by Jake Cross
‘Why would I do that?’
‘You tell me. But I’m more amazed about why I just went along with it. Why I didn’t just tell that officer that the daughter of the man Everton killed is sitting upstairs.’
That made him think of something. ‘Look, Rose, if I’d mentioned Katie, how she’s connected to Everton because of Ron Hugill, then that officer would have called her downstairs. And she might have been forced to say who she was. To us. To me.’
She seemed to consider this. ‘You were worried that Katie might have had to say she might be your daughter? In front of Julia?’
‘Yes.’
She considered some more. The slump of her shoulders, a release of tension, told him she’d accepted his explanation. Barely. ‘The police will need to know, though. If there’s a violent criminal lurking around, and he’s targeting Katie because of something Ron Hugill did, then they need to know. Before something bad happens on my doorstep—’
‘I know, I know, and I’ll—’
‘What you’ll do is not interrupt me again, Chris. Go upstairs, tell Katie what happened, and then drive her down to the police station. Because she’s going to tell them everything. Both of you are, and then you’re going to offer to do whatever it takes to help catch this man. Go now. Upstairs. I’ll keep Julia down here.’
He went, but not because of Rose’s order. It had been his intention all along, so he could demand an explanation for the text message Katie had sent him while the police officer asked her questions. The text that had forced him to lie to the police, and then to Rose.
Don’t tell them about me or Everton.
‘I committed a crime once,’ Katie said. She was in Chris’s bedroom now, not Julia’s, at the window and staring out at the street. Leaning against the shut door, Chris watched. Waited. ‘I was fourteen. I knew Everton back then.’
‘You know the guy who killed your father?’
‘He’s not my father, remember.’
Chris didn’t respond so there was a moment of silence. Apart from the twin ticks of a wall clock and the louder one Katie always kept with her.
‘I don’t know Everton,’ Katie continued. ‘I once did, but I don’t see it that way anymore. Years ago, I knew some unpleasant people. A bunch of us hung out because we lived on the same estate. My mum’s pub was the main local, so our parents knew each other. Everton and his criminal dad, they were known around the block.’
She paused here again. She glanced at Chris, perhaps just to make sure he was still there, then continued.
‘We were brash teenagers, but all any of us ever did was a bit of vandalism, that’s all. Until we burgled that house. After that, I saw the error of my ways and promised to change. I grew apart from those guys. I didn’t see Everton again, or any of them. I have no idea why Everton might be after me, because we didn’t part on bad terms. It’s only because he killed Ron that I even wonder if he’s targeting me. Could be just coincidence. Ron ran a boxing club and criminals might assume he’s got money. Wrong place, wrong time, because he went to that club while it was being robbed. We don’t know for sure, me or you, if this is about me now.’
True, but Chris was under orders. ‘But we have to consider it, just to be safe. He was here, right here on my street. It’s about time we took this threat seriously. We have to tell the police.’
‘New people in our lives always have baggage. If Everton is around because of me, then I wholeheartedly apologise for bringing danger to your door.’
‘I’m not upset with you, and I don’t blame you. You didn’t know Everton would come here. And maybe this was all a coincidence. But we can’t take the risk. If he’s going to come after you, and possibly put my family in danger, then the police need to know. They need to know he wasn’t just out on a joyride when he crashed into the fence. I still don’t know why I didn’t decide this when you told me about him last night.’
Still no emotion. Chris yelled her name, which finally drew Katie’s eyes. He stepped across half the room. ‘Katie, the police need to know Everton might have been coming here to my house that night. With a knife, Katie. With a damn knife.’
Katie closed the distance between them and grabbed Chris’s hands in both her own, pleading.
‘That burglary I committed was never solved. If the police are told about me, that Everton might be after me, that I knew him, they’ll want to talk to me. They’ll take my fingerprints and DNA. They’ll get a match to that robbery and I’ll go to prison.’
Chris had barely seen emotion in this kid, little more than averted eyes. But she stared right into Chris’s eyes with clear desperation. He had to look away. ‘At some point we’ll have to tell them, Katie. Maybe they won’t take fingerprints, or maybe they don’t have any evidence from that robbery. Or perhaps we can work out a way to keep you out of it. I don’t know. But the police have to be told. If Everton ever makes a move—’
‘You’ll kill me if your family is in danger, I know,’ Katie said.
Chris pulled his hands free and grabbed Katie’s shoulders. He was aware he was acting the role of a father here, but it didn’t feel so alien this time. ‘That wasn’t what I was going to say. I meant if there’s ever another indication that Everton is targeting this house, I go to the police with everything. Okay?’
Katie nodded. ‘Perhaps I can fix this. I can arrange to meet Everton, if it really is me he’s after. Work it out with him.’
‘No, you don’t go near this guy. You go to the police. Tonight. Now.’
Katie pulled free and went for the door. Chris called out after her.
‘Wait, we need to talk about—’
‘You only need to watch,’ Katie called back, jabbing a finger at the window.
And then she was gone. Seconds later, the front door opened and closed. At the window, Chris watched Katie run down the path, out onto the street.
Below him, Rose yelled: ‘Who’s gone out? What’s going on?’
Katie crossed the road, waving and calling to the male police officer canvassing the houses across the way.
‘Katie went to the police,’ Chris called down. ‘Just like you wanted.’
Katie met the officer halfway down the neighbour’s path, right around the time Rose came into the bedroom, looking flustered. ‘Did you tell her what I said?’
‘Look.’
When she joined him at the window, to watch Katie talking with the police, he pulled his phone and showed her the text message. And then he explained, while Katie explained. All of it.
‘Poor girl,’ she said afterwards. Katie, finished with her doorstep confession, walked slowly back to the house. They’d watched the officer take notes and call something in on his radio. But no handcuffs appeared. ‘But it needed to be done. I hope you don’t feel that she’s been a challenge so far.’
A challenge, yes, but completed challenges often rewarded victors with that buzz-like warm feeling of achievement. Something very much like that flowed through Chris now. Because he’d put in effort he wasn’t really accustomed to and wasn’t scornful of his performance.
Sensing this, in that connected way of hers, Rose took his arm in hers. She looked pleased.
He didn’t.
Because the problem wasn’t fixed. There still roamed free a man who might have Katie in his crosshairs. And the girl herself might not yet be done unloading scorpions from her closet.
Twenty-Two
Later, the landline rang.
‘That’ll be your mum cancelling,’ Chris said. He was at the mirror above the living room fireplace, trying to decide if he needed a shave. Rose was on the sofa, trying to put a chain around her wrist with one hand. Her arthritis creased her face, but getting ready for special nights out were about pride, not ease.
‘Don’t tempt fate,’ Rose said as she got up to answer the call.
‘How can I if she’s already ringing?’
Sure enough, when Rose answered the phone: ‘Hi. I’m sorry, darling. The committee has called an e
mergency meeting about the new vandalism. I can’t avoid it.’
Rose said, ‘We only do this once a week, Mum.’
Hearing Rose’s response and making the connection, Chris gave an exasperated laugh.
‘It’s only bowling, after all,’ Rose’s mother said. ‘This is important. This is about our community, not a game.’
Rose was angry. She bid her mother goodbye and hung up before she heard another sermon about the importance of tackling vandalism.
She went into the kitchen and Chris followed. In there, Katie and Julia were sitting around the table, glued to phones.
Julia saw her mother’s face and said, ‘Don’t tell me your bowling’s off?’
‘No,’ Rose said. She held out her wrist and the bracelet and Chris grabbed both.
‘Nothing stops the bowling, Julia,’ Chris said. Even two-handed, he had a problem with the bracelet. ‘Looks like you’ll be waiting for Mum’s delivery.’
‘I can’t. I’ve got that birthday party gig. It’s a lot of money.’
‘Someone’s got to be here to sign for the delivery,’ Rose told her. ‘I don’t want it being sent back.’
‘Mum, this is important.’
‘And my health isn’t?’ Rose snatched the bracelet from Chris and left the room.
‘That’s not fair.’
It was aimed at Chris. ‘The package needs collecting from the depot if delivery fails. It’s a four-hundred-quid machine and they won’t leave it outside.’
‘Katie can wait for it. My gig is—’
‘No, Julia, we can’t ask Katie to do that.’
Julia made a childlike screech.
Perhaps embarrassed, Katie got up to get a glass of water, into which she sprinkled a small measure of salt from a pot on the worktop. Chris jerked his head at Julia, hoping she understood he wanted a chat in another room. But she shook her head.
Katie slammed her glass down suddenly. She marched across the kitchen and yanked open the junk drawer under the microwave oven. Chris was puzzled until he realised why. He leaped to his feet and cursed under his breath.
A thin wisp of smoke oozed out of the drawer, curling into the air. Katie pulled out a packet of small envelopes. The corners were blackened, the plastic wrapping scorched away.
‘Is that a fire?’ Julia screeched.
And fire it was half a second later as the black corner ignited. Katie held up the envelopes, watching as a flame danced and grew.
Rose walked into the kitchen, probably alerted by Julia’s yell. She just stared, puzzled.
Chris took three big strides towards Katie and took the packet from her. Katie still had that blank look, as if numbed. Chris tossed the pack into the sink and turned the tap on it.
‘What’s going on?’ Rose said to Katie. She was halfway between angry and confused. ‘Why did you set those envelopes on fire?’
Katie didn’t answer, or even seem to have heard. She was staring at the sink, eyes glazed. Chris immediately thought of the burn damage on her legs. Given a childhood prank gone wrong, and the recent loss of a flat to fire, perhaps the mere sight of a flame, a horrible feeling of repeat, had locked her down.
‘She didn’t do it,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what happened.’
Rose was all the way angry now. She marched to the sink, barging Chris aside, to make sure the flame was out. She tossed her bracelet onto the worktop. ‘Someone answer me. Why were those envelopes on fire? In the house!’
‘I think I know,’ Katie said. All turned her way. She started rummaging in the drawer and returned with a square battery in one hand, a bunch of paperclips in the other. ‘Aha,’ she announced, holding them up as if the mystery was solved. But all she got was puzzled glances.
‘When I was working on my bike in the garden, I went into my drawer for a spanner. Rooted around in there, found it, came outside. Next thing I know, my kitchen’s on fire.’ She showed the battery and tapped the two silver connectors. ‘These square nine-volt batteries, they have these live ends. I had some of these batteries in my drawer. They’d been sitting harmlessly in there for months, as batteries do in people’s houses. When I went rooting in the drawer, I must have dislodged something metal, which ended up touching these live ends.’
‘We’ve had those for ages,’ Rose said as she moved across to look into the drawer. ‘So they started a fire?’
‘People have batteries in drawers, no big deal, for years. Then one day you rummage for something and the live connectors end up being nudged against something metal, like these paperclips here, and it creates a lot of heat. If there’s something easily combustible nearby also touching, like those envelopes, a fire can start. Unbelievable. You open and close a drawer, and then the house burns down.’
‘Wow,’ Julia said. ‘Imagine if you had to run from two burning houses for the same reason.’
‘I’m sure you’ve got foot-in-mouth disease,’ Rose told her daughter.
Katie didn’t mind. ‘I’ll get some tape. It’s wise to tape these live ends up.’
Chris noted that Katie still seemed locked in fear, or whatever the emotion was, and to confirm it she threw another long glance at the sink.
* * *
End of the first round of bowling and the women were ahead on points, drinks and insults, so the XY chromosomes went to the bar and their wives hit the outdoor patio to smoke. Rose had an electronic cigarette, but only used it socially.
Rose had known Carol Hutch for thirty years, since they joined the same under-15s football club. Carol knew Rose was going to ask Chris for his hand in marriage before he did. She knew about the existence of Julia before he did. She knew Rose had a doctor’s appointment to check a breast lump, and he didn’t. So, of course, as soon as the two women had some clear space, and after she’d reminded Rose about her party on Friday, Carol became the fifth person to learn about Katie’s parentage.
‘Good lord,’ she shrieked. Heads turned. Then, lower: ‘Leave nothing out, lass.’
So Rose talked. She told it all, starting with the dodgy tout who’d sold Chris a dud ticket to the United States Grand Prix, and ending with the moment Chris got that weird note through the door. She even mentioned Chris’s claim that they’d had so much fun they hadn’t cared that the Formula 1 World Championship had been won at that race. Carol listened intently and made only one remark.
‘My ex, John, that would never have happened to him. He would have climbed the wall to get into that car race and never met this Eve lass.’
But Rose did leave out one portion. She chose not to mention the fugitive Dominic Everton. Upon her return after speaking with the police, Katie had seemed happier. She’d told the police that she knew Everton but had kept this information from the Redferns. She’d asked if Everton might have been in the location to seek out aid from old friends, but the policeman had said no. They now suspected Everton had had business with some lowlifes on the Easterbrook estate, a couple of miles away. Nothing to do with Katie, nothing to do with anyone on this street. That announcement had calmed Chris and Rose, so Rose saw no reason to worry Carol by mentioning runaway killers.
‘Does she look like him?’
‘No, and she’s nothing like Julia, either. I hate to say it, but she’s prettier than Julia. She’s gorgeous, in fact. Tall and naturally blonde, and her nails are long and real. A real stunner. Wish I looked like her when I was that age. And she has this husky voice that’s real hypnotic. Like I could imagine her reading my audiobooks.’
‘Wow. So apart from massive envy, how do you feel about her? She’s not your daughter, and she’s way past any sort of cute-to-be-around age, and piggy-backing her would crack your spine. I’d probably feel like she’s an intruder in my house. In my whole life, I’d say.’
Rose thought long about this. Chris probably believed she was taking this thing in her stride, but she had thought long on the subject for two days, every chance she got, every time something immediate didn’t hold her. Finally, she had some kind of idea
of what her emotions were signalling. Or the alcohol was talking.
‘She’s a grown woman and there’s a difference. She’s not a baby, sure, so there won’t ever be that chance I could have a proper bond, like a mother does for a daughter, because she doesn’t need my care. That’s a big part of it, isn’t it? You bond because for a long time a baby is helpless. It needs your care. But Katie is fully grown. She can take care of herself. We won’t ever have that.’
‘Have you seen photos of Eve Levine’s daughter?’
Rose sucked on her e-cig and blew a blackcurrant cloud over her head.
‘I asked Katie about photos earlier. Photos of her. I figured it would be nice if there was a record of her life, you know, for Chris. But there aren’t any. All the photos of her as a child, they all burned up in her flat. So there’s nothing. That’s something else that will make it harder for me to bond. I hope it doesn’t make it harder for Chris, if he is indeed Daddy Dearest. No images of Katie as a child, so in a sense no real proof, as if she beamed down from outer space as a grown woman.’
But something occurred to her. Carol had referred to Eve Levine’s daughter – not Katie.
‘That’s not what you meant, is it? Photos of Eve’s daughter – do you mean, like, proof? Proof that Katie is her daughter? Why wouldn’t she be?’
Carol fanned herself with a hand, as if embarrassed. ‘Oh, no, no, I just meant, well, are you sure about why she’s turned up? Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I…’
But Rose understood. ‘Are you saying it could be a trick? That she might not be Eve’s daughter at all? But why would she say she is?’
‘Just some silly idea I had, lass, that’s all. That she could be after something. But it was just me being silly.’
‘Like money? We don’t have money. What reason could she have to get around him if it was all a lie?’
‘If she already knew him, perhaps. Had a thing for him. Or maybe Julia is her focus. I mean, you said Julia saw Katie hanging around at her college last week. No, not focus, I didn’t mean…’