Page 38 of The Bodies

THIRTY-FOUR

Paralysed with shock, Joseph remains at Ralph Erikson’s kitchen table.

In the space of a breath his world has shrunk to the dimensions of a smartphone screen.

He watches the police car’s front doors open and two officers step out.

They stare at his house for a moment. Then they walk to the front door and ring the bell.

Joseph’s heart is a hummingbird in his chest. Vaguely, he hears his feet scrape against the terracotta tiles. Across the street, Erin opens the door. She stands there listening as the officers talk. Stepping back, she lets them into the house.

‘Your tea,’ Ralph Erikson says.

Joseph kills the live view and puts down the phone. Maybe, if Ralph doesn’t see the police car, the police car won’t exist. With shaking hands he picks up his mug and drinks. The shogayu is hot enough to burn his tongue. He winces, swallowing a scalding mouthful.

He could call Max, perhaps. They could jump into the car, drive to Crompton, empty the savings account of cash. From there they could go … some where.

Except Joseph’s car is boxed in. Even if they could release it, they wouldn’t evade capture for long.

‘I’m sorry,’ he tells Ralph, pushing up from the table. ‘I just remembered something important.’ When he tries to stand, his knee nearly gives out. The pain is instant and electric.

‘Well, I’m glad you chose to visit us,’ the older man says. ‘Perhaps we could do it again. Remember, Joseph: open your ears if you want to listen; open your eyes if you want to see.’

Smiling, wanting to puke, Joseph hobbles across the kitchen. He feels drunk, sick – as if the widower’s tea contained a toxin. He knows he has to get home, but he doesn’t know what to do when he gets there. Nor what to say.

Outside, he limps down Ralph’s drive and across the turning circle towards his house. Overhead, the sun is a white disc in a plate-blue sky. A glorious day and a terrible one. At his front door, he slides his key into the lock.

There’s no one in the hall. He hears voices in the living room, the squawk of a police radio.

He’s never felt so scared. He’s never felt so ill.

The living-room door opens and Erin leans out her head.

When she sees him standing there, sweat running from his forehead, she opens her mouth in surprise, and perhaps in dismay, and Joseph thinks that she must know everything – that her stepson is a killer, that her husband buried Max’s first victim in the Sussex Downs and hid Max’s second victim in his mother’s car.

Except … except … his son isn’t a killer. He’s not.

He’s just lost.

Remember, Joseph. Open your ears if you want to listen. Open your eyes if you want to see.

‘The police are here,’ Erin says.

Joseph nods, mute.

‘Are you OK? You look terrible.’

‘I was just over the road, talking to Ralph.’

‘Well, that’d do it.’

‘We need to talk,’ he says. ‘It’s important.’

Erin nods, smiles, touches his arm. And Joseph can’t help marvelling, yet again, at his wife’s refusal to carry bad feeling from one day into another.

‘That sounds good,’ she says. ‘But first I think you might want to come into the living room.’

‘Is Max here?’

‘He’s talking to the police.’

She takes his hand, leads him along the hall. Joseph follows without resistance. The pain in his knee has faded. His entire body is numb. When he enters the room, the two officers he saw on Ralph’s live feed – one male, one female – are sitting on the sofa. Max and Tilly are sitting opposite.

Everyone looks up. Erin’s voice, introducing him, comes as if through a tunnel. Joseph goes to an armchair and lowers himself into it.

Beneath the female officer’s seat cushion is the screwdriver he grabbed yesterday, during Gabriel Roth’s visit. There are other weapons here, too, in this room and beyond, but they’re useless against the police. He’d planned his security response against intruders. He hadn’t foreseen this.

‘PC Hopkins,’ the female officer says. ‘This is PC Kenner. We’ve just been speaking to your daughter about Drew Cullen. As you must know, she hasn’t been seen since Sunday.’

Joseph needs to swallow, but if he does he fears his throat will bulge to the size of a balloon, announcing his guilt. ‘There’s still no sign?’

‘I’m afraid not. It’s been a couple of days now, so we’re looking at it a little more actively. By far the most likely scenario is that Drew arrives home any minute with an embarrassing story to tell. We’re just getting on the front foot in case she doesn’t.’

Joseph nods. Finally, he swallows. His throat makes a sound like a sink being unblocked.

The officer tilts her head. ‘Casting your mind back, Mr Carver, did Drew say anything to you on Sunday that might be relevant? I gather you were here with her and your daughter while your wife was up in London.’

I know what you did for Max, and I think it’s really brave.

Joseph clenches his fists in his lap. ‘Like what?’

‘Like her plans for the rest of that day? Any mention of someone she was intending to meet? Your daughter suggested an older man.’

Joseph can’t decide if maintaining eye contact will make him look more guilty than if he looks away. He shakes his head. His eyes are beginning to water from the effort of not glancing at Max.

PC Hopkins holds his gaze. Just like in the hallway with Erin, Joseph tells himself that she must read the truth in his eyes – and that any moment now she’ll ask him to hold out his hands for the cuffs.

When she doesn’t, he starts to wonder if something else is happening here, if this conversation is nothing but pantomime, a distraction designed to keep him busy until a search warrant is granted for the house.

He recalls, suddenly, the Sainsbury’s bag he hid inside one of the kitchen cupboards on Friday night, containing his T-shirt stained with the dead man’s blood.

Irrationally he wonders if, just by thinking about it, he has somehow communicated that knowledge to the police officer sitting in front of him.

Finally, PC Hopkins switches her attention to Tilly. ‘Thanks for that list of contacts,’ she says. ‘I know you’ve already put the word out, but we’ll follow up, just to be sure.’

‘What happens now?’ the girl asks.

‘We’re checking the area where Drew was last seen, seeing if there’s CCTV. We’ll put out alerts on social media, ask for dashcam footage, doorbell footage, that kind of thing.’

‘What about newspapers, TV?’

‘Not at this stage, but there’s nothing to stop you from approaching them.

Just be prepared that they might not be that interested quite yet.

There’s no indication anything untoward has happened – and it’s not like Drew’s a child.

’ PC Hopkins returns her gaze to Joseph.

‘Finally, can I ask where you were Sunday night?’

‘Me?’

‘It’s nothing to worry about. But you’re one of the last to see her.’

Erin perches on the arm of his chair. She rests her hand on his shoulder. ‘Didn’t you go over to your mother’s?’

Joseph glances at his wife, appalled. His hope had been that the police, once they started investigating, would remain ignorant of his mother’s bungalow, and the car parked in its garage. ‘Uh-huh,’ he says. ‘Just a bit of maintenance work that needed doing.’

‘Does she live locally?’

‘Saddle Bank.’

Erin rubs his back. ‘Joseph’s mother passed away last Christmas,’ she explains. ‘We’ve been trying to sell her place since probate, but the market’s just …’ She shrugs. ‘Dead.’

The word hangs in the air. PC Hopkins glances from Erin to Joseph, then scribbles something in her notebook. ‘Well,’ she says. ‘You’ve all been very helpful.’

Tilly shows the officers out. Erin follows them into the hall.

Joseph looks at Max, gasps for breath. He feels like he just ran a marathon in a clown suit.

Somehow, he summons the energy to lever himself up.

His body screams in protest; his knee, his hamstring, the line of fire stitched across his abdomen.

Did Erin tell the police about his visit to the bungalow deliberately? Or was she simply trying to be helpful? She’d also told them that his mother was dead and that her place was up for sale.

Moving to the living-room window, he watches PC Hopkins survey the street. Her gaze lingers on Ralph Erikson’s doorbell cam.

Too late , he thinks. I beat you to it.

Except now the officer is studying Gemma Robinson’s house, and Joseph wonders if she has a doorbell cam, too. Gemma hadn’t mentioned one at the party. Then again, she’d been more interested in badmouthing her husband.

He watches the police car reverse off the drive and disappear up the street. Beside him, Max says, ‘We’ve got to move her, Dad.’

‘I know.’

‘We’ve got to do it now.’

‘Listen,’ Joseph tells him. ‘This has blown up. People are watching us. We can’t afford a single mistake.’

‘We can’t afford to wait, either. Erin—’

‘Leave Erin to me.’

‘That’s not what I meant. I think she—’

With a raised hand Joseph cuts him off, worried their voices will carry. He goes to the door, checks the hall. When he finds it deserted, he checks the kitchen.

Erin is standing by the espresso machine, searching through her bag. In the minute or so since the police officers left, she’s pulled on trainers and has tied back her hair. She retrieves her car keys, recoils when she sees him in the doorway.

‘Where are you going?’ he asks.

‘Out.’

‘Out where?’

‘I thought I’d pick up some things for Enoch. You saw how bare his cupboards were.’

Her tone, now that the police have left, is different. Her manner seems different, too. What if she’s lying about shopping for Enoch? Last night, after their bloody and disastrous sex, she’d told him she intended to visit the bungalow.

‘I’ll come with you,’ he says.

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I want to.’

‘Don’t you have work to do?’

‘It can wait.’

‘Joe …’ Erin begins. She blinks a handful of times in quick succession. Then she rummages in her bag for her sunglasses and puts them on. ‘Fine, but we leave now. I have a meeting later – and I need some time to prepare.’

Joseph nods. When he turns, he sees Max standing in the hall.

I should come , the boy mouths.

No , he mouths back. Leave her to me .

Max shakes his head.

I’ve got this . Trust me .

Teeth clenched, Max stands his ground. Then Erin reappears. ‘Are you ready?’

Max backs into the living room. He doesn’t look angry, exactly. If anything, he looks scared – like a kid who already lost one parent and fears he’s about to lose another. Joseph wants to reassure him, but with Erin watching, there’s nothing he can say.