Nine Elms (Kate Marshall #1)(95)

“Yes, let’s build a sandcastle,” said Kate.



The red-haired Fan sat in his car on the edge of the RV park, among the parked cars of a couple of campers and dog walkers. Today he was driving a small battered white van, the run-around car he liked to use to help him blend in. He wore walking gear, and if anyone took too much notice of him, he was ready to get out of the car and head off up the hill with a map and backpack.

He pretended to be engrossed in a large map when Glenda drove past. He had seen her arrive with Jake a few hours earlier. This was too good to be true. Kate and the kid, alone in the house. He had been watching Kate for a couple of days, and he had a couple of problems: the old woman from the surf shop next door, and now a police car stationed outside.

It would involve a few changes to his plan, but he would enjoy getting creative. He waited a few minutes, and then he started the engine and drove away. His preparations were almost complete. The stage was about to be set, and he would be back.



Kate came back down to the beach with Jake and sat on a deck chair, watching him build his sandcastle. The sky was now clear, and the sun shone down, warming them. Her phone rang in her pocket, and she took it out, seeing it was Tristan.

“Kate, they’ve made some developments with Victoria O’Grady,” he said, sounding excited. “The police took her statement—she told them the same as she told you—and they’ve been studying the photographs we took from Paul Adler’s chemist. Varia says there’s enough evidence to reopen the Caitlyn Murray case, and a team wants to go and look at Jepson’s Wood tomorrow . . . I take it that’s out for you?”

“Yes. You know I’ve got Jake here,” said Kate, watching as he was now digging and up to his waist in a hole.

“Okay. I can go, if that’s cool with you?”

“Of course. You’ll let me know what happens?”

“As soon as I know anything new, I’ll call you.”

She came off the phone and felt far away from the investigation, and a little part of her, she was ashamed to admit, wished Jake had come to visit another time. She pushed those thoughts firmly away and joined in building the sandcastle. They managed an impressive one, with four turrets and a moat, before a huge wave obliterated it and soaked them both.

They came back up to the house, and Kate got them towels so they could dry off and get warm. The sun was now behind some clouds, and it had grown colder.

“Mum. That was the best sandcastle ever. I can’t ever build big ones like that at home cos the beach is all stones.”

Seeing him in her living room for the first time in a few months, she saw how tall he was.

“Stand by the doorframe there,” she said. She went and grabbed a pen and marked where the top of his head touched. He stepped away, and they both looked at all the marks on the doorframe, the increments where he had grown since visiting.

“Blimey, you’ll be taller than me soon,” said Kate. He ran his finger down the markings. The time had passed so quickly, and very soon his childhood would be over. She felt the urge to apologize to him for making his life complicated. For . . .

“Mum, I’m soaking wet, and the wet sand is rubbing on my bum,” he said, pulling a funny grimacing face. Kate swooped in and gave him a huge hug.

“What’s that for?” he asked. “By rights, I should be in trouble cos I went in the sea in all my good clothes.”

“It’s fine,” said Kate. “I just needed a hug.”

“Women,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs and into some dry clothes,” she said.

She showed him up to the front bedroom, which was next to hers. It was the one he always had when he came to stay. It had a colored striped blanket on the bed and a bookshelf loaded with kids’ books, which she realized he’d now grown out of, and his window looked down at the beach. He ran his finger over the headboard to check for dust. “Catherine, you’ve not been slack with the furniture polish,” he added, doing an uncanny impression of Glenda.

“Do you need a hand unpacking?” Kate said, laughing. He put his bag down on the end of the bed.

“I’ve got it covered,” he said, shooing her out.

“Okay. I’m doing Cumberland sausages with chips and beans for tea, and I’ll take the skins off the sausages,” she said.

“Cool!”

“And I’ve got Phish Food ice cream for dessert.”

“Best Mum award goes to you,” he said, and he closed the door.

She came downstairs to start the food, feeling all warm and happy that he was with her. The only thing that spoiled her thoughts was seeing the police car stationed outside. It made her think about the case and that Tristan would be going to Jepson’s Wood without her.

Again, the eternal struggle between being a mother and wanting to have a career reared its ugly head. She put it to the back of her mind and started to cook.





57

The next morning, Tristan met a team of police officers and Victoria O’Grady at Jepson’s Wood. He’d borrowed his sister’s car for the day, promising her, on pain of death, that he would bring it back in one piece. The wood had shrunk in size over the past few years and was now a couple of acres of trees surrounded by new-build homes.