my nighttime visitor and the attempted abduction of my son as seriously as they should. That had certainly changed now, but there was nothing remotely comforting about it. It meant all this was actually happening. It meant that the danger to Jake was real.
DS Dyson looked up.
“We’re here?”
“It’s just round the corner.”
He slipped his cell into his suit trousers pocket. Dyson was in his fifties, but had spent the journey from the police station silently absorbed with something on his phone, like some kind of teenager.
“Okay,” he said. “I want you to behave exactly as you usually would. Pick your son up. Chat with the other parents, or whatever it is you normally do. Take your time. I’ll have you in sight throughout, and I’ll just be keeping an eye on the other people present.”
I tapped the steering wheel. “DI Beck told me you’d already arrested the man responsible.”
“Sure.” Dyson shrugged, and from his manner, it was clear that he was simply following an order and going through the motions. “It’s just a precaution.”
A precaution.
That was the same word DI Amanda Beck had used at the police station. Things had moved quickly after the police arrived at my house and I’d shown them what I’d found. In the intervening time, Norman Collins had been arrested, which brought it home to me all too clearly what could have happened to Jake last night. But with Collins in custody, my son should have been safe.
So why the escort?
Just a precaution.
It hadn’t reassured me at the police station, and it didn’t now either. The police were a capable, powerful resource to have behind me, and yet it still felt as if Jake wouldn’t be safe until he was right next to me. Someplace where I could look after him.
Dyson melted away behind me as I walked to the school, and it was surreal to think I was being covertly shadowed by a police officer. But then, the whole day had been off-kilter and unworldly. With events moving so swiftly, I still hadn’t processed the fact that I’d found human remains, most likely those of a child, on my property. The reality of that hadn’t hit me yet. I’d given my statement at the police station dispassionately, and it would be typed up and waiting for me to sign after I picked up Jake. I still had no idea what was going to happen after that.
Just behave normally, Dyson had told me, which was a completely impossible instruction under the circumstances. But when I reached the playground, I saw Karen leaning against the railings, hands stuffed into the pockets of her big coat, and figured that talking to her was about as normal as anything else. I walked in and leaned against the railings beside her.
“Hello there,” she said. “How’s tricks?”
“Tricky.”
“Ha-ha.” Then she looked at me properly. “Although that’s not actually a joke, is it, by the look of things. Bad day?”
I breathed out slowly. The police hadn’t explicitly told me I couldn’t talk to anyone about the day’s events, but I suspected it would be wise not to, yet. Aside from anything else, I had absolutely no idea where to begin.
“You could say that. It’s been a very complicated twenty-four hours. I’ll tell you about it properly some time.”
“Well, I’ll look forward to that. I hope you’re okay, though. No offense, but you look like shit.” She thought about it. “Although that probably is quite offensive, isn’t it? Sorry. I always say the wrong thing. Bad habit.”
“It’s fine. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Your son’s imaginary friends keeping you up?”
I actually laughed.
“That’s closer to the truth than you know.”
The boy in the floor.
I thought of the rusty-looking bones, and the hollow-eyed skull with its crest of jagged cracks. The beautiful colors of the butterflies Jake couldn’t have seen, but had somehow drawn. And as much as I wanted him out here right now, I was also slightly unnerved by the prospect. Unnerved by him. My sensitive son, with his sleepwalking and his imaginary friends, and the way he talked to people who weren’t there, who told him frightening rhymes and tried to scare him.
They scared me too.
The door opened. Mrs. Shelley appeared and then began looking at the parents and calling children’s names back over her shoulder. Her gaze drifted across Karen and me.
“Adam,” she said, and then moved immediately on to a different boy.
“Uh-oh,” Karen said. “Looks like you’re on the naughty step again.”