Кара Хантер: No Way Out

He glances away again, past me, over my shoulder. Towards the quay.

`But Michael did find out, didn't he? How did that happen `“ did Harry tell him?'

He shakes his head. `No. I managed to persuade him to give me a bit more time. But Michael worked it out for himself. He told me, that night when he called from the hut, that he'd overheard Harry telling Sam about some pudding or other his mother used to make at Christmas. It's a speciality from Puglia `“ that's where the family come from. Mike remembered having some at Ginny's house. It was too much to be a coincidence. Especially with the bloody tattoo.'

He can see from my face that I have no idea what he's talking about.

`Harry had a tattoo on his chest. Juniper berries. He told Michael it was for his mother. That's what her name means. Juniper.'

`I see. So even if he didn't say anything explicitly, he wasn't exactly keeping it secret, was he?'

Philip makes a grim face. `He's a risk-taker. Like his father. I think he enjoyed sailing close to the wind.'

We stand there a moment, staring at each other. I can feel the sun on my back, the pontoon moving gently beneath my feet.

`How did Harry die?' I say eventually.

He sighs heavily. `When Mike called me that night he was barely coherent `“ I could hardly make out what he was saying `“ I couldn't believe it `“ that Harry was dead `“ that Mike had actually killed him `“' He runs a hand through his hair. `He said they'd argued, that Harry claimed he'd been having an affair with Sam and Michael thought the baby must be his and I think that was the last straw, coming on top of everything else. I think for one fucking ghastly moment it just sent him over the edge.'

`Was that true `“ the affair?'

Philip shrugs. `I don't know. She was very unhappy, and she was lonely. I suppose I can see how it might have happened.'

`And Michael tried to cover up what he'd done by setting fire to the house. With his innocent family asleep upstairs `“'

`He didn't know that ,' he says quickly. `They were supposed to be in Liverpool. Some show or other. For Matt's birthday. You have to believe me.'

`I do,' I say gently. `She left him a message on his mobile, to say Zachary was sick and they were at home.'

But I didn't realize till now exactly what that meant.

`He lost his phone `“ he never got that message `“'

`I know. The phone's been handed in. We knew he'd lost it.'

And the rest, we can check. And in all this appalling mess, there is suddenly a tiny splinter of relief. He never meant to kill them. He was a family destroyer all right, but he never set out to be.

`Look,' he says, `Mike's half out of his mind about Sam and the kids `“ he didn't give a shit about that house `“ he always pretended to love it but it was just a colossal millstone round his neck `“ round both our necks `“'

And I remember, now, that office in the garden. Everything about it the polar opposite of the rest of the house: colour, furniture, atmosphere, light. That house wasn't a treasured legacy. It wasn't even a home; it was a prison. A curse.

`Where is he now, Mr Esmond?'

He opens his mouth and closes it again. `I don't know,' he says eventually. `When I heard you on the pontoon I thought it must be him. He should have been back by now `“'

He looks up towards the quay again, visibly concerned now.

`He went that way?' I say, following his gaze.

`About an hour ago.'

There's something else. Something he's not telling me.

`What is it, Mr Esmond?'

He swallows. `When Michael found out about Harry `“ when he worked out Ginny was his mother `“ he assumed, you know `“'

And there it is `“ the last missing piece.

`He assumed Harry was his son. Not yours.'

He reddens. `He never knew, you see `“ that she and I had had a thing. I mean, it was only once or twice. I didn't think it mattered.'

But once or twice can matter. Once or twice can be everything.

Philip sighs. `And when he went to Brighton to see Muriel she just kept referring to `њthat Esmond boy`ќ. He had no idea she actually meant me.'

She said exactly the same when we saw her. And I jumped to exactly the same conclusions.

`Does he still think that?'

He glances at me and then away. His face is bleak with shame. `He's barely spoken to me since he got here. I just didn't think he could take any more right now.'

`So what happened this morning?'

`I went to get some food and when I got back he was on my iPad. I've been hiding it in my stuff but he must have found it. There was that story in the news `“ on the BBC.'

``“ saying that the man who died at Southey Road was still alive when the fire started.'

He nods. `Mike was in a terrible state `“ he said that just made it worse `“ that if he'd known Harry wasn't dead he'd never have set the fire at all `“ that they'd all still be alive. He got hysterical `“ started saying he'd seen him `“ he'd seen Matty. I tell you, I was seriously worried by then `“ I thought he might actually be losing his mind. But then he seemed to calm down and said he had to get out `“ that he was going mad cooped up in the boat twenty-four hours a day and he needed to clear his head.'

`And you let him go?'

He shrugs miserably. `What else could I do? He said he wanted to be on his own.'

Gis must have spotted something on the quayside because he gestures to me and I turn to see a man running towards us. But it's not Michael Esmond. It's the marina manager.

4 January 2018, 12.12 a.m.

23 Southey Road, Oxford

`Look,' gasps Harry, `I didn't sleep with Sam `“ I swear `“ and she's not `“ you're not `“ seriously `“ you've got it all wrong `“'

He tries to get up but slips heavily back. There's panic now, as he starts crawling towards the door. Michael watches him for a moment, then walks slowly round to stand in front of him, blocking his exit, gazing down.

`So what is it that I've got wrong, exactly?'

Harry's elbows buckle and he rolls over on to his back, his chest heaving hard. There's blood in his hair, down his face, in his mouth.

`I'm `“ not `“ your son `“ whatever you think `“ it wasn't you I came for `“ it was Philip `“'

But if he thought that would make this all go away he couldn't be more wrong.

Michael stares down at him, and the fear he's lived with for all these weeks darkens quickly into something far, far worse. This man hasn't just broken into his family, stolen their love, taken his place, he's going to take his home `“ ruin his life `“ destroy everything he's worked so hard to get.

And suddenly there's something about the heft of the bottle in his hand that makes him feel, for one appalling moment, that he is free. Free from himself, free from that man everyone has always expected him to be and no matter what he does it's never been enough. Free to be angry and vindictive and out-of-control and who-gives-a-shit just like `“

Something in his face must have changed because Harry tries again to get up but his body fails him and the words he needs to say spew in a bubble of blood. And then there's a foot against his neck and he's being forced back down, and the weight is pushing, pushing, pushing until his face hits the floor and there's bile in his mouth and no air in his lungs and darkness in his eyes.

`Inspector!' calls the marina manager as he comes within earshot, breathing heavily with the exertion. `One of the other owners has just reported their inflatable stolen `“ I thought you ought to know.'

`When was this?'

`Can't have been more than an hour. Perhaps less.'

Philip Esmond has gone white.