No Going Back (24 page)

‘Daniel, are you sure you're OK? Your face . . .'

Daniel touched his cheek with an exploratory hand and it came away with a number of small smears of blood.

‘A branch went through the windscreen,' he explained. ‘But, yeah, all in all, a bit shaky but OK.'

‘I just don't understand how this happened.' The TFS boss looked deeply concerned. ‘That lorry was only serviced last month and the tyres were new.'

Daniel lowered his voice. ‘I won't be saying this to anyone else, but just before the tyre blew, I saw something – or someone – at the side of the road.'

Bowden was shocked. ‘What are you saying? That someone did this on purpose? How?'

Daniel shrugged. ‘A shotgun loaded with a solid slug, maybe. Straight through the side wall – that would do it.'

‘They'd have to be a pretty tidy shot at the speed you were going.'

‘Or lucky.'

‘So who? Macek?'

‘Or Patrescu,' Daniel said. ‘I'm really sorry, Fred. I never dreamed that this business with Kat would spill over and affect you. God knows how you'll get that lorry out – it's practically a bog down there by the river and this bloody rain's not helping.'

Fred shook his head, but whatever he might have said was interrupted by Daniel's phone.

His heart missed a beat when he recognized the number on the display.

‘I'm sorry, it's Drew. I have to take this,' Daniel told his boss, thumbing the receive button. ‘Drew! Where the hell are you?'

‘I'm here, at your flat. You didn't come home last night.'

‘No, I was staying with friends. What on earth are you doing there? Mum's really worried about you.'

‘I wanted to see you,' Drew said simply. ‘But you weren't here, so I waited and then I fell asleep. You've got stuff in your fridge that's going off,' he added accusingly.

‘Wait a minute, how did you get in?'

‘Well, the door was open, so I thought you must be coming back really soon, but you didn't. I tidied up too. It was going to be a surprise.'

The door was open and he'd tidied up? Daniel was the first to admit he didn't keep the place immaculate, but the flat wasn't normally in such a state that an eight-year-old would feel moved to domesticity.

Someone had been there.

Daniel's first instinct was to scream at his son to get out of the flat, but where could he go? There were no near neighbours he could wait with, nobody he could call to go and pick the boy up. Common sense told him that if his visitor had been Macek, then he was long gone and unlikely to return, but common sense didn't hold much sway when there was any possibility that his son was in danger.

‘Drew, look, stay where you are. Lock the door downstairs and don't answer to anyone but me, OK? I'll be there in ten minutes. Do you understand?'

‘Yeah.' He sounded bewildered. ‘Dad, what's wrong?'

‘Probably nothing at all. Just promise me you'll do as I say.'

‘I promise.'

He disconnected to find Fred looking at him quizzically.

‘And just how are you going to get there in ten minutes?'

‘Shit!' Daniel stared at him.

With a resigned sigh, Fred fished in his pocket and held out a small bunch of keys on a ring.

‘It's the Volvo. I'm parked on the verge, just over the bridge.'

‘Thanks. I owe you.' Daniel took the keys and made to go past his boss, who caught his arm.

‘Hang on. What am I supposed to tell the police?'

‘I don't suppose they'll be too bothered, as long as you're here. Tell them I'm unreliable and you're going to fire me,' he suggested.

‘But in the meantime, I've lent you my car,' Fred said dryly. ‘OK. I'll sort it out. You'd better get going before they arrive.'

‘Thanks,' Daniel said again. ‘And best not mention my theory about the tyre. Let's see what they come up with, shall we?'

ELEVEN

W
hen Daniel knocked on the door of his flat, a small voice dutifully asked for his identity.

‘Drew, it's me. Dad.'

There came the sound of bolts being drawn back and a key turning and then Drew's dark face peered round the opening edge of the door. When he saw that it was indeed his father, he opened the door fully and rushed forward into Daniel's embrace.

‘Dad, you scared me earlier! What's going on?'

Daniel's relief was so great that instead of answering, he swept the boy off his feet and hugged him soundly, feeling the thin arms clutching him tight.

‘
I
scared
you
? What about your mother and me? What on earth were you thinking of, coming here without telling either of us? We were worried sick!'

‘But if I'd asked, Mum wouldn't have let me come.'

‘For a reason,' Daniel said, setting him back on his feet again. ‘You're too young to be travelling alone. Anything could have happened.'

‘I was all right. I came on the train.' Drew made a big fuss of Taz, who was fawning around him, tail wagging happily. ‘Nothing happened.'

‘But it
could
have. How did you get here from the station?'

‘I got a taxi,' Drew said, as if that were the most normal thing on earth for an eight-year-old to do.

‘That must have cost an arm and a leg!' Daniel exclaimed. ‘Where did you get the money?'

‘Grandma gave me some money at Christmas and I've been saving up my pocket money,' Drew said, adding defiantly, ‘I didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking.'

Guiltily, Daniel supposed the thought
had
flashed through his mind. Ten years in the police force had conditioned him to suspect the worst, even – it seemed – of his own son.

‘I'll give you the money. How long have you been planning this?' he asked, secretly rather impressed by Drew's determination.

‘For absolutely ages. Weeks and weeks. I know you said I could come some weekends but couldn't live here, but I thought if I came in half-term, you'd see that it
would
work.'

‘But it didn't, did it? I wasn't here.' Daniel sighed. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder and propelled him towards the door. He couldn't rule out the possibility that one of the Romanians might have watched and followed him from the crash site, and he didn't want to risk being cornered there with Drew in tow. ‘Come on, let's go and get some breakfast somewhere.'

‘Where are we going?'

‘There's a nice little bakery I know – not too far from here,' Daniel told him, and Drew brightened at the prospect. Checking his flat would have to wait until the boy was safely back with Amanda.

‘What's the matter with Taz's head?' Drew wanted to know as they left the building and Daniel closed the door carefully.

‘He got in a fight with a burglar,' Daniel said, falling back on the story he'd told them at the vet's. ‘He was very poorly for a while. That's why we weren't here last night. We've been staying with friends.'

‘In case the burglar came back?'

‘Something like that. It's complicated, but you can see why I was worried to find you were here on your own.'

‘So, what happened to your face? It's all scratched.'

‘Something went through the windscreen of the lorry this morning,' Daniel told him. It was the truth, if a Spartan version of it.

‘Do you think they'll have stolen much?'

‘One or two things, maybe, but there's not an awful lot they'd want,' Daniel told him as they got into Fred's car. ‘Let's give Mum a ring before we go.'

Drew's face fell. ‘Do we have to ring her?'

‘Of course we do. She's worried sick about you.'

Daniel took his phone out of his pocket, but before he could find Amanda's number on the speed-dial list, she rang him.

She didn't wait for Daniel to speak.

‘Have you found him? Is he there?'

‘Yes, I've got him. He's fine.' Daniel put the car in gear and started down the drive, anxious to get on to the open road.

‘Oh, thank God!' Amanda's voice sounded choked with emotion, but within moments she was back on form. ‘And just when were you intending to let me know?' she enquired. ‘You said you'd ring in fifteen minutes and it's been three-quarters of an hour! You knew how worried I was!'

‘I know, but I had a spot of bother on the way and I've only just got here.' Useless to say he'd been on the point of calling her: she wouldn't believe him.

‘Well, where is he? I want to talk to him.'

Daniel held the phone out to Drew. ‘Mum wants a word.'

Drew pulled a reluctant face but took it. ‘Hi, Mum.'

There was a pause during which Daniel could hear Amanda's voice. Then Drew said, ‘I know. I'm sorry. I just really wanted to see Dad . . . I didn't mean to frighten you.'

Feeling like an eavesdropper, Daniel tried to concentrate on his driving, but after a moment, holding the phone away from his mouth, Drew said, ‘Mum says I've got to go home. Tell her I can stay – please? Just for a few days, at least . . .'

Daniel glanced at the boy's hopeful face and had to steel himself.

‘I'm sorry, Drew. You can't just now.'

‘Dad, please. I promise I won't get in the way. Please . . .' The last word was drawn out and pleading, his eyes desperate.

‘It's really not a good time, Drew. You can see what a mess everything's in. Besides, you're going to Butlins this weekend, aren't you?'

As soon as he'd said it, he could see that he'd scored an own goal.

‘I
hate
Butlins!' Drew declared. ‘I don't want to go and I wouldn't have to if I stayed with you. Please, Dad. You know I'm just going to be miserable.'

‘Have you told Mum?'

‘She won't listen.'

‘I'll have a word with her when I see her,' Daniel promised, but his words found no favour with his son, whose expression changed from beseeching to stormy.

‘It's so not fair! Nobody cares what
I
want!' he exclaimed, throwing the phone into Daniel's lap and looking out of the side window.

Fumbling for the handset, Daniel found that Amanda was still on the line.

‘It's me. We're just going to get something to eat. Then I'll bring him home,' he told her, and was surprised when she offered to meet him at Exeter instead.

‘I have an appointment there,' she said. ‘I'll see you at the station at midday.'

Drew remained looking out of the window, his back turned as far as the seatbelt would allow.

‘If you're trying to convince me that you're grown-up enough to make your own decisions, you're not doing a very good job of it,' Daniel observed conversationally, after a long silence punctuated only by the scrape of the windscreen wipers.

Drew didn't say anything, but after a moment, he shifted to face forward. Daniel felt a small glow of pride. It was a horrible situation for a kid to cope with at any age, let alone someone as young as Drew.

‘You think I don't understand, but I do,' he said presently. ‘I was about your age when my dad left us. I know how you feel.'

‘If you know, then why did you do it to us?' Drew asked bitterly.

‘It wasn't my choice.'

‘Then whose? Was it Mum's fault?'

Daniel hesitated. Whatever the state of affairs between Amanda and himself, he couldn't do that to her, and besides, it could only make things worse for the boy.

‘It was nobody's fault, Drew. We just grew apart. We wanted different things. It happens. The same way you sometimes move on and make new friends at school.'

Drew didn't respond, and Daniel watched his son's unhappy profile, desperately wishing he could say or do something that would put the smile back on his face.

‘Why did
your
father leave?' the boy asked suddenly.

Daniel turned off the main road into the village where the vet's surgery was.

‘I don't really know.'

‘Didn't you ever ask him?'

‘I never saw him again,' Daniel said.

‘What, never ever?' Drew was incredulous. ‘Didn't you want to?'

‘Yes, of course I did, but maybe he didn't want to see us. I don't know. He sent us money at Christmas and birthdays until I was about thirteen, then nothing. I haven't heard from him since.'

‘Didn't you look for him?'

‘No.'

‘Why not? Didn't you love him?'

Daniel searched his memory. Had he loved his father? A long time ago, perhaps; why else would he have felt such a wretched sense of rejection? But the sense of betrayal had turned that love to anger, and now, after twenty-odd years, even that had evapo-rated, leaving behind what? Indifference? No, not that. A faint sense of regret, perhaps, for what might have been, and a determination to do better by his own son. Good intentions, easily formed, but life had a way of buggering everything up.

‘Didn't you?' Drew persisted. He was watching his father closely.

Daniel slotted the car into a roadside parking space.

‘Didn't I what?'

‘Love him.'

Daniel sighed. ‘Yes, I did. And I wrote to him,' he remembered. ‘When I was eighteen and started police training. I thought he'd be pleased that I was following him into the force. I don't know if my letter ever reached him, but he never replied.'

His mobile sounded, and relieved at the interruption, Daniel picked it up again.

‘You kept the ringtone I downloaded,' Drew said, sounding pleased.

‘Of course I did.'

‘You can change it if you like – I don't mind.'

The caller wasn't Amanda again, as Daniel had half expected, but Fred Bowden.

‘Hi, Fred.'

‘Daniel. Did you find Drew?'

‘Yes, he's fine, thank God. Sorry, I should have let you know. How'd it go with the police? Did they give you any grief?'