Cat had only met Paula Devenish, the old Chief Constable, a couple of times and she had found her formidable, though she knew Simon had liked her, worked closely with her, and been sorry when she retired. He had said nothing about her replacement before he had disappeared.
CC Kieron Bright was surprisingly young, though she smiled as she caught herself thinking so.
She made coffee and they went into the sitting room. The rain was over and the sky had cleared to a hazy blue. Drops of water caught in the hollows of leaves and petals glittered in the last rays of the sun.
He was a relaxed man, leaning back in his chair with an easy manner, out of uniform and wearing pale blue chinos and a sweatshirt, but his expression was alert, on a long-nosed, wide-mouthed face. There was a sharpness in his look. He would not miss much. He had drunk his coffee straight off and accepted another, saying little though doing so amiably, but when he set his mug down, he leaned forward.
‘Right. Simon,’ he said. ‘The first thing is for me to reassure you – I have no bad news. All I can tell you is that he’s undercover, on a very sensitive operation, and I am the only person in the station who knows where and why. I’m not his direct contact but I’m next in line. If I hear anything at all that I can tell you I will. Listen, you’re aware of his work with SIFT, you’ve had him vanish for days or even weeks before now, you know how it is.’
‘Yes, I do, and I know better than to probe, don’t worry. He’ll surface.’
He leaned back again and smiled. ‘He will, trust me.’
‘Dangerous thing to say. I very much appreciate your taking the trouble to come out here though.’
‘Thanks.’ He paused. The sharp look again. Then, ‘That wasn’t your only reason for ringing the station, was it? You had a visit from a DC, asking about Dr Richard Serrailler but not saying why.’
Cat was taken aback. Chief constables did not usually concern themselves with the small stuff of everyday police enquiries, they had the broader picture to worry about. So perhaps it was not a trivial matter and all she could think about was that it was to do with Judith. But Judith would never in a million years go to the police about anything personal, no matter what he had done. She had never even admitted that Richard had been violent towards her.
She suddenly felt sick.
‘I’ve no idea why my father is supposed to be contacting the police but please don’t keep anything from me.’
Kieron said nothing for a long moment, and looked out of the window, thinking, working something out. She liked the fact that he had not come with a stock set of bland phrases which told her nothing, that he was not impulsive or glib.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘You’re a doctor, you know all about confidentiality. So do I. Legally, I may be doing the wrong thing here but I’m going to live with that because I think you should know, if only to be prepared. But can we assume for a moment that you are in the surgery and what I say is under that seal?’
He waited for her answer.
‘I think so. Yes.’
When he told her, his voice was calm. Cat thought that few people, especially few men in his position, could have said what he had to say to her with such tact and gentleness.
It did not take long because he could not give her much detail. When he had finished, her first reaction was a clear-headed and unemotional one. She was not surprised. The fact that her father was to be charged with rape should have been shocking, upsetting and horrifying. It was not. It was as though many things which had been floating about apparently at random in the depths of her mind now clicked together and she saw a clear picture. She did not doubt that it was true.
‘Thank you,’ she said to Kieron Bright. ‘I’m grateful for your honesty and the fact that you’ve told me won’t go any further.’
She was very tired, deflated, but quite composed. Perhaps the facts had not gone deep enough for her to feel anything else. Perhaps she would start to cry, or shake or be angry before long.
No. No, she decided. She was as she was. Her first concern was that Judith had to be prepared and looked after, her second that everything should be put in train as soon as possible.
‘He has to come back,’ she said. ‘I’ll talk to him. He obviously must know what the calls were about and he’s deliberately avoiding any sort of contact, but he has to. I’ll phone him later tonight. Judith will make him talk to me.’
She heard the sound of a car in the drive – the Lawsons, bringing Sam home after cricket. Seconds later, the front door slammed and he was in, calling for her, slinging his bag across the hall.
‘A hundred and seventy-four!’ He came dancing in, punching the air, and stopped dead.
‘Oh.’
‘Sam, this is Kieron Bright – Chief Constable Bright. My son Sam.’
‘Having scored massively by the sound of it.’ Kieron stood up and shook Sam’s hand, clapped him on the back. ‘Good man.’ Exactly as Simon would have done, Cat thought.
Sam scrutinised him for a second. ‘Why does your force still use the Remington 870?’
‘Not for much longer.’ The Chief didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’m phasing it out.’
‘For the Glock 17?’
‘Yup. Much better gun.’
‘Most forces use the Glock. The Met does.’
‘You interested?’
Sam shrugged. ‘Yeah, well … Nice to meet you.’ He turned at the door, his face anxious. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Uncle Si, is there?’
‘No,’ Cat said, ‘he’s fine. Did you eat enough at teatime?’
‘No, rotten tea, shop cakes as well, but I had fish and chips with the Lawsons. Cheers, then.’ He banged out and up the stairs.
‘I think what Sam just asked you lifts a bit of a cloud.’
‘Unusual question – interesting. Why?’
‘Oh, I found a load of stuff in his room about guns … pictures of guns, write-ups about guns, clips out of gun mags, downloads from the Internet. He hadn’t hidden them or anything but, well, you know …’
He laughed. ‘Take your point, but just think – better than a stash of spliffs or a pile of porn mags.’
‘I wasn’t so sure at the time. Kieron, I’m in need of a drink. Can I get you a glass of wine or a beer?’
He hesitated. She knew he had driven himself, so he probably wouldn’t want alcohol.
‘Or just more coffee?’
In the second during which she sensed that he was going to accept, his mobile rang. He glanced at her in apology but answered at once.
‘Kieron Bright.’
He said nothing else, just listened. Something about his expression made Cat stop. Wait.
‘OK,’ he said. His face did not give away much. Just enough. ‘I’ve got to go.’
The words ‘Sorry. Thanks …’ came back to her as he raced to his car.
She stood there, watching the dust rise as he hit the road, knowing the call could have been about any one of a thousand police matters, dreading that it had been about Simon. But if it had been, he would have stopped just long enough to tell her as much.
It was not her brother she was most concerned about now.