I haven’t heard anything from Peter. I stayed up most the night after Joanna left, hoping he’d call me and tell me there was news. I sent him a quick message asking for an update but received nothing back. I hope I did the right thing giving him Katy’s USB stick instead of taking it to the police. Will I be in trouble if Peter finds something incriminating? For keeping back evidence which could be vital in finding her?
But for the first time in a long time, I feel in control.
I’m sat at the dining table, Juniper lapping cold tea from Joanna’s mug from last night. I stroke her and she purrs happily, pushing her back into the palm of my hand. On the table in front of me is a note, which must have been put through the letterbox this morning when I was dozing on the sofa, my phone on loud next to my face just in case.
Dear Grace,
I didn’t know how else to contact you, I tried calling a few times, but I managed to get your address from Maggie. I didn’t want to turn up unannounced, but please talk to me, I need to speak to you about Katy. Here is my number. I’m staying in Bristol until the end of the week.
Ian
I fold the note up again. I didn’t watch the last episode, and I never will, because I couldn’t stand to see his face again, to see him explain away what he did to me and make out that he was the one that was denied. He feels like a stray thought in my mind that wriggles into spaces I thought were safe, appearing when I least expect him to. But that’s how he remains, in my mind.
I can’t imagine him in front of me anymore. I can’t imagine his large hands wrapped around my small frame, his fingers digging into my thighs as he held me down. I feel it, but I can’t see it, it’s just a memory. To make that real again is the most dangerous thing I could do.
He hasn’t been able to get a paternity test because I haven’t entertained him, not once. When the studio told me he was going to be on the show, I didn’t wince. When I was asked by the interviewer if he was Katy’s dad, I gave them nothing. I’ve shrugged him off to everyone I can; he means nothing to me.
When in fact he means everything.
I stare at the words I need to speak to you about Katy. What could he have to say that I don’t already know? His words slip across the page so casually it’s like we’re old friends, and the familiarity is insidious.
‘There’s nothing you have to say to me,’ I say aloud, and June stops purring and sits next to my still hand. She leans forwards and nudges it with a wet nose. ‘Is there?’ I say, looking at her.
I slowly bend back the edges of the piece of the paper and stare down at the phone number before curling my hand up into a tight fist, scrunching the note. I go to throw it in the bin when there’s a knock, short and sharp. Whoever it is doesn’t have time to waste.
I peer around the door and see the top of Detective Lane’s head, his neatly combed fair blonde hair. My heart thrums in my chest as I march towards the front door, swallowing desperately though my mouth remains dry. I throw open the door.
‘What’s happened?’ I ask, looking beyond him to his car, hoping that Katy is sat in the backseat, that maybe they’d found her. But his car is empty and his expression is morose.
‘No,’ I whisper.
He shakes his head quickly. ‘I don’t have any news on Katy,’ he says. ‘I’m here because Peter Thomas was attacked last night.’
‘Attacked?’
‘Can I come in?’
I open the door and follow him down the hallway. He knows where to go, he’s been here a thousand times, but not recently and he takes in my home like it’s the first time he’s seeing it.
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘We got a call about a disturbance at his flat in Bedminster. Officers went to the scene and his flat had been turned over and Peter had been badly beaten.’
‘Beaten?’ I whisper, so quietly maybe the word never left my lips.
‘It looks like a robbery gone wrong. Maybe they didn’t expect him to be home and a fight ensued, but’ – he says, pausing – ‘we’re still investigating what happened. We can’t be too sure, and considering the nature of the documentary, and the threats and abuse towards Peter happening online right now, we have to take this very seriously.’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, there have also been threats made towards you. We’re just thinking of your safety, so we’re posting a security detail outside until we can clear this up. It’s just a precaution,’ he says, searching my eyes for some understanding.
‘I don’t need that,’ I say, flustered. Then I sit down, slowly, reaching out instinctively to hold Detective Lane’s hand. He doesn’t move away, he just lets me, realising I’m in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.
‘You’ll be fine, someone is outside right now, it’ll be okay.’
‘Where is Peter?’
‘The hospital. He was unconscious when we got there. We’re still trying to establish what happened, but it looks like he either fell and hit his head or he was hit by something.’
‘I need to see him.’
‘Peter? Oh Grace, none of this is your fault, don’t think it is.’
‘No, it is, I need to speak to him.’
He crouches beside me, but I can’t look at him. ‘Why?’ he says, simply.
I run my hands over my face and sigh into my palms, air escaping through the cracks in my fingers.
‘What is it, Grace?’ he says, his voice calm and level.
‘Have you spoken to Peter?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Did you find a USB?’
‘A USB?’
I nod slowly, but panic starts rising in my chest. It could just be a coincidence, couldn’t it?
He rises from the floor and paces the room, turning to me. ‘Why would we be looking for a USB?’
‘I should have told you,’ I say, but it’s more to myself than to him.
‘Told me what?’
I look up at him. ‘I found a USB in Katy’s old snow globe. It’s been there the entire time, and … well, it was encrypted, so I gave it to Peter to try and find out what was on it.’
‘I need you to start from the beginning, Grace.’
* * *
I tell him everything. About meeting Peter, about finding the USB, about Katy’s professor showing up, and going to see Graham. He sits still opposite me and calmly takes out his phone at the end.
‘I have to make a call,’ he says.
When he returns, he doesn’t plan on sitting down again but instead leans forward and picks up his coat from the back of the chair.
‘Am I in trouble?’ I ask.
‘I honestly don’t know,’ he replies. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’ He looks hurt, because he thought I trusted him, but the truth is, and we both silently acknowledge it, he didn’t find Katy.
He shakes his head. ‘I better go.’ He points towards the front door. ‘Security remains outside until we know more.’
‘What about the USB?’ I ask.
‘I’ve let the team know.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He sighs, heading towards the door.
‘Will you let me know?’
‘When have I ever not?’ he turns, taking a step towards me. ‘I don’t even know where to begin with this.’
‘We need that USB,’ I say.
‘You should have come to me.’
I watch him leave, but the pain in my chest remains. I peer out the window, trying to see the security car, but the street is lined with cars, some of which I recognise, others I don’t.
I wait until Detective Lane has driven away and grab my keys. I should have gone to him, but I didn’t, and now I may have ruined the only hope there was of finding Katy.