by Michael Wood
Scott swallowed but it was painful, and it was nothing to do with the food. He took a deep breath. ‘You know Paul over there?’ He nodded towards a uniformed officer who was shovelling a fry-up into his mouth.
Rory looked over his shoulder. ‘Yes. What about him?’
‘What would you say if I told you he was gay?’
‘Oh. Well, I wouldn’t say anything. It’s nothing to do with me.’ He shrugged.
‘What would you say if I told you I was gay?’
‘I’d say it’s about time you told me.’ He smiled.
‘What?’
‘I think you’re probably the last person in the team to know. We’ve all been waiting for ages for you to tell us.’
‘Really?’ Scott asked, blushing slightly.
‘Yes.’
Scott bit his bottom lip to control the tears that were forming. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.’
‘Don’t be. You’ve told me now, that’s the main thing.’ He looked at his friend and squinted. ‘You’re dating Chris, aren’t you?’
‘Bloody hell, are you psychic?’
‘No. Just observant. I’m an excellent detective, remember.’
‘Then why are you leaving?’
‘I haven’t made my mind up yet, and don’t change the subject.’
Scott looked down as his bland meal. ‘You won’t tell anyone, about Chris I mean? I don’t think Adele knows.’
‘A secret? Cool. Are you open to blackmail?’
‘I’m not cleaning your bedroom.’
‘Damn.’ He smirked. ‘Scott, you’re a great bloke, you’re a bit of a neat freak and you have a shit taste in films, but you’re my mate. As long as you’re happy, that’s the main thing.’
‘Thanks.’ He smiled.
‘Come on, let’s head back. Matilda mentioned something about wanting backup tonight.’
‘So, how come you all knew then?’ Scott asked as they made their way out of the canteen.
‘Well, what confirmed it for me was when Joseph Glass joined us as family liaison officer. You were well smitten.’
Scott smiled at the memory of the young officer who had been attacked while they were chasing a suspect. He later died when his parents agreed to have his life support machine turned off. ‘I did like Joseph.’
‘I could tell. Did anything happen between you two?’
‘He invited me to the pictures, but, we didn’t get to go. Maybe something would have done.’
‘Maybe in a parallel universe you’re married with kids.’
Scott gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘Kids? I can’t think of anything worse.’
‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ Finn said when Scott and Rory entered the suite. He looked flustered.
‘What is it?’ Rory asked.
‘I’ve had a call from the team in Barnsley who were posted to keep an eye on Keith Lumb’s flat. They got there this morning and everything was normal. When they went back this afternoon, the bedroom curtains were closed.’
‘What do you mean, when they went back? They left?’ Rory asked.
‘They must have done. I didn’t get the full story. I’ve been calling Sian and Christian but I can’t find them anywhere.’
‘That’s OK. I’ll sort it. What the fuck are they playing at in Barnsley? Matilda’s going to go ballistic when she finds out.’
‘Shit. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that,’ Leah said, stepping back from Aaron.
‘It’s OK. Don’t worry about it.’
‘I just looked at you and thought … Jesus!’
Aaron led Leah into the kitchen, away from the crime scene behind her. He pulled out a stool at the breakfast table and sat her down.
‘I don’t know what’s happening to me. Everything has just fallen apart at once.’
‘It’s a lot to take in.’
‘Less than a week ago, everything was perfect. I was getting married. Everyone was so happy. Now look at me. My husband has been leading a double life. My mum, dad, and brother have been killed and I am completely alone in the world.’
‘No you’re not. You have Rachel.’
Leah looked up at Aaron. ‘Oh my God, poor Rachel. What’s going to happen to her?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you think they’d let me have her, become her official guardian?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘But, I’m, you know, not exactly normal, am I?’ she said, tapping the side of her head, hard.
‘I think social services like to do what is best for the child. In this case, it would be to live with you. You’re her only surviving relative. You have a house to live in, and you have the means to support her.’
‘Will you put in a good word for me?’
‘I’ll do whatever I can.’
‘So, how do I go about getting this house cleaned?’
‘There are specialized companies you can contact. They’ll all be online.’
Leah stood up and went over to the marquee at the back of the house. She looked out at the remains of her perfect day. What was left of the wedding cake was crawling with flies, the white tablecloths were stained with dropped food and spilled wine. Chairs were scattered, some overturned. It had to be a metaphor for her life.
She took a deep breath and held her head up high. She turned back to face Aaron and looked completely different. There was a determination about her.
‘Right then,’ she clapped her hands together, ‘as far as I’m concerned, Oliver can go to hell. My main priority is to get this house cleaned so it’s a safe and happy environment for Rachel and Pongo. This may be a nightmare at the moment, but I can overcome this. If my mum taught me anything, it’s that women are survivors. We’re strong, and we’re a hundred times better than men. No offence,’
‘None taken.’ Aaron smiled.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Pat Campbell knocked on the front door and stepped back. She was hot and slightly out of breath from rushing to get here.
Her mobile had rung just as she was stepping out of the shower. She knew who would be calling without even looking at the screen. Sally Meagan had received a fourth phone call from, she assumed, her son. An hour later, and Pat had arrived at the fortress that was Meagan’s home.
Philip answered.
‘Oh, Philip,’ Pat said, taken aback. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. You’d think at my age I’d know to put petrol in the car before it ran out.’ She gave an embarrassed laugh.
He didn’t say anything. He stepped to one side to allow Pat to enter. He looked different in casual clothing. Pat had only really seen him at the restaurant when he was dressed in his best suits. Now, in his home, he was wearing an old pair of jeans, an oversized woollen sweater and carpet slippers. His hair was uncombed, and he was unshaven. He looked smaller, more fragile. Philip Meagan, the restaurant owner was all an act, a show of bravado. When he was at home he could be the father of a missing boy, the husband of a damaged wife.
‘Sally’s not here,’ he said, heading into the kitchen. ‘She’s had to take Woody to the vet.’
‘Oh. Nothing serious I hope.’
‘No. He’s been scooching around the carpet on his bum. It usually means his anal glands need emptying. Coffee?’
Pat pulled a face. ‘Please.’
She sat on one of the high stools at the central island and watched as Philip made the coffee. He went about the ordinary, simple task in what seemed like slow motion.
‘Sally said she had another call this morning.’
‘That’s right,’ he said, his back to her.
‘Were you here for it?’
‘I was in the shower. I turned the water off and I could hear Sally screaming for me. I thought she’d fallen or something,’ he said, pushing the plunger down slowly on the cafetière. ‘I came charging down the stairs in just a towel, soaking wet, and there she was in the living room, tears streaming down her face.’
‘Did she say what th
e caller said?’
‘The usual. He called her mummy. She asked him where he was and he hung up.’
Philip brought a mug of coffee over to Pat. His hand was shaking. Pat looked down at his wrist. It was so thin and bony. It was strained over the weight of the cup.
‘What happened then?’
‘She held her arms out for me and I just sat and held her while she cried herself out on my shoulder.’
‘At least you were here for her this time. That’s a comfort for her.’
‘Yes.’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know if the caller really is Carl, or someone playing a cruel joke, but they’ve brought us closer together. That’s a bonus I suppose.’
Pat offered a weak smile. ‘It must be very difficult for you both.’
‘It is. All I seem to be doing at the moment is offering support and hugs. It feels empty.’
‘You’re there for her. That’s the main thing.’
‘She actually came to bed at a decent time last night rather than passing out on the sofa from exhaustion. I held her until she fell asleep with her head on my chest. When she woke this morning, she said it was the best night’s sleep she’d had in months.’
‘That’s good. Philip, did you get the number of the phone that had called Sally? I know it will probably be another dead number but it’s worth tracing.’
‘Yes. It’s written down on a pad in the office.’
Philip placed his cup down on the marble worktop and left the room. Pat sipped her coffee. A heavy frown appeared on her face as a thought entered her head. Something was worrying at her brain, an idea, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. She nibbled at her bottom lip.
‘Here you go,’ Philip said, placing the small square of notepaper in front of her. ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked when he noticed her frown.
‘Yes. Thanks for this. I’ll send it to Matilda; get her to trace it.’ She looked at the number written neatly in pencil. She took her own mobile out and quickly fired off a text, including the number. ‘Do you know what time Sally will be back?’
‘No. She said she was going to take Woody to the park afterwards. He gets a bit excited going to the vet. It’s good to let him run off some of his energy.’
Pat smiled. ‘He’s a good dog.’
‘Yes, he is. He’s great company for Sally. When I’m not here.’
Pat was playing with her mobile. She was turning it over in her hands, wondering whether she dare try something she would probably live to regret.
‘How are the restaurants doing?’ she asked. She wasn’t really interested but it was a distraction.
‘They’re doing very well. In November we had our best ever month.’
‘That’s good. Have you been out at all this morning?’ she asked.
‘No. I was going to but Sally asked me to stay on for you.’
‘Oh. I hope I’m not keeping you from something.’
‘No. It’s fine.’
Pat pressed her thumb down on her mobile and closed her eyes tightly shut. The clock in the background seemed to be ticking loudly. She could hear herself breathing shallow, shaking breaths. Somewhere in the house, a phone began to ring. She opened her eyes.
‘Is that your phone?’ Pat asked.
‘It must be. Excuse me,’ he said. He placed his cup down with a heavy thud and headed out of the kitchen at a fast pace.
Pat followed.
Philip went into the living room, picked up his jacket from the armchair and pulled an outdated Nokia from the inside pocket. He looked at the number calling and hesitated over whether he should answer it or not. Eventually, he pressed the green button.
‘Hello?’ he asked hesitantly. His voice was cold and shaking.
‘Daddy?’
Philip turned around and saw Pat standing in the doorway. Her own phone pressed to her ear. If it was possible, his face paled even more.
Pat ended the call. ‘Philip, how could you?’ she asked.
‘It’s not what you think,’ he said as his bottom lip began to wobble. ‘I don’t know where Carl is. I wish I did, but I don’t.’ Tears began to fall. He dropped into the armchair as if his legs had given way. ‘It’s heartbreaking not knowing where Carl is or what’s happened to him. It’s even more terrifying seeing what Sally’s going through. She’s dying. Slowly, each day, she’s dying more and more. I’ve tried to offer her support, love, hugs, she just cringes every time I try to touch her. I thought, if I could get her to need me again, then we’d be OK, and we’d be able to get through all this, together. Since she’s been getting the calls, she’s talked to me, she’s let me hold her. Last night, in bed, I said we should go away for a weekend, have a break. She said yes. That’s the first time in three years she’s even entertained the notion of leaving the house for longer than an hour.
‘I know what I did was wrong, but I need my wife. I need my wife to need me and I couldn’t think of any other way to get her back.’
He broke down and sobbed loudly.
Pat didn’t know what to do. She remained in the doorway and watched as a desperate man collapsed in front of her. She looked up and saw the framed photograph of a smiling Carl on the mantelpiece. This house was too big for just the two of them. The atmosphere was heavy and depressing. Philip was right; Sally did need to get out and have a break, even if it was only for a weekend. She needed to have a laugh, stretch her legs, do something other than search the Internet looking for her missing son.
Pat went over to Philip and placed her arm around his bony shoulders. ‘I can’t agree with what you’ve done, but your heart was in the right place. I know you didn’t mean any malice in this.’
‘I didn’t,’ he said, looking up at the retired detective with wet eyes. ‘I want my wife back. That’s all.’
She pulled him into a tight embrace. ‘Promise me no more calls,’ she said in a loud whisper.
‘I promise.’
She took the phone from him. ‘I’ll get rid of this.’
‘You won’t tell Sally?’
‘No, I won’t. Do me a favour, take her away for that weekend. Tell her that she can still have some kind of life as well as look for her son.’
‘I will.’ He smiled through his tears.
Pat stood up and headed for the door. She stopped and turned back. ‘I won’t give up looking, Philip. Neither will Matilda. We will find him. Eventually.’
Philip didn’t say anything. He gave her a weak smile and continued to cry.
Pat turned and left the house, closing the door firmly behind her. She had been researching the aftermath of a child going missing or being murdered and the effects it had on those left behind. The majority of parents split up – grieving, not grieving, moving on, not moving on. People deal with these things in their own way; sometimes, it takes over their lives. Pat didn’t want Sally and Philip to be another statistic, another couple who fell apart over the loss of their son.
She walked slowly down the gravel driveway with a heavy heart. She had solved one mystery, but there was nothing to celebrate. She wouldn’t tell Sally, but she needed to tell Matilda.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Matilda was sitting behind the wheel of her new Range Rover a few doors up from Elizabeth Lumb’s house on Trap Lane. She had received a few baffling text messages from Pat which she would need to see her about later. She looked out of the side window. It was getting dark.
The front passenger door opened and Scott lowered himself into the seat next to her. He’d been to the shop at the end of the road and bought them both a few provisions to keep going.
‘Is it me or are Mars bars getting smaller?’ he asked.
‘You should have been a child when I was. KitKats for twenty pence and much bigger fingers than you get now.’
‘Smaller bars yet more money and for some reason we just accept this. Shouldn’t we be boycotting the chocolate companies?’
‘We should but we’re a nation of chocoholics so we don’t
seem to care; except when it comes to Christmas and we see how small the tubs of Roses are. Then, we’re outraged.’ She smiled.
‘But we still buy them.’
‘Because it’s tradition.’
‘We’re quite weird, us Brits, when you think about it,’ Scott said with a smile as he bit into his Mars.
‘How are you feeling now?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said with a mouthful. ‘I ache a bit, but I’ll be back to normal in a few days.’
‘Has anyone at work said anything?’
He smiled and nodded. ‘I’ve had a few pats on the back. Aaron shook my hand; I’m not sure why. Sian gave me a hug. And, do you remember Ryan, used to be a SOCO but left and is now a personal trainer?’
‘No, but go on.’
‘He sent me a friend request on Facebook and welcomed me to the family. Who knew!’
Matilda’s smile was huge and warm. ‘Nothing to worry about at all, was there?’
‘No. Nothing’s changed. The sun will still rise tomorrow. Chocolate bars will continue getting smaller.’
Matilda studied Scott. He had gone through a monumental upheaval in his life. From this point on, everything had changed. To look at him, you wouldn’t think so. He’d faced the potential backlash and, despite a few worries, had emerged unscathed. Was it his age that made him seem unbreakable? It was three years since James had died. Yes, she’d moved to a new house and was getting on with life, but always, at the back of her mind, was the realization she was completely alone.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Matilda asked as she looked back at Elizabeth’s house.
‘Sure.’
‘In your drawer, I found a photograph of you with a young man. On the back was the date of ten years ago. Who was that?’
Scott blushed slightly. ‘His name was Jake Skeeter. He was my first boyfriend. We went out for about six months. Looking back, it seemed longer. He was the first … you know … I’d ever done anything with. I don’t know why, but a couple of months ago I looked him up on Facebook. He lives in Truro with his husband. They’ve adopted twin girls and they run a garage together. It made me realize what I was missing out on. Ten years ago we were exactly the same. Now, he’s got a family, a business, he’s happy. I’m still exactly where I was.’