Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(11)

She and Carter were alone in the lounge – a large through space with white walls and pictures of Manhattan. Jeanie was talking to the couple in the kitchen. Carter took the opportunity to look at the photos on the walls, the knick-knacks on the shelves. There weren’t many in the minimalist rented apartment. There was a desk in the corner, which had a laptop on it. Carter could guess which pieces of furniture each half of the couple had conceded to the other. The desk had to be Lauren’s: neat, bundles of papers. A lot of things carefully managed. Compartmentalized. A white-framed portrait of the three of them was on the wall above her desk. The sofa looked like it had come out of Toby’s bedsit. It was ropy and had been covered loosely with a green and white Lauren-type throw. One wall was given over to gadgets and systems: 3D TV, docking stations, CDs and films, mainly sci-fi, in alphabetical order. This was Toby’s wall. In the corner of the room was a white box full of Samuel’s toys. Carter sympathized; Lauren was working very hard to keep their identity in the baby takeover bid. It was a tricky balancing act for any couple.

From the kitchen behind them they could hear Jeanie running through the events of the day before once again with Lauren. The door to the kitchen opened and Toby came into the lounge. He sat on the sofa and held his head in his hands.

First Jeanie, then Lauren followed him in. Lauren remained standing.

Willis was still standing at the French windows but had turned, her back to the Thames. She could hear the dog whimpering in the kitchen. She looked at the couple. The one thing that working in MIT 17 had taught her in the last two years was that when something like this happened most marriages fell apart. It would take a miracle to save theirs now. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out and read the message then replied and replaced it in her jacket. Carter whispered: ‘Any news?’

She shook her head. ‘Negative on the ports and trains.’

‘Toby,’ Jeanie continued calmly in her professional, caring, no-blame voice, ‘when was the last time you looked into the buggy and checked on Samuel? The last time you actually saw him?’

Lauren walked forward so slowly, hardly making a sound. She stood at the end of the sofa staring at her husband, side-on.

Carter knew what she’d be thinking, what they were all thinking. Yes, for Christ’s sake – when was the last bloody time you even checked on your son to see that he was alive?

‘I think it was when we went into the café at the Royal Observatory. I thought he might want a biscuit. I wiped his nose.’

‘Did he?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Want a biscuit?’

‘No. I don’t think so. I gave him a drink.’ Toby glanced at his wife as he spoke. Every word that came out of his mouth was filled with agonizing self-recrimination. Carter could see that he longed for her to say something to make him feel better; he expected it; but it wasn’t coming this time.

Lauren stared at Toby’s profile, her eyes full of the pain of a moment lost to her.

‘Do you remember anyone who was there at the time?’ Jeanie continued. ‘Someone who might have seen you?’

He was trying hard to recall. ‘There were the usual café staff.’

‘Did you speak to them?’

‘Just hello, how’s things?’

‘Was there anyone else there?’

‘It was getting busy as I left. There was a man reading a book near the entrance. There were a couple of people as well – I didn’t get a look at them. There were people arriving as I went out. Someone held the door open for me.’

‘Can you remember what they looked like?’

‘No. I was concentrating – it’s not always easy to get the buggy out of places. I was trying not to catch the wheel on the door frame.’

‘Where did you go then?’

‘I went to see if my new exhibition pieces were working okay then I went into the shop as well – it’s in the same building.’

‘You are an expert on black holes, aren’t you?’ said Willis from her place by the French windows.

‘Yes.’ Toby turned and smiled at her. ‘It’s my passion.’ She thought it was the first time she’d seen anything but panic on his face. That was his world, not pushing babies around in buggies.

‘Where did you go then?’ Carter asked as Toby turned to look at his wife. She stared coldly back.

‘I just kept on walking.’

‘Where?’

‘I walked home,’ he said, exasperated. He was squirming on the sofa, obviously feeling persecuted.

‘How long would it normally take you to walk to work from your house?’ asked Carter.

‘Twenty-five minutes.’

Willis was going through the statements in her notebook.

‘Gareth said it was ten past four when you left,’ she read out.

‘So tell me what you do remember about leaving the Observatory,’ Carter asked.

‘I just pushed Samuel towards home.’

‘Which took you over an hour to do. We’ve been walking that a few times in this last twenty-four hours. I would say – even on a leisurely walk – we managed to make it from the Royal Observatory to your home in less than thirty minutes.’ Toby shrugged and shook his head. Carter continued: ‘So you left the Observatory and you started back towards home. Was it dark?’