Tom waited, unsure of what he should do. He wanted to step forward, take her in his arms and tell her it was all going to be okay. But he didn't. Something about her reaction made him hold off. He wasn't reading anything into it. People react to trauma in different ways. In the past he'd always been in the position of the official delivering bad news. In those cases, he was never the one they would turn to for support. His role then was to convey assurance, to let them know their loss wouldn't pass by without scrutiny and if there was a case to be made against a perpetrator then he would make it. On this occasion he felt more like a passenger in her grief, with no defined responsibilities or specific role to play. Was that because this was her ex-husband? He wasn't sure.
"How?" she said, turning towards him but still using the worktop for support by leaning against it. "How did it happen?"
This was Alice drawing on her inner reserves. What he expected.
"It looks like he was stabbed inside the house."
"You mean… he was…"
"Murdered? Yes."
Her lips parted, moving silently but no words emerged. Her eyes teared and she closed them, forcing herself to keep control. Tom felt something. It was a sensation that both surprised and angered him in almost equal measure. Jealousy. Alice's reaction was understandable. She was married to the man once. They'd shared time together, at one point given each other a promise of a lifetime commitment. They had a child together and would be tied for as long as Saffy was around. At least until she reached maturity. Alice must have loved him. Did she love Adrian more than she loved him? He pushed the thought aside, furious with himself for even considering it.
"When?" she said, in all but a whisper.
"At some point yesterday. We don't know yet. Not for certain."
He was falling back on his authority now, approaching this situation as he would with any other next of kin. He didn't feel as if Alice wanted him to comfort her. His rational mind told him to do so anyway but she seemed cold to his presence, aloof. Was that the shock? He felt something else now. Guilt and then shame. This wasn’t about him and he shouldn't make it so. Of course, Adrian's death would rock her world. She would have to be a robot for it not to upset her, let alone the consideration of how she would tell her daughter that her father wouldn't be coming back.
Saffy must have sensed something was amiss. She was a perceptive child, always ready to offer a supportive hug or gentle touch to either an adult or another child. She eased the door open between the kitchen and the living room, peering through the gap and eyeing the two of them suspiciously.
"Mum?"
Alice looked at her daughter, the strain her emotions were taking suddenly visible. She drew a deep breath, kneeling down and encouraging Saffy to come to her with both arms outstretched. She did so, walking forward slowly and purposefully. Despite Alice's best efforts at smiling warmly to allay the girl's fears, the tears escaping the rim of her eyes and trickling down her cheeks destroyed the façade. Saffy's lower lip wobbled despite not knowing the cause. Alice swept her into her arms and hugged her tightly.
"Mum, that hurts," Saffy said quietly.
Alice loosened her grip. "I'm sorry, darling, really I am," she said, burying her face in the girl's hair.
"What's wrong, Mummy?"
Alice pulled back from her daughter, wiping a hand across her own face before pushing aside the hair from Saffy's. Alice smiled, trying to put on a brave face and be reassuring. She glanced up at Tom, a look Saffy followed. Tom smiled at both of them, unsure of what else he could do.
"Mummy's a little bit sad, darling," Alice said, cocking her head to one side.
"Why?"
Alice took a deep breath, holding her daughter by the upper arms and fixing her eyes on her. "I want you to know how much I love you." She glanced up at him. "How much we love you." Saffy nodded but she still seemed on the verge of tears at seeing her mother so obviously upset. "There's been… an accident… and… and your dad's been hurt."
Saffy stared straight into her mother's eyes, tears flowing. "Is he… is he going to be okay?"
Alice's resolve dissipated and she could no longer keep up the reassuring smile as she whispered the word "no" accompanied with the briefest shake of the head. Saffy's head dropped and she collapsed into her mother's arms. Both of them wept openly, Alice holding her daughter as tightly as she dared. Tom knelt beside them, placing one hand supportively on Alice's back and gently ran the other through Saffy's hair, her face buried in her mother's. Never had he felt so powerless.
"Is she asleep?"
Alice smiled wearily, nodding. "For now." She ran a hand through her hair, glancing at the clock on the oven. It was nearly eleven. "I need a drink."
He didn't say anything as she took an open bottle of wine from the fridge and picked up a glass from one of the cabinets. Setting the glass down on the breakfast bar, she unscrewed the cap and poured herself a large glass. Leaving the bottle on the breakfast bar, she came to join him at the dining table, sitting down opposite him. Sipping at her drink, she met his eye.
"Who do you think did it?"
He sat back in his chair, feeling uncomfortable. This was exactly why Tamara had sent him packing from the crime scene. He shook his head.
"Far too early to say."
Alice raised her glass again, staring into the liquid as she did so.
"How has he been when you've spoken to him recently?"
"Ade?"
Tom nodded. Alice shrugged.
"Same as…" she said. "Busy, I guess. Mind you, he always was."
"With work?"
"Yeah. He's never been one to do things by halves. Always committed, always so focussed."
Tom didn't speak. He still regretted the jealousy that flared in him earlier on and was pleased that it wasn't rearing its ugly head again now.
"I can't believe he's gone," Alice said, holding the stem of her glass between thumb and forefinger, twirling it slowly on the table.
"Must be hard. He's been in your life for a long time."
Something in his tone must have sounded off, it was unintentional, and Alice glanced up, staring hard at him.
"Yes, he has. We were together for twelve years, married for eight, and have a daughter, so yes, it is hard."
Tom grimaced through embarrassment, feeling his cheeks flush. Whatever dark thoughts were in the back of his mind, they'd managed to slip out inadvertently just when he really needed them to stay where they were.
"If there is anything I can do," she said, nursing her drink, her tone softening, "to help with… the investigation, then I will."
Tom thought on it. He wasn't going to be kept in the loop but it wouldn't stop him from helping the team if at all possible.
"It would be handy to know what he was working on recently. Is that something you can help with?"
Her eyebrows knitted as she thought about it.
"Anything he might have said about what he was working on, even the slightest thing might help."
"Is that what you think happened? It's something to do with his work?" She shook her head, a micro expression of anger visible for a fleeting moment.
"Not necessarily, but it's possible. He was an investigative journalist, wasn't he?"
"Yes," she said, her expression taking on a faraway look.
"What is it?"
"Nothing… really," she said, forcing a smile before it faded. "I don't really know what he was working on. Our conversations were largely focussed on Sapphire."
"Okay, well, if anything comes to mind let me know and I'll pass it on."
Alice tilted her head to one side. "Are you not investigating?"
"No. Not this time," he said. Her eyes narrowed and he felt defensive, splaying his hands wide. "It's not my call. I'm a bit too close to this one—"
"To be objective?"
It sounded more like an accusation than a mere question.
"Not quite."
The answer clearly wasn't satisfying and Alice sighed, locking her e
yes on his. She glanced away and he thought she rolled her eyes but he couldn't be sure. Lifting her glass, she finished the wine and looked at the bottle.
"That won't help."
It was arguably not the best time to make such a comment because Alice glared at him but didn't respond. Instead, she got up and crossed the kitchen placing the glass in the dishwasher and forcibly closing the door. Taking a deep breath, she ran her tongue across the outside of her lower lip and spoke without looking at him.
"I don't know how long she will sleep, so I'm going up now. I'll sleep in with her tonight."
She turned to leave the kitchen, hovering at the doorway with her back to him. Whether she was waiting for him to speak or considering saying something to him, he didn't know, but the moment passed and she left. He sat there for a few moments feeling the weight of the silence. Alice hadn't wanted his comfort, at least that was how it felt. Then again, maybe physical touch was the last thing she needed and the support of his presence was enough. Perhaps she was feeling guilt, guilt at being with her lover when her ex-husband was dead. It was possible. Irrational and yet logical.
He chastised himself for making the situation about himself once more. How was she supposed to react? He'd lost people he cared for in the past, everyone had, but to do so in this manner was very different. Touching thumb and index finger to his eyes, he pressed firmly, feeling a release of the pressure in his head. The coming days were going to be trying and he still had the Beckett case to work on. Her loved ones deserved just as much attention as his own.
Chapter Eleven
Tom slipped out of the house early, before either Alice or Saffy woke. He felt bad for creeping out, which was exactly what he was doing, but the previous night left him with a sense of unease surrounding the events. He hadn't spoken to Alice again after she went upstairs. He spent a little time trading text messages with Eric, who'd been left with organising the background checks into Mary Beckett's life. It was a lot for him to take on so early in the investigation. Circumstances dictated the need and Eric wasn't one to complain. Quite the opposite. By the time Tom had made his way up to bed, he found both of them asleep. Looking in on them, Alice lay alongside Saffy who had an arm possessively draped across her mother.
The little girl was asleep and Alice appeared to be as well, but Tom knew better. Whenever he was on a difficult case, he found restful sleep to always be tantalisingly out of reach. And since he now spent most of his time here at the house, he would often watch Alice sleeping. Strangely therapeutic, he found watching her calming. She didn't have to make much effort to be beautiful; she was always appealing. At least that's what he saw when he looked upon her. But he also knew when she was faking it. Her eyelids would remain still whereas in sleep they would frequently flutter. When they argued, fortunately on rare occasions, they might retire without a resolution. On those nights Alice would pretend to be asleep in order to avoid further confrontation, or perhaps to annoy him further. In any event, he didn't think she was asleep. He resisted the urge to go in and kiss them both goodnight, which he would normally do. Instead, he went to bed and endured a listless night. Images of dead birds, funerals and the tears of both Saffy and her mum kept repeating in his dreams.
In a way, it was a relief to be heading into the station. The Beckett case would be a welcome distraction. He sent Alice a text message and had left a handwritten note to her in the kitchen, both urging her to call him if she needed anything. It was a lame offer, one that grief-stricken people hear all of the time and it is heartfelt, but ultimately useless. What people need is to know you're there, but as for helping, your thoughts don't offer much. A practical offer is better – I'll take the kids off your hands for a day, I'm going to do your shopping for you. That type of thing is far more useful. Call me if you need to, invariably leads to no such thing. What do you need when you lose someone? More than anything, you need the one thing no one can give you – the person back.
Entering ops, he found Tamara, Cassie and Eric already at their desks. He had to check his watch to make sure it hadn't stopped. It was seven o'clock and they looked to be well underway.
"Good morning," he said.
They all acknowledged him.
"I figured you'd be early. There's a coffee there for you," Tamara said, pointing to a takeaway cardboard cup holder tray with one cup still present. "It'll still be hot."
"Thanks."
Tom picked it up, grateful for the pick-me-up. Tamara came across the room to him, lowering her voice so only the two of them would hear.
"You okay?"
He nodded.
"And how're Alice and Saffy?"
He inclined his head, unsure of what to say. "Not great. Saffy is a resilient kid and Alice… well, she'll hold up well for Saffy's sake, but it's come as a shock."
"Bound to. Poor girl."
Tom presumed she was referring to Saffy.
"Did Alice say anything to you that might prove useful?"
"About Gage's work?"
Tamara nodded.
"No, I'm afraid not. She didn't know what he was working on and I get the impression she's not talked with him much recently."
"Ah, right," Tamara said, smiling. "That's a shame."
"Did you find anything useful in the house?"
Tamara frowned. "Probably best if we don't talk about it."
Tom sipped at his coffee and made little attempt to shield her from his disdain for her comment. She indicated his office behind him and they headed into it. Tom caught sight of Cassie watching them go in the corner of his eye. Tamara walked in first and told him to close the door behind him.
"I know we talked about this briefly yesterday, but maybe we should—"
Tom held up his free hand. "There's no need. I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yes. I can't be close to it but—"
"There is no but in this, Tom."
"Am I going to be barred from the ops room as well?" He was being sarcastic and she knew it.
"Of course not, but you can't be involved in the case. The details of the investigation need to…"
The two of them stared at one another, his eyes narrowing as he took in the unspoken intimation in what she was saying.
"I think we know each other well enough to know I'm not a suspect in this case," he said softly. Tamara rolled her eyes. "Ex-husband, new lover… I know it's possible."
"Not with you, no," Tamara said. "It's not that. You're close to it. And it's a matter of perception."
"Only if you think my involvement might be seen to prejudice a case…"
A thought sprang to mind, one he hadn't considered until now. He wouldn't consider it, and maybe that was exactly why he couldn't be involved after all. Tamara was watching him intently. Had she had the same thought, only much sooner?
"Tom?"
Shaking his head, he let the matter drop. It wasn't a question he wanted to ask just yet, fearful of what the answer might be.
"Okay. How are we going to manage this? Two murders, limited resources."
"I figured you and Eric could continue with the Beckett case. Eric's already made progress there," Tamara said, gesturing towards the DC with a flick of her hand. "I'll keep Cassie with me. To have two murders in such close proximity is highly suspicious but, as it stands, there is no visible link, so we should progress with two separate inquiries until we have cause to change that approach. Unless you disagree?"
Tom frowned. "I agree. One thing I would say is that we have a woman known to be something of an environmental campaigner, with a gift for rubbing people up the wrong way, and then there's the death of an investigative journalist nearby. We can't ignore the possibility of a crossover."
"Is there anything in Beckett's life that puts her in the middle of such an investigation?"
"No, not at all so far," he said.
"Let's keep an open mind on it."
They stepped back into the ops room. Both Eric and Cassie glanced up, clearly trying to see if
there was any increase in the tension between the two senior officers. Tom came alongside Eric.
"How have you got on with the list we discussed?"
In the previous night's exchange of information, Eric had gathered a list of names Mary Beckett had had run-ins with over the years. They were still waiting on the autopsy results coming back but he was already confident on the cause of death. And her time in the water would have destroyed any trace evidence left by her assailant. Their best bet was to start knocking on doors, finding out who had motive and ability to kill her and dispose of the body. This was going to be an old-fashioned investigation.
"I have," Eric said. "First on the list we have a repeat offender who found Mary Beckett an ever-present thorn in his side and proverbial pain in the—"
"Name, Eric?"
"Robert Rutland," Eric said, holding up an arrest record and passing it to him.
The photograph was of a slim-faced man with several days’ worth of stubble and a few wisps of grey hair standing up on the top of his head. The last vestiges of a hairline clinging on in a losing battle with baldness. The eyes appeared hollow and sunken. No one looks good having just been arrested, but this man looked like an utterly dejected individual.
"Multiple arrests for poaching, fencing of protected species…"
"Just the type of guy who would hate someone like Mary Beckett," Eric said.
"And they've crossed paths before?"
"Repeatedly."
Tom looked at the registered address. It was on the edge of the Royal Sandringham Estate. "Let's go and pay him a visit."
Chapter Twelve
Tamara watched Tom and Eric leave the ops room. She didn't mean to slap Tom down in front of the team. Inevitably, he was going to hear a great deal about the Gage case. This was unavoidable. He wasn't the type to stick his oar in either. She had absolute respect for him and his professionalism. But she was setting down a marker, and it was for his own good as much for the integrity of the investigation. She knew that he wasn't a realistic suspect. If she didn't know him would she look at him? Probably. When lovers clash with former partners it can easily cross a line but not Tom. Then there was what she hadn't said, and he was experienced enough to have worked it out for himself. Alice was going to be considered. She would have to be.
The Dead Call: A chilling British detective crime thriller (The Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series Book 6) Page 9
