I take my phone out and check the messages, but there is still no response from Jeremy. Next, I check the photo of Shaun and see that it’s satisfyingly sharp despite being taken sneakily. With his picture and his phone number, there must be a way of figuring out if he is who he says he is.
But something is still nagging at me and before I’ve even put the phone back in my jeans pocket, I realize what it is. I check the back door is locked and climb the stairs two at a time. The door to the bathroom is open, the room empty. The little toilet down the corridor too.
I find Shaun in the master bedroom, his back to me as he pushes the drawer of my bedside table quickly shut.
22
I push the door all the way open, an electric pulse of alarm racing up my spine.
“What are you doing?”
Shaun turns around, straightening up to his full height, hoisting the backpack onto his shoulder.
“Sorry, I just used the en suite instead, I couldn’t find the—”
“I mean what were you doing, looking in my bedside drawer?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” he says. “An honest mistake.”
“This is your grandfather’s house, right?”
“Yeah.” He nods, once. “Or it used to be, at least.”
“Visit him often, did you?”
“From time to time, when he was—”
“But you didn’t know there was no downstairs toilet.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You had to ask me where it was.”
The beginnings of a red flush are creeping up from the base of his broad neck. “It’s been a while since I was last here.”
“Why are you lying?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Adam.”
“You’ve never been here before, have you?” I feel the tingle of adrenaline in my stomach. “Who are you? How about you show me some ID?”
The friendly smile slides off his face. “Told you who I am.”
“Why are you here?”
“Told you that as well.” He hitches the strap of the rucksack higher on his shoulder. “Collecting some stuff for my grandad.”
“You mean your grandpa?”
His eyes narrow. “What?”
“A few minutes ago you called him your grandpa,” I say. “Now you’re calling him grandad. Which one is it?”
“Both,” he says with an annoyed shrug. “Either. What does it matter? The point is, you’ve got his stuff, and I’m here to get it back.”
I shake my head. “Everything in this house belongs to me now. That’s how it works.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No,” I say. “It’s the law.”
“Better for you if you just hand it over, all of it.” He takes a step toward me. “Trust me on that one.”
