by CJ Carver
‘Love you,’ Jenny said, and he could almost see the softness in her eyes as she spoke.
‘Love you too.’
After he’d hung up, he called his boss.
‘Take the week off, Dan.’ Philip was brisk. ‘More, if you need it. Help your friend then get started on your father’s affairs. What’s outstanding here?’
‘Most can wait,’ Dan told him, ‘except for Norse.’
Dan talked Philip through the case. DCA & Co specialised in political risk analysis, and this particular client of Dan’s was looking at investing in a company in Brazil and needed impartial, professional advice on the potential risks and benefits, before he sank his considerable amount of money into it at the end of the week.
‘I’ll take Norse, then,’ Philip told him. ‘The rest will be covered by Julia. OK?’
‘Great. Thanks.’
At Heathrow Dan bought a cappuccino and a panini which he devoured at the gate. He hadn’t eaten much since his father had died, he realised. It was only now he’d been given a mission to help someone else that his appetite had kicked in. He licked his fingers, glad to be feeling a bit more normal until he remembered what he was doing here.
Connor Baird, thirteen years old, mountain biker and all-round pretty decent kid, was dead.
Had he really committed suicide? Dan pictured Connor’s vivid expression, always curious, questioning everything. He’d thought him an intelligent, well-balanced boy, outgoing and active, and about as far from being suicidal as he could imagine, but what did he know? He hadn’t seen the boy for two years and who knew what had gone on behind closed doors, behind the screen of his computer. Had he been bullied? Lost any friendships? Had his school let him down somehow? Had he been abused in some way? Dan supposed any one of those things could trigger suicide.
Connor had been so vital, so enthusiastic and alive when Dan had last seen him. Had he really changed that much?
He guessed he’d soon find out.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Dan disembarked he spotted Christopher straightaway. Tall, slim, with sandy hair and freckles, he usually wore an open expression that people warmed to immediately. Christopher made friends easily and, unlike Dan, would happily chat to strangers, finding them interesting and engaging, but today he wasn’t chatting to anyone. He was standing on his own, his face grey and frightened, and the crowd stood apart as though they knew there was something wrong with him and didn’t want to be contaminated.
‘Christopher.’ The men embraced. Dan could feel the tension vibrating in his friend’s body like a high-voltage wire.
‘Dan.’ His voice shuddered. ‘You didn’t have to come. Bill only died –’
‘Dad would have wanted me here.’ Dan was firm.
‘But you must have so much—’
‘What are you driving?’
As Christopher said, ‘Polo,’ Dan put out his hand.
Christopher gave a twisted smile and delved in his jacket pocket to pull out a set of car keys which he handed over. Outside it felt unseasonably cold and, in the distance, heavy grey clouds had sunk low enough to obscure the mountain tops. Dan unlocked the car and climbed inside, repositioning the driver’s seat, mirrors and steering wheel. Christopher didn’t say a word because he knew that Dan’s previous job had been as a high-performance instructor, training racing-car drivers along with high-pursuit police and ambulance drivers. Dan had once taken Christopher on a high-speed drive across country while at the same time giving him a running commentary, and from that day forward Christopher let Dan drive. To save me the embarrassment of looking like an idiot, he’d said.
Dan eased out of the car park, nipping in front of a Mercedes whose driver appeared to be more absorbed in inspecting her mascara in her rear-view mirror than the traffic.
‘What happened to the Baby Rangie?’ The last time Dan had seen Christopher, he’d been enamoured with his brand spanking new Range Rover Evoque.
‘Sam’s requisitioned it.’
Dan was startled but he didn’t react. He let the silence hang.
‘She kicked me out six weeks ago,’ Christopher told him. ‘She relegated me to the Polo. Said it was all I deserved.’
Dan opened and closed his mouth. He wanted to say, ‘What’s going on? You’ve just had a baby . . . you were both so happy when I last saw you . . .’
Christopher made a deep groaning sound. The sound of grief.
‘I fucked up, Dan. Christ, I’ve fucked up.’
Dan flicked on the windscreen wipers. Rain was pushing in from the west and clouds were beginning to thicken. He automatically split his awareness between Christopher and his driving. The A96 was notoriously dangerous due to driver frustration. He kept his senses alert.
‘But just because I fucked up, it doesn’t mean Connor killed himself.’ Christopher’s voice strengthened. ‘He’s not like that. He’s not that stupid. Yes, he was angry. He was furious with me and furious with his mum. He didn’t want me to move out. He wanted Sam to forgive me, but she wanted to punish me first. Connor knew things weren’t permanent. We talked about it. He was OK. He knew the score. He was OK.’
Dan flicked his gaze across. Christopher was trembling. His whole body in distress.
‘I know he finds . . . found little Dougie a pain in the backside. Dougie’s a baby. Connor’s a thirteen-year-old boy. When Sam told him he’d be babysitting while she went out with the girls again for the third time in a week – what was she thinking? – he saw red. Stormed off apparently. A lot of it was because Sam refused to call me and have me babysit instead. Which I would have done like a shot. Anything to get back inside the house . . .’
Christopher put his head in his hands and started rocking back and forth. ‘Why didn’t she call me? Then Connor wouldn’t have gone who knows where and ended up . . .’
Long silence.
Clumps of faded wildflowers flashed past. Wind farms, low rolling countryside, brown sweeps of recently harvested wheat. As they crossed the Findhorn, Dan automatically glanced at the water level.
A bit low, his father said in Dan’s mind. Could do with a spate to bring the salmon up.
If they were fishing today, they’d probably use a bog-standard Ally Shrimp with a hot orange bucktail. Dan still found it strange how he couldn’t remember Luke or anything about his old job at MI5 but he could tell you every detail of the fishing rod Christopher’s father had let him use each summer. Some memories had been lost forever but he could recall the fly patterns – Hares Ear, Pheasant Tail, Prince Nymph – as if he was holding them in his hands.
He could also remember the look of horror on Christopher’s face when he lost control of the Land Rover that day. They’d been twelve, and it had been Sophie – as usual – who’d goaded them into doing something they shouldn’t. Sophie was a year younger than they were but she made up for that by being twice as audacious.
‘Nobody’s here!’ Her face shone with excitement. ‘Nobody’ll know we’ve driven it!’
Their parents were all on the hill, shooting, and the one father who’d stayed behind because he didn’t like guns – Rafe, Sophie’s dad – had been called to the neighbouring estate to help with a fisher who’d broken his wrist. ‘You be good,’ he’d told them sternly. ‘Or none of you will come up here again.’ He towered over them, a powerful presence. He was a fell runner, super-fit, but he still smoked like a chimney. Whenever Dan smelled cigarette smoke he always thought of Rafe.
‘But I will know.’ Gustav snatched the car keys out of Sophie’s hand. He was three years older than them at fifteen and invariably acted as a brake on their more adventurous exploits. At first Dan had thought Gustav stuffy, but soon came to realise it was simply that he came from Germany. He was OK though, and kept out of their way most of the time.
‘Oh, come on, Gus,’ she wheedled. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport. You can drive first if you like. I bet you’re really good. Like a Grand Prix driver.’
Dan waited for Gustav
to fold. He had a soft spot for Sophie and was rarely able to resist her entreaties.
‘No. It is too dangerous.’
‘It’s only an old banger!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s not like it’s a Ferrari or anything!’
Gustav scowled. Pocketing the keys, he marched outside.
Sophie raised two fingers at Christopher and Dan – two minutes – and pattered after Gustav. Secretly, Dan was relieved Gustav had taken charge. The thought of driving the car was exciting but also terrifying. The only time he’d held a moving car’s steering wheel had been when he was a little boy, sitting on his father’s lap. Looking at the Land Rover he doubted his legs would even reach the pedals.
Sophie reappeared. To his dismay, she was holding up the keys triumphantly.
‘Gustav gave them to you?’ Dan was astonished.
‘No, silly. I grabbed the spare set from the kitchen.’
Christopher looked at Dan. Dan looked back. Dismay quickly turned to excitement.
‘Me first,’ Sophie announced. ‘Dad’s already shown me how.’
She had to sit right on the edge of the bench seat and stretch her lower body forwards to reach the pedals, and with a single choking roar the Land Rover erupted into life.
Beside Dan, Christopher gave a high-pitched giggle. Dan felt a sickening combination of fear and exhilaration as Sophie released the handbrake and the clutch at the same time.
The vehicle bounded forward at a terrifying rate, straight for Rafe’s Vauxhall.
‘STOP!’ yelled Christopher as Dan braced himself against the dashboard shouting, ‘BRAKE!’
Sophie nearly vanished from sight as she rammed both feet on the brake. The Land Rover bucked to an abrupt halt. Silence fell.
Sophie caught Dan’s eyes and grinned.
‘That was fun.’
‘Fun,’ he repeated. His voice came out as a croak.
‘I want to go to Blackwater.’
The derelict farm buildings were situated along the Ben Kincaid track – they used to play there, but they had been out of bounds for the last two years because they were, apparently, dangerous.
Sophie leaned past Dan to look at Christopher. ‘You’re the tallest. You drive.’
CHAPTER SIX
Luckily Christopher had had some experience driving the Land Rover, albeit under the watchful eye of his father, Gordon, and they only did about five kangaroo hops before they rattled over the cattle grid and were away.
Sophie had slid back her window and was leaning outside looking behind at the lodge when she suddenly gave a shriek.
‘Faster!’ she shouted. ‘Gustav’s coming!’
Being in the middle Dan couldn’t see what was happening. All he knew was that Christopher pushed his foot on the accelerator, making the engine howl, and they were bounding down the drive.
Sophie was whooping as she dropped back into her seat. ‘He’s still running. Do you think he’ll run after us all the way?’
Before Dan could answer to say that Gustav didn’t know where they were going so how could he? she reached into her back pocket and brought out a lighter and a packet of cigarettes. Benson & Hedges. Her father’s cigarettes. ‘Who wants one?’
She smiled and shook one out and Dan and Christopher were looking at her as she put a cigarette between her lips – even though Dan knew smoking could kill, she managed to make it look so cool. Sophie flicked the lighter at the same time the car gave a massive great BANG! and left the road.
They all screamed as the steering wheel whipped free of Christopher’s grip and the Land Rover careened across the grass and straight for the river.
Dan tried to grab the steering wheel but it jerked away as the front wheels bit into an ant hill. The impact slewed the car sideways, slowed it down, but the river bank was still fast approaching. A steep, grassy drop that would plunge them beneath the surface of the water.
Dan was shouting as the Land Rover’s bonnet dipped. Started its slide down the river bank.
A soft shudder ran through the framework as the vehicle collided with another ant hill and then it stopped abruptly, resting at a sickening angle, just yards from the river.
‘I’ve got the brakes,’ Christopher gasped. He was half in the foot well, legs stretched out. ‘I’ve got both feet on the brakes . . .’
Sophie shouldered the door open, falling out of the Land Rover. She was shouting for them to follow her.
Dan scrambled across the bench seat and tumbled outside and into a heap on the grass. When Christopher didn’t appear he raced back. ‘You’ve got to come too.’
‘I can’t,’ Christopher bleated. A look of despair crumpled his face. ‘If I take my feet off the brakes it’ll go into the river.’
Christopher, Dan remembered in horror, hadn’t yet learned to swim.
Dan tried the handbrake but it was loose and didn’t bite as it should. Even if Dan wanted to, it would be virtually impossible to swap positions without Christopher releasing the brakes.
‘I’ll run and get help.’
Dan had barely reached the road when Gustav arrived, red faced and panting. He seemed to understand the situation at a glance and ran past Dan to the Land Rover, straight to Christopher.
Dan saw him try the handbrake then he bent down and manoeuvred himself to push both hands on the brake. ‘Go,’ he told Christopher.
‘But what about you?’
‘GO!’
Christopher scrambled outside. He stood there looking shell-shocked.
Dan held his breath waiting for Gustav to take his hands off the brakes and jump out.
The Land Rover began to move and Dan saw Gustav frantically trying to push himself free but he wasn’t fast enough and the next second the vehicle plunged into the river taking him with it.
All three of them raced to the edge of the water. The Land Rover bobbed its way down the river, doors open, sinking fast. Gustav was nowhere to be seen.
‘Gus?’ Sophie whispered.
‘We’ve got to get help,’ Dan said just as Gustav’s head broke through the water. He was coughing, water and spittle flying from his mouth, but Dan had never seen anything that looked so good.
They helped Gustav onto the bank. He had scrapes on his hands and a bruise on his cheek. He was shivering like mad. ‘If y-you ever do anything like this ag-gain, I will k-kill you.’ He was looking at Sophie.
‘Promise,’ she whispered.
There had never been four more silent children on the walk back to the lodge. They were too stunned to cry or talk.
That evening, when Christopher’s father discovered the Land Rover missing, Gustav put his head on one side, frowning. ‘A man, he came to the door earlier.’
Gordon switched his gaze to pin Christopher with an eagle stare. ‘What man?’
Christopher looked his father straight in the eye as he answered. ‘He wanted work. I told him to come back tomorrow when you’d be here.’
‘And where were you while I was tending to the fisherman next door?’ This came from Rafe, who was gazing at his daughter. ‘What were you up to?’
Sophie squirmed. ‘Nothing.’
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me,’ he ground out.
‘We . . .’ Sophie hung her head.
Dan held his breath.
‘We played in . . .’ a furtive look at Gordon ‘. . . the workshop.’
The workshop was another place that was out of bounds because it was full of dangerous tools and sharp objects.
‘I’ve told you before . . .’ Rafe launched into a diatribe of rebuke but Dan wasn’t listening. He was watching Sophie in sheer admiration for coming up with something so brilliant which not only sounded totally genuine but neatly deflected everyone away from the Land Rover.
‘And you, Dan?’
The voice he’d been dreading.
He’d never lied to his father before. Heart beating faster, he met his father’s eyes. Held them.
‘We were in the workshop,’ he said clearl
y then added in a mumble, ‘sorry,’ as he looked away.
Later Sophie disappeared and after a while Dan went to find her. She’d tucked herself in the corner of the boot room and was hugging one of the spaniels, crying silently, her nose and eyes red and swollen.
Dan sat with her, stroking the dog and murmuring that everything was OK, they were all safe and hadn’t been found out. At least not yet anyway.
‘You were amazing,’ she eventually choked. ‘I didn’t know you could lie so well.’
‘Nor did I.’
‘And what about Gustav and Christopher?’ She scrubbed her face of tears. ‘They were amazing too. Dad really believes some pikey nicked the keys from the house and stole it.’
Dan wasn’t so sure their parents had been fooled; in fact at the end of the summer his father said in a voice that sounded troubled and full of unease, ‘I’m not sure I like it that you lot can dissemble quite so well.’
Dan had to look up the word dissemble and putting the meaning together with the way his father had said the word made him feel guilty and slightly sick.
*
Now Dan glanced across at his friend who was staring dead ahead through the windscreen. No lying today, no dissembling. He just wanted help finding answers as to why his son had died.
‘Connor didn’t commit suicide.’ Christopher persisted.
Dan overtook a logging lorry laden with stacks of Scots pine.
‘Can I ask one thing?’
‘Of course. Of course.’
‘What does the fiscal say?’ It was the Procurator Fiscal’s job to decide if a crime had been committed and if there was enough evidence to prosecute, or not as the case may be. The fiscal was a powerful figure in Scotland; their word was the law.
Christopher leaned his head back. ‘Suicide.’
‘Who attended the scene?’
