d known Nick for years longer than me and just as intimately, and that could be important if the detectives made no progress.

  Next day Karl sat in with me as I spoke to George Adeyemi from British Investigations at the house. I liked George immediately. He shook my hand with a warm, strong grip, and his sympathy over what I’d described seemed unforced, even if a PI could probably feign whatever emotion he needed for the job.

  “So, before we get down to specifics, let’s talk about costs,” he said.

  “I don’t care—”

  “About costs,” he said, smiling. “Yes, everyone says that. But we’re already talking about a search in Europe, which is potentially quite expensive, so I want you to have all the facts. Now, our firm’s policy on missing person investigations is that if we don’t find the person, we don’t charge.”

  “How often does that happen?”

  He smiled again. “Not often. We’re very good. But the bill will certainly run to at least a thousand pounds, and could be as much as ten thousand, although that would be very unusual. We’ll keep you informed if we’re about to undertake a substantial expense, and you can set a limit. At any point you can call a halt, and pay our expenses to that point.”

  “If Anton can’t pay, I’ll make up the shortfall,” Karl said.

  I turned to him. “You don’t need to.”

  Karl held up his hand. “Money is not going to be an object in finding your husband, Anton.”

  God, I loved my brother.

  “Well, if that’s settled,” George said, “let me outline a broad approach, what you can expect, and then I’ll need you to sign disclaimers and a contract if you want to proceed. You can take as long as you want to decide.”

  I wanted to sign the contract immediately. Karl advised waiting until the next day so we could discuss the implications. George had warned me that even if Nick were found, he might not want to make contact with me. Karl raised this again that night as we ate supper.

  “At least I’ll know where I stand,” I said.

  “But it’ll mean finality which you don’t have now. You still have hope now.”

  “Then I’ll have to deal with it. I’d rather he was alive and out of love with me than dead.”

  Karl nodded when I didn’t continue. “Just be sure you want the answers they might give you.”

  “I don’t want anything but Nick home. But I’ll manage whatever happens.”

  “I hope so.”

  I signed and scanned the contracts the next morning, and after I sent them off to George, I told Karl he should go home. He agreed. “I’ll be next week anyway.”

  I stared at him. “Why?”

  “Rosh Hashanah, of course.”

  “Oh God.” Of course Karl would be down. The family would all be at my parents’ house to celebrate the New Year. “I don’t think I can make it. Not without him.”

  He touched my arm. “Mum will understand. But you might want to, for your own sake. Don’t make a decision yet.”

  “All right. But don’t count on it.”

  “No pressure on that, I promise. But don’t think you’re going to get rid of me. I’ll be calling every night. If you don’t answer, I’m coming down again.”

  “I don’t need a keeper.”

  “I’ve mislaid a brother-in-law. Don’t imagine for a second I intend to lose a brother.”

  He hugged me. I nearly lost it then. I wanted to appear strong for him, but I couldn’t help but wish he could stay. His family needed him, though, and I merely wanted his company. I’d be fine.

  And if I wasn’t, I would just have to fake it.

  I had work to do for the OU, but every time I opened the file to deal with it, my brain shut down. Finally, I gave up. There was only one task I could concentrate on, and that was finding Nick.

  So I spent the rest of the day making notes about Nick’s friends, relatives and workmates, and handed them over late that afternoon when George came to collect Nick’s laptop and other personal documents.

  “You’re organised,” he said. “Excellent.”

  “I can’t really help it,” I said. “Uh, there’s something you need to know about Nick though. Three years ago, we were stalked by a homicidal maniac who came this close to killing Nick. Twice.”

  George took this news in his stride. “Tell me more.”

  I explained the sordid details as briefly as I could. “The reason I’m telling you this is that we both learned an awful lot about not letting someone learn our personal information. Nick may not be easy to find.”

  “Anton, many of the people we investigate try and conceal their tracks. You’re not telling me anything that worries me.”

  “So how long might it take?”

  “If we don’t have results in two weeks, I’ll be surprised, though not shocked. It could take a lot less time. Solving the case fast is to our mutual benefit.”

  “I understand.”

  His genial expression turned serious. “I don’t think you do. Not yet. When loved ones go missing, for whatever reason, it puts enormous pressure on those left behind. Every day, the wait gets harder, the pressure increases. The strain can overwhelm people. Often does overwhelm them. You need to be ready for this, get your support mechanisms in place. Your brother is part of that, but you’ll need more, especially if Nick doesn’t want to come home.”

  “I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

  “I haven’t lost a client yet, Anton. Don’t be my first.”

  I laughed. “I won’t. Do you need anything else?”

  He asked a few more questions, then promised to make an immediate start. “Don’t be afraid to contact me if you have questions. I’ll keep you informed.”

  George’s confident manner left me hopeful for all of five minutes. Then, sitting in the quiet house, looking at the corner of the sofa I always kept clear for Nick to throw himself into when he got home from work, reality sunk in once more. There were several possible explanations for Nick’s disappearance, but none of them boded well for us or our marriage. The most I could hope for was that Nick had gone temporarily insane and would come back once he’d realised what he’d done. That didn’t fit with the man I knew. So that left him being unfaithful, dead or kidnapped—and Andy hadn’t seen any sign of force on the CCTV at Heathrow.

  I’d tried to work out why Nick would want to disappear so completely. He wasn’t in any trouble at work. He hadn’t indicated he wanted to break up with me. He wasn’t in debt, or under investigation for any crime. If he had sent that tweet and gone on his merry way with his own details, using his own money, there was nothing I could do about it except curse him. Maybe the clue was in the person he was with—maybe they were the one in trouble. I didn’t know his name. Andy wouldn’t tell me even when I’d asked him straight out. But if that person was in some kind of trouble, I’d have expected the police to be more interested in Nick’s whereabouts—and they simply weren’t.

  My landline went, and I jumped. “Anton Marber.”

  “Anton, it’s Charlotte. I, um, wondered how you are.”

  “Oh. I’m fine. I’ve hired a private detective to locate
him.”

  “That’s great. Do they think they’ll find him?”

  “They claim they have a high success rate. I don’t know. I hope they do.”

  “Me too. Um...so...how are you coping until they do?”

  “Fine. Just fine. I’m going to keep busy.”

  “Good idea. But...you know...I can pop around any time, or you can call me.”

  “Thanks, but I can manage,” I said firmly. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Of course I will. And about Nick.”

  I smiled. “Yes, I suppose so. I’ll keep you updated, I promise.”

  After I hung up, I rubbed my face. Okay, Anton, do what you said. Keep busy. I’d planned to ask for a week’s leave from the OU, but I decided to plough straight on. If Nick came back, I wanted him to find me coping and strong. And if he didn’t come back...well, falling apart wouldn't help anyone.

  ~~~~~

  For the next two weeks I tried to maintain a semblance of normality. I went to my parents to celebrate Rosh Hashanah, but left early. Everyone was kind and understanding, and the food and goodwill and the traditions all familiar and warming. But without Nick, I felt dead inside, like the happiness around me couldn’t touch me. I dutifully wished my loved ones “L’shanah tova” but I had no belief in a good year for myself. Not until he came back.

  I did my best to keep my personal woes away from my job. Prof Carter was the only one in the department who knew about Nick, and I’d asked him not to tell anyone else. I had grants to write, papers to review, students to communicate with, and meetings to attend. Those were the hardest. I could bury myself in my work at home, and if I needed a drink, or a walk, or a call to Karl to push me over the frequent sloughs of despond, no one cared so long as I produced the results.

  But face to face, I couldn’t entirely hide my distraction, or my miserable mood. I think people assumed I was going through marital problems. They had no idea, of course.

  All the while George had kept me informed by email and phone calls, but there had been nothing to be informed about. His latest call had, for the first time, sounded downbeat. His investigation had found absolutely nothing—not a trace of Nick’s companion or of Nick, no paper trail, no rumours, nothing. Nick’s bank account remained untouched, his credit card unused, and his email unopened. He didn’t use social networks of any kind and certainly wouldn’t have after our crazed stalker affair. His laptop’s browser history was unexceptional, and he hadn’t withdrawn large amounts of money or emailed anyone unusual in the last six months. Or at all. The biggest purchase in his credit card history was my anniversary present. Whatever he was living on, it wasn’t his savings.