The Goodnight Song: An absolutely heart-stopping and gripping thriller

by Nick Hollin

  They make their way slowly back to the riverbank, and Katie takes Richard’s arm as they struggle up the muddy bank to find that Nathan has stopped on the pathway ahead of them. She can see the blood on his shirt has spread, and she’s about to ask him if he’s okay when he spins towards her, his eyes wide and burning bright.

  ‘Napoleon!’ he says.

  ‘What about him?’ asks Richard. Katie knows better than to speak. She’s seen Nathan like this many times before, at a moment of connection, of revelation.

  He turns back towards the river and points at a wooden fence with a gate in the middle. Just over the fence Katie can see the top of one of the houseboats. To the right of the gate is a nameplate: Napoleon.

  ‘It was the name of our first pet,’ says Nathan. ‘It was a cat, a beautiful tabby cat, and it used to spend most of the time sleeping on my bed.’ He lowers his voice and Katie isn’t sure he’s speaking to them at all. ‘Never on Christian’s bed. Could Napoleon have sensed what he was really like? Was that the start?’

  ‘Was what the start?’ asks Katie, letting go of Richard’s arm and walking towards the gate through to the houseboat.

  ‘Napoleon disappeared. Ran off, my mum said. But the cat would never have done that. He loved us too much. Loved me too much.’

  Before the gate is a small set of wooden steps, and Katie climbs to the top and stretches up on tiptoe to try and look over, but it’s just too high. She tries the gate and finds it’s locked.

  ‘Can you give me a hand?’ she calls to Nathan, and it’s literally only one hand that he’s able to offer – the broken fingers of the other remaining down by his side – along with a knee for additional support. The balance is precarious, but she gets there in the end, peering over at a tiny, single-storey houseboat. The curtains are drawn, the paint is peeling and the patch of grass leading down to the water’s edge is overgrown.

  ‘I don’t think anybody has been here in a while,’ she calls back to Nathan.

  ‘I imagine for nearly a year,’ he says, nodding slowly, and Katie is reminded that it has been almost that long since Nathan’s twin brother ended his life.

  Eighteen

  Nathan is surprised that Katie has made them wait for the rest of the team. In the old days, she would always have played by the rules, for fear that her carefully gathered evidence would become inadmissible, but the last time they’d worked together she’d been more reckless.

  ‘Strength in numbers,’ she says by way of explanation as the cars and vans arrive. Nathan knows the press will follow, and their location is almost impossible to keep from their view, with vantage points on the bridge on the other side of the river and on the river itself, if they can find a boat to use.

  ‘I need to get in there,’ he says, rattling the gate again.

  ‘You need to wait for the warrant. We don’t know for sure that it’s anything to do with your brother.’

  ‘Do you see this lock?’ he says, pointing at the thick Chubb. ‘It’s the very same lock I used to have on the shed where I kept my bike, next to the flat where I lived, which is not more than half a mile from here at most.’ He points back over her shoulder, in line with his mother’s house. ‘And then there’s the weathervane on the roof. Quite distinctive, the cat chasing the mouse. We had exactly the same one on the roof of our family home up there.’ This time he points up the hill to Richmond. ‘I remember Dad risking his life to fix it. Back then I used to think he was invincible.’

  ‘You don’t have to convince me this is the place,’ says Katie. ‘And I’m as keen to get in there as you are, but we have to do this right. For Mike’s sake.’ As she says this she stares out at the river, which is flowing fast and high.

  ‘A coincidence that he was pulled out a mile or so downriver from here?’ asks Nathan, following her gaze.

  Katie looks at him, eyes burning. ‘You know I don’t believe in those.’

  When the paperwork finally arrives, the lock is broken off the gate and two armed officers are the first to go through. They call out that it’s clear, although Katie could have told them the same from her brief look over the fence.

  As Nathan walks up to the only door, he wonders how long his brother lived here. Wrapped up in his work most days and nights, and not wanting to bring back memories of his childhood, Nathan didn’t spend long walking around the area where he lived, but there had been occasions he’d followed this path, or sat on a bench on the other side of the river. Had his brother known he was there? Had he been watching him? Given the proximity, Nathan knows there’s a good chance his brother was watching a lot of the time, a suspicion that is strengthened considerably the moment Nathan walks through the door.

  It’s identical. Not in shape and size – Nathan’s flat had been far larger – but the pictures and the decor and the television, even the bottles of wine are the same as those that he had bought. To see this leaves Nathan horribly dizzy, and he just manages to stop himself falling heavily on the arm of the sofa, the same sofa he had picked up from a charity shop. How much effort had his brother gone to, to match these items? And why?

  ‘He wanted to be like you,’ says Katie, as if reading his thoughts.

  ‘I’d always wanted to be like him,’ Nathan replies. ‘Until I found out what he was really like.’ He continues to move around the small space, wearing the paper shoes provided for him and trying not to touch any more than he has to. For more than half an hour he and Katie consider every item, and watch as the Forensics team work round them.

  It’s only when they’re finally back outside that Nathan feels like he can properly breathe. It had seemed not only as if he had been in his brother’s home, but also in his brother’s mind, the darkness gripping him from the inside.

  ‘I don’t know what that’s told us,’ he says, managing to smile across at Richard, who has remained outside.

  ‘You’re losing your touch,’ says Katie. She looks suddenly uncomfortable at this choice of words, perhaps worried he’ll be sensitive about his other failings.

  ‘Tell me,’ he says, offering a smile.

  ‘You must have noticed the dust?’

  ‘Hardly remarkable. Christian’s been gone for almost a year.’

  ‘Did you notice the areas where there wasn’t any dust?’

  Nathan has always had a remarkable memory for places, and every inch of his brother’s home is available to him, helped by the fact that it had been so similar to his own. He considers what he’s seen, and only now realises that there had been places where the dust hadn’t settled.

  ‘On the side in the bathroom,’ he says. ‘On a shelf in the bedroom as well, I believe.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘That someone else has been inside in the last year?’

  Katie nods.

  ‘Looking for something? The missing pages of the journal?’

  ‘Perhaps. Perhaps also looking to remove any evidence of their having been there.’

  ‘Long-term, you mean?’ says Nathan. ‘No chance of that. There’ll be DNA.’

  ‘Well, maybe something specific that could help us identify them if they’re not on the system. A photo, obviously, or clothes…’

  Now Nathan’s thinking of the gap in the wardrobe, where shirts and trousers identical to his own had been pushed along the rail on their hangers. ‘You’re suggesting my brother had someone living here with him?’

  ‘Is that so impossible?’

  ‘Given what he was doing, yes. And not just to other people. Look at what he did to himself. You’re telling me somebody living with him would have accepted him changing his appearance like that, ruining his looks?’

  ‘Somebody equally troubled might,’ says Katie, her attention suddenly drawn elsewhere. Nathan follows her gaze and sees that Sam Stone has arrived. Most of those on the scene would consider her as calm and controlled as ever, wearing a pair of dark glasses despite it being overcast, but Nathan is starting to read her a little better and can see as she approaches that sh
e is angry.

  ‘Of course, if there was some mystery girlfriend,’ says Katie, with Sam still out of earshot, ‘another troubled soul, able to hide their true selves from society, perhaps even able to rise to a position of authority… I mean, it makes you wonder who the “C” was Ms Stone was calling on her mobile until about a year and a half ago.’

  Nathan turns away to try and cover his gasp. Perhaps it was the tiredness, perhaps the smack to the head, or perhaps he could only ever think of his brother being alone; whatever the reason, he hadn’t made the connection until Katie asked the question. Now that she has, the possibilities seem endless.

  ‘I doubt she made a mistake giving me the phone,’ says Katie, as Sam strides closer. ‘She knows exactly what she’s doing.’

  ‘Did you forget to call?’ asks the senior policewoman, her lips barely moving.

  ‘Issues with the mobile you gave me,’ says Katie, patting her pocket. ‘Same trouble I had earlier when I tried to call you and I couldn’t get an answer.’

  Sam sighs loudly. ‘So, what do we have here?’ she asks, nodding over at the houseboat.

  ‘The place where Christian lived,’ says Nathan, staring hard at Sam to try and determine what she might be hiding. He’s also trying to figure out if his brother might have had an attraction to this woman, although it wouldn’t have been to how she looks, he realises that. It would most likely have been the same things that he finds intriguing: the fierce intelligence and the sense of unpredictability. ‘The contents of this floating home are almost identical to those in my old flat,’ he continues. ‘But beyond that, we’ve had no startling discoveries.’ He tries to keep his voice steady as he considers what they might just have uncovered.

  ‘Well, let’s leave it to Forensics then,’ says Sam. ‘See what they can turn up.’

  ‘You don’t want to go in?’ asks Katie, surprised. ‘This could be key.’

  ‘I trust in my colleagues to fill me in on anything significant,’ says Sam, starting to walk away. Nathan might have expected Sam to go inside if she’d wanted another defence against her DNA being found in there. Despite the suit, contamination could in theory (and in desperation) occur. But then they’re still quite a way off demanding that a senior officer be tested against their discoveries.

  Nathan can see the blond-haired man who had driven him and Sam to the school where Steven Fish was found deep in conversation with one of the PCs who had been first on the scene.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Katie calls after Sam.

  Sam turns back and slips off her glasses. ‘You know, I’d heard there might be some insubordination issues, but I could never have imagined it would be quite this bad.’

  ‘Where have you been, ma’am?’ Katie asks again.

  ‘If you must know, reading up on Steven Fish. I still believe he’s central to this case. Not only was he the first victim, but as far as I’m aware he’s not directly connected to any of us. DS Peters was your friend. The victim at the hospital was a friend of Dr Evans.’ She stops and looks up at Nathan. ‘And obviously there’s Christian Radley.’

  ‘You never had a run-in with Fish, then,’ asks Katie, ‘in your work bringing down drugs gangs?’

  ‘Fish had one charge of possession. A small amount, possibly for personal use. I don’t bother with the petty stuff. I look at the big players, guys like Carl Watkins, that you were so keen to mention earlier.’

  Nathan can see Katie’s fists bunch at her sides. He knows how much it had hurt her to fail to pin two murders on Carl Watkins. The man was a scumbag, no question about it, but he had also proven himself a master at avoiding the law. It was an open secret that he’d made his huge fortune from hurting people and selling drugs, primarily heroin, but he’d never served a day behind bars, always seeming one step ahead of the police. ‘Has he resurfaced, then?’ asks Katie. ‘Last I heard he’d performed a disappearing act a couple of years back.’

  ‘Still a no-show,’ says Sam, putting her glasses back on. ‘And I can assure you I’m in no rush to see him again. Now, I’m going to visit Steven Fish’s mother. You can join me or not, I really don’t care.’

  ‘If you want to get anything out of Wendy Fish then you’re going to need us with you,’ says Katie.

  ‘What about the doctor?’ asks Sam, nodding over at Richard, who’s staring out at the river watching a group of swans float by.

  ‘He’s coming too,’ says Nathan. ‘I’m not leaving him on his own.’

  ‘Fine,’ says Sam. ‘I’ll organise a police escort to get you through the crowd.’ She nods towards a group of people in the distance, some of who are clearly press, some just passers-by wondering what’s going on. ‘Put the phone on,’ she says to Katie, nodding down at her pocket. ‘And I’ll call you when we’re ready to go.’

  As Nathan watches Sam walk away, Katie turns to him and answers the question he’d been about to ask.

  ‘We need to keep her close.’

  Nineteen

  The journey to Steven Fish’s flat takes less than twenty minutes, thanks to Sam’s aggressive attempts to shake off any unwanted press attention. Katie had feared there might also be a gathering at their destination, but as they pull into an empty street, she assumes the reporters have been drawn down to the discovery of Christian’s houseboat. Indeed, a quick look at the mobile phone that she’s reconnected tells Katie that the internet is alive with theories about what they’ve found down by the river, including one suggestion that Christian had been discovered alive in there, his death another elaborate hoax set up by corrupt police. Along with the craziness, there’s also a lot of fact – photos of her and Nathan just minutes old, a timeline she might have drawn herself and a map showing the locations of the recent crimes.

  ‘What do we know about the blogger who’s getting the original pages?’ she asks Sam. While Katie might have her suspicions about this woman, she’s been in the game long enough to know she needs to consider all possibilities.

  ‘Nothing yet,’ says Sam. ‘They’ve been clever, not registered or paid for the domain, and using a free blogging platform. But I’m sure we’ll track him down soon enough.’

  ‘Do we know the blogger’s a guy?’ asks Nathan.

  ‘Fair point,’ says Sam. ‘He, or she, does seem to have a bit of a crush on our friend Nathan here.’

  ‘That’ll be symptomatic of the drugs they’re taking,’ says Nathan, with an embarrassed smile.

  ‘You’re a handsome man,’ says Sam, looking up at the rear-view mirror. ‘From what I’ve seen, you have plenty of admirers online. I’ve heard talk in the office, as well…’

  ‘This isn’t pertinent to the case,’ says Katie, feeling her face flush, as she stares at the side of Sam’s face. She doesn’t know what’s annoying her more. The way the senior policewoman looked at her partner, or Sam’s smooth, scar-free cheeks. And then there’s the crazy thought that if Sam had been with Christian, if there’d been an attraction there, then mightn’t Christian’s twin feel the same way? The case is her focus, the desire for revenge for Mike’s death as great as ever, but Katie can’t seem to suppress these thoughts.

  ‘Everything is pertinent,’ says Sam, without bothering to look across, ‘until we know what’s going on. Sex, lust, desire – they’re all powerful motives. And you only have to read Nathan’s journal to understand how those emotions can intensify into the desire to kill.’

  Katie twists to look at Nathan in the back and she can see his unease. ‘As I told you in the interview at the beginning, I haven’t read the journal,’ she says. And it’s true. Even at the inquest she’d tried to block out the readings from pages of it as much as she could, for fear of knowing too much about the man she thought she loved. It was against her usual practice, against who she’s always been as a person, desperate to know more, no matter the cost, but with Nathan it was different. With Nathan, she was willing to restrict her normal behaviours to protect whatever it was they had.

  ‘What else do we know about this bl
ogger?’ asks Nathan, trying to steer the conversation back to more comfortable ground. ‘Why might they have been chosen to receive the pages of the journal?’

  ‘I understand he, or she, has previously posted stuff alleging police corruption,’ says Sam, ‘pointing the finger at some fairly senior figures.’

  ‘At you?’ asks Katie.

  ‘Are we at the right place?’ asks Sam, ignoring the question. Katie looks up and sees that they have arrived at Steven Fish’s family home. At the age of twenty-five Steven had still been living with his mum, and Katie assures them as they climb the steps to the third floor of a ten-storey block that although it’s been almost two years since her son’s death, Wendy Fish will not have allowed a single thing to change.

  They knock, and the front door is thrown open by Wendy. When she sees Katie and then Nathan she takes a step back, her face visibly paling.

  ‘I suppose you think I should take that as evidence you weren’t to blame?’ she says to Nathan, nodding down at his broken hand.

  ‘I did not kill your son,’ says Nathan softly. ‘For a long time I believed, as you must have believed, that it was my brother, but now—’

  ‘Now it’s all fucked up again,’ says Wendy, shaking her head. She peers past Katie’s shoulder and down at the street below. ‘I hope you haven’t brought the world’s media with you.’

  Katie wonders if Wendy might not feel disappointed that they haven’t. She’d always been very quick to ignore police advice and go to the press to try and find justice for her son. Not that Katie had ever blamed her for doing so, knowing that she would have done exactly the same.

  ‘Can we come in, please?’ Katie asks.

  ‘If you think it’ll help Steven get what he deserves, you can do whatever the hell you want.’ Wendy spins round and walks back into the flat, leaving the door wide open.