The Lost Man(64)

‘And yours.’

Katy looked up at his tone, then gave a hard half-smile. ‘That’s true. Although –’

She broke off suddenly, looking at the house. Nathan followed her gaze and could see a shadow in one of the windows that had previously been empty. Simon. He was looking out at them, his eyes hidden by the reflection of the glass.

Katy started walking faster and Nathan jogged a couple of paces to catch up with her.

‘Although what?’ he said. ‘What were you about to say?’

‘It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does.’

‘Honestly, I’m not looking to cause trouble. I’m trying to mind my own business.’

‘Come on, Katy.’ Nathan stopped walking. ‘Please. He’s dead.’

‘I know that.’ But she stopped. ‘All right. It’s just, if that’s the only thing Cameron and Ilse said to each other that morning, they took their time getting it out.’ She seemed to debate for a moment. ‘Plus, Ilse didn’t wave him off as he drove away.’

‘So? That doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Maybe not.’ Katy’s dark, smudged eyes gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. ‘But when you leave, she waves to you.’

They stared at each other, then Katy shrugged.

‘I told you it was nothing.’ She shoved the tissue into her jeans pocket. ‘Thanks for before, by the way. I feel better now.’

He watched her walk away. When Nathan next looked back towards the house, Simon was gone, and every window was dark again.





Chapter 23



Up close, Nathan thought, it was interesting how things could appear so different. He stood alone in the living room, his nose near to Cameron’s painting. The image of the stockman’s grave hung on the wall at eye level. Outside, the night was drawing in, and it was hard to see the detail properly under the artificial glow of the ceiling light. Still, it was mildly hypnotic, examining the lines of the brushwork and the way two colours bled together into something new. He was about to move away when his gaze snagged on the left edge of the painting. There was a dark smudge on the horizon that he’d never noticed before. It was a muted grey mark, and faint to the point of transparency.

Nathan frowned and leaned in. What on earth was that supposed to be? A person? A shadow? Just a dirty mark? He reached out and lightly ran his thumb over it. No, definitely paint. Deliberate and permanent on Cam’s part, then.

‘Cameron would kill you for that.’ Ilse’s voice came from the doorway and he turned. ‘Don’t touch the picture. Golden rule in this house.’

Nathan put his hands up and took a step back.

‘That’s probably safer.’ She gave him a weary smile. He could hear the sounds of dinner being cleared away in the kitchen. The meal had been mostly silent and entirely subdued.

‘Ilse –’ he said as she turned to leave.

She stopped, waiting.

‘I was talking to the girls earlier. They said you’d taken them out there.’ Nathan nodded at the picture.

‘To the grave?’ Ilse said. ‘How did that come up?’

‘Lo drew a picture of it.’

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. ‘Right. Of course.’ She came into the room and joined him in front of the painting. ‘It was a stupid idea. I took them there for a picnic a few weeks ago, after Sophie hurt her arm. I was trying to come up with something to take her mind off it, and I thought seeing the grave in person might help Lo. Remove the mystery, I guess.’

‘Sophie said you didn’t stay long.’

‘No.’ Ilse gave a half-laugh. ‘I knew it was a bad plan the minute we got there. It was too hot. Lo was scared. I pretty much bundled them back into the car and drove home. It was a long way to go for five minutes, but it was for the best. We ended up having a picnic by the stables instead. I should’ve done that in the first place.’

Ilse was staring at Cameron’s painting, then slowly, she took another step in, until she was as close to the canvas as Nathan had been.

‘Cameron wasn’t happy when he heard we’d been out there,’ she said. Nathan couldn’t see her face now.

‘Why not?’

‘He didn’t like it that I took the girls so far. He said it was too isolated and exposed for this time of year.’ Ilse leaned in, examining the solid dark paint of the grave. She raised a hand slowly and extended her index finger. ‘He said it was dangerous.’

Her finger hovered, an inch from the canvas. ‘It’s kind of funny,’ she said in a voice that suggested it wasn’t funny at all, ‘how it turned out he was right.’

Half an inch.

‘No! Don’t touch the painting, Mummy!’

The voice at the doorway sounded horrified. Nathan turned to see Sophie, open-mouthed. Ilse immediately curled her fingers into a fist and dropped her hand.

‘Daddy’s painting is off limits,’ Sophie recited.

‘I know.’ Ilse stepped away and relief and confusion crossed Sophie’s face. She caught sight of the beer in Nathan’s hand.

‘No food or drinks near the picture, either.’

‘Yes, we both know, Soph,’ Ilse said. ‘No-one was touching it, we were just looking.’