He shoved the computer back under the mattress and grabbed the A4 pad from his bedside drawer. He’d started the letter a couple of weeks ago and never got round to finishing it. But it had made him feel a tiny bit better, writing down all his troubles, his worries, his fears and anxieties. It was addressed to his mum, but that didn’t mean she was ever going to get it. God, no. It was just something he’d seen on a bullying forum, about how writing a letter to someone you love could, eventually, help you speak up or feel better. Freddie thought he would give it a go. He was desperate, after all.
The text woke him. The pad was lying on his chest and the pen had fallen from his hand. Instantly the sick feeling lurched in the pit of his belly. He pulled his phone from his back pocket, sat up, blinked several times to clear his sight, and read it.
‘Shit, no,’ he said out loud, his heart hammering in his chest.
He got up from his bed and stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do. It was the worst message yet. As far as he could see, there was only one way out for him now.
16
LORRAINE HAD CALLED Adam as soon as she’d got back from telling Sonia about Lenny’s death. Although she wasn’t certain of his plans for the next few days, she hoped he could come to Radcote. She missed him.
‘Thanks a lot,’ she’d said good-naturedly as she lay on her bed, phone pinned to her ear. He’d just said she’d sounded stressed.
She’d told him about her encounter with Greg Burnley at the Justice Centre, and brought Adam up to speed about Gil and his claims regarding Dean Watts’ death. She was intrigued, and she knew that Adam’s curiosity would also get the better of him, especially with Burnley involved.
‘He hasn’t changed much,’ she’d said after describing the second suicide, almost hearing Adam’s mind ticking over on the other end of the phone: two lads dead from the same homeless shelter . . . a witness who saw a second person on the motorbike . . . ‘We went to the scene, but Burnley had his blinkers on as ever. I had to push him to get some basic SOC forensics he was going to overlook, and I’ve also asked to see some reports on the case from a month ago. He’s being rather difficult.’
‘We went to the scene?’ Adam said. ‘As in you and Greg Burnley? You’ve taken it upon yourself to work with him?’
‘No, Adam, of course not. Anyway, he made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested in reopening the Dean Watts case, whatever information I had. He basically told me to get lost so he could get on with mopping up the railway suicide. This area gets special consideration after the previous suicides.’
Lorraine had gone on to explain about Jo’s friend, Sonia, and how they’d lost their son over a year ago, how he was the second last in a spate of suicides in the area. It was, in the end, enough for Adam to say he was coming to Radcote. Besides, he’d said, it was too quiet at home alone.
Lorraine had smiled after hanging up. Taking time out of the office was one of the perks of being a detective inspector. They managed their own workloads, and as long as they got the job done, questions were rarely asked. Besides, Adam had a special interest in cases like this, having led a similar investigation in the past and written a well-respected paper on the subject. He’d been a keynote speaker at a conference aimed at community police and the risk of copycat and cluster suicides.
The next morning, she’d told Jo that Adam was coming to stay.
‘I’d better call Sonia and let her know then. She’s just asked us all round for a barbecue at the Manor tonight.’
When he arrived, Lorraine had had to prise his arms from her waist. ‘We’re due in half an hour, Adam,’ she reminded him. She hadn’t had a chance to change yet. Jo had emphasised that it was just a casual arrangement, nothing to make a fuss about, especially as Sonia was unlikely to go to a huge amount of trouble under the circumstances, but Lorraine felt she ought to make an effort.
‘This old place has certainly changed,’ Adam had remarked, looking around the spare bedroom. It wasn’t like him to notice interior decor, wallpaper or furniture, Lorraine thought, but he was gazing approvingly at the makeover – probably thinking what it would have been like to live there had Lorraine’s mother given the place to them instead.
‘Jo spent a fortune on it just before Malc left.’
‘Those two were a divorce waiting to happen.’ She’d filled him in on her sister’s news as soon as they were alone. ‘Jo will never stay with one man for ever. She’s just not like that.’ He hadn’t been surprised when he’d learnt that it was Jo who’d met someone else.
Lorraine had shaken her head. ‘It’s so sad. Some of Malc’s stuff is still lying about as if he’s just popped down to the pub. Jo says that he comes from time to time to see Freddie, but not often. I have no idea who the other man is. I’m not sure I want to know, either.’
Adam had pulled a face. He’d caught the sun in the last couple of days, Lorraine thought, and looked good.
‘How’s Freddie taking it?’
Again, Lorraine had shaken her head. ‘Not well. You know how he adored Malc as if he was his real dad. To be honest, he’s been in a really low mood since we arrived. Jo says he’s been like it for months. She’s really worried about him.’
‘He just needs a good dose of his Uncle Adam,’ Adam had said, wrapping his arms around Lorraine again. He’d lifted her up until only her toes were left on the carpet.
‘You think that’ll sort him out?’
There was no answer, just the soft spread of her husband’s mouth against hers. She was glad she’d tempted him to Radcote, even if it was with something that was bothering her increasingly the more she thought about it. But for now she would just enjoy being with Adam again, away from the pressures of work.
They’d been greeted at the Manor with unexpected joviality, Prosecco, and several platefuls of intricately constructed canapés. Sonia had set everything out in a balmy spot under a stripy awning near the spread of the cedar tree that was almost as imposing as the house itself.
‘I thought you said she wouldn’t go to too much trouble,’ Lorraine whispered to Jo.
She watched as Adam chatted amiably with Tony over the spitting barbecue. After introductions had been made they seemed to hit it off straight away, with golf as a common link. Not that Adam knew much about the game or was any kind of expert, having spent a number of troubled weekends trying to master his technique back in Birmingham. The friends he played were high-ranking officers he needed to keep on-side. Golf, much to Adam’s dismay, seemed to be the way these things worked. He’d have much preferred a ten-mile run.
Jo and Lorraine chinked glasses, enjoying the sun before it sank behind the yew and laurel thicket. Even though she was smiling and chatting, Lorraine sensed that Jo was still troubled. Freddie hadn’t joined them yet, as he’d promised he would, and her concern for him was growing.
‘You wait, he’ll be here soon,’ she said kindly, giving Jo’s hand a squeeze.
Jo nodded and forced another smile.
The Manor gardens were stunning, ranging from formal rose beds and hedges clipped into fantastic-looking beasts to vast expanses of mossy lawn edged by rampant azalea bushes twenty feet high. Lorraine felt slightly guilty knowing that Sonia, who was no doubt still upset about Lenny’s death, was doing all the work. But she’d refused their offer of help.
She watched as she dashed between kitchen and garden carrying trays of salmon-covered blinis topped with rusty-coloured drops of caviar, tiny stuffed baked tomatoes bubbling out a white cheese, miniature fishcakes crammed with herbs slid fresh from the Aga, and, of course, the regular top-ups of Prosecco. She was so thin she appeared birdlike, and Lorraine couldn’t help noticing the pale, set expression on her face.
‘You have such a beautiful home,’ Lorraine commented when Sonia halted near her for a moment. ‘You could hire it out for weddings. It’s the perfect setting for a marquee.’
Sonia’s eyes grew wide. She looked stunned for a moment, then managed a weak smile before go
ing back inside. It was a while before she returned.
‘Just before Simon . . . well, right before he died, we learnt that he’d become engaged,’ Tony said, giving the briquettes another quick squirt of lighter fluid. Flames briefly leapt out of the Weber drum. ‘He told us he wanted to get married here, at home, with a marquee, the works. Sonia still finds it hard to talk about weddings.’
He drew a deep breath as if he was going to explain further but Lorraine halted him almost immediately with an apology. ‘I’m so sorry. Jo told us what happened. It must be incredibly hard for you both, especially with the recent news.’
The mood was suddenly lifted by a change of expression on Tony’s face. ‘Ah, here comes trouble.’ He was beckoning to someone behind Lorraine. ‘Come on, come on!’ he called out.
Lorraine hoped it was Freddie, though she knew he’d be mortified by such a welcome.
‘Gil, just the man,’ Tony boomed in a friendly voice.
Lorraine managed to take Adam’s arm and give it a little squeeze, conveying that this was the man she’d mentioned on the phone to him.
‘You’re quite an artist, I hear,’ Adam said, but he may just as well have remarked that the sky was blue or they were standing on the ground. In Gil’s eyes it didn’t warrant comment or further exploration. It was affirming the obvious.
He blinked several times, staring somewhere around his feet.
‘I’d like to see some of your work,’ Adam continued, not put off. ‘Do you draw often?’
‘I draw at my table,’ Gil mumbled. He was looking at his phone now, his finger tapping the touchscreen.
‘Lorraine tells me you’re extremely talented.’
Adam reached for a plate of canapés and offered them to Gil. He stared at them for a good few seconds before slipping his phone into his pocket and putting at least half a dozen blinis on to the palm of his left hand. Then he walked off.
‘Some days he’s more talkative than others,’ Tony said good-naturedly, poking the coals. ‘It’s no good disappearing, mate,’ he called after Gil. ‘I need you to help me with the barbecue.’
Lorraine noticed how Gil briefly halted and nodded his head, tipping it off his round shoulders for a moment like a planet losing its centre of gravity, before continuing his trudge.
‘He’ll be back soon enough,’ Tony explained. ‘We just let Gil be Gil, and as independent as possible, although we have to keep a watch over him. He wanders off quite a bit.’
‘He seems keen to get a girlfriend,’ Lorraine said, remembering how he’d looked at Stella, how it had made her feel uncomfortable.
‘Ah, yes.’ Tony smiled. ‘Gil has one aim in life and that’s to settle down with a nice lady and have a big family. The tack room’s perfect for him now it’s converted. He has his independence but is still close by.’
‘I just tried to phone Freddie,’ Jo said quietly to Lorraine. She’d come out of the house carrying two platters, one of meat and one of fish. Lorraine eyed the selection of butcher’s sausages, steak, home-made kebabs, huge scallops and fresh mackerel. ‘He didn’t pick up.’
Tony glanced at Jo as she put the platters on a fold-out table beside the barbecue. Her face was creased with worry.
‘When’s the rest of the party coming?’ Lorraine laughed, eyeing the quantity of food. ‘We need Freddie here to eat all this lot.’ She gave a reassuring smile to her sister.
‘Aunty Jo, did you remember to ask Freddie to pick up my phone and bring it with him when he comes?’ Stella called out from her spot beneath the tree where she was reclining in a stripy hammock chair Tony had set up especially for her.
Jo nodded. ‘I left a message for him.’
‘Is he not joining us?’ Tony asked. He sounded disappointed. ‘Lana will be here shortly.’
Jo laughed, but Lorraine could hear the strain behind it. ‘You know what kids are like,’ she said.
Tony nodded in agreement.
Right on cue, Lana came outside carrying another bottle of Prosecco. She topped up everyone’s glasses, smiling and chatting – again, it struck Lorraine, the antithesis of Freddie.
‘Is Freddie coming tonight?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with him all afternoon.’
Jo glanced at her watch for the hundredth time, and took a large sip of her drink.
‘Relax, Jo,’ Lorraine said. ‘It’s not a disaster if he stays home, is it?’
As Tony concluded a discussion with Adam on the cooking order of the meat, Jo took Lorraine aside and said, ‘Ray, I suggested this afternoon that he go to the doctor about how he’s feeling, but he refused. He said there was nothing wrong with him.’
‘Mmm, smells good already.’ Sonia had finally stopped running around. She was standing beside Tony, who was putting the sausages and kebabs on the grill, resting her head against his shoulder. ‘Any sign of Gil?’
‘I’ll go and look for him,’ Jo offered before anyone could reply. Lorraine knew she just wanted an excuse to go and find Freddie.
Tony nodded his approval. ‘That’s fine, you’ve got a good twenty minutes before this lot’s done.’
Jo nodded, striding off down the drive, taking her glass of Prosecco with her.
‘Jo’s a bit worried about Freddie,’ Lorraine said. ‘He’s been rather glum recently.’
There was silence while the meat sizzled.
‘Poor Jo,’ Sonia said. ‘I could talk to her.’
‘Did you have any inkling about Simon’s state of mind?’ Adam asked out of the blue.
‘None at all,’ Tony replied calmly, as if he was quite used to talking about it. ‘It was the biggest shock of our lives.’
‘Simon was studying to be a vet at the Royal Veterinary College,’ Sonia explained, still pressed against Tony’s side, a smile on her face. ‘He loved animals. It was his dream.’
‘Your dream, Mum,’ Lana piped up. ‘He hated it, if you remember.’
She walked over to sit with Stella. Her feet were bare, and Lorraine noticed how her painted toenails clawed the ground.
‘Lana’s right actually,’ Sonia continued with a remorseful expression and a sigh. ‘He was thinking of quitting, taking time out to go travelling and reconsider his options. He’d met someone and . . .’ She paused, flicking a fly away from her face, and took a sip of her drink. ‘Well, it never worked out, did it? There was one more suicide after him. Jason Rees.’
‘I’m very sorry,’ Lorraine said, making a mental note of this new name, knowing she probably shouldn’t dig up old files but at the same time wondering what harm could come from it.
Tony was turning the sausages over with a large pair of wooden-handled tongs. Some were stuck and had burst open. ‘I hope Jo-Jo manages to find Gil and Freddie,’ he said, taking a quick look in the direction she’d left.
Jo-Jo? Lorraine thought. No one apart from their mother had ever called her that.
‘I’ll go after her,’ she volunteered, suddenly feeling strangely concerned for her sister.
Lorraine walked briskly down the drive. There was no sign of anyone in the little cottage, but she decided to knock anyway. When there was no reply, she turned the handle and pushed the old door inwards.
‘Gil? Hello? It’s Lorraine. Dinner won’t be long.’
Nothing. She ventured inside and, when her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, she could see there was even more artwork strewn about than last time.
‘Good grief,’ she whispered to herself, scanning the drawings. They were everywhere and very different from the pictures Gil had shown her before. ‘This stuff is . . .’ She couldn’t find the words to describe them. She placed a hand on the back of a chair to steady herself, allowing her eyes to settle.
While many of the pictures were of everyday scenes, each had a horrific element – a child on a swing but with one leg half amputated and bloody; a mother holding a baby, unaware of a masked man about to stab her from behind; a still-life of a vase with the reflection of a hanged body in the glass. She wo
ndered if Tony and Sonia knew.
Lorraine turned and left the building, striding quickly down the drive and out on to the lane towards Glebe House. She got halfway there when she saw Jo running at speed towards her.
‘What’s wrong, Jo? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘It’s Freddie. He’s gone.’ Jo was panting, her chest heaving in and out. She leant forward, placing her hands on her knees, her hair falling over her face. ‘He’s not anywhere in the house and the back door was wide open. It’s not like Freddie. He never goes anywhere unless I force him to.’
‘Maybe he thought it was about time he did go somewhere,’ Lorraine said calmly. ‘Freddie’s eighteen. He’ll be absolutely fine. Come on, let’s get back to the barbecue.’ She hooked her arm through Jo’s and eased her upright. ‘Did you find Gil?’
‘You don’t understand.’ Jo pushed her fingers through her hair. ‘His backpack’s gone, and some of his belongings, too.’
‘Jo, you need to calm down.’ Lorraine felt the first surge of worry creep through her. ‘Let’s give him a call, shall we?’
‘You think I haven’t tried that already?’
Jo slid her phone from her back pocket and dialled Freddie’s number again, biting her lip as it went straight to voicemail.
Lorraine put her hands squarely on each of Jo’s shoulders. ‘I need you to calm down,’ she repeated. ‘You’re no good to anyone in this state.’
To her surprise, Jo nodded.
‘Freddie will be absolutely fine. If he has gone off somewhere, it’s probably to stay with a friend. Maybe he left you a note and you missed it.’
Lorraine had learnt many years ago that you could never say anything with certainty, that people rarely behaved the way you would expect, even the people you thought you knew.
Before You Die Page 13
