The half burnt house, p.8
The Half Burnt House, page 8
‘The last sighting of him was two years ago,’ Laurence said. ‘He stole from his sister on what should have been their father’s birthday, and she reported him for the theft. Her statement is in the file here. It seems like she finally lost patience with him.’
‘Yeah, I don’t blame her.’
It wouldn’t actually have occurred to Laurence to blame anyone. But he remembered Katie Shaw from the time of her brother’s assault – how he had met her at the cordon that day, and how upset she had been. How she had blamed herself for what had happened. It had been obvious to him that she loved her brother, and he imagined it must have taken a great deal for her to cut him off the way she eventually had.
He turned back to the board.
A) Christopher Shaw attacked by Michael Hyde (3 May 2000)
B) Katie Shaw reports CS to the police (3 September 2015)
– CS disappears
‘After that,’ he said, ‘Christopher Shaw seems to have dropped off the face of the earth.’
‘Until now.’
‘Yes. There is no record of Christopher Shaw working for Alan Hobbes. He’s not listed as an employee. But he certainly seemed familiar with the layout of the house. And, as we have seen, he also appeared to remove something from the property. I couldn’t tell what he was holding. Could you?’
Pettifer shook her head. ‘It was too grainy to see properly.’
‘But it’s reasonable to assume that it was deliberately chosen – and that it was why Shaw was there.’
He added more notes to the board.
C) Alan Hobbes murdered (4 October 2017)
– staff dismissed
– business dealings / investments
– charitable donations
– Philosophy lecturer
D) CS present at scene (4 October 2017)
– no record of employment by Hobbes
– apparent theft from property
– disabled security camera
‘Do you think Christopher Shaw killed Hobbes?’ Pettifer asked.
Still looking at the board, Laurence considered the question. While they were awaiting a precise time of death, it was clear that Christopher Shaw had been in the room with Alan Hobbes shortly before his murder. He had stolen something. He had disabled the security camera. Such things did not weigh in his favour. If it turned out he was not involved in the killing, they were remarkable coincidences.
But coincidences happened.
‘I don’t know,’ Laurence said. ‘What’s clear is that we need to find out where he is now, and establish why he was at the scene two evenings ago. As to the former, obviously there is no current address for him on the system. He remains as entirely vanished as he has been for the last two years.’
‘So we start with the family.’
‘Yes,’ Laurence said. ‘Or, rather, you start with them.’
Pettifer frowned. ‘Which is fine,’ she said. ‘But what are you going to do?’
Is anything missing?
Laurence thought of the lawyer looking towards the archway.
He took out his phone.
‘Look into the possible whys,’ he said.
11
Katie slept badly. Every time she was about to drop off, she thought about Chris, and the constant sense of unease had her skimming the surface of sleep for most of the night. Where was he and what had caused him to run away like he had? However much she told herself he wasn’t her responsibility, the question kept her tossing and turning. When the alarm went off the next morning, the trill of music from her phone seemed especially loud, its happy tone almost painfully at odds with how she felt.
She rolled over quickly to turn it off, her head thick and groggy.
‘Mummy!’
Siena calling through. Katie sat up and rubbed her face. Beside her, Sam was lying motionless under the covers, facing the weak light streaming in through the curtains. But she could tell he was awake, as the gentle snoring that had accompanied her through most of the night had finally come to a stop.
One of them had slept well at least.
‘Can you get Siena?’ she asked him.
He yawned but showed no immediate sign of moving.
‘I guess that’s a no then.’
She went to Siena’s room to find her sitting up in bed, smiling and happy, excited for the day ahead, as she always was. The sight of her wafted away a few of the cobwebs.
‘Morning, Snail,’ she said. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Moon.’
Siena pointed across the room towards the window. She had always found the night sky comforting, and Sam had left the curtains open for her at bedtime, the way she liked. Katie could see a stretch of blue-grey sky out there now. Shreds of pale cloud.
‘In the night, yeah?’ she said.
Siena nodded happily. ‘Moon came to see me.’
‘That’s nice. Now let’s go and loudly wake up your father.’
As Katie showered, she did her best not to resent Sam too much. Because as far as he knew, everything was fine. Katie had given him a radically truncated version of events when she returned last night. So he knew it was something to do with her brother – that Chris had come back and disappeared again – but nothing more than that. Nothing about the flat or the car she’d seen. When it came to her brother, she and Sam maintained a policy of don’t ask, don’t tell. Even so, she had sensed his disapproval and had tried not to let it rankle. Sam cared about her and so he worried.
It would have bothered her more if he didn’t.
She turned off the shower. Then she got dressed and headed downstairs. Sam was in the front room, fully engaged now in getting Siena prepared for the day at nursery. In the kitchen Katie found a cup of coffee ready on the side, and two slices of bread waiting in the toaster. Sam came to the kitchen while she was buttering the toast.
‘Thanks for this,’ she said.
‘No worries. I like to be of some use.’ He leaned against the counter. ‘You OK this morning?’
She put the knife down and licked her finger. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Ah, you know. We didn’t talk much last night. Or maybe I just didn’t ask.’
I wouldn’t have expected you to, she thought. Despite everything, that made her feel sad. Don’t ask, don’t tell was fine, as far as it went, but right then it would have been good to be able to unload a little of what she was feeling.
‘I’m fine,’ she said.
‘Why do you think Chris came back?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it really was just because he wanted to see Mum. But God knows what’s happened to him now.’
Sam hesitated. ‘Are you going to try to find him?’
‘No. I wouldn’t even know where to start.’
‘You’d find a way,’ Sam said. ‘I know you. You’re very clever.’
‘That’s why you love me, right?’
‘No. It’s just one of the reasons.’
Katie smiled at him. ‘You don’t need to worry,’ she said.
He leaned away from the counter and rubbed her upper arm. ‘I just don’t want you getting hurt,’ he said. ‘That’s all.’
She felt a twist of pain at that. It had been upsetting when her mother told her Chris hadn’t wanted to see her. It broke her heart to think their relationship had deteriorated so badly that he might not know she loved him and wanted him to be safe, and that she always would.
I just don’t want you getting hurt.
Too late.
But then she heard Siena laughing in the front room, and she put her hand over her husband’s, pressing his palm against her arm. The warmth of it was reassuring.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I won’t.’
The Tadpoles nursery was based in a side room of the local community centre. When Katie parked up and took Siena inside, she was greeted by the usual chaotic scene. The children were running amok, and the air was filled with noise and the mingled smells of toast and juice and floor polish. There was an impression of barely controlled carnage about the place, but Siena herself seemed entirely unconcerned. She toddled off without a backward glance, the Snail flag draped over her tiny shoulders like a cape, and then planted herself down on the worn carpet and began talking at another child.
One of the caregivers appeared beside her, holding a stack of plastic plates.
‘I’ve been forgotten already,’ Katie said.
The caregiver gave her a wry smile. ‘It’s better than the alternative, believe me.’
Katie raised her eyebrows. ‘This is very true.’
She was relieved by how easy her daughter found it to settle. Regardless of what she was faced with, Siena always had such confidence. It was reassuring on one level; the fact she felt so protected reflected well on Sam and her, and it was good she was secure enough to love life so carelessly. At the same time it unnerved Katie. In an ideal world a child should be able to be like that, of course, but she knew this world was not always a safe and happy one. That all it took was one mistake. One crossed path you never saw coming.
She started to leave, but then the caregiver called to her.
‘Oh, Mrs Shaw? I almost forgot.’
‘Yes?’
The worker took a step closer to her, lowering her voice slightly. ‘Just as a follow-up to what happened yesterday,’ she said, ‘we’ve heard back from the police. There’s nothing much they can do right now, but they’re going to have an officer drive past every so often for the next few days.’
Katie stared at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not following.’
‘I told your husband when he picked up Siena yesterday.’
‘He didn’t mention anything.’
The caregiver looked a little surprised. ‘Oh – about the car?’
‘What do you mean?’ Katie said. ‘What car?’
The worker gestured to a side door, which opened on to a small garden gated off from the street.
‘Some of the children were playing outside after lunch,’ she said. ‘A couple of them told staff there was a man parked up in a car, and they thought he was watching them. When we went over to check, there was nobody there.’
‘Was Siena one of them?’
‘I’m not sure. A few of them were out there. But –’
‘What colour was the car?’
The caregiver started to reply, but the sudden urgency in Katie’s voice had startled her. She looked at her a little strangely.
Katie thought quickly. ‘Just so I can keep my eye out, I mean.’
‘Oh, I see.’ The woman relaxed a little. ‘No, the kids couldn’t give them a description at all. Not of the car or the driver. That was the main reason the police said there wasn’t anything they could do beyond send an officer out every now and then.’
‘Right.’
‘It’s probably nothing,’ she said. ‘You know what imaginations they all have at this age. And the safety of your children is our number-one priority. You have nothing to worry about.’
Katie looked across at Siena, still sitting on the floor and talking happily to the little girl beside her. Guileless and innocent.
Safe.
You have nothing to worry about.
‘Yes,’ Katie said.
And although she was trembling inside, she managed to keep her voice even. ‘I’m sure that’s why my husband didn’t mention it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about the car?’
‘What?’ Sam said. ‘What car?’
‘At the nursery yesterday.’
She was sitting in the driver’s seat outside, her phone pressed to her ear, trying to contain the anxiety inside her. Our experiences and fears collect in the backs of our minds like dry kindling, and Katie’s were constantly smouldering. What the nursery worker had told her had sent a lick of flame across them. They were burning brightly now.
‘Oh,’ Sam said – too damn casually for her liking. ‘I don’t know. You were out. And then … I guess I forgot. What did they say?’
‘That the police can’t do anything. They didn’t get a good description.’
‘Yeah, that’s what they told me too.’
‘That it’s probably nothing.’
‘Exactly. And anyway, the security there is really good.’
‘Yes. I know that.’
She glanced at the building beside her. She had every faith in the measures they had in place. The solid front door with its keypad; the high railings outside; the security cameras at every entrance and exit. She’d noted them all down approvingly when they’d first looked around because if they hadn’t been here, then Siena wouldn’t have been either.
‘So no big deal, right?’ Sam said.
‘I think it’s a big deal. You should have told me.’
‘Sorry. It didn’t seem that important. Like I said, I just forgot.’
Katie sat there for a moment. Her nerves were still humming, but there was anger mixed in with the anxiety now. She didn’t believe him. While her husband likely did think it was probably nothing, that wasn’t the reason he had neglected to mention it. He hadn’t just forgotten either. No, he had kept quiet because he had decided it was better she didn’t know. Because he thought she worried too much. That she was prone to overreacting.
How dare you? she thought.
It wasn’t his call to make to keep things from her like that – especially when it involved their daughter. It wasn’t his place to police her reactions as though he knew what was best for her.
‘Katie?’
‘Still here,’ she said blankly. ‘But I do have to go. Love you loads.’
‘OK. Love you too.’
She ended the call and then sat there, staring out of the window at the nursery, trying to dampen down that fire in the back of her mind. She was pissed off with Sam because he should have told her, but what she was feeling right now wasn’t really his fault. He didn’t know what had happened at her brother’s flat or about the car she’d seen on the way back. Of course, she had no idea herself whether it actually had been following her, or if it was just that her nerves had been on edge. And, regardless, there was no reason to believe it was connected to anyone who might have been watching the children here yesterday.
But what if it is?
What if there was danger circling her family and she just couldn’t see it yet?
The thought set the anxiety inside her burning more brightly. What if this was one of the moments when if you allowed yourself to imagine everything was fine, you ended up regretting it for ever? She thought back to what she’d been told last night – that James Alderson, her brother’s boyfriend, was a mature student doing a PhD in Fine Art at the university. There had been an address on the letter he’d been sent. She could just about remember it.
A fool’s errand, perhaps. But it was something.
Katie took out her phone and called in sick to the school.
And then, spurred on by that anxiety, she started the car and went in search of James Alderson.
12
Laurence stood still for a moment, questioning himself.
Before he had arrived at the Philosophy department on the edge of the university campus, he had been expecting something else entirely. Philosophy conjured up images of quiet contemplation. Laurence recalled kneeling by the hearth in their small house while his father sat reading in an armchair. Dust in the air; warmth on his face; a safe silence undisturbed beyond the gentle crackle of the fire and the quiet turning of pages. And yet the building before him now – a newly built block of polished black marble, sandstone and glass – looked like a place more suited to laboratory experiments than those carried out within minds.
The doors slid apart as he stepped forward.
He was expected, and one of the secretaries in the main office pointed him in the right direction. He wandered down a corridor that wouldn’t have been out of place in a modern office block – clean carpets; pine-scented air freshener; anonymous modern art prints hanging between the wooden doors – and finally reached the office of Professor Robin Nelson. It had been left slightly ajar in anticipation of his arrival, but he rapped gently with his knuckles anyway.
‘Come in.’
He pushed the door wider. The room contained an oak desk, with papers and used mugs strewn around the computer there. The shelves lining the walls were crammed tightly with books and even more sheaves of paperwork, some of it occluded by randomly placed trinkets and photographs. A tattered rug had been spread out near the door. This was more like it, Laurence thought happily. The office felt lived in, as though the occupant, upon being granted a sterile new office, had made a concerted effort to transport every last crumb of dust across from their old one.
Nelson stood up and walked round the desk, extending a hand. Laurence shook it. The professor had a slightly foppish swathe of brown hair and was wearing a red-velvet jacket over a checked shirt. He was only in his thirties, Laurence guessed, which seemed young to be a professor, never mind head of department.
Nelson seemed aware of that himself, and even slightly embarrassed by it.
‘It’s more an administrative position than anything else,’ he explained as he cleared a seat for Laurence. ‘Or a prison sentence. All it really means is lots of extra work and headaches. The role changes hands every five years, and the smarter ones find a way of avoiding it.’
Laurence glanced at the wall of books. He figured Nelson was pretty smart.
‘How long do you have left to serve?’ he said.
‘Three years, ten months, two weeks and two days.’
Laurence laughed as he sat down. ‘I’ll try not to take up too much of it,’ he said. ‘Especially given why I’m here. I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you.’ Nelson looked slightly pained as he returned to his own seat. ‘I can’t really take that, though. I didn’t know Professor Hobbes well at all. He actually retired before I started here – although he did return for guest lectures on occasion, so we met in passing. But I can tell you that he was very well liked for the most part. Everyone here is shocked.’
