Hurt (DS Lucy Black) (27 page)

‘How’s Gavin getting on?’ Logue asked, as they came into the room. ‘Tea? Coffee?’

‘No, thanks,’ Lucy said. ‘He’s doing OK. Apart from the gang he’s running with.’

‘They’ll keep him out of trouble,’ Logue said, lifting a mug down from the cupboard above his head. ‘And I keep them out of trouble. You sure you don’t want a brew?’

‘I think he was involved in the burning of Gene Kay’s house,’ Lucy said, studying Logue’s face for any flicker of reaction.

He set down the mug and turned to face her. ‘Have you any reason for thinking that?’

‘He arrived back in the residential unit smelling of petrol.’

Logue shrugged. ‘He was probably part of the petrol bombing.’ He raised his hands, as if anticipating argument. ‘I’m not justifying it. But we both know that they all engage in a bit of recreational rioting on occasions.’

‘He was back before the rioting started.’

Logue leaned back against the counter. ‘I’m assuming that you’ve kept this to yourself for now. Or else he would’ve been lifted long ago for it.’

‘He’s had his problems,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m not keen on complicating things for him.’

‘He’s very lucky then,’ Logue said. ‘I knew his father. The apple’s not fallen too far from the tree there.’

‘Was he a killer?’ Lucy asked.

‘Apart from serving time for the murder of Louisa Gant,’ Logue said, confused.

‘Of course,’ Lucy said. ‘But before that, I mean. Did he strike you as a killer? As capable of killing a child.’

‘You never really know someone,’ Logue said. ‘But he was troubled. He was part of the old guard. Hated your crowd for a start. He ruled this area with an iron fist. Had kids kneecapped for thieving, drugs, the whole bit.’

‘Whereas you offer them snooker and games consoles?’

‘I offer them a roof over their heads and a bit of respect. There’s always one or two who are beyond the pale, but most of them are just looking to test the boundaries. That’s all. You see this place – no litter, no scrawls on the walls. Set high expectations, and they’ll meet them. Bully them and they become bullies.’

‘You know a lot about teenagers,’ Lucy said. ‘Experience?’

Logue shook his head. ‘I lost my own boy when he was a teenager,’ he said.

‘I’m very sorry,’ Lucy said, caught off guard by the comment.

Logue shrugged. ‘These things happen.’

‘How do you find Gavin? Like his father, obviously,’ Lucy said, steering the conversation to safer topics.

‘He’s troubled like Gary. They both struggled with anger. Like they’re angry inside and can’t deal with it. Gavin might learn from the other kids here how to handle things better.’

‘Or those in the residential unit,’ Lucy suggested.

Logue nodded. ‘Though they’ve all got their own problems, too, haven’t they?’ he said.

‘Do you think he did burn Kay’s house?’

Logue shrugged. ‘He was angry about the Hughes girl. He might have, to be honest. I’d hope not. Still, if Kay did kill her, he got what was coming to him. I make no apology for saying that.’

‘If,’ Lucy agreed.

‘You think Kay didn’t kill Karen?’ Logue asked. ‘I assumed it was him. From what was said on the news and that.’

Logue’s use of her Christian name struck Lucy as odd, though she did not comment on it. ‘The investigation is ongoing.’

‘I see,’ Logue said. ‘I’ll ask some of the lads where Gavin is.’

Logue moved out of the office and whistled sharply through his teeth. ‘Jimmy, lad. Come ’ere.’

The boy in question slouched into the kitchen, his shoulders hunched, his hair hanging over his face.

‘Gavin’s missing,’ Logue said. ‘Any ideas where he’s at?’

Jimmy shook his head, the hair flicking across his brow with the movement.

‘You don’t know who he’d be with? Tony?’

‘Tony’s here,’ the young lad said. ‘He’s playing “G. T. A”.’

Logue repeated the call, this time for Tony.

‘Any ideas where Gavin is this evening?’ Logue asked.

Tony looked at him, then at Lucy, then back to Logue.

‘It’s OK. He’s done nothing wrong,’ Logue reassured him.

‘I don’t know,’ Tony said. ‘He had class earlier.’

‘School?’ Lucy asked.

‘Nah. Here.’

‘There are after school classes run for the kids here,’ Logue said. ‘Homework clubs, first aid, basic IT, literacy and numeracy skills, the like of that.’

‘Was Gavin here for that?’

Tony nodded. ‘He left after six. He’s going out with a girl over in the Bogside. He might be away to her.’

‘What about Elena?’ Lucy asked. ‘Is he not going out with her?’

Tony smirked, lowering his head and wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. ‘Off and on,’ he said. ‘Know what I mean?’

Lucy thanked him. Eventually, she figured, Gavin would return to the residential unit. She could drop Tara back, then head to the unit to wait for him there. It might also, she reasoned, give her a chance to talk with Robbie.

As Logue walked her out of the centre, Lucy asked, ‘Just as a matter of interest, did Louisa Gant live around here too?’

‘Just a few streets across,’ Logue said, indicating the direction with the half-empty mug he carried. ‘Her father’s still there. The mother died a few years after the wee girl. Hanged herself. He found her in the garden. They’d planted a tree with the wee girl in the yard. She hanged herself off it.’

‘Jesus,’ Lucy whispered. ‘I’d not heard that. I remember the case, but I didn’t hear what happened afterwards.

‘That’s always the way, though,’ Logue said. ‘All the attention at the time. It’s them that have to live with what’s happened that have to go on in secret. Knowing what they know. What they can’t forget.’

After leaving Tara off at the Strand Road, Lucy collected her car and headed back to the unit. Before doing so, though, she took a detour via her own house in Prehen for a quick shower. She’d bought Robbie a shirt and a bottle of aftershave for Christmas a few weeks earlier, the two gifts hanging in a plastic bag over the ornamental carving at the bottom of the banisters, mocking her for having thought of him. Still, she wrapped them now, figuring that it might be the last time she would see him before Christmas. Besides, it was the week before Christmas and she was alone. Not that that was good enough reason to reconcile. But it was, she decided,
a
reason.

Robbie looked pleased to see her when he answered the door to her an hour later. ‘Come in. You look great. Off on a night out?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘I wanted to see Gavin,’ she said. ‘I just freshened up. Am I normally so bad looking?’

Robbie smiled. ‘You know that’s not what I meant. Come on in. Gavin’s just back. He’s in his room.’

Lucy sat on the sofa and placed the plastic bag containing the present on the floor, pushing it slightly beneath the seat so that it wasn’t immediately obvious. She realized with some embarrassment that Robbie may not have bought her anything, that he would be embarrassed himself if she gave him a gift without anything to offer in return.

Gavin arrived down a moment later, dropping onto the end of the sofa sullenly, folding his arms across his chest. ‘What?’

‘I was looking for you,’ Lucy said. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Out.’

‘Out where?’

‘Just out. What do you want?’

Lucy knew better than to push it. If Gavin felt he was being compelled into telling her where he had been, it could make him more uncooperative as a result. ‘I need you to look at something,’ Lucy said, taking out the folded sheet on which was printed the image of the young man from Foyleside. ‘The guy you saw Karen with a few times? Remember? Was that him?’

Gavin took the sheet from her, studying the page. His mouth seemed to move, as if he were silently forming words to speak, but lacked the ability to do so. Finally, he handed the sheet back.

‘I don’t know him,’ he said.

‘Is he the man you saw with Karen?’

‘Jesus,’ he snapped. ‘I said I don’t know him. All right?’

‘Fine,’ Lucy said, putting the page away. ‘If you remember anything, let me know.’

Gavin pushed himself up from the seat again and made as if to head back to his room. He stopped, though, and turned to face her.

‘I thought Kay killed her,’ he said at last.

Lucy shook her head. ‘I don’t think he did,’ she said. ‘I think he was set up.’

Gavin stared at her, his shoulders curving into a slight crouch, his hands balling into fists, which he lodged in his trouser pockets. He raised his head interrogatively. ‘By who?’

‘Possibly by this man,’ Lucy said. ‘You’re sure you don’t know who he is?’

‘I told you already,’ he said. ‘I’m going to bed.’

He slouched back towards the rooms, his hands still in his pockets, his gait like one defeated.

‘He’ll be all right,’ Robbie said, though Lucy had not commented.

‘If the petrol on his clothes didn’t come from petrol bombs, he’s probably struggling with whatever it was he did the morning Gene Kay died now he knows Kay didn’t kill Karen.’

Robbie moved across to the kitchen. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’ he asked.

Lucy followed him, leaving her bag on the sofa, Robbie’s gift still sitting beneath the seat. ‘Have you nothing stronger?’ she asked.

Robbie opened the top cupboards, using the small key from his key ring to undo the lock. Inside were bottles of red wine, which a grateful parent had left to the unit months earlier. Lucy remembered it well; Lorna, another member of staff, had told her all about it, proudly showing her the bottles that same evening.

‘We don’t often get those,’ Lorna had commented.

‘Bottles of wine?’ Lucy had asked.

‘No. Grateful clients.’

Robbie lifted down a bottle now. ‘Do you fancy a glass?’ he asked. ‘I’ve only red.’

‘Red’s fine,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ll have just the one.’

‘I’ll maybe join you,’ Robbie said. ‘A very small one, though.’

They moved back to the sofa, the TV playing soundlessly in the corner. Robbie sat at one end of the sofa, Lucy at the other. He tapped at the bag lying on the floor with his foot. ‘Is this mine?’ he asked.

‘That’s very presumptuous,’ Lucy smiled. ‘It could be for Gavin.’

‘Is it?’

She shook her head. ‘Happy Christmas.’

Robbie leaned down and, lifting the parcel, weighed it in his hands, as if that might give him some hints as to the contents. ‘Clothes?’

‘Duh.’

‘Can I open it now?’

Lucy shrugged. ‘It’s up to you.’

Robbie stood and moved back across to the locked cupboard. This time, though, he lifted down a small box, gift wrapped, and carried it across to Lucy.

‘And Happy Christmas to you too,’ he said, handing the box to her.

Lucy took it sceptically. ‘Is that another present from a grateful client you’ve just given to me?’

Robbie pantomimed offence. ‘I bought it before, you, know, it all ... you know.’

Lucy shook the box lightly, heard the rattle of a chain against the inside of the box.

‘Not clothes,’ she guessed.

‘You’ll have to open it to find out.’

She peeled back the tape from the folds of paper at the bottom of the box, pulling off the ribbon tied around it, which had clearly been applied by the woman in the shop who had sold the gift to Robbie, for such wrapping skills were well beyond his abilities. Or Lucy’s if she was honest, as she glanced at the sloppily wrapped gift Robbie was tearing open.

She opened the small jeweller’s box. Inside was a fine gold chain, at the end of which was small gold square framing a golden heart.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Lucy managed, unclipping it from the fitting in the box and putting it on.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ Robbie said, pulling out the shirt, atop which sat a bottle of aftershave. ‘Lovely,’ he said, nodding with approval to emphasize his apparent satisfaction.

‘It’s a bit crap now I see it,’ Lucy said. ‘Sorry. The aftershave’s nice, though.’

Robbie opened it, sprayed some onto his neck.

‘How do I smell?’ he asked, leaning across, offering her neck to sniff.

Lucy smiled. ‘Thank you for the necklace. It is beautiful. Happy Christmas.’

‘And you,’ Robbie said, angling his head, moving closer, until they kissed.

* * *

When she woke, just after five the following morning, it took Lucy a moment to realize that she was not in her own bed. She was in the spare room of the residential unit, her clothes lying in a pile on the floor next to the bed. Her mouth felt thick and heavy. One glass of wine had segued into one bottle, the kiss had developed to more than just a kiss. Now though, the duvet was flicked up on the other side of the bed, Robbie was nowhere to be seen.

She heard the thudding of his footfalls, then the door opened and he was standing in the doorway, half blocking the hallway light beyond, dressed in his underwear and T-Shirt.

‘Gavin’s gone,’ he said.

Lucy pulled the sheet around her, aware of her nakedness. ‘Shit! How long’s he been gone?’

‘I was sleeping,’ Robbie said, shrugging sheepishly. ‘He’s done a runner.’

Lucy sat up in the bed, too quickly, the room starting to spin with the movement. She swung her legs out of the bed, hoped the solidity of the floor beneath her bare feet might provide her with some semblance of stability.

‘I’ll head out and see if I can spot him about,’ she said. ‘He might have headed back up to where those kids hang around.’

‘You’ve drunk too much,’ Robbie said. ‘I only had two glasses. I’ll drive you.’

Lucy pulled on her clothes, suddenly aware of the coldness in the room. ‘It’s bloody freezing,’ she said.

‘Gavin left the back door open,’ Robbie explained.

‘Where did he get the key?’ Lucy asked. The children in the unit had to be locked in at night.

Robbie reddened. ‘I left it hanging in the cupboard door last night when I got your present out. I meant to take it out, but I got distracted,’ he added.

Lucy rubbed her face, lightly slapping her cheeks to wake herself up. ‘Have we time for coffee?’ she asked.

Robbie lifted his jeans and shirt off the floor. ‘I’ll stick some on,’ he said.

Lucy heard him rattling about the kitchen as she padded down to the toilet. She threw some water on her face to freshen herself up a little, but could do nothing to take the taste of red wine from her mouth.