Ann Cleeves - Cold Earth

‘I don’t usually lock up at night,’ he said. ‘I suppose we’ve all got a bit scared about what’s out there in the dark.’

Jane felt suddenly chilled. She’d never imagined Simon would be frightened of anything. His fear made the danger more real than seeing Tom Rogerson’s body on the beach.

There was a biro stuck behind his ear and when he led her into the kitchen, Jane saw a notebook on the arm of the chair.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m disturbing you.’

‘Not at all. It’s just an article I’m pitching, and I was going to stop for coffee anyway. I’m doing a shift in Befriending Shetland soon, though. I can’t be very long.’

So Jane found herself in a chair by the stove trying to explain why she was so worried about Andy. She took his note from her bag, smoothed it out on the table by her side and slid it across to Simon.

‘What does Kevin say?’

‘That I’m worrying about nothing.’

‘He could be right.’ A gust of wind rattled rain against the window so that she could hardly hear what he was saying. ‘Has Andy talked to you at all about what might be worrying him?’

‘No.’ Jane sipped the coffee. ‘In fact I think that’s why he keeps disappearing. He doesn’t want to talk to me.’

‘Have you got any idea where he might have gone?’

‘To a friend’s, I suppose.’ Jane paused. ‘This is Shetland. I could probably track him down if I wanted to. But he doesn’t want me to and I should probably re-spect that, don’t you think?’

‘Probably. It depends how desperate you think he is.’

‘I don’t know.’ Again the rain was blown against the window, sharp and hard. ‘He’s been different since he came back from university. He doesn’t talk to me any more.’

Simon stood up to put his mug in the sink. ‘That detective was here yesterday. The woman from Inverness. She was asking about your boys.’

‘What did you tell her?’

‘Nothing. I had nothing to tell.’ He was still standing, his back to the bench. ‘Look, there’s probably nothing sinister at all in Andy taking himself off for a while. It will have been a blow to his pride, giving up on university and coming home. And then there were two murders so close to your land – all the tension and suspicion at home. He’s bound to feel troubled and confused.’

‘Do you think he knows something about the murders?’ Jane looked up at her friend. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Simon stared back. ‘You can’t think Andy’s a killer.’

‘No!’ the answer came immediately and Jane knew that at least she was certain about that. Her son was gentle and he might have a temper, but he would never take a life. ‘But he might suspect someone else.’

‘Who are you thinking about?’ The words were soft and apologetic. ‘Who do you think Andy might be protecting, Jane?’

‘I don’t know! All these theories and suspicions – I hate it.’ She paused. ‘He was out for most of Tuesday night. I have no idea where he went, but he was in a terrible state when he got in.’

‘He needs to talk to someone,’ Simon said. ‘Send him a text and say I’ll be at Befriending Shetland all afternoon. Perhaps he doesn’t feel he can talk to you because it’s too close to home.’

‘What are you saying?’ Suddenly she thought he wasn’t being entirely honest. Not lying, because Simon had always been too brave for that. But not telling the whole truth, either.

‘I think you should give him a day. To talk to the friend who’s putting him up or to talk to me.’ There was a pause. ‘And if he doesn’t turn up, then perhaps you should tell Jimmy Perez.’

‘I’m not sure I could do that.’ Jane thought it sounded as if Simon was telling her to shop her son to the police, although she was certain he’d done nothing wrong.

‘Andy could be in danger.’ Simon’s voice was firmer now. ‘Two people have died already. His safety is more important just now than his relationship with you.’ Another pause. ‘You really don’t have any idea who might have taken him in?’

Jane shook her head. ‘I presume it would be one of his old school mates.’

‘I wondered if he might go to Kathryn Rogerson,’ Simon went on. ‘Weren’t they in the Youth Theatre together when he was a young lad, before she went south to university? I always thought he might have a bit of a crush on her. The older woman.’

But Jane didn’t want to think there might be another connection with the Rogersons. ‘If he comes to see you in Lerwick,’ she said, ‘will you ask him to get in touch with me? Just a text to tell me he’s safe.’

‘Of course.’

‘Now I’d better let you get on with your article.’

Simon walked with her to the door. It was still raining and the tip of Raven’s Head was shrouded in mist.

On her way home, Jane saw that Jimmy’s car was still outside his house and she was tempted for a moment to stop there and ask for his help immediately. If Andy could be in danger, why should she wait to start looking for him? But she drove on past. Andy had left her a note to tell her he was safe. He’d be with a friend somewhere, nursing a hangover or tucking into a late breakfast. She’d texted him to ask him to talk to Simon in Lerwick, and Simon would let her know if the boy got in touch. There was nothing for her to worry about. Nothing more that she could do.

Sandy Wilson pulled into the Sumburgh Airport car park. The traffic had been heavy all the way from Lerwick and there were still lights controlling the single-lane stretch close to the landslide. It was ten o’clock, but the low cloud meant it was barely light. In the terminal building disgruntled passengers were waiting for the weather to lift and for the delayed flights to take off. Sandy felt as if this was a wild goose chase, as if he’d been sent to go through the motions while the exciting part of the investigation was happening elsewhere.

He went into the shop to buy coffee and a bacon sandwich. He’d overslept and left without time for breakfast. He recognized the woman behind the food counter, but struggled to remember her name. She was big-boned and red-faced, and he thought she’d once worked in the chip shop in Lerwick. A few years ago, before he’d met Louisa and had tried to get in better shape, he’d been a regular customer.

‘Hi there!’ She’d recognized him too, greeted him like an old friend. ‘Where are you off to?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m here on work, not away on holiday.’

An announcement over the PA system called passengers for the Glasgow flight through to security. There was a similar call for people for Aberdeen and the shop emptied, as if by magic.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Those murders…’ An excitement in her voice, hoping for details that wouldn’t be known to the general public. He remembered that she’d been a terrible gossip.

‘I don’t suppose you saw Tom Rogerson on Sunday? He was supposed to be flying off to Orkney, parked his car here, but never arrived. You did know Tom Rogerson?’

‘Oh aye. And Mavis, his wife. He led her a merry dance, you ken.’

The woman’s name came back to him. Susan. He’d never known her surname.

‘Were you working on Sunday?’

‘Aye, it was another day just like this. Flights cancelled and delayed. Lots of passengers around, just waiting for the visibility to improve. I was rushed off my feet.’ Susan hauled herself onto a stool behind the counter to make her point. She had short, stubby legs and calves shaped like upturned bottles.

‘Did you see Tom Rogerson? He was a sociable kind of guy, wasn’t he? He’d be buying coffee for anyone he knew, sitting at one of the tables there, chatting. I doubt if you’d miss him.’ Sandy took a bite of the bacon sandwich. He’d already paid for it and there was no point in letting it get cold.