The Other Child (56 page)

She went out of the living room and noticed the light coming from under the bottom of the study door. She breathed out contentedly. Someone was home.

She knocked and went in. Relief coursed through her veins as she saw Chad sitting at the desk, staring at the monitor. It was icy cold in the room, but the old man did not seem to notice the cold, even though he was in a much too thin cotton shirt and had no socks on his feet, just a pair of open slippers. He was so focused on the computer screen that he jumped when Leslie spoke to him.

‘Chad?'

He seemed to return from another world. He stared at Leslie with incomprehension and then only said, after a few seconds' silence, ‘Oh, you, Leslie.'

‘I'm sorry I gave you a fright. I called and knocked, but …'

I were far away,' said Chad.

She could not see what he was reading, but she could guess. ‘Fiona's letters?'

‘I read them again,' said Chad. ‘Before I delete them. It wouldn't be good if … other people read them.'

She stopped herself from telling him that everyone around him already knew everything in them.

‘I visited Semira Newton today,' she said, looking at his face as she said her name. It was as if a mask went up immediately.

‘Oh, aye?'

‘A woman who has suffered a great deal.'

‘Aye,' he said.

‘Did you know that Brian Somerville is still alive?'

‘I reckoned so.'

‘Don't you think you could … I mean, I could drive you …'

‘No.'

She looked at him. He did not avoid her gaze, but he was distant.

‘Are you all on your own?' she asked after they had just looked at each other for a moment. ‘Where are Jennifer and Colin? Where's Dave? Gwen?'

‘Jennifer and Colin took off. Mighty sudden. This afternoon.'

‘Why?'

‘Probably weren't exactly the holidays they'd ‘oped for. Understandably.'

‘Does DI Almond know?'

‘No idea.'

‘And Dave?'

‘They wanted to go for a walk. He and Gwen.'

‘It's already pretty dark outside!'

He looked out of the window. He seemed to only now realise that night had fallen. ‘True,' he said in surprise. ‘How late is it?'

‘Quarter past seven.'

‘Oh, already?' He rubbed his face with one hand. He had red eyes from tiredness and the strain of reading. ‘Then they've been away ages. I think it were ‘bout half-five when they set out.'

‘That's almost two hours ago. Was everything fine, between them?' She wondered whether Dave had done it: told Gwen he would break it off. Or had he kept the news for the walk? Or had he backtracked from the plan?

‘I don't know,' said Chad, unsure. I think … well, what weren't to be fine?'

She looked at him and thought, Gwen could die before your eyes and you wouldn't notice. You don't understand that her life is a mess, because to you your daughter is not even worth spending a moment's thought on. You were not even interested in getting to know the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The man who might be – in every way – very dangerous for her. You don't notice. You never notice anything! You don't deserve the love she has shown you all her life, a daughter's crazy love for you, her father and – after her mother's early death – her only living relative.

‘Chad, you told me at lunchtime that the police had been here asking about Dave Tanner. Now I know that there's a warrant out on him. He doesn't have an alibi for the time when my grandmother died. He lied to the police.'

Chad just looked at her. His lethargy drove Leslie to a fury.

‘Chad! The police are looking for him! They came here too! And you let him just wander off with your daughter and two hours later you aren't even asking if everything is OK?'

‘But what reason is there to suspect Tanner?' asked Chad.

Now she did not hold back. ‘His lies. For one thing. That's what the police know. And something else that only I know. Dave Tanner knows the whole story about you and Fiona. And Brian Somerville and Semira Newton. He knows everything that's in your computer.'

At least now she had managed to pierce his indifference. He seemed irritated.

‘How? Have you given it him to read? Or Fiona?'

‘That's not the point now. He's been to see Semira Newton. He seems to be taking great interest in the whole story.'

She could guess that similar thoughts were swirling around in his head as in hers. She could also see that he immediately brushed them aside as
ravings
. ‘What reason'd Tanner 'ave to dig up this old stuff?'

‘He's clever,' said Leslie. ‘And he needs money. Urgently. Maybe he doesn't care how he gets hold of the money.'

‘You think he killed your gran and was paid by Newton to do it?' asked Chad.

‘He only went to see her yesterday. So that theory doesn't seem to tie in with the actual timing. But maybe there's an explanation. I don't know what to think any more, Chad. One thing's for sure. The guy who most probably killed Amy Mills is not Fiona's killer. Valerie Almond said he has an alibi. Unlike Dave. His was a lie.'

‘Then call t' police now,' said Chad. ‘Tell them to come here, look for Dave an' Gwen an' do summat.'

She weighed up the options briefly and then shook her head. ‘I'm going to go outside first and look around. If I don't come back in half an hour, call Detective Inspector Almond, OK?' She pulled the inspector's card out of her bag and handed it to Chad. ‘Here you go, her number. And be careful. You'd better lock the doors.'

‘Why should I—'

‘Because,' she snapped, ‘you're in danger if this is about revenge! That's why! Like Fiona, you're certainly not as innocent as a lamb, accept it!'

He pulled a face in annoyance, but she had the impression he was acting calmer than he was. He did not like the situation either, although in his case it was probably not out of fear. He did not enjoy being roused from the lethargy and self-absorption of his own world. Less than a week had passed since Fiona's murder and in that time he had been obliged to talk to more people than he had in the last ten years. Something new was always happening. Someone was always wanting something from him. He must feel harassed and cornered. He was an old man who had no wish to change his way of life, let alone have his lifelong friend murdered in a meadow, his own life in danger, and his daughter off in the dark with a shady character. Leslie could see that her request to wait half an hour before calling the police already seemed unreasonable to Chad. He lived in his own routine and had decided decades ago not to let himself be diverted from it. His father must have had a similar bent, and perhaps Chad could not help his almost autistic way of dealing with things. It was what he had grown up with.

It would have been a miracle if he had taken care of Brian Somerville, thought Leslie. He doesn't do that kind of thing. He can't put himself in other people's shoes enough to do anything for them. ‘Do you have a torch I could borrow?' she asked.

He got up, lumbered into the hall and took a torch from a shelf full of dusty scarves, hats and gloves.

‘Here. This one must still work.'

Luckily he was right. The batteries still had juice.

‘Right,' said Leslie. ‘Then I'll have a look on the farm and round about. And like I said: lock the doors!'

He growled something or other but after she had stepped out, she could hear him turn the locks behind her.

Something wasn't right. As she followed her beam of light over the yard and towards the former stables, she asked herself why she had not called Valerie Almond immediately. The policewoman was now sitting in the pizzeria and would soon start to worry what was keeping Leslie. Wouldn't it have been better to tell her immediately? Just as it would have been right to give her a straight answer about Dave Tanner. So why didn't she?

She knew the answer, and that it would not sound convincing to anyone, perhaps not even herself: because she liked Dave Tanner. Because she considered him a friend, at least since the night before. Although he had lied to her twice, she did not want to denounce him. She wanted to talk to him, ask why he was incapable at any point in this messy affair of trying to be truthful. And ask him to go to the police of his own accord.

Of course he'll do that if he's Fiona's murderer, she thought, dryly. Maybe Gwen was in extreme danger, while she was wasting valuable time here.

Just another half hour, maximum, she resolved.

She had reached the stables. She shone the torch inside. It was empty, except for the piles of slowly rusting junk. No one was about, nor did it look like anyone had been. There were no footprints in the years-old dust and dirt.

Leslie had to cough. Then she turned away. She looked back at the house. The light was out again. Chad had probably withdrawn to his study to delete Fiona's letters in the mistaken belief that he could delete the guilt from his life. Just a click of the mouse and everything was sorted.

After a second's deliberation, Leslie decided to widen her search beyond the immediate environs of the farm.

She struck out towards the beach.

15

The clouds blocked out the moon's light, but the torch Chad had lent her shone brightly. Leslie could walk along the well-trodden path without difficulty. She knew that Gwen loved the beach and that she went there whenever she went walking. Perhaps she and Dave were still down there, squatting on the large rocks and talking. Although it was rather cold now. Maybe they were wrapped up warmly. Maybe they were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not notice the cold and the unpleasant clamminess.

At one point Leslie stopped, got out her phone and lit the display. There was no reception, as she had expected. Never mind. Another ten minutes, then the half hour would be up and Chad would call Valerie. The police would swing into action. So she had given Dave a chance of thirty minutes. Anything more would have been irresponsible.

She did not meet anyone as she raced over the hilly meadows. Once some grouse flew up from a bush, but apart from that it felt like she was all alone in the world. What was there to say that Gwen and Dave were still anywhere near the farm? Chad's car had been in its usual space, but the two could also have taken the bus. Maybe they had driven to Scarborough, found a pub and were now each nursing a pint of Guinness to get through the terrible time. But would Dave really do that if he were trying to break off the engagement? Would he take the unhappy fiancee into town, seeing as he would then have to bring her home again? And then she had another thought: what if Dave had been back in her place, Fiona's flat, for ages? And Gwen was wandering around out here, alone, despairing of life, at her wits' end and deeply hurt? Leslie cursed quietly that she had not thought of calling Fiona's flat to check. She flipped open her mobile without any great hope, and indeed: no reception.

She crossed the wooden suspension bridge. It seemed to be wobbling more scarily than usual, but she knew she was just imagining it. It was because of the gaping black hole below her and the darkness which made the gorge look like it went down for ever. In spite of the torch, what she was doing was still dangerous. The bridge's planks were not even and predictable. The gorge was deep and rocky. And she had not been here for a long time, so although she had a rough idea of the lie of the land, she did not have the sleepwalker's certainty she had once had here when she was a child. Back then she had visited the Beckett farm almost every day with her grandmother, and had played in the gorge and on the beach with Gwen, while Fiona … well, did what exactly? What had Fiona and Chad and Chad's wife done all those long hours? As a child she had never asked herself that. She had just taken as normal the fact that she and her grandmother spent more time with another family than at home. Later the topic had not interested her any more. And now she would probably never be given an answer. Chad's wife had been dead a long time. Fiona was dead now too. And Chad was not the kind of person to ever give an answer.

She had reached the end of the hanging bridge. The descent into the gorge began. She remembered how she used to spring down like a mountain goat. Now she moved more like an old woman, cautiously and laboriously. Had it been this steep back then? Had the rocks, which made a kind of ladder, been so far apart that you could not step from one to another with a single step but had to lower yourself carefully from one to the next? In the end she sat down and slid on her backside to the bottom, using both her hands to help her down. Not the easiest thing to do while holding a torch. At one point it slipped out of her hand. Luckily it fell only to the next rock step. Trembling with the shock, she tried to calm herself. She sat down and thought about everything. What she was doing here was crazy. She did not have the faintest idea if there was any point to it at all. If she lost the torch, she would have little hope of finding her way back, at least not without putting herself in serious danger of spraining her ankle, or even breaking it.

Leslie decided she had better go back.

The police might already be at the farm. If not, then the officers would turn up any minute. They should continue the search. They were equipped for it.

She started the climb back up. It was extremely difficult, as she only had one hand free. She was breathing heavily and bathed in sweat when she reached the bridge. A glance at her watch told her that almost an hour had passed since she had set off from the farm. She had lost loads of time with the climb.

She walked faster across the bridge than she had before, as if she had got used to its swaying and to the apparently endless chasm below her. In reality it was fear that drove her on, a fear that had grown stronger because the images in her head were becoming more frightening and insistent. There were only two possibilities, and both were horrific. Either Dave Tanner was behind the crime against Fiona and had now disappeared with Gwen. In that case things did not look good for Gwen. Or he had not done anything evil –
in which case why the constant lies? –
and he had returned to Scarborough after breaking off the engagement. That would mean that Gwen was wandering around outside in the night, despairing and alone, perhaps tempted to do something terrible. Leslie could not tell whether Gwen was the kind of person who could entertain the thought of ending her life. But she knew that the end of a love affair, with feelings getting hurt, was one of the most common reasons for suicide. And who really knew what Gwen was thinking? Who ever had?