Wrong Place Wrong Time(39)

‘Yes. And at this point, the seventeenth of October, the baby is likely already missing, and the policeman is also probably dead, his ID taken.’

Jen sits back. What was a stormy ocean is now so clear she can see the bedrock beneath it. ‘That’s that.’

‘Well, then. Seems like Nicola is the missing piece. She’s the one you know the least about. And a person who seems to be directly connected to Todd, and who was injured, too, two nights before the crime.’

‘Okay. Yes. I need to find Nicola,’ Jen agrees.

At three thirty, Jen follows Todd home and arrives at the door two minutes after him.

He turns to her, his face perhaps a little pale, but otherwise looking pretty cheerful, and says, ‘Did you know that a flea can accelerate faster than a rocket?’

‘I’m fine, thanks, had a half-day,’ she says sarcastically.

‘Well, then, Mother, look at this.’ He puts his bag down and begins rooting through it, a clear, sunny expression on his face. Not a sniff of organized crime, of gangs, of violence, dead policemen, of anything. ‘Look.’ He passes her an essay, grade A*, his fingers just brushing hers, as light as a feather.

Jen stares down at it, a biology essay. She vaguely remembers this. Last time, in the evening, she had issued a perfunctory well done. Todd’s A*s are the rule and not the exception. This time, she reads it properly. ‘It’s amazing,’ she says after a few minutes. Todd blinks in surprise, and that blink – it cracks her heart open just a little. She’s tried so hard, but look at his shock. ‘How long did it take you?’ she asks.

‘Oh, you know, not long.’

‘Well, I couldn’t do it. I don’t even know what photosynthesis is.’

‘Yeah.’ A soft laugh. ‘It’s plants, Mother.’

His eyes are on his own essay, reading it back, a sketch of a smile across his features. He’s so confident. She has done one thing right, at least. Hopefully Todd will never sit up at night and doubt his own parenting, his intellect, his self.

‘What’re you going to do tonight to celebrate?’ she asks.

He looks at her.

‘Absolutely nothing?’

‘You’ve no plans?’ she asks again.

‘Am I in a court of law?’ Todd says, holding his hands up.

‘You’re not seeing anyone? Clio? Connor?’

‘Oh, curiosity beckons, does it? I wondered when you’d get nosey about Clio.’

‘Consider that day today,’ Jen says weakly.

Todd turns away from them, heading into the kitchen. ‘Meh.’

‘Meh?’

‘Not sure it’s a runner.’

‘What? She was your – your proper girlfriend.’

‘No longer.’ Todd’s jaw is clenched as he says it, staring down at his phone.

Kelly arrives in the kitchen. His gaze tracks Todd. He appears to be deep in thought, though he doesn’t say as much. ‘I have a job on,’ he says. He’s pulling his coat on.

‘Sure,’ Jen says vaguely. ‘What’s happened with Clio?’

‘It’s off limits,’ Todd says tightly. Kelly clatters some cans in their cupboards, then swears. ‘They are my Cokes,’ Todd says to him.

‘Well, later, then,’ Kelly says. ‘I’ll get my own Coke.’

‘Adieu,’ Todd says to Kelly, perhaps somewhat sharply. ‘I think I’m going to celebrate my essay by melting my brain on the Xbox,’ he says to Jen.

He grabs an orange from the fruit bowl and throws it to her with a laugh so loud it thrums in her heart like a bass drum. I love you, I love you, I love you, she thinks as she catches it. ‘Is this photosynthesizing, right now?’ she says, holding the orange up.

‘Don’t use words you don’t know the meaning of,’ Todd says, coming over to ruffle her hair. Whatever it is you’ve done, Jen thinks, I’ll never not love you.

The entire evening, he doesn’t leave the house. Jen checks on him at midnight, and he’s sleeping. She stays up until four, just to make sure, then goes to bed herself. There is no way that, today, he has seen Nicola Williams. None at all.





Ryan





The best part of Ryan’s recreational training in Manchester was the hint of what was to come in this interesting, long and varied career he had ahead of him. Hostage negotiation, terrorist prevention training, undercover work … there were so many ways to develop as a police officer. They’d had a talk from an officer who trained people under the reasonable-force legislation and he’d stood there, at the very front of the lecture theatre. The officer said one of the most interesting sentences Ryan had ever heard in his life: ‘Coppers, when it comes down to it, can be pretty neatly divided into two types: those who can kill when they need to, and those who can’t.’

The hairs on Ryan’s arms had raised up. Which was he? Could he do it, pull a trigger, if the situation dictated it?

And so, today, thinking about that interesting lecture, it is doubly disappointing to be told by Jamie that not only is he being taken off response calls to do research but also that there are no spare offices for him: they have set a desk up in the cleaner’s cupboard for him, will that be okay? Ryan is happy to work in a cupboard, yes, but doing what?