my grandmother, who then phoned me. They’re old friends.’
‘Six minutes past midnight,’ Laviolette repeated as something close to a smile crossed his face so rapidly Anna wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been looking. ‘And then you drove over here –’
‘To give a statement. I saw Bryan Deane this afternoon down on Tynemouth Longsands – as you heard.’
Laviolette turned back to Laura, without comment.
‘So Bryan was meant to be home around seven, and you phoned his two friends roughly when?’
‘Around eight – I was worried.’
‘Around eight,’ Laviolette repeated. ‘He was an hour late at that point – when you phoned.’ The Inspector was silent for a moment. ‘Is he not usually late?’
‘He’s not – no.’ Laura’s stance was becoming increasingly defensive. ‘Look, I told you – they said he was never there. His car wasn’t on the drive and his kayak wasn’t in the garage,’ she carried on, raising her voice and looking genuinely upset. ‘He’s never not come home before. Why don’t you do something?’ she exploded. ‘Why aren’t you out there looking for him?’ She collapsed back in the sofa, her hand over her face.
Anna looked quickly at Martha, who was staring at her mother with a mixture of worry and what could only be described as hatred.
‘Look,’ the Inspector said sounding suddenly exhausted; apologetic. ‘I’m going to try and get this categorised as high risk.’
Laura, looking surprised, at last uncurled herself from the sofa and stood up, the linen falling in crumpled folds around her, the abandoned Roxy looking momentarily confused.
‘DS Chambers and Constable Wade will stay here with you. There’s a lot of procedure it’s essential you understand.’ He broke off, staring thoughtfully at Laura. ‘Did your husband have a nickname?’
‘A nickname?’ Laura shook her head, glancing quickly at Anna.
The Inspector noted the glance then turned to DS Chambers. ‘Can I have a look at what you’ve taken down?’
‘We’ve covered a lot,’ Chambers said.
Laviolette nodded absently and read through the investigation notes. ‘No distinguishing marks?’ he said, looking first at Chambers then Laura Deane. ‘No scars? Tattoos? Nothing?’
‘No,’ Chambers confirmed, sullen.
Laura said nothing.
Anna was watching her, her face momentarily tense with conflict. ‘What about the appendicitis scar?’ she said at last, appealing not to the Inspector – but Laura.
‘He never had an appendicitis,’ Laura said, her eyes on Anna again.
Feeling Martha’s eyes on her as well, Anna smiled quickly at her before turning back to Laura. ‘It happened before we knew him,’ she responded, uncertain, ‘but it was always there. Unless it’s faded or – I don’t know, do scars like that fade?’ This time, she appealed to the Inspector, who was staring at her.
‘Can I have a few words – my car?’ he said at last.
Anna and Laviolette left the room, making their way up the hallway followed slowly by Laura – who made no attempt to speak to Anna.
They stood outside, the rain that had started since Anna’s arrival banging on the porch roof.
Laura remained in the doorway, dry and distant, watching as the Inspector and her childhood friend headed out into the night.
‘It’ll be okay,’ Anna shouted back, through the rain. It sounded like a promise, she thought.
‘Wait!’
Anna and the Inspector turned round.
Martha Deane had appeared suddenly in the doorway. She pushed past Laura, running barefoot through the rain towards them.
‘Martha!’ Laura yelled, but she didn’t follow her daughter out into the rain.
The next moment Martha slammed into Anna, who almost lost her balance.
She braced herself thinking Martha might start hitting her, but then she felt the girl’s narrow arms tighten round her waist, and understood.
She hugged her back – for no reason – just as hard. Martha’s thin pyjamas were already soaked through at the shoulders, as was her hair, pressed into Anna’s red sweater. The girl’s earlier hostility had been replaced by a sudden clinging need.
‘You were right – about dad’s scar. I know the one you’re talking about. She was right,’ she said, excited, to Laviolette, before turning to Anna again. ‘You’ll come back, won’t you? You’ll come back tomorrow?’
Anna smiled down through the rain at her, although Martha was only a head shorter – aware that the Inspector hadn’t moved.
‘Martha!’ Laura yelled again from the front door.
Martha turned and ran back towards the house on tiptoe, her shoulders hunched. She stood in the doorway for a moment, next to Laura, but not touching her, until Laura pulled her back in order to shut the door.
A few seconds later, Anna saw Martha’s face at one of the front windows, framed by curtain. Then the face vanished and the curtains fell back into place.
She hesitated for a moment before following the Inspector to an outdated burgundy Vauxhall, the rain loud on the car’s roof.
Chapter 3
The Vauxhall had been taken for a valet service recently – very recently. It smelt of cleaning chemicals and the strawberry tree, hanging from the rear view mirror. When the Inspector turned on the car engine in order to get the heating working, music he must have been listening to earlier – some sort of church music – came on automatically and the strawberry fumes from the air freshener intensified, making Anna nauseous. She wondered, briefly, if the car was even his.
‘That’s not a coat,’ he said with a heavy accent, turning off the music and giving her a sideways glance. ‘Not for up here anyways.’
She looked down at herself. The jumper had got soaked between the Deanes’ house and the Inspector’s car.
‘What brings you this far north?’
Anna turned to stare at him. ‘I was born here,’ she said defensively.
He put the windscreen wipers on and for no particular reason it immediately felt less claustrophobic in the car.
‘Lung cancer,’ she added.
‘Not you,’ he said, genuinely shocked.
‘No – my grandfather. Advanced small cell lung cancer. The specialist refers to it as “metastatic”, which is specialist-speak for cancer that’s behaving aggressively.’ She stopped speaking, aware that she felt tearful. ‘It means there’s no hope.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Laviolette closed his mouth, and looked away. ‘Who’s your grandfather?’ he asked after a while.
Anna had forgotten that these were the kind of questions people asked up here – questions that sought connections because everybody belonged to somebody. It was difficult to stand alone.
‘Erwin – Erwin Faust.’
Laviolette nodded slowly to himself. ‘The German.’
‘That’s him,’ Anna said, unsurprised. ‘I’m on compassionate leave.’
‘How long for?’
‘A month.’
‘A month?’ he said, surprised. ‘Unpaid.’
‘Where are you on leave from?’
She