Кара Хантер - In the Dark

He straightens up. ‘I believe you’ve already requested Hannah Gardiner’s dental records?’

I nod. ‘And Challow is going through the house, but they haven’t found anything yet.’

‘Well, take it from me, if she died there, you’ll know about it.’

The wind is rising outside. The first whip of rain against the glass.

‘You said to come alone,’ I say, after a moment. ‘Why?’

‘I didn’t see it until we started to lift the bones.’ He reaches to a side table and picks up a metal tray. ‘I found this under the skull.’

A strip of desiccated grey plastic. Duct tape.

‘So she was gagged.’

He nods. ‘Bound and gagged. So you see why I thought you shouldn’t bring anyone else.’

He can see from my face that I don’t.

‘Come on, Fawley – hands tied, face down, a broken skull? You’re going to have to think carefully about how much of that you release to the press. Because the hacks are going to work out very quickly that it’s exactly like those bodies they found on Wittenham Clumps.’

‘Shit.’

‘Quite. And I don’t know about you, but what we’ve got here is horrific enough; we really don’t need more headlines screaming human sacrifice.’

***

Chris Gislingham pushes open his front door with his foot; he’d use his hands only he has three carrier bags in each one. Nappies, wipes, baby powder – how can such a small helpless creature need so much stuff?

‘I’m home,’ he calls.

‘We’re in here.’

Gislingham dumps the bags in the kitchen and goes through into the sitting room where his wife, Janet, is sitting cradling their son. She looks both exhausted and ecstatic – something Gislingham has got used to over the last few months: neither of them got much sleep last night. When he bends to kiss his son, Billy smells of baby powder and biscuits, and stares up wide-eyed at his father, who strokes his head gently, then sits down next to them on the sofa.

‘Good day?’ he says.

‘That nice health visitor came to see us, didn’t she, Billy? And she said how well you’d grown.’ She drops a kiss on the baby’s brow, and he reaches out a chubby hand to catch her hair.

‘I thought you were going shopping with your sister? Wasn’t that today?’

‘Billy was a bit sniffly, so I decided not to. It wasn’t worth the risk. I can go another time.’

Gislingham tries to recall the last time his wife actually left the house. It’s been getting more pronounced lately, and he wonders if – or when – he should start to worry.

‘You need fresh air too, you know,’ he says, trying to keep his tone light. ‘Perhaps we can go and feed the ducks at the weekend? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Billy boy?’ He tickles his son under the chin and the little boy squeals with delight.

‘We’ll see,’ says Janet vaguely. ‘Depends what the weather’s like.’

‘Talking of which, it’s like bloody Barbados in here,’ says Gislingham, loosening his tie. ‘I thought we turned off the heating?’

‘It was a bit chilly this afternoon so I put it back on.’

It’s not worth the risk. She doesn’t need to say it. After ten years of trying, and a premature birth that nearly ended in tragedy, protecting Billy, keeping Billy warm, monitoring Billy’s weight and height and strength and every little development, is all she cares about. Her life barely has room for anything else, certainly not for much in the way of cooking.

‘Pizza again?’ says Gislingham eventually.

‘In the fridge,’ replies Janet distractedly, adjusting the baby’s position slightly. ‘Can you put a bottle in to warm too?’

Gislingham levers himself up and goes back out to the kitchen. Most of what’s in the fridge is pureed, mashed or milk, but he dislodges the box of pizza where it’s frozen against the back and puts it in the microwave, then switches on the bottle warmer. When he goes back into the sitting room five minutes later, Janet is leaning back against the sofa, her eyes closed.

Gislingham lifts his baby son gently from his wife’s arms and props him against his shoulder. ‘OK, Billy boy, what do you say you and me go and have a quiet bevvy.’

***

Alex gets in at midnight. She assumes I’m in bed, because the sitting-room lights are off, and so, for a few fleeting seconds, I can watch her when she thinks she’s alone. She drops her bag by the front door and stands a moment, looking at herself in the mirror. She’s beautiful, my wife; she always has been. She never enters a room without people noticing. The dark hair, those eyes that are violet in some light, and almost turquoise in others. And she’s taller than me in high heels and it doesn’t bother me, in case you were wondering. But her looks have never made her happy. And now, I watch as she puts her hands to her face, smooths the lines from her eyes, lifts her chinline, turning her head first one way then the other. And she must have glimpsed me in the mirror because she turns suddenly, a slight flush to her cheek.

‘Adam? You scared the life out of me. What are you doing sitting in the dark?’

I pick up my glass and finish what’s left of the Merlot. ‘Just thinking.’

She comes in and perches on the arm of the sofa opposite me. ‘Tough day?’

I nod. ‘I’m on the Frampton Road case.’

She nods slowly. ‘I saw the news. Is it as bad as it sounds?’

‘Worse. We found a body at the house this afternoon. We think it’s Hannah Gardiner. But the press don’t know that yet.’

‘Have you told her husband?’

‘Not yet. I’m waiting for a positive ID. I don’t want to open up all that for him again unless I’m sure.’

‘How’s the girl?’

‘Traumatized, according to Everett. Not speaking. Doesn’t appear to know her own name or even that she has a child. Started screaming just at the sight of him.’

There’s a silence. Alex looks down at her hands. I know what she’s thinking – I know only too well. How could anyone who had a child possibly forget it? How could anyone who lost a child not yearn to have another? I wonder if she’ll raise it again. Her pain, her need, and what she thinks is the answer.

‘How was your evening?’ I ask into the unspoken words.

‘Fine. It was just me and Emma in the end.’

‘Not sure I know her.’

‘You don’t. I haven’t seen her in years. She works for the Council. In the Family Placement team.’

She’s not meeting my gaze now.

‘So, what, she finds homes for kids? Adoptions, fostering?’

‘Mmm.’

She’s still not looking at me.

I take a deep breath. ‘Alex, this wasn’t a college get-together at all, was it? It was only ever you and this Emma woman.’

She’s fiddling with the handle of her handbag now. ‘Look, I just wanted to get some more information. Find out what it involves.’

‘Even though you know what I think. Even though we agreed –’

She raises her eyes to my face. Eyes full of tears. ‘ We didn’t agree. You agreed. I know how you feel about it, but what about how I feel? While we had Jake it didn’t matter so much that I didn’t have any more, but when we lost him –’ Her voice breaks and she struggles for composure. ‘When we lost him, it was – unbearable. And not just because he died but because part of me died too. The part that was a mother – that put someone else first. I want that back. Can’t you understand?’

‘Of course I can. What do you take me for?’

‘Then why are you refusing to even think about it? Emma was telling me about the kids she has to deal with – desperate for love – crying out for the sort of stability and support we could give them –’