Night Watcher (14 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The twins, Jake and Charlie, were being tucked into bed when Claire heard Ken’s car pull into the driveway. ‘Cuddle down now,’ she said in a calm voice that masked her annoyance, ‘it’s just your Daddy coming home.’

Jake struggled upright, ‘Wanna get up,’ he mumbled, although his eyes were almost closed.

‘Hush now,’ she said laying him down again. ‘You’ll see him in the morning.’

Jake sighed and pulled the covers under his chin. Claire gave him a quick hug. ‘Me too,’ Charlie leaned forward out of the bottom bunk.

‘As if I’d ever miss you, chum.’ Claire bent down and gathered him to her in a quick hug before releasing him onto the pillow and pulling his quilt over him.

‘Don’t close the door.’

Claire smiled. Charlie liked to play at being tough, but he was still afraid of the dark. ‘I won’t,’ she promised. ‘Go to sleep now.’

The room next door was smaller, not much more than a box room, but it was big enough for Catriona who was the baby of the family. Claire peeped into the small cot bed where Catriona lay, her little mouth blowing bubbles while she slept, and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. ‘Sleep now,’ she said, as she softly closed the door behind her.

The click of the door latch acted like the release button for her anger. She had hardly taken two steps along the landing before the pain in her stomach erupted, gnawing at her like some animal trapped, trying to find a way out where no way out existed. Claire gasped and sat on the top stair until both the pain and her anger were under control. She had never liked displays of violent emotions thinking that, in some way, they were demeaning. Therefore, she had been taken aback at the strength of her feeling about Ken’s latest extra-marital adventure, unable to understand why this one was any different and why she disliked Nicole as much as she did.

It might have helped if she had been able to claw Nicole’s eyes out, but that was not Claire’s style. Although she was no longer sure what her style was. Maybe it was calm, civilized, or simply just long-suffering. A sudden thought struck her. Maybe she enjoyed being a martyr. It was not a pleasant thought, but she still could not bring herself to lose control.

Claire took several deep breaths before standing up and walking downstairs to where she could hear Ken moving about in the kitchen. She leaned against the doorjamb and watched him as he rummaged in the fridge, wondering when he was going to acknowledge she was there.

Ken stripped the ring pull off a can of beer and, turning, he kicked the fridge door shut with his heel, smiling at her at the same time.

‘You’re home then!’ Claire bit her lip and kept her voice low, although she wanted to scream at him.

Ken looked at her over the top of the can as he put it to his mouth and drank. His eyes flickered and he blinked as if he was trying to hold something back.

The hard knot of pain gripped Claire’s insides again. ‘You bastard,’ she muttered, her voice sibilant with disgust. ‘You’ve been with her, and you have the cheek to come back here as if nothing’s happened.’

‘Don’t know what you mean.’ Ken’s eyes widened proclaiming his innocence.

‘Oh, come off it. You know exactly what I mean.’ Claire’s voice had risen. ‘You’ve been with that blonde tart. I can almost smell her on you.’ All her suppressed feelings exploded in a surge of anger and she thumped the door with her fist. She stared at her hand unable to believe she had reacted so violently. But the pain from the blow was real. Her eyes widened with fright at her lack of control and she modulated her breathing to restrain her emotions. As she regained her composure a hard knot settled in her gut like a stone weight.

‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Ken’s smile was smug. ‘I’ve been with Patrick all night. We were discussing my plan for the store.’ His smile broadened. ‘He likes my ideas and I’m only safeguarding our future.’

Claire stared, wanting to believe him. He did not have his little boy, hangdog look though, so maybe this time he was telling the truth. ‘You won’t want your dinner then,’ she said as she left the kitchen, ‘just as well because I turned the oven off two hours ago.’

Her control only lasted until she reached the bathroom. Locking the door she sat on the toilet seat and grabbing a towel buried her face in it and wept.

***

‘Christ, it’s the RSPCA that’s needed on this one, not us.’ Annoyance still niggled at Bill because of the call out. The car engine whined, contributing to his mood, as he stared out of the window at the enveloping blackness of the country road. ‘And what’s more, why does it need a detective sergeant and a detective inspector to handle this one? Surely the uniform boys could’ve done it.’

‘You finished grumping yet?’ Andy manoeuvred a cigarette between his lips while he steered the car with his other hand. ‘Bugger it,’ he muttered, as the dashboard lighter slipped out of his fingers. ‘Might at least have waited till I got it lit.’ He sucked the unlit cigarette. ‘I needed a drag, I did.’ His face, normally glum, took on an expression of intense sadness.

‘Thought you were giving it up? Anyway you didn’t answer me. Why us?’

‘Because she’s some kind of hotshot business woman who has some kind of clout with the Chief Constable. That’s why.’ Andy spat the cigarette out of his mouth. ‘You think I like this anymore than you do?’

The two men lapsed into an uneasy silence until they reached the massive iron gates that protected the house and grounds. Andy rolled his window down, pressed the buzzer on the gatepost and announced, ‘Police,’ when the tinny electronic voice demanded to know who was there. The gates swung open, closing again after they had driven through.

‘Impressive security,’ muttered Bill.

Gravel crunched under the tyres as the car rolled gently to a stop in front of the house. Andy unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and hoisted himself out into the fresh air. Bill, who had developed pins and needles in his left foot, opened the passenger door and stretched his legs out of the car, sitting for a moment while the blood prickled back into his foot.

‘Christ I wish you’d get a bigger car,’ he said as he stood up. ‘How you can bear to drive this midget of a thing beats me.’ Bill knew the car, a vintage Ford, was Andy’s pride and joy.

Andy glowered at him. ‘Time to stop moaning and get down to business,’ he snapped.

‘I suppose,’ Bill replied. He was chancing his luck with Andy now, and he knew it. Although they had an easy relationship with each other, there was only so much Andy would tolerate from him.

A tall man with dark brown, wavy, shoulder length hair answered the door. His features were strong and masculine belying the single diamond stud earring he wore in his left ear, which might otherwise have given him an effeminate look. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you officers,’ he said, ‘but my wife’s in a bit of a state. She’s been a bit nervous lately, seeing shadows round every corner.’ He led them into the house. ‘My wife’s in the lounge.’

He turned to face them when they reached the door of the lounge. ‘I forgot to introduce myself, ‘I’m Scott Ralston.’ He held out his hand and gripped Andy’s and then Bill’s hand in a strong grasp.

Bill never really trusted people who deliberately strengthened their grip for handshakes and he instinctively disliked this man who impressed him as being just a little too smooth.

‘And this is my wife, Nicole.’ Scott flung open the door of the lounge. ‘Here are the policemen you sent for, my dear,’ he said. The tone of his voice indicated his disapproval.

The woman curled up in the corner of the massive white sofa was younger than Bill had anticipated and quite pretty except for the redness of her eyes making it obvious she had been crying. Her hair was dark blonde, and her suit was rumpled where she had lain on it.

‘Thank goodness you’ve come.’ She blinked tears away from her eyes.

Bill’s hands clenched and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was reminded of Evie, his ex-wife, who could always get him to do things he did not want to do. This woman had the same expression and her likeness to Evie was disturbing. Something else niggled at the back of his mind, but he could not quite put his finger on it.

The woman looked at him. Tears glistened on the end of her eyelashes, but she dashed them away with the back of her hand before they could roll down her face.

Her actions were so like Evie’s it was almost frightening. And, although she did not look as helpless as Evie, she had that same look of vulnerability. Bill had felt such a fool when he’d realized that Evie’s vulnerability was simply an act to manipulate him into doing whatever she wanted.

Heat built up under his shirt and he could feel the familiar tightening of his skin as if his body was too big for its covering. He did not know what to do with his hands so he rammed them into his pockets. Whatever happened tonight, he was not going to fall into the trap of feeling so sorry for her he would do anything to stop her crying.

Bill pulled his notebook out of his pocket and opened it. He cleared his throat, ‘You reported that an intruder was threatening you.’ He did not mean it to sound intimidating, but his voice was loud and hoarse, mirroring his resentment at being called out on what he considered a trivial complaint.

The woman grasped a cushion to her body in a defensive motion and glared at him, making it obvious she was used to more courtesy when she was being addressed. Her husband, perched on the arm of the sofa, dwarfed her, increasing the impression of her vulnerability.

Bill remembered how Evie used to affect him when she was upset, and he wondered why Scott Ralston appeared insensitive to his wife’s distress. Maybe he was used to it and maybe he had become impervious to her emotions in the same way he had with Evie. It’s all I need, he thought, another neurotic woman.

Bill sensed Andy watching him and modified his voice. He had no right to be judging this woman, even if she did remind him of an unfortunate period in his own life.

He turned and looked out of the window into the darkness of the night. ‘Maybe if you tell us what happened?’ His voice was now unnaturally gentle.

***

Nicole grasped the cushion, wrapped her arms round it and held it tightly to her body like a shield. She had lost all her poise, all her self-control, all her skills of communication and all she was left with was fear and anger. But if she gave way to emotion now she would be lost. Angry tears built up within her and she struggled to retain some composure.

Why wouldn’t these bastards stop treating her like a child and understand that she was serious? Scott was the biggest bastard of them all, sitting on the arm of the sofa and treating her like some sort of candidate for a mental ward. And these two policemen, particularly the younger one – supercilious bastard – looking at her as if she was some sort of freak. She was unable to prevent an angry tear from trickling down her cheek.

Ken would not have treated her like this. He would have taken her in his arms and comforted her. How she longed for him now, longed for him to be here instead of Scott. It took something like this to make her realize what she was missing by holding on to her marriage for the dubious rewards of Scott’s prospects. She made herself a promise that when this was sorted out she would employ a private detective and get shot of Scott. There was not a hint of doubt in her mind that he would provide her with ample evidence so that she would come out of any divorce better than him.

Anger and determination surged through her and she relinquished the cushion to pull herself out of the sofa. ‘If you follow me to the kitchen I’ll show you what the problem is,’ she snapped, wiping her tears away with one furious swipe of her hand.

Nicole stalked out of the room, ignoring Scott’s theatrical sigh and the pained expression on the younger policeman’s face. She did not look at them again until she threw the kitchen door open, stood back, and said, ‘There. See for yourself.’ She glared at them triumphantly.

The younger policeman scratched his head with his pencil, frowned, and then turned to stare at her. He seemed to be trying to suppress a smile, although she could see the perplexity in his eyes. He murmured, ‘Just exactly what are we supposed to be looking at?’

‘The blasted animals, of course!’ She had wanted to say fucking animals, but didn’t think she should, they were already looking at her as if she was unhinged.

‘What animals?’

Nicole swung round and looked at the kitchen floor. There was nothing there. The kitchen was as spotless as it usually was. ‘But they were there! Laid out in a row like trophies. All dead.’ She was unable to keep the horror out of her voice. Her eyes searched the room. She walked into it, but there was nothing. No animals, dead or alive. ‘You bastard,’ she swung round to face Scott, ‘I told you not to move them.’

‘But I didn’t,’ he protested. ‘I haven’t been back in the kitchen since I left you here.’

‘I suppose they just got up and walked away.’ Nicole’s voice was bitter.

Scott regained his composure and raised an eyebrow. ‘Whatever you say, darling, far be it for me to argue with you.’

Bill sighed, ‘Let’s go back to the lounge and I’ll take your statements.’ He raised his eyebrows as he looked at Andy and his expression said it all, bloody neurotic woman, bloody waste of time.

***

Andy’s vintage Ford rolled through the security gates. ‘Well what did you make of all that?’