‘She said she heard us arguing,’ Sarah provided bitterly. ‘She said she lay down on the bed and put her earphones in.’
He heard the incredulity in her voice. ‘You don’t believe her?’
‘No, Joe, I don’t believe her,’ she answered forcefully. ‘Would you just stuff your earphones in and have a lie-down if you heard Steve arguing with me outside?’
‘I wouldn’t, no,’ he had to concede. ‘But then didn’t she do that after all hell broke loose at Ollie’s birthday party? Could be that she has a tendency to retreat inside herself.’
Sarah hesitated. ‘I suppose,’ she said, sounding far from convinced. ‘She didn’t come out for ages, though, despite her neighbour almost knocking her door down. I didn’t think Steve had even closed the door. It’s just … There’s something not right about her, Joe. About her whole family. I’m scared.’
He knew she was. The hard knot of guilt wedged in his chest twisted itself tighter. He was a policeman, and he could do nothing to help her. ‘Do you want me to come over?’ he asked. ‘I could be there in ten minutes.’
‘No.’ Sarah declined his offer after a second. ‘Thanks, but I’m okay. I really need to get home and check on Ollie. Becky’s been there with him all evening.’
Joe’s heart sank. He understood. She needed to be with her little boy.
‘You could come over tomorrow,’ she suggested. ‘If you want to, that is. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I’ve been pretty awful to you, haven’t I? I know none of this is your fault.’
He felt relief wash through him. ‘I want to very much,’ he assured her.
‘Good,’ Sarah said, and paused. ‘I’d like to see you,’ she went on uncertainly, ‘to apologise.’
‘Now there’s an offer a man can’t refuse.’ Her tactile apology in the kitchen in mind, he smiled. He suspected what she needed was someone to just hold her. He was up for that, if nothing else. ‘See you then. Try to get some rest meanwhile. Okay?’
Once he’d rung off, he went across to Kayla who was at one of the desks. ‘Do you think you could do me a favour?’ he asked her.
‘Anything for you, Joe,’ she said chirpily, ‘as long as you get the drinks in at the pub.’
‘Done,’ he promised. ‘I need to find out what kind of vehicle is registered to a particular person.’
‘No problem,’ Kayla assured him. ‘So, name?’
‘Caldwell. Sherry Caldwell,’ he supplied.
He waited while she logged on and checked the Police National Computer. He was acting on no more than the proverbial hunch … No, it was more than that. Something was rattling him. Sarah was right. Granted, the family had gone through some horrendous stuff. They were dysfunctional, fractured as a result of it. But Laura’s problems, this hostility her mother seemed to have towards her? There was more to it, he was sure of it.
‘Nothing coming up,’ Kayla said after a second. ‘Sure you’ve got the name right?’
He wasn’t, and he had no way of finding out without asking Laura. ‘Could you try Grant Caldwell?’
Fifty-Two
Steve
Waking with a jerk, Steve attempted to raise his head from his pillow, and then groaned as a sharp pain ripped through him.
‘Shit.’ Remembering he was at home in his own bed, he lay still for a second and tried to gather himself. He’d been dreaming, trapped in a nightmare, a terrifyingly real nightmare: his boy floundering in the deep end of a pool, floating further away from him as he made futile attempts to reach him. The pool grew larger, the water darker, crimson blood seeping from the wounds of a dead rabbit like ink puffed from a squid.
The bang had woken him. The car slamming into him, he’d thought. He’d relived it over and over since it happened. But it wasn’t that. He’d heard this sound before, a distinct noise that had dragged him from his sleep on previous bleak nights. He knew what it was: the lounge door slamming to, which meant the patio doors were open, that Laura was on the other side of them.
Perspiration tickling his forehead and running in rivulets down his back, he tried to lever himself up, hindered by the persistent ache across his torso, the plaster cast on his left forearm. Just do it, he willed himself, making another supreme effort.
Finally, his limbs shaking, a sharp cough rattling his chest, he manoeuvred himself to sitting and eased his legs over the edge of the bed. Cursing his