The Fourth Friend (DI Jackman & DS Evans #3)(61)

‘Then I expect Harvey was drunk again.’ Marie wondered what Harvey had revealed in his inebriated state.

She decided it was time for coffee. ‘Want one, Charlie?’

‘No thanks, Sarge. I’ve got some water here. I’m training again. Decided I need to have a crack at busting Carter’s time on the marathon. I still can’t believe he beat Max and me.’

‘You should know by now that Carter is full of surprises.’

‘Isn’t he just?’

Marie went to make her drink, wondering why Carter hadn’t told her Sidney’s story. It seemed odd that he could share so much with her, yet keep other things secret. What else hadn’t he told here?

When she returned to her desk, Robbie was just coming out of Carter’s office.

‘Sarge, I’ve just been talking to Carter about a theory I had. It’s something that Harvey Cash confirmed — well, sort of confirmed.’ He looked at her intently. ‘I think we need to talk to the DI.’

‘He’s still with the super. Tell me.’

Marie listened with fast growing concern. Robbie might well be right. Why else would a man clam up on those closest to him? Some of the most traumatic situations Marie had come across had involved two people living together. If Harvey was confirming it too, they could well be looking at their elusive motive for murder.

‘I’ll go and interrupt Jackman. He’ll want to hear this.’ She stood up, then abruptly stopped and asked, ‘How has Carter taken it?’

‘As you can imagine, Sarge, he’s pretty staggered. He blames himself for not realising that Tom Holland had a serious problem.’

‘Carter blames himself for everything.’

Marie felt a hint of concern. She decided to go and talk to him.

Then she saw that his door was closed. Carter never closed his door.

With Robbie at her heels, she hurried across and knocked. Receiving no answer, she went in. The small room was empty.

‘This is not good,’ she murmured.

‘Damn. It’s my fault!’ Robbie growled. ‘I should have waited and told you first. I was just so amazed at what Harvey told me that I rushed in and told Carter everything. Stupid, stupid thing to do!’

‘Lord! Don’t you start taking the blame now. You did what any normal detective would do. Let’s just find him, shall we?’

*

Laura sat opposite Sam and stared at the heavy file on the desk between them. ‘You really think I should continue with my paper?’

‘I’ve read it, Laura, and it’s good. You don’t need an outcome for Carter McLean’s case study. The structure of your observations will suffice. You must finish it, and present it too. It’s an excellent piece of work.’

‘Praise indeed, Professor. I am honoured.’

‘Credit where credit’s due, student!’

The doorbell rang.

‘I know I haven’t got an appointment, but . . .’

‘Carter?’ Laura took one look at his face and said, ‘Come in, come in.’

She opened the door to her office. ‘Sam, this is Carter McLean. Carter, come inside and sit down.’

Carter halted in the doorway and looked at Sam Page, obviously disappointed to find him there.

‘Carter, Sam is a professor of psychology. He is my teacher and my mentor. He is also my friend.’ She smiled at him. ‘Even we professionals sometimes need help and advice, and Sam’s the one I always turn to. You can trust him.’

Carter seemed to relax a little. She had purposely left the door open. He glanced at it and walked to an empty chair.

‘You’ve just had a bit of a shock, or am I way off target?’ Sam asked softly.

Carter made a huffing noise. ‘Bullseye, Prof.’

Laura watched him carefully. He was showing signs of agitation and barely controlled anger. Was it directed towards himself? ‘Can you tell us what happened?’

Carter began to rock steadily back and forth. He put his hands over his mouth and looked around the room, as if checking for an escape route.

Laura remained calm. She was thankful that Sam was here to witness this. ‘If you can talk to us, it might help.’

‘I’ve failed him. Yet again, I’ve failed him.’

‘Tom? Tom Holland?’

Carter drew in a shaky breath. ‘Tom Holland. My best mate. I’ve failed him twice now, but I won’t do it again.’ He breathed in deeply, then straightened up. ‘I’m sorry, Laura.’ He turned to Sam, ‘I apologise to you too. I’m not normally like this, but maybe I should explain . . .’

Laura sat and listened. As if a switch had been thrown, the confused and tormented soul became the rational policeman again.

At the end of the story, he sat back, as if he were in a briefing and waiting for feedback.

Sam spoke first. ‘I think that I too would feel enormous guilt in those circumstances. But if a friend is holding something back, they’ve drawn a line. It’s not easy to know whether you should cross it or not. If Tom had given just a little, I’m sure you would have been there for him. He put up the barrier, not you.’

‘I should have done more. I should have at least done something.’

‘What exactly? If Tom was experiencing abuse at the hands of his partner, it would be very hard for him to admit it, to anyone.’ Sam shook his head. ‘Statistics show that the number of women convicted of perpetrating domestic abuse has more than quadrupled in the past ten years, but only a very small percentage of men actually tell anyone.’