room. Outside the kitchen window the day was already brightening. A new morning. I listened half-heartedly to whatever program was playing in the other room, amazed by how life was carrying on. How it always does. You only notice how astonishing that is when a part of you gets left behind.
Karen left me a key before she left with Adam.
“What time is the liaison officer getting here?” she said.
“I don’t know.”
She put a hand on my arm. “Call them, Tom.”
“I will.”
She looked at me for a moment, her face sad and serious, then she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
“I’ll take the car. I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay.”
When the front door closed, I fell back down on the couch. My phone was there, and yes, I could call the police, but I was sure that DI Beck would have been in touch if there had been any news, and I didn’t want to be told what I already knew. That Jake was still out there. That he was still in danger. And so instead I reached out for the item I’d brought with me from the house. My son’s Packet of Special Things.
Even if I couldn’t be with him physically, I could think of one way I could at least feel closer to him. I was conscious of the weight and importance of what I was holding. Jake had never told me I couldn’t look inside it, but he hadn’t needed to. His collection was for him, not for me. He was old enough to be entitled to his own secrets. And so, however tempted I had sometimes been, I had never violated that trust.
Forgive me, Jake.
I opened the clasp.
I just need to feel you close to me.
Fifty-seven
When Francis woke up, the house was silent.
For a while he lay very still in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening. No sound at all. No movement that he could detect either. But he could sense the boy’s presence directly above him, and the house felt fuller as a result. There was a feeling of potential to it.
There is a child up there.
The peace and quiet were encouraging, because of course that was how things should be. It meant that Jake understood the situation and was happy with it. Perhaps he was even excited to be in his new home.
Francis thought back to how easily the boy had settled in last night—already asleep and comfortable when he had gone up to check on him. With Neil Spencer, there had been so much crying and shouting at first that, even with the neighbors he did and didn’t have, Francis had been glad for the soundproofing he’d installed behind the walls of the attic. With Neil, he’d been too patient, writing that period off as a tantrum, whereas now he understood that Neil had been bad from the start, and there had been no chance of it ending any other way than it had.
Perhaps Jake really was different.
He isn’t, Francis.
His father’s voice.
They’re all the same.
All hateful little bastards that disappoint you in the end.
Maybe that was true, but he shook the thought away for now. He had to give Jake a chance. Nowhere near as many chances as he’d given Neil Spencer, obviously, but an opportunity to enjoy and appreciate a happy home where he was looked after and truly cared for.
Francis went for a shower, which always made him feel vulnerable. With the door closed and the water loud in his ears, it was impossible to hear the rest of the house, and when he closed his eyes he could imagine something creeping into the bathroom and standing just outside the shower curtain. He sluiced the foam from his face quickly, and opened his eyes to see the water trailing away down the drain. He’d had to unblock that after dealing with Neil. He could unblock it again if it came to it.
You know what you want to do.
His heart was beating a little too fast.
Downstairs, he prepared coffee and breakfast for himself, made the phone call he needed to make, then set about getting food for Jake. He wiped crumbs off the counter with his forearm, then put two crumpets into the toaster. Both were leftovers, with speckles of mold around the rims, but that was good enough. Francis had no idea what Jake liked to drink, but there was an open orange juice box on the side, the one Neil hadn’t had a chance to finish, and that would do