could you do this to Carla?’ He shrugged and pushed back his hair. ‘What am I talking about? You don’t have a conscience. Your sort never do.’
As I went to close the door, he reached into his jacket and produced a card.
‘If you ever want to talk,’ he said and slotted it into the small pocket at the front of my blouse.
He was lucky I didn’t catch his fingers in the jamb.
Chapter Twelve
I went into the kitchen and slumped against the wall.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Martin. ‘Maybe you should have a sit-down?’
Unable to process what had just happened, I didn’t respond, and soon I felt the detective’s flat, heavy paws on my shoulders. Gently, he pulled me forward, back up to standing and led me through to the living room.
‘Stay there,’ he instructed once I was on the sofa. ‘I’m just going to check on Jason.’
Grateful for a few minutes to compose myself, I sank back into the cushions. Fiddling with the edge of the plaster attached to my knee, I gave the living room a once-over, trying to see if there was anything out of place. I knew Mark would have seen the photos in the hall but hopefully he hadn’t managed to snoop in here. Not that we had anything to hide. There were no shrines with candles and offerings or anything like that, nor did we have any more pictures of our respective children on display than any other mum or dad. Still, the thought of him staring at the private pictures, the ones we’d deliberately never released to the press, made my stomach turn.
The kids were different ages in the pictures. Some were snaps of them as tiny tots in the bath or paddling pool while others were posed, uniform-clad photos from when they first started at nursery or infant school. Lauren and Barney in their square pine frames, made brother and sister by their absence.
If Mark had made it as far as the living room then he would almost certainly have noticed Barney’s fire engine in pride of place in the centre of the coffee table. Jason and Vicky had given the toy to Barney for his second Christmas and it had instantly become his favourite plaything. Made out of metal, its red paintwork was battered and the cab at the front where the miniature model drivers sat still had bits of old biscuit encrusted in the windows. Jason had told me how, when Barney disappeared, he and Vicky had slept with the toy between them every night, its sharp metal edges prodding them in the hips. He’d said that it had been losing access to the fire engine – far more than making sure he got his half of the house or the furniture – that was the thing that had worried him most. Vicky had felt the same way. Somehow, he explained, they had come to an agreement where they promised to share it between them until Barney was found. Every two weeks, one of them would take custody of the fire engine, jealously holding it in their possession until they had to give it back to the other person by 6 p.m. on the allotted Monday.
My gaze went back to the photos. We only had one wedding picture out. We’d placed it right in the centre of the windowsill. Taken in the gardens of the registry office, it showed us walking together, holding hands. The photographer had caught the moment at which Jason was about to reach round and give me a kiss, his right foot still in the air, about to step forward.
I thought back to what Mark had said about wanting to do an article on us. What was it that horrible website had said when they’d first found out Jason and I were in a relationship? Some horrible joke about where we must have met – the Dead Kid Club, the Dead Kid Dating Agency – something like that.
Martin appeared in the doorway.
‘Jason’s upstairs and your guests will soon be on their way.’ He paused, weighing up whether or not to relay the next piece of information. ‘Your friend’s in a pretty bad state. I think she’d like to apologise.’
Before I had the chance to reply, Carla elbowed her way into the living room. At some point during the course of events she had removed her earrings. Holding them together, she was pushing her fingers against the edges of the silver hoops as though she was trying to crush