As the sound of Adam’s car disappeared into the hills, Jack grabbed his own car keys and headed outside. He needed to be at Bobby’s school, in case his father was late. As he climbed into his car, he wondered what to do with the information he had been given. He wanted to write about Jane, but what Adam had told him fitted in with the piece he had partly finished for Dolby on the Whitcroft estate. Dolby wanted it to sneer at those who always came up against the tougher side of life, but Adam’s version gave the story a villain: Don Roberts.
He went to turn on the engine, but then paused and reached for his phone. He dialled Dolby’s number, who answered on the second ring.
‘How late can I leave the Whitcroft story?’ Jack said.
There was a pause, and then Dolby said, ‘I thought it was almost done.’
‘It is, but I’ve got another angle,’ Jack said.
‘I don’t want another angle.’
‘This ties in with Jane Roberts, the dead woman.’
Jack could almost hear Dolby’s thoughts as he pondered on whether to allow Jack extra time. Eventually, Dolby said, ‘How so?’
‘The security on the estate is managed by Jane’s father,’ Jack said.
‘That’s a tenuous link.’
‘Not really. Jane had a good upbringing, much more affluent than those people on the estate, but it was partly paid for by them.’
‘And with a tragic postscript, because Jane was killed,’ Dolby said, and Jack could hear him thinking. ‘Write it up, see how it comes out.’
‘Will do.’
‘It needs to go in tomorrow though. Two pages.’
‘I know, I know, but this will add something to it.’
Dolby sighed at the other end, and Jack knew he had just earned himself a late night.
The car started on the first turn of the keys. It was a good omen. Bobby first, and then it was back to the Whitcroft estate.
Laura put her phone into her pocket. They were heading towards the last known address of Shane Grix.
‘He doesn’t appear on the system,’ she said. ‘If Shane Grix is dangerous, he’s avoided detection.’
‘For the last few years anyway,’ Joe said. ‘Remember there was a time when our computer records were not that good, and so if he’s been off the radar for more than fifteen years, he might not appear.’
‘And he might have changed his name,’ she said. ‘So if the name isn’t known to us, what did you see in the file that got you so interested?’
Joe glanced over. ‘Shane Grix,’ he said. ‘A quiet kid from a nice family. Adopted. It’s a bit of the old nature versus nurture thing, I suppose, but it seems that in this case quiet also meant withdrawn, and bullied.’
‘There’s a child in every school who is bullied,’ Laura said. ‘It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it exceptional either.’
Joe smiled. ‘Do you remember what I told you about why some children are cruel to animals, or set fires?’
‘Power,’ she said. ‘Or, at least, how they react to feeling powerless. They strike back at things weaker than themselves.’
‘Exactly, and that’s why young Shane went to see a child psychologist. He was mistreating small animals.’
Laura could see the gleam in Joe’s eyes, the academic side of him taking over, relishing the chance to chase a theory rather than a killer. She turned away and watched the seascape flash into view as they passed the ends of those streets that ran towards it, just glimpses of bright blue.
‘But what was it about Shane that made Doctor Barker go looking for his file?’ she asked eventually.
‘It was the way he was mistreating them,’ Joe said, as he turned onto a street of semi-detached houses, with large bay windows and glass porches. He looked out of his window as his car crept along, and then he stopped alongside a grass verge that separated the path from the road. ‘This is Shane’s address. Or at least it was all those years ago.’
Laura looked out of the car and saw dusty windows and net curtains. She could see the outline of china ornaments on the window sill, and there was a flower basket hanging from a hook by the front door, although the flowers looked tired and sagging.
They both climbed out of the car, and looked up at the house. There was no car in the driveway and Laura wondered whether anyone was home.
‘Shane was a boy when he lived here,’ Laura said. ‘He will be long gone.’
‘But we might get the local gossip,’ he said. ‘Look at these houses. These are not new-build starter homes. These are old-fashioned houses, where people bring up children and then stay in when they’ve retired. I didn’t see a single for sale sign as we drove here. Even if Shane has moved, someone around here will remember him.’
Laura sighed. She had stopped questioning Joe’s methods, because he usually had a plan. So she walked towards the front door and rang the bell.
As they waited, she looked down at the lawn and rose bushes. They were untidy, but there was some sign of maintenance. The grass had been cut recently, although the branches on the rose bushes looked like they’d never been pruned.
No one came for a while, and they were about to turn around, when Laura saw a white shimmer behind the frosted glass in the porthole in the door. Someone was coming.
The door was opened on a chain, milky-blue eyes and pale mottled skin peering at them through the gap in the door. Laura pulled out her identification, and for a moment, the old woman’s eyes widened.
‘Is it Mrs Grix?’ Laura asked.
The woman on the other side of the door slammed it shut, but as Laura and Joe exchanged glances, Laura heard the jangle of the chain and realised that she was just taking it off its clasp.
‘Is it Amanda?’ the old woman asked as the door opened, panic in her eyes. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Amanda?’
‘My daughter, Amanda,’ she said. ‘Is that why you are here?’
‘Is it Mrs Grix?’ Joe repeated, stepping forward.
The woman nodded. ‘Call me Ida.’
‘Can we come in?’ Joe asked. ‘It’s about your son, Shane.’
The woman reacted like she had been punched in the stomach, her hand going across her midriff as she let out a yelp. Then she stepped to one side and asked Joe and Laura to go into the room at the front.
As Joe went into the living room, Ida shuffled along the hall. Laura followed and saw Ida rest her hands against the kitchen counter, her head down. Her fingers were trembling. Laura was about to go to her, but Ida straightened and clicked on the kettle, her hands going to a cupboard for some cups.
Laura backed along the hallway and into the living room. Joe was in front of a large photograph over the fireplace. It was two teenagers, the girl a few years older than the boy, both in identical school uniforms – bright white shirts and purple ties. The boy was staring at the camera, blond hair, his mouth pulled into a half-smile, but he looked more like he was sneering at the camera, not smiling at it. There were other photographs of the girl. More glamorous shots of her in her late teens, and then she was holding a baby, a young mother in her twenties. There were more pictures on the window sill, and Laura saw how the teenage girl blossomed into a woman as she looked around the room. There were no more pictures of the teenage boy.
‘Shane?’ Laura said, pointing at the photograph.
‘Probably,’ Joe said. ‘What is the old lady doing?’
‘Making a drink, but something isn’t right. She didn’t ask about Shane once she knew it wasn’t about Amanda.’
Laura stopped talking as Ida came in, holding a tray with three cups on it, along with a small sugar bowl and a plate of cakes. The cups jangled slightly as her hands shook.
‘I hope tea is all right for you both. And please help yourself to something to eat,’ Ida said, although she didn’t look at either Laura or Joe as she said it.
Joe reached over to take a cup and an almond slice, although from the way that he took a small bite and then put it onto his saucer, Laura guessed it was all about keeping Ida onside.
‘What can you tell us about Shane?’ Laura asked.
Ida took a deep breath, and then she smiled, before reaching for the handkerchief that had been tucked into the sleeve of her cardigan.
‘Just what you probably already know,’ she said. ‘He was a quiet boy, and we thought that it was just his way. He was secretive, and a bit of a loner. He could be sweet though, when he wanted to be.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘Usually when he wanted something.’
‘Why did you take him to Doctor Barker?’ Joe said.
Ida looked surprised. ‘How do you know that?’
‘We’ve just come from his surgery.’
Ida scratched at her cup with her fingernail, and then said, ‘He became too withdrawn and quiet. When he did say things, they were cruel and hurtful. We did what we could, but it seemed like he hated us both. Then we bought him a hamster for a pet. He seemed pleased at first, but then it disappeared. Shane said that he had left the cage open, so we got him another one.’ Ida took a deep breath and dabbed her nose with her handkerchief. ‘I was tidying Shane’s room one day and I found the first hamster under his bed. It was dead, but we knew that it hadn’t died naturally.’
‘Why?’
‘Its head was twisted, and it had dust from its cage in its mouth.’
Laura and Joe exchanged glances.
‘We were so worried,’ Ida continued. ‘He didn’t have any friends and spent all his time in his room. We didn’t know what he was doing, because he wasn’t playing music, and if we went in he was usually just sitting on his bed, looking ahead. That’s why we bought him the hamster, because we thought it would help to draw him out. But look what happened. Then a friend recommended Doctor Barker. We took him along for a few sessions, but it was hard to get anything out of Shane, so we gave up. We couldn’t afford the fees.’
Laura saw Joe’s interest, his fingers drumming hard on his knees.
‘How old was he when you adopted him?’ Joe asked.
Ida looked shocked for a second, and then her fingers toyed with her handkerchief before she spoke. When she said, ‘From birth,’ her voice seemed more hostile than before. ‘We’d tried for our own children, Ted and me, but we had just one. Amanda. We wanted more, and it was hard, knowing that she would grow up an only child. So we adopted.’ Ida wrung her hands and her voice trembled when she said, ‘But it didn’t work out, and I felt like I was to blame.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Joe asked.
Ida’s cheeks went red. ‘I turned his real mother away,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have done, but she wasn’t a mother to him. She had abandoned him, and we were the ones who’d brought him up.’
Laura sat forward and lowered her head so that she could catch Ida’s gaze. ‘Shane was always going to want to know about his birth mother,’ she said softly.
Ida flashed her a steely look that didn’t fit with her gentle appearance. ‘It was wrong, I know that, but she wasn’t good for him.’ She twisted her handkerchief between her fingers. ‘I know what you are thinking, that we were thinking just of ourselves. And maybe we were. Is there anything wrong with that? Have you got children?’
Laura toyed with her engagement ring and thought of Bobby for a moment, and how he was an only child.
‘I’ve got a child,’ Laura said. ‘A boy.’
Ida softened for a moment and smiled. ‘I can tell. I can see it in you. Contented but tired. If I see women your age without children, they usually look really relaxed because they’ve got easy lives, or else they look hungry somehow, as if they are chasing something to make up for not having children. But how would you feel if someone came along who wanted to take him away? You would fight for him, and that’s what I did with Shane. So I wouldn’t let her close.’
Laura reached out and took one of Ida’s hands in hers. It was cold, and her skin felt delicate. ‘You’re right, I would fight it, just like you,’ she said.
Ida squeezed Laura’s hand for a moment. ‘Being a mother isn’t just about giving birth, you know that,’ Ida said. ‘It’s everything else. The hugs, the teaching, the loving. Those midnight illnesses, holding the bowl as he was sick. His first day at school. Helping him with his homework. Reading to him at night. Just holding him and trying to make him feel safe. That’s what being a mother is all about, and then she came along, wanting to take over.’
‘But you could have let her have some access, because you knew that Shane would have wanted to know about her when he was older. It wouldn’t have meant he cared for you any less.’
‘You make me sound selfish,’ Ida said, dropping Laura’s hand. ‘It wasn’t like that. She was just a child really, and everything about her would have been bad for Shane.’
‘What do you mean, bad?’ Laura said.
Ida sighed. ‘She was young when she had Shane, and perhaps that wasn’t her fault, but she turned bad as she got older. She was drinking a lot, and taking drugs.’
‘How do you know?’
Ida paused as she thought about that, and said, ‘We just knew.’ She looked down as she spoke.
Laura looked at Joe and raised an eyebrow. His eyes narrowed, and Laura knew that he was thinking the same thing – that there was something they weren’t being told.
‘And she was a prostitute,’ Ida said, looking up now. ‘She went to court a few times, we read about that. No, it was better that Shane didn’t see her. When she turned up at the house, we wouldn’t let her see him. She carried on though, and so we had to get the police involved. And then she stopped coming.’
‘How did Shane take this?’ Joe asked.
‘He didn’t know at first, but then one night she turned up, and Shane must have heard the argument. When I went into the hallway, Shane was looking through the stairs. He just looked angry, scowling, but he didn’t say much.’ A tear rolled down Ida’s cheek. ‘It was my fault Shane ended up like he did. He became even quieter after that, and more spiteful.’
Laura was about to ask a question, but Ida cut her off with a raised hand.
‘I’m sorry for telling you that, but it was part of what made Shane the boy he was,’ Ida said. Then she straightened herself, as if confession time was over. ‘So what have you come to tell me? Have you caught whoever did it?’
Laura looked at Joe, confused. ‘Did what?’ she said.
It was Ida’s turn to look bewildered. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Have you got a lead in the case?’
‘Which case?’
‘Shane’s death,’ Ida said. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here, to tell me you’ve got a suspect?’
Laura exchanged glances with Joe, and then said gently, ‘No, I’m sorry, it’s not why we’re here.’
Ida looked hurt. ‘It’s a long time ago now, but if you are not here about that, why are you interested in Shane?’
‘It’s about Doctor Barker,’ Laura said. ‘I’m so sorry, but he’s been found dead in his house. We’re tracing his former patients, in case there’s a connection.’
Ida’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Doctor Barker? How? When?’
‘This lunchtime. I’m sorry, this must be quite a shock.’ Laura looked at Joe, who was staring at the photograph over the fireplace.
‘How did Shane die?’ Joe asked.
Ida looked at Joe, surprised. ‘Why don’t you know about this?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Shane was murdered,’ Ida said, and then took a deep breath before a tear tumbled down her cheek. ‘Have the police forgotten about it already?’
Joe leaned forward. ‘Could you tell me more,’ he said.
Ida wiped her cheek and then sat back. She was looking at her hands when she started to speak.
‘Shane wasn’t an easy teenager,’ she said. ‘Some of the boys around here used to pick on him. We did what we could, tried to keep him safe, but boys want to do boy things, like youth clubs and school discos. And why shouldn’t they? You can’t let the bullies win. But those things attract some of the wrong sort, and so Shane would come home upset, and Shane being upset was different to most people, because he wouldn’t cry or shout; he would go quiet, and he would be like that for a few days.’
‘Did he do well at school?’ Joe said. ‘Sometimes quiet boys find an outlet in getting good marks at school.’
Ida smiled. ‘Those are the boys who do well in the end,’ she said. ‘My husband used to tell Shane that. Be patient, he used to say, because all these bullies and thugs fail when they go into the world. They end up in court and then prison, or in dull jobs. Work hard, try hard, he used to say, and you will overtake them all, and then one day you’ll see them pushing a line of supermarket trolleys or delivering your pizzas. But Shane didn’t do that.’ She looked at Laura, and then at Joe. ‘He ran away,’ she said.
‘Where to?’ Joe said.
‘London,’ Ida said. ‘He called me once, just to let me know where he was. He said that I wasn’t to worry, that he was doing well, and that he would come back one day and he would show us how well he was doing. I asked him why he went, and he said he just wanted the bright lights, away from his boring, northern life, where no one would know him and he could start again.’ Ida shook her head and her fingers gripped the handkerchief tighter. ‘It wasn’t that. He just needed to be far enough away so that he couldn’t get back easily.’
‘So what did he do in London?’ Laura asked.
‘What most runaways end up doing when they go down there,’ she said. ‘The police said that the kids find it exciting at first, the big busy city, but then they end up sleeping in squats and dosshouses. It was the same for Shane. He must have been so frightened. And then drink becomes a thing, because it gives them something to do, and then it’s drugs. Maybe it was always there, something that he got from his mother.’ She wiped away her tears, and looked ashamed now, and when she spoke again, her voice was breaking, wretched and filled with emotion. She could barely finish her sentence. ‘The police told me he was a prostitute for a while, because he looked younger than his age, and some men like that kind of thing.’
‘How old was he?’ Laura asked gently.
‘When he ran away? Sixteen. As soon as he left school. He was nineteen when he died.’
Laura knew then why Shane’s death hadn’t cropped up when they’d run some checks on him on their way to the house. Police forces didn’t share information back then, and the details of victims wouldn’t have got a mention on the database.
‘What theory were the police working on?’ Joe asked. ‘A client?’
Ida shook her head. ‘No one knows. He was found dead in an alley behind King’s Cross. He had been strangled, but this is the really cruel thing, that he had been set alight, so that I never really got a chance to make him look nice for his funeral.’ She sighed. ‘There wasn’t much left to identify him from. Just the boots he always wore, old Doctor Martens with red and green laces, and an old donkey jacket. There were some papers in his back pocket, all charred. Turned out to be Shane’s dole card. The police looked out for him at the benefits office, just in case it was someone else and Shane needed to make another claim, but he never showed again.’
‘How can you be certain it was Shane?’ Joe said.
Ida smiled at him with teary eyes. ‘Because if Shane was alive, he would have got in touch, because even though he had problems, he loved us. I know it was Shane, and I know he has gone.’ She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and said, ‘I’m sorry this won’t help you finding out who killed Doctor Barker. He tried his best for Shane, but we couldn’t afford to keep going. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault things turned out like they did. Did you think Shane might have been involved?’
Joe shook his head. ‘We are going through his old patients, that’s all, just to check that it isn’t related. Shane was on the list.’ He reached out and held her hand. ‘I’m sorry we disturbed you, Ida. I know this must all be very painful for you. Thank you for the tea.’
She nodded to herself. ‘Doctor Barker was a nice man. I hope you catch whoever killed him.’
Joe nodded and pumped her hand. ‘So do I,’ he said. ‘So do I.’
They made their exit, and once they were outside, Laura whispered, ‘What do you think?’
Joe waited until they were back in the car before he said anything. ‘There are two possibilities. One is that Doctor Barker got it wrong.’
‘And the other?’
‘That he didn’t.’
Laura smiled at that. ‘That would be some trick, coming back from the dead.’
‘The identification of the body was based on assumptions,’ Joe said. ‘It was burnt out, and so there was no fingerprint evidence. If Ida is right, the police assumed it was Shane Grix because of the clothes and his dole card, and because no one challenged it. It went into history as fact and Ida thinks she has lost her son. But what if it was wrong? Doctor Barker thought it was Shane Grix, and he was going to tell us that today. He died not long after. That is one hell of a coincidence.’
‘Perhaps he took the file he wanted,’ Laura said. ‘How do we know he didn’t look at the Shane Grix file, realise that he’d got it wrong, and then take the one he really wanted?’
‘We don’t, I suppose, but it seems strange that the one file he leaves untidy involves a young boy who died in questionable circumstances, a boy with serious psychological problems, and the personality traits I would expect in a killer.’
‘So what do we do now?’
Joe checked his watch. Five o’clock. ‘Why don’t you call some of your old friends in the London Met and see whether they can find out anything about Shane’s murder? It will still be a live file, as the killer wasn’t caught.’
‘We won’t find out much tonight.’
‘I know, but if they start tonight, we might have it for the morning.’