‘How certain are you that nothing was different when the accounts reappeared?’
‘Not infallibly certain, but I’m pretty sure.’
‘I didn’t realise you were familiar enough with their social media accounts to know what was on them. I assumed you’d found them, had a quick look, then not looked again.’
‘Yeah, well.’ Dom smiles sheepishly. ‘You’re not the only one who’s curious.’
Of course. Who wouldn’t be curious? He’s just given himself away. ‘You’ve been downplaying your level of interest in the hope of getting me to ease off,’ I say.
He doesn’t deny it.
‘If you’re interested in how I feel about that? Not great. You could have saved me a few sleepless hours of wondering if I’m crazy because you, a normal person, just didn’t seem to care that much.’
‘You’re right. I’m—’
‘What time did all this happen, the social media stuff?’ I ask quickly, so that there’s no time for him to apologise. Probably soon I’ll forgive him for trying to manage me instead of communicating honestly, but not yet. Not for at least an hour.
‘I noticed the accounts were gone early yesterday – nine-ish. By noon they were back up.’
‘And then later that same day, Flora rings up, supposedly for a friendly, news-swapping chat? What does that tell you?’
Dom shakes his head with a shrug.
‘They’re panicking. Whoever’s running the show can’t decide on a strategy. First it’s “Disappear, delete everything”, then it’s “Act as normal as possible, ring up, pretend all’s well”. There’d have been no point telling Pollard about it because it’s not a direct lead to a crime.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘We’ll never hear from him again,’ I say. ‘If we chase him for updates, he’ll avoid us.’
‘I disagree,’ says Dom. ‘He’s going to do something, and he’ll let us know the upshot, once he has. But whether he does or not …’
‘What?’ From his tone, it sounds as if he’s about to make another attempt at managing me.
‘We’re agreed that we’re leaving this now, right? You and me. We take no further action. We don’t even look at Lewis’s Instagram. For us – apart from gratefully receiving any updates PC Pollard chooses to give us – this ends here. Yes?’
Bearing in mind his views about the benefits of avoiding a hard ‘no’, I say, ‘I can’t give you an unconditional guarantee that I’m not going to look at Lewis’s Instagram and Twitter again. I’m sorry.’
‘And if I ask you to promise that’s all you’ll do? No more than that?’
‘I could make that promise and then end up breaking it because of … something I can’t foresee at this precise moment. Like: more and worse sinister shit happens, and PC Pollard turns out to be useless.’
‘You don’t have to be the person who deals with every problem in the world, Beth.’
‘Really?’ I snap. ‘Just remind me what global problems you’redealing with, currently?’
‘I’m dealing with trying to keep our family in one piece.’
‘That’s so unnecessarily dramatic! Our family’s fine. Stop reciting lines you’ve heard in bad films that have nothing to do with our situation.’
Dom takes a deep breath and goes on. ‘I’m trying to make sure that Zannah passes her exams, that you and I continue to do our jobs and earn money, that our life stays on track. I’m sorry if that doesn’t feel like an ambitious enough project for you.’
‘I care about our family as much as you do, Dom. And I know we’re okay and will remain okay. Caring about your own family doesn’t have to mean turning a blind eye to something terrible that’s happening in another family. I know it’s not my job to make sure the Caters’ kids are safe. It’s Pollard’s job. And if he does it … great.’
Dom says nothing. He doesn’t like any of my answers. Not one bit.
Gerard Tillotson’s words come back to me: ‘Lewis won’t have liked thatat all’.
By the time we turn onto the A14, I’ve worked out what it means – why it snagged in my mind as sounding strange at the time, though I couldn’t work out what the significance was.
