The Silent Room

by Mari Hannah

  ‘No, we took a taxi straight to the hotel.’ She rubbed at her forehead, exhausted with all the questions. ‘Ryan, I think I know where all this is heading.’

  ‘Stick with me a second. Where did you stay?’

  ‘The Thon Hotel Brygge in Tønsberg.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘A couple of nights. It was wonderful, right on the quayside. Jack must’ve booked it beforehand. They were certainly expecting us.’ She paused, the light leaving her eyes. ‘I was in a bit of a strop when we left. I noticed he didn’t pay the bill … I assume he’d prepaid.’

  Unless Freberg had organized the trip at the other end.

  Ryan made a mental note to check that out later. ‘Tell me about it. Did you go sightseeing?’

  She was nodding. ‘In the immediate area; there was no need to go further afield. It was the perfect location for a weekend away.’ Her voice grew cold. ‘Except it wasn’t a weekend away, was it? It was a fishing trip.’

  Ryan didn’t quite know what to say. ‘Did you visit Verdens Ende, by any chance?’

  Another nod. ‘It was the first place on our list. We went straight there after breakfast on the Saturday morning. Jack said he’d heard it was amazing. He wasn’t wrong. It was beautiful.’ The memory brought forth a smile. ‘He told you about it?’

  Ryan felt his stomach tighten. He took a sip of beer, sidestepping the question with one of his own. ‘Did you meet anyone, either there or at the hotel afterwards?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ She met his eyes across the table. ‘Jack was planning to do so on the Sunday morning. He dropped that bombshell when we got back to the hotel, said it would only take an hour or two.’

  ‘At Verdens Ende?’

  ‘So I gather.’

  It was so like Jack to do a recce the day before.

  ‘You said “planning to”?’

  She looked away. Ryan allowed her some time to think. This was all beginning to fit and he didn’t want to push her too far too soon. But after a few minutes, she seemed to have drifted away from him, as if she was in some other space and time. He needed to regain her attention and get her back on track.

  ‘Hilary?’ he said gently. ‘Did Jack meet someone?’

  She shook her head. ‘We had an awful row when I found out what he was up to. I felt used, like I was there under false pretences. Jack …’ She pressed her lips together, holding on to her emotions. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so stressed. I went off on one, which didn’t help matters.’

  Ryan felt sorry for her.

  As a couple, they hardly ever argued.

  ‘What was he up to?’ he asked.

  She acted as if she’d not heard.

  ‘Hilary?’

  ‘It was something to do with Oliver. At least, that’s what he said.’ She could see Ryan wasn’t convinced. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You know as well as I do that it was an obsession with him.’ Her comment drew the stares of an elderly couple arriving at a nearby table. Hilary looked at them, apologetic. They changed their minds and moved away.

  ‘I had no idea it was that bad,’ Ryan said. ‘I promise you.’

  ‘Do you seriously expect me to believe that?’

  ‘It’s true. I knew how upset he was but—’

  ‘Upset?’ She was close to tears. ‘It haunted him every single day. He was convinced that the accident was preventable. Nothing I said made any difference. I told him to stop torturing himself.’ She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was harder than before. ‘You two were so alike. Friends, yes, but couldn’t you see that it was an unhealthy alliance? You never got over the loss of loved ones because you didn’t want to. You allowed those tragedies to define your whole lives. Take my advice, Ryan. Get on with yours before it destroys you too.’

  Ryan stared into his beer glass.

  There was no arguing with anything she’d said. In fact, she was spot on in one respect. He’d had been drawn to Jack before they had even been introduced, having found out through idle chatter in the police canteen that he’d lost a brother. Grief did that to people sometimes. It was a strong foundation for friendship Ryan wasn’t about to apologize for. Hilary was wrong about one thing: they shared so much more than she gave them credit for.

  Didn’t they?

  Seeing that she’d hurt him, she apologized.

  He changed the subject. ‘Do you know who he was meeting?’

  ‘Some guy he tracked down on the Internet shortly after Oliver died, someone he thought might be able to answer his questions. The man wasn’t interested in talking to him then – and who could blame him? Jack was in a hell of a state. I guess the bloke changed his mind.’ She glared at Ryan as if he was partly responsible. ‘Is that what all this is about? Jack threw his life away trying to work out who or what killed his brother?’

  ‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that.’ Ryan didn’t go into it. She’d hear the full story the minute he made sense of it himself. He wanted to put her out of her misery. She deserved the truth. ‘Did Jack take anything with him when he went to meet this man, or bring anything back when he returned?’

  Hilary shook her head. ‘He wasn’t away that long. The guy didn’t show.’

  ‘He told you that?’

  ‘He didn’t have to. It was written all over his face. We weren’t really talking on the Sunday. He was jumpy from then on, constantly making calls and checking his watch right up until the flight left on the Monday morning. As soon as we were in the air he apologized, said he’d make it up to me.’

  ‘And did he?’

  Hilary nodded. ‘And some. He’d called my old man from Norway, asking if he could keep the kids a bit longer. We stayed at the Hard Days Night in Liverpool – quite apt, under the circumstances. Jack had read a review in the Guardian when it first opened. We’d been planning to go for ages. He joked it was a second honeymoon.’

  Ryan smiled. ‘Sounds like a great way to kiss and make up.’

  A tear rolled silently down Hilary’s cheek. ‘I haven’t been very fair on you, have I? I’m sorry for being mean.’

  ‘Forget it. I have.’ That was a lie. What she’d said couldn’t be unsaid. Worst of all, she was right. He and Jack had allowed their past to shape the present – and now her husband had no future. Ryan wouldn’t let that happen to him. Armed with her account of what went on in Norway, times, dates, et cetera, he ended the interview and walked her back to her father’s house. Giving her a hug, he told her he’d be in touch and left to tell the others.

  52

  By the time he reached Fenham, Grace and Newman had taken down the silent room. The living room was back to normal, not a computer in sight, all equipment and murder wall disposed of, a bottle of red breathing on the coffee table, surrounded by five glasses, a few crisps in a bowl. They were ready to knock the enquiry into touch. Ryan felt a surge of fear.

  Something had happened in his absence.

  ‘Why the rush to get rid?’ he asked.

  ‘While you were out, Eloise rang, three times,’ Grace explained. ‘She was polite – too polite, in my opinion. I gather she’s been trying to get hold of you too. Frank and I were forced to make an executive decision. We were running out of time before she knocked on the door with a battering ram.’

  That didn’t sound good.

  Ryan felt for his pocket. He’d switched his phone to silent while he was with Hilary and had missed a series of calls. O’Neil was annoyed that he’d not returned them. She didn’t mince her words. She wanted to meet at his place first thing in the morning. She was losing patience: ‘If you two don’t show,’ she said. ‘I’ll come looking.’

  ‘She sounds pissed.’ He pocketed his phone. ‘She wants to see me tomorrow.’

  He’d only told them half the story. He omitted telling Grace that she was invited too and deliberately missed out the part that O’Neil had chosen a rendezvous away from her office. That was one trip he intended to make alone. Instead, he congratulated them on a job well don
e before focusing his attention on the spook.

  ‘We’re clean?’

  ‘Forensically so,’ a familiar voice said from behind.

  Ryan turned. Their wires man had just walked in through the back door fully kitted up and with a big smile on his face. He pointed to the floorboards. ‘I’ve stripped the lot out. Any evidence of recent activity has been taken care of.’ He took in Ryan’s cynicism even though he tried to hide it. ‘Trust me, I’ve done this before.’

  ‘Good to see you, Garry.’ Ryan stuck out a hand, received a firm shake in return. ‘There’s nowt left under there?’

  ‘Not a damn thing.’

  So, Ryan thought, he had until morning.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, he thanked the others for taking the initiative, accepted a drink and toasted everyone for helping him. Holding up the digital voice recorder containing Hilary Fenwick’s statement, he turned to Grace. ‘You need to disappear,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how O’Neil is going to take this.’

  Grace wasn’t having any. Making a string of excuses as to why she should stay home, she told him to chill, insisting that he was seeing complications where they didn’t exist. ‘There’s no need to keep my head down. You heard Garry: we’re all tidied away. Anyway, where the hell would I go? Besides, I can’t leave Hilary before Jack’s funeral.’

  Ryan urged her to listen to reason. ‘You know how this works. This is a murder enquiry. O’Neil will hang on to Jack in case the bastards that killed him are caught and want a second post-mortem. They have rights too, remember. It could be weeks or even months before they release his body for burial.’

  ‘He’s right.’ Newman was looking at Grace. ‘You can’t afford to take chances. We don’t know what O’Neil has up her sleeve. If she has any proof of your involvement, she could come after you.’

  ‘Jack’s family need me,’ Grace insisted.

  Ryan wasn’t taking no for an answer. If O’Neil wanted to meet tomorrow at his place, the clock was most definitely ticking. Maybe she had information she was duty-bound to disclose. Keeping it to herself would compromise her position as a senior investigating officer in Professional Standards. Was she trying to protect them, or tricking them into thinking she was?

  A worrying thought.

  ‘Go and pack,’ Ryan said. ‘Caroline and I will take care of Hilary and the kids. Besides, Hilary is staying put at her dad’s for the time being. She’ll have all the support she needs. I promise to make contact as soon as the funeral is arranged or the heat dies down, whichever is the soonest.’

  ‘I’m not running off leaving you to face the music alone,’ Grace said. ‘It’s not fair. The silent room was my idea.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ryan argued. ‘And I went along with it.’

  Crossing her arms was Grace’s answer. ‘I’m going nowhere.’

  Ryan sighed, frustrated with her, but understanding where she was coming from. Back in the days before he got to know her better, he’d shared Roz’s assessment of Grace as a pit bull. It was a facade. She was so much more than argumentative. Like Jack, Ryan had grown to love, respect and value her. He’d witnessed first-hand how fiercely she defended her own in return for their loyalty and commitment. Just as she couldn’t countenance leaving O’Neil to search for Jack, it would kill her to leave him with all the explaining to do.

  He was scratching to find a way of persuading her.

  Sensitive to the impasse, Caroline joined in. ‘Please don’t worry about Ryan going it alone, Grace. He’s more than capable of handling Superintendent O’Neil. If I’m any judge of character, she’ll play nice.’

  ‘With all due respect,’ Grace interrupted, ‘you don’t know her as well as I do. She’s a great cop, but the only way she plays is straight. I was more of a renegade myself, but life would be boring if we were all the same. Believe me when I tell you she could go either way.’

  ‘You just made my point,’ Ryan said.

  ‘You really did.’ Caroline stood her ground. ‘Matt will be fine. I think you should take his advice.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan to me, Grace.’ Ignoring a black look from his former lover, Newman smiled at her, a flash of possibility in his eyes. ‘I’m stir crazy. You are too. We’ve been cooped up here for far too long. I feel a road trip coming on. Fancy joining me, in case I get lonely?’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’ Garry obviously knew of their history.

  It was news to Grace. She looked at him as if to say: Frank talked about me?

  Ryan held up his glass. ‘Me too,’ he said.

  ‘Looks like you’ve been outvoted.’ Newman was still smiling, the prospect of spending quality time with her pushing away his habitual detachment. ‘C’mon, make an old soldier happy.’

  For once, Grace had no words. Pocketing his voice recorder, Ryan slipped his free hand into Caroline’s. Her face was the picture of delight. The two women had obviously been sharing secrets. In spite of herself, Grace was finding it impossible to hide her joy. Despite her misgivings, she’d already packed her bags.

  53

  Ryan spotted O’Neil’s car the minute he pulled into the courtyard behind his seaside cottage. She was alone – one less problem to contend with – but her body language, even from this distance, didn’t bode well. A face-off with her was not something he looked forward to.

  He checked his watch: 9 a.m.

  Right on schedule.

  His heart rate increased as he got out of his car and approached hers, his mouth devoid of saliva. O’Neil didn’t immediately acknowledge him, so he knocked on her window.

  ‘About time,’ she said as she climbed from the vehicle, locking the door behind her. She glanced at his car as they moved towards his property. ‘Where’s Grace?’

  ‘She won’t be joining us.’

  ‘Oh?’ She stopped walking, turned to face him. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I didn’t tell her she was invited.’ Ryan held the gate open.

  As a storm rolled in off the North Sea, he led the way across his paved rear yard. He was never there long enough to mow a lawn. Opening the back door, he stood aside to let her in. Even though he’d been anticipating the fallout from a burglary, he was shocked by the state of the place.

  Not as shocked as she was, though.

  Swearing under her breath, she caught his eye.

  ‘I was expecting it,’ he said.

  Closing the door quietly behind him, he held out a hand, inviting her into his tiny living room. She hesitated, surveying the damage, before making a move. Stepping over a pile of books and ruined photographs on the way in, her feet crunching on broken glass, she turned towards him, her face pained with regret. The place was trashed.

  ‘When did it happen?’ she asked.

  ‘Wednesday night. This is the first time I’ve seen it. I’ve been busy getting assaulted, remember?’

  ‘Did you report it?’

  ‘What’s with all the questions? I’m the victim here.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Who boarded up the window?’

  ‘A friend.’

  She didn’t push it.

  Relieved that he didn’t have to lie, Ryan viewed the devastation. The few personal belongings he had were strewn across the floor, his small piece of Northumberland no longer a safe haven, the place he couldn’t wait to return to. Quite the opposite: it was totally destroyed, violated, not to mention filthy. O’Neil stooped to pick up a framed photograph that lay face down on the floor, ripped off the wall near the patio doors. She turned it over. There were deep scratches across his father’s face where the glass had smashed and been trampled on.

  ‘Bastards!’ She handed it to him. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Not as sorry as he was. That photograph was taken long before the move to digital photography. He doubted his mother had kept any of the negatives. That particular moment in time was lost forever.

  ‘Careful where you walk,’ she said. ‘I’ll get a Forensics team out here.’


  He couldn’t tell her she’d be wasting their time, that Newman had found nothing of use on his surveillance camera. The ‘burglars’ were far too clever to leave incriminating evidence. Despite his undeserved misfortune, Ryan stood, almost to attention, waiting for the dressing-down he felt sure was on the cards. He knew a little break-in wouldn’t blow O’Neil off course.

  He deserved what was coming.

  She suggested they move back into the hallway-cum-dining room, where there was less mess, the only place where they could possibly park themselves. Pulling out two chairs, Ryan dumped his haversack, brushed some papers on to the floor and sat down.

  She followed suit, hands in pockets.

  The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation as they locked eyes. A strand of hair fell loosely around her face. She was twisting it through her fingers nervously. He wished she’d stop. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Wilting under the intensity of her gaze, he cast his mind back to the first time he’d seen her, that figure-hugging dress and red suede shoes, long hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of blood. She looked like an entirely different woman with it pinned into an untidy mess – but not enough to hide the potential.

  ‘I know what you’ve done.’ She was studying him closely. ‘But not how you did it. Do you have any idea the trouble you are in?’

  Her opener could’ve been so much worse, Ryan thought. Like, You are not obliged to say anything … ‘With the greatest respect to you, guv, my DI is dead. I don’t give a monkey’s what happens to me. I’ve got some intelligence for you, if you’re interested. I intend to save you the trouble of throwing the book at me. As soon as I find out who’s responsible for this travesty, I’m jacking it all in.’

  ‘Why?’ She looked genuinely sorry to hear it.

  ‘Because all you’ve done throughout your enquiry is focus on the wrong people for the wrong reasons.’ He paused, feeling the need to clarify his criticism, to leave her with a modicum of self-respect. ‘I don’t dispute that you had good cause to suspect Jack. The initial evidence was compelling. It was your follow-up that was flawed. The way you went about it. That’s why you hit a brick wall.’