Peter Robinson - All the Colors of Darkness

“We’ve always worked around that before.”

“I know, but... it’s just... I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

“I think I just need some time, that’s all.”

“Time away from me?”

She paused, then said, “Yes.”

“Sophia, I did remember to set that alarm.”

“Then how did someone just manage to walk into my house and break my things without alerting the police?”

“The people who did it are very adept,” Banks said. “You have to believe me. They can get in anywhere.” He hadn’t told her that before, hadn’t wanted to frighten her, but as it turned out, he needn’t have worried.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Sophia said. “You not setting the alarm, or these paranoid delusions you’ve got about the secret service. Do you seriously believe what you’re saying, or is it some kind of elaborate excuse you’ve just come up with, because if it is—”

“It isn’t an excuse. It’s true. I told you about them before. Laurence Silbert was a retired MI6 agent. Semi-retired.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “Anyway, it’s not even that. I don’t want to argue.”

“Me, neither. What is it, then?”

“I don’t know. It’s all been too fast, that’s all. I just need some time. If you care at all about me, you’ll give me some time.”

“Fine,” he said in the end, exhausted. “Take your time. Take all the time you want.”

And that was that.

The rain continued to fall and Banks thought he could hear thunder in the distance. He thought about Sophia, how she would get emotional during thunderstorms. She would make love like a wild thing, and if she was ever going to tell him that she loved him, he would have bet it would be during a thunderstorm. But that wasn’t likely to happen now. They had been living together in so many ways, yet they lived so much apart. No wonder it all seemed too fast for her.

"I’m sorry for disturbing you, honest I am,” said Carol Wyman, opening the door to Annie, “but I’m really beside myself.”

She looked it, too, Annie thought. Hair unkempt, no makeup, dark circles under her eyes. “It’s all right,” Annie said. “What’s the problem?”

“Come in,” Carol said, “and I’ll tell you.”

The living room was untidy, but Annie managed to find a place to sit on the sofa. Carol offered tea, and at first Annie declined. Only when Carol insisted and said she needed a cup herself did she agree. Annie had driven all the way in from Harkside to Eastvale and was stopping at the Wymans’ on her way to Western Area Headquarters, where Superintendent Gervaise wanted the whole team assembled at twelve o’clock for a meeting in the boardroom. As she waited for Carol to make the tea, Annie glanced around the room and noticed that the photograph of Derek Wyman with his brother was missing, as were several others.

“What is it?” Annie asked, when Carol brought the tea and sat next to her.

“It’s Derek,” she said. “I don’t know where he is. He’s disappeared. Derek’s disappeared.”

She started crying, and Annie put an arm around her shoulders and passed her a tissue from the box on the coffee table. “When was this?” she asked.

“He didn’t come home last night, after the evening performance. I haven’t seen him since he went out for the matinee at two o’clock. He usually comes home for his tea between performances on a Sunday, but yesterday he didn’t.” She gave a harsh laugh. “You haven’t locked him up or anything without telling me, have you?”

“We wouldn’t do that,” said Annie, moving her arm away.

“At first I just thought maybe he’d grabbed a sandwich or something instead of coming home for tea—he sometimes does—then he’d gone with his mates for a few drinks after the play, but...”

“Did he phone or anything?”

“No, nothing. That’s not like him. I mean, Derek’s not perfect— who is?—but he wouldn’t do something like that. He knows my nerves aren’t good. He knows what it would do to me.” She held her hands out. “Look at me. I’m shaking.”

“Did you phone the police station?”

“Yes, this morning. But they wouldn’t do anything. They said he was a grown man and he had only been missing for one night. I told them about Saturday, when he was there talking to you, like, and that he’d been upset ever since, but they didn’t even know he’d been at the station. That’s why I phoned you. You gave me your number. You said I should ring.”

“It’s all right,” Annie said. There was no way the Monday-morning desk officer would know that Wyman had been in the station on Saturday afternoon; he hadn’t been arrested or charged, so his name wouldn’t appear on any of the weekend arrest or custody records. They had simply questioned him and let him go. “You did the right thing. Have you any idea at all where he might go? Any friends or anything?”

“No. I’ve already phoned all his colleagues at school and from the theater. They don’t know where he is, either. They said he didn’t show up for last night’s performance.”

“But he was there for the matinee?”

“Yes. It ended about half past four. Maria said he left the theater, and she just assumed he was coming home for tea. But he never turned up. I don’t know where he went.”

“Does he have any relatives nearby?”

“An uncle and aunt in Shipley. But he wouldn’t go there. He hasn’t seen them in years. And he’s got an aunt in Liverpool, but she’s in a home.”

“So he disappeared after the Sunday-afternoon matinee?”

“That’s right.”

“Is his car gone?”

“As far as I know. It’s not parked on our street, at any rate.”

“You’d better give me some details.” Annie noted down what Wyman had been wearing, along with the make, color and number plate of the car he was driving.

“Something must have happened to him,” Carol went on. “I think it was something to do with those people who came.”

“What people?” Annie asked.

“Late yesterday afternoon, while Derek was at the theater. A man and a woman. They were something to do with the government. Anyway, they were a bit abrupt. Pushy. Wanted to know all sorts of things, personal things. Wouldn’t tell me why. And they went through the house from top to bottom. Took some stuff with them. Papers, photographs, Derek’s computer with all his school and theater work on it. They gave me a receipt, mind you.” She showed it to Annie. It was a sheet of paper listing the items taken. The signature was illegible.

“They took those family photographs, too, from the sideboard?”

“Yes. They do work for the government, don’t they? I haven’t been stupid, have I? I haven’t been burgled? I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“No,” said Annie. “They are who they say they are.” Not that that helps at all, she thought. “You haven’t been stupid. Did Derek know about this visit?”

“He can’t have done. He was at the matinee.”

Unless he’d been on his way home and seen them from the end of the street, Annie thought. That might have caused him to do a runner.

“His mobile wasn’t working,” Carol went on. “Maybe it was the battery. He’s always letting the battery run down. Maybe he’s seeing another woman?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” said Annie, hardly sure what was the worst conclusion Carol Wyman could jump to: that something had happened to her husband, or that he had run off with another woman.

“But what can have happened to him?”

“I’m going to the station to report him missing and see about initiating a search,” said Annie. “If I do it, they’ll have to listen. In the meantime, if there’s anything else you can think of, don’t hesitate to phone me again.” Annie stood up. “My boss might want to have a word with you about those two people who came to visit.”