He stares at me and I know I’ve gone too far.
“If you found my wife why haven’t you asked me to identify her?”
“There isn’t enough left of the woman we found to identify.”
His face drains of color and I regret my words as soon as I’ve said them, but before either of us can say anything else the door opens again and Carter walks in.
We both stare at him and he stares back.
“Everything okay?” he asks, as though butter wouldn’t melt.
“No, Carter. Everything is not okay. You’ve been AWOL all bloody day. I’d ask where you have been, but in case you’re too much of an idiot to guess, I know. You disobeyed a direct order. You’re off the case—and you’re suspended.”
51CARTER
I can’t believe I’m suspended. Losing the job I love is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I leave the station in a depressed daze and go for a walk along the coast path. I need to clear my head. I find myself standing at the waterfall, at the top of the cliffs, peering down at the waves crashing on the rocks below. The exact spot where IthoughtEden had jumped. Now I don’t know what to think. All we found yesterday morning was an abandoned sweater, but today I spot something in the dirt. Something small and shiny. Something we might have missed. I bend down to pick it up, and see that it is a silver key chain. With the nameEDENengraved on it. Just like the one the woman I tried to arrest showed me.
When the sun starts to set, I begin walking back toward Hope Falls. I hesitate when I pass The Smuggler’s Inn. I could really do with a drink—I know there’s nothing good at my house—but my sister has always been able to read me like a book she’s read too many times before, and I can’t handle her judging me right now. Plus, with DCI Bird renting one of the rooms upstairs and calling the placeher office, she’s bound to be there, and I don’t want to run into her again anytime soon either. It’s the Day of the Dead festival, so the pub will be packed with people drinking before the parade tonight,and full of more faces I don’t want to see, so I head home. The last place on earth I want to be.
I bought the cottage a year ago with a tiny deposit and a huge mortgage. My parents aren’t the kind of people who could ever help their kids financially—they can barely support themselves—I expect all they’ll leave behind when they die are debts and regrets. But I worked hard, I saved hard, and when most of my mates were having fun I made sacrifices so that I could afford my own house in Hope Falls. The place that has always been my home. Property prices here have rocketed thanks to rich Londoners buying holiday lets, and it wasn’t easy, but I did it. I moved in just before January and I was so proud of myself. A tad too much perhaps.
I went to the pub along with everyone else in the village that New Year’s Eve. I celebrated a little bit too hard. So hard that in the morning I couldn’t remember half of the night before. The room was still spinning and I could barely see straight, but I could see Jane in my bed. Even if I couldn’t remember how she got there.
Jane was in the year below me at school. She was a nice enough girl, but not someone I was especially interested in or attracted to. But somehow there she was, naked beneath the sheets, her head on my pillow, her underwear on my floor. Jane left my flat on New Year’s Day, left me her number too, but I didn’t call. I felt bad about it for a while then forgot it ever happened. Until she came back two months later and told me she was pregnant.
Jane wanted to keep the baby. I supported her decision because it was the right thing to do. She wanted to move in together, and I said yes because it was the right thing to do. Then she wanted to get married, so we did, because it was the right thing to do.
I was raised to always do the right thing.
But now almost everything about my life feels wrong.
So I’ve become a bit less risk averse when it comes to morality. I didn’t tell DCI Bird I was married because in almost every way it feels like I’m not. It’s a marriage of inconvenience. That’s all it everwas. And although I care about the mother of my child, I do not love her. I never did. I don’t even wear a wedding ring—I told Jane I couldn’t afford two when we got married, but that wasn’t the real reason. Doing the right thing has got me into all sorts of trouble. I’m trapped by a moral compass that often seems to send me in the wrong direction, and this feels like a dead end.
Harrison Woolf looked delighted when I was suspended. I’d give anything to wipe that smug smile off his face. I’m desperate to tell Bird what I’ve discovered and show her what I’ve found, but when she took me off the case she looked so disappointed in me. She refused to listen to a word I had to say, suspended me until further notice, and sent me home. All because I went to The Manor. If she gets this angry about me questioning someone she told me not to, thank god she doesn’t know I’m married after we slept together again last night. I’m quite certain she’d tear me a new one if she did.
I’ve never been suspended before. I don’t know if I’ll still get paid, and I don’t know if I can afford my next mortgage payment if I don’t. Before I reach the house I call an old pal of mine who works at Devon and Cornwall Police HQ. When he doesn’t answer I leave a message. “Hi, Dave, long time no speak, beers soon? DCI Bird took over my patch yesterday, and long story short, I’ve been suspended. Can she do that? Just want to know where I stand. Call me when you can, buddy. And don’t tell anyone.”
I slip my phone back in my pocket and try to compose my emotions and my face.
“Luke? Is that you?” Jane calls from the kitchen as soon as I walk through the front door. Our cottage is a tiny two-up, two-down terrace, so there’s no avoiding each other.
“Who else would it be?” I reply, taking off my coat.
“You’re late. You okay? Dinner is almost ready. I’ve just put her down, but you can say good night if you like.”
She means our daughter and I do want to say good night. I quietly climb the stairs, avoiding the ones I know creak, and creep alongthe landing to the little nursery at the end of the hall. My baby girl is asleep in her cot, safe and sound, her mobile still spinning above her head, the night-light casting a pattern of stars on the wall. I might not love her mother, but I love Steren more than I knew it was possible to love another human being. I’d kill to protect my daughter. And for the first time I start to feel a little guilty about my actions today, interviewing Gabriella Woolf when I knew it might be the wrong thing to do. Harrison’s rage may or may not have been justified, but I understand it now. I think little girls stay little girls forever in their fathers’ hearts.
I head back downstairs and into the kitchen where Jane is standing at the cooker wearing an apron over her casual clothes. She dresses like it’s Sunday every day of the week. I’m surprised to see she has opened a bottle of wine—she rarely drinks—and I decide not to spoil the mood by telling her I’ve just been suspended. Her brown hair is in a messy bun as always—she pays even less attention to her appearance since Steren was born—but it looks like she might have washed it at least. She’s set the table too, which is strange, we normally eat our dinner on trays in front of the TV. My heart sinks when I see that she’s set three places. I am not in the mood for company, and an extra plate normally means my mother-in-law is coming. I kiss Jane on the cheek out of habit.
“What’s wrong with your face? Bad day?” she asks, giving me half a hug.
“Just tired,” I reply, peering inside the oven to see what she is cooking.
“Well, you’d better wake yourself up. She’ll be here soon.”
“Who?”
“Your new boss.”
