Gone

32

Twenty minutes after Caffery’s meeting with Prody, Janice Costello appeared unannounced at his office door in a rainstreaked coat, her hair untidy, her face flushed. She looked as if she’d been running. ‘I’ve called nine nine nine.’ She was holding a piece of paper in her right hand. ‘But I wanted to show you in person.’

‘Come in.’ Caffery got up and pulled back a chair. On her bed under the radiator Myrtle pricked her ears and blinked at Janice. ‘Sit down.’

She took a step inside and, ignoring the chair, pushed the crumpled paper at him. ‘It came through the door at my mother’s. We’d been out. The note was on the doormat when we got back. We didn’t stay in the house for a second after that. We got straight out and came here.’

Her hand was trembling and Caffery knew, without having to ask, what the paper was. Almost knew what it would say. A long, slow wave of nausea came up from his stomach. The sort of nausea that could only be sent away by cigarettes and Glenmorangie.

‘We need you to put us somewhere safe, somewhere we’re protected. We’ll sleep on the floor of the police station if we have to.’

‘Put it down.’ He went to a filing cabinet and found a small box of latex gloves, pulled on a pair. ‘That’s it – on the table.’ He bent and straightened it. Some of the ink was smudged from the rain on Janice’s hands, but he recognized the writing instantly.

Do not believe it is over. My love affair with your daughter has only just begun. I know where you are – I will always know where you are. Ask your daughter – she knows we’re supposed to be together . . .

‘What do we do?’ Janice’s teeth were chattering. The rain in her hair scattered the fluorescent light. ‘Has he been following us? Please – what the hell’s going on?’

Caffery gritted his teeth hard and fought the desire to close his eyes. He’d put a lot of energy into making sure the story wasn’t leaked. And everyone, from the FLO to the press office, was telling him it was watertight. So how in Christ’s name had the jacker found out not only where they lived but where her damned mother lived? Trying to keep a step ahead of him was like trying to stop lightning.

‘Did you see anyone? Any reporters? Outside your house?’

‘Cory spent all afternoon watching. There wasn’t a soul.’

‘And are you sure – one hundred per cent cast-iron sure – that you haven’t told anyone?’

‘I’m sure.’ Tears were in her eyes. Tears of real fear. ‘I swear. And my mother hasn’t either.’

‘No neighbours saw you coming or going?’

‘No.’

‘And when you went out?’

‘It was just to the local shops first thing this morning. In Keynsham. Just to get bread for breakfast. Mum had run out.’

‘You didn’t try to go back to Mere?’

‘No!’ She paused, as if her vehemence had shocked her. She pushed her sleeves up her arms, shivering. ‘Look – I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve gone over and over it. And we haven’t done anything. I swear.’

‘Where’s Emily now?’

‘With Cory. In the office downstairs.’

‘I’m going to find you somewhere. Give me half an hour. I can’t guarantee it’ll be as nice as your place – or your mother’s – or that it’ll be close to Keynsham. It could be anywhere in Avon and Somerset.’

‘I don’t care where it is. I just want to know we’re safe. I want my mother to come too.’

Something occurred to Caffery as he picked up the phone. He replaced the handset and went to the window, put a finger on a blind slat and peered out into the street. Dark and rainy, the streetlamps on still, even though it was morning. ‘Where’s your car?’

‘Outside. Round the back.’

He looked a little longer at the street. One or two cars were parked – empty. Another went past slowly, headlights making silver domes in the rain. He released the blind. ‘I’m going to get a driver to take you.’

‘I can drive.’

‘Not the way this driver can.’

Janice was quiet. She looked at the blind. At the darkness beyond it. ‘You mean he can do evasive driving, don’t you? You think he might have followed us here?’

‘I wish I knew.’ Caffery picked up the phone. ‘Go and wait with Emily. Go on. Give her a hug.’