Текст книги "The Jump"

Автор книги: Doug Johnstone

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

39

Ellie stood at the door to Logan’s room, her finger tugging on the skelf of loose wood on his name sign. When he was alive she used to go in his room every day to tidy up, a ritual of motherhood. She barely had the time, holding down a job, all the other stuff that went with being a parent, but she would sneak in when Logan was out or even just downstairs and pick dirty clothes off the floor for the wash, scoop stuff off his desk into the top drawer, empty out the bin full of crisp packets, crumpled up pieces of paper and Irn Bru cans.

Then one day there was nothing left to tidy. Two weeks after it happened, all his clothes were put away in the drawers, the bin emptied, the desktop clean, the room caught in a moment of time forever, preserved for the future.

She went in now and closed a drawer. Earlier, she’d given Sam a new set of Logan’s clothes. A quick inspection of the stuff he had on, the clothes he’d borrowed three days before, and she spotted dark stains on the trousers, the top as well. Could be blood, could be something else, either way best to get rid of them, give him a new outfit. She chose the most innocuous stuff she could find, blacks and greys, and if Alison spotted they weren’t his clothes, he was to say he stole them off a washing line when his own clothes got too dirty. It wasn’t ideal, but then none of this was ideal.

She’d given Libby some of her own clothes – a loose sweatshirt and plain jeans. They were about the same size, which had given Ellie a wry smile. Libby made a face at the clothes, but she took them and handed over her own when she realised her father’s DNA was all over her T-shirt and trousers.

How would Ellie feel if her two missing kids turned up on the doorstep just like that? If they were wearing strange clothes, had been hiding out for days, and didn’t know anything about their missing dad. She’d just be glad to have them back. She imagined her doorbell ringing, Logan standing there dripping wet after swimming to shore. She’d pictured it countless times. But maybe Alison wasn’t like her, being a mother didn’t guarantee anything.

Ellie and Ben had ushered Libby and Sam out the door a few hours ago, sending them up the road to their house. There were no hugs on the doorstep, both kids too awkward for that, everyone still in shock.

When the door was closed Ellie stood with her back to it and burst out crying, tears quick to her eyes, her shoulders heaving. Ben hugged her until she had it under control, then she went and gathered all the clothes Libby and Sam had been wearing and stuffed them into a bin bag. She walked out to the Binks, stopping to pick up half a dozen heavy stones from the beach on the way and adding them to the bag. She tied the knot at the top of the bag tight, checked no one was around, then hurled the bag into the water with as much strength as she could muster. The black plastic ballooned as the bag floated for a few moments, then as the water seeped inside and the rocks made gravity do its work, the bag sank like a deflated ball. It wasn’t exactly lost forever, it could be found if anyone was looking, but then that was true of everything they’d done, everything they’d tried to cover up. If someone was really looking, they’d find out. The trick was to not give anyone a reason to look.

When she got back to the house Ben was in the bathroom soaking and rinsing the wetsuits. He put them on a radiator afterwards, not ideal for the neoprene but it was best to get them dried quickly.

Ellie checked her phone. She deleted all the call notifications to and from Sam’s mobile. Wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference if they checked the records, but it was all she could do for now. Before she deleted his number from her contacts she scribbled it down on a piece of paper and hid it under an ice tray in the freezer. She’d thought about throwing the phone away, joining all the other evidence at the bottom of the Forth, but then she pictured the CCTV footage, Logan stepping off the bridge. She couldn’t do it, not yet.

Ellie looked round Logan’s room again. Same posters, same games consoles, same bedsheets. There was a small dent in the pillow where Sam had put his head down to sleep that first day. She sat on the bed and smoothed it with her hand. Lifted the pillow to her nose and breathed in.

She remembered a night, maybe a year before the jump. It was summer and Logan had been hanging out with his mates along the prom on their bikes. They must’ve persuaded someone to go into the offy and get them a carry out, cider by the reek of it. She’d done the same when she was a kid, small-town teenage drinking hadn’t changed over the years. He stumbled in the door half-cut, not hammered, he was too sensible for that, too in control. Even his suicide smacked of control, when she thought about it. The ending of his life looked like a clear and conscious decision, rational thought. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

That night with the drink in him he’d popped his head round the door, mumbling about going straight to bed. It was so obvious, it was hard for Ellie and Ben not to laugh. They listened smiling as he clumped around upstairs, a wall shuddering as he bumped off it. Then after a few minutes of silence, Ellie crept upstairs to find him curled on the floor next to his desk, snoring away. She got Ben to help get him undressed and into bed. Then once he was stripped and under the covers she stayed sitting on the bed, right where she was sitting now, for a long time, stroking his head and whispering that she loved him. It’d been so long since he needed her, since he had to be put to bed, since he allowed himself to be touched like that. It felt like coming home, being allowed to touch his face, stroke his hair without complaint.

Ellie stood up and went to the window. The bridge still there, the Firth of Forth still there, the whole of the Ferry still out there, twinkling in the twilight, going about its business, carrying on.

The doorbell went.

Ellie looked at the clock on Logan’s bedside table. Half past seven. It was four hours since she pushed Libby and Sam out the door.

She was surprised it had taken this long for the police to come round.

40

‘Hello, Mrs Napier, we’d like to speak to you for a moment. Can we come in?’

PCs Macdonald and Wood. She wasn’t going over to the station, then, not yet anyway.

‘Of course,’ Ellie said, widening the door and pointing them through to the kitchen. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

She busied herself filling the kettle, switching it on, throwing teabags into mugs, getting milk out the fridge. She tried to focus on her hands, keeping them steady.

‘Has something happened with the McKennas?’ she said, turning to face them.

‘That’s what we’re here to talk about,’ Macdonald said.

She gave Ellie a soft, sympathetic look. Behind her, Wood was mooching around, looking at the shelves of cookbooks, fiddling with the bowl of car keys and other rubbish in the middle of the kitchen table. He looked like he thought he was in a television crime drama, waiting for his Columbo moment.

The kettle clicked off and Ellie poured the tea. Squeezed the bags, fished them out and added milk. She realised then that she hadn’t even asked how they liked it.

‘I hope you take milk,’ she said, turning with two mugs in her hands.

Macdonald and Wood took them.

‘Sit down,’ Ellie said.

Ben appeared in the doorway. ‘Everything OK, love?’

Ellie nodded. ‘It’s about the McKennas.’

‘Ah.’

Ellie faced Macdonald. ‘I told him about our last conversation. He didn’t know I’d been to see Mrs McKenna, but I explained about it. He understands. He knows what I’m like at the moment, we don’t have any secrets from each other.’

‘Mrs Napier . . .’

‘Please, call me Ellie.’

Macdonald gave a deferential nod of her head. She had the same notepad in front of her, the one she’d had at the station. Ellie wondered what she’d written in it since then. A list of suspects, maybe, with Ellie’s name at the top.

‘When we spoke before, it was because you’d been to see Mrs McKenna.’

Ellie nodded.

‘You said you’d been in touch with her son.’

‘Yes, but that wasn’t true, I told you about that.’

‘Quite. And is that still the case, that you’ve never been in touch with Samuel McKenna?’

Samuel, his Sunday name, so quaint. It felt like something out of the Old Testament. She couldn’t imagine the gangly teenager crying on the bridge as Samuel.

‘That’s correct,’ Ellie said.

Macdonald shot a glance to Wood. ‘The boy is back home,’ she said.

Ellie smiled. ‘That’s good news. I was worried about him, as I explained when we spoke before. It must’ve been scary, being out there on his own.’

‘Don’t you want to know what he said?’ Wood said. ‘Where he’s been? Why he ran away?’

Ellie shrugged. ‘I’m sure he had good reason. As long as he’s back home and safe, what does it matter?’

Ben stepped further into the room. ‘But he does back up my wife’s statement, yes? That she’s never met him.’

Wood raised his eyebrows at the interruption. Scanned Ben up and down. He was just a kid who thought he had more authority than he really possessed. When your teenage son has committed suicide, when you’ve killed a man and dumped his body in the sea, that gives you a certain authority. That gives you the power to truly not give a fuck, to not be intimidated by jumped up little pricks.

‘He’s not been all that communicative,’ Macdonald said. ‘Although he did say that he’d never heard of your wife, yes.’

Ellie looked at her hands. ‘So where was he all this time?’

Macdonald and Wood both eyed her closely. She was risking it, but she didn’t care. Macdonald referred to her notes, but it was just for show, she knew the details already.

‘In a lock-up garage beneath the rail bridge,’ she said. ‘I believe it belongs to the family of a friend of his sister.’

That was good, a piece of misdirection away from the marina, keep them from looking there. Ellie should’ve thought of that.

Wood spoke. ‘The sister came back too, they were together.’

Ellie looked surprised. Wood was trying to catch her out.

‘His sister was missing?’ she said, voice natural. ‘That wasn’t in the news.’

Macdonald looked at her colleague. ‘Not for long. She didn’t come home last night. Said she spent it with her brother in the garage, then persuaded him to come home today.’

‘I’m so glad,’ Ellie said. ‘The family’s all back together.’

Wood snorted. ‘Not exactly.’

Ben came over and put a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Jack McKenna might be missing,’ Macdonald said.

Ellie looked surprised. ‘Isn’t he in hospital?’

Wood shook his head. ‘He checked himself out, against the advice of doctors.’

‘What do you mean, “might be missing”?’ Ben said.

‘It’s unclear at this stage,’ Macdonald said. ‘He left home on foot very early this morning, told his wife he was going to look for Samuel and Libby. She hasn’t heard from him since.’

‘And the children didn’t see him?’ Ellie said.

‘They say they haven’t,’ Macdonald said.

Wood narrowed his eyes. ‘Have you seen him?’

Ellie shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Have you ever seen him?’ Macdonald said. ‘Before today, I mean.’

‘Never, only a picture on the news.’

Wood sat back in his seat, pleased with himself. ‘That’s interesting, Mrs Napier. Because we have a description of someone who sounds very much like you visiting Jack McKenna in hospital the day after he was stabbed.’

Macdonald looked at her notebook. ‘Several nurses in his ward described a woman claiming to be his sister who spent several minutes alone with him.’ She looked up. ‘Jack doesn’t have a sister, Ellie.’

Ellie felt Ben’s grip on her shoulder tighten. She concentrated on her breathing, looked down at her hands and back up.

‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘I did go and see him in hospital.’

Wood smiled. ‘Why?’

‘I can’t explain it,’ Ellie said, her voice shaky. ‘It’s part of the same thing, the reason I went to see the mother and lied about her son. I felt involved somehow. It made me think of everything that happened with Logan. I felt sorry for the police officer, worried about him. I didn’t want those children to lose a father, I didn’t want Mrs McKenna to lose her husband.’

Macdonald frowned. ‘But he was a complete stranger to you, correct?’

Ellie nodded, felt Ben rubbing her arm. ‘I just . . . I haven’t been sleeping. The pills I was taking weren’t working. After Logan jumped, I haven’t been able to cope. When I saw the story on the news, I felt like it was my family. You wouldn’t understand. I don’t understand myself, really. I felt like if I could just make the McKennas’ lives OK, just get them all back together, then that was a second chance for me. Does that make sense?’

Wood sucked his teeth. ‘Not really.’

Macdonald stared at him.

Wood ignored it. ‘So how does this family love tally with the accusations you made about PS McKenna to his wife?’

‘I never made any accusations.’

‘You never said he was abusing his daughter?’

‘I told you last time, I never made any accusations.’

‘Why would Mrs McKenna make something like that up?’

‘You’d have to ask her,’ Ellie said. ‘She’s under a lot of stress. Maybe it was just a case of crossed wires.’

Wood snorted. ‘Really?’

‘Her son was missing,’ Ellie said. ‘Her husband in hospital. Unless you have a family, you can’t understand the strain of that.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Wood said.

Ellie looked at the wedding ring on Macdonald’s finger. If she had kids maybe she could understand the loss, the need to be useful, involved in the lives of others. That’s what Ellie was banking on.

‘Can you tell us what you’ve been up to since we spoke to you yesterday?’ Wood said.

Ellie thought for a moment. She wiped at her eyes and nose, buying time. Felt Ben’s hand still on her shoulder.

‘I think my wife has told you everything you need to know,’ he said.

‘No, she hasn’t,’ Wood said.

Ellie looked up, put a hand on Ben’s. ‘It’s OK. I’m fine.’

‘Since the interview yesterday,’ Wood said.

Ellie remembered getting in the car with Jack, walking back to the marina, coming home. Then all of today, back and forth in the car, out on the water. Everything.

‘I’ve just been at home mostly,’ she said.

‘I can vouch for that,’ Ben said.

‘Mostly?’ Macdonald said. She was still trying to be kind, trying to give Ellie options.

‘Maybe I went for a walk today,’ Ellie said.

‘Maybe?’ Wood said.

Ellie nodded. ‘I did. This morning.’ She remembered telling the cops the same thing in the station. Try to be consistent.

‘Another of your famous big walks,’ Wood said. ‘Can you remember this time where you went rambling to?’

She couldn’t say Port Edgar, didn’t want them even thinking of that place, going there and asking around. But she couldn’t say the other direction, along the High Street and the prom, because that led to the lock-up where Sam said he stayed.

‘The bridge.’

‘The road bridge?’ Macdonald said.

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ Wood said.

‘I go up there every day.’

This was good, this was true. She was up there yesterday, first thing, she could use the truth to make a lie. She gave Macdonald a look, mothers together.

‘I go up there every day,’ she said. ‘Ever since Logan jumped.’

Wood shifted in his seat. ‘That’s a bit sick, isn’t it?’

Macdonald turned to him. ‘That’s enough, Jay.’

Her voice was sharp, and Wood slumped in his seat.

‘It’s something else I can’t explain,’ Ellie said. ‘I just have to go up there. It’s a compulsion. It’s the only connection I have with Logan now, that’s how it feels. My God, I sound crazy.’

Macdonald reached out and touched Ellie’s hand. ‘You don’t sound crazy, Ellie.’

Wood made a noise in his throat suggesting that’s exactly what Ellie was, but he didn’t say anything.

‘I need to get help,’ Ellie said.

Macdonald took her hand away, looked at her notebook.

‘You think?’ Wood said.

Macdonald glared at him.

‘It might be a good idea,’ Macdonald said. ‘Didn’t anyone offer you counselling after your son’s death?’

Ellie nodded. ‘I went for a while. Didn’t help. Nothing helps. Except walking and running and swimming.’

Ellie could feel the muscles in her arms and legs ache from the swim earlier. She was suddenly aware of the acid building up in them, and she longed to soak in a hot bath for hours.

‘That clearly hasn’t worked either,’ Wood said.

‘Jay, I told you already,’ Macdonald said.

Wood turned to her. ‘What? We get these crazies all the time, people hanging around victims or criminals, deluded folk who see stuff on telly and think it’s real, it’s part of their lives. She’s been hassling this family since it started. It’s a waste of police time.’

Macdonald had a look on her face that said Wood was going to get a solid bollocking as soon as he was out the door.

Ellie pressed her lips together in a sign of meekness. If she was just another crazy person wasting police time then that was fine.

Macdonald smiled at her. ‘I think we’re done here.’

‘But we might be back in touch,’ Wood said.

‘If there are any developments,’ Macdonald added.

They all stood up.

Ellie put an arm out, showing them towards the kitchen door.

‘I hope Mr McKenna shows up soon,’ she said. ‘I hate to think of that family without him.’

‘We have other lines of enquiry,’ Macdonald said in the hallway.

Ben spoke. ‘Like what?’

Wood made a noise, bringing yet another look from Macdonald.

‘It seems there might be some irregularities with PS McKenna’s police work,’ she said. ‘Internal Affairs are investigating. That’s all I can say.’

‘I’m sure he’ll show up soon,’ Ellie said, opening the door.

They were outside when Macdonald turned. Ellie thought of Wood and his Columbo moment, but he didn’t speak.

‘Thanks for your time, Ellie,’ Macdonald said.

‘Not at all,’ Ellie said, her hand on the doorframe. ‘Thank you for being so understanding. I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused.’

She closed the door with a trembling hand then kept it there for a long time, feeling the grain of the wood under her fingers.

41

She couldn’t sleep. Too much going through her mind, so much so she found herself grabbing at the bed sheets beneath her, her fingers like witches’ claws. She thought about Sam and Libby in their house, in their beds. Were they able to sleep? What about Alison, standing at the kitchen window with a glass of red wondering where her husband was? Ellie thought about the trail they’d left getting rid of Jack, but she honestly didn’t care, she would take whatever came her way.

She got out of bed and padded downstairs. Put the kettle on and made green tea. Seemed like half her life was spent tied to the kettle, the kitchen, cooking and cleaning up. It was her space in the house, a room her two men only entered to open the fridge or a cupboard and stuff their faces. And while she always used to moan about that, the stereotypical domestication of a woman in the home, she loved the headspace, the corner of isolation it provided. She longed to see Logan loping in, flinging the fridge door open too hard and shoving slice after slice of ham into his mouth.

She stared out the window and thought of him. In hindsight she began to think there had been signs, just maybe towards the end. Nothing specific and nothing like you hear about in other cases. No cries for help, no near misses, but there had been a closing down, perhaps, a withdrawal from his family and, it turned out, his friends too. Nothing drastic, no fights, no throwing himself on his bed in tears or rage, or smashing his room up. Just a gradual build up of resistance to life, like he was becoming petrified, slowly transforming from flesh to stone. She tried to talk to him but could never get him to open up. She should’ve tried harder, but how could she have known? She thought it was that worst of clichés, ‘just a phase’, and he’d come through it like 99 per cent of teenagers did.

But he was the one per cent. She tried to see what marked him out as different, as special, but there was nothing. That was the worst thing, what happened could’ve happened to any child, any teenager, any person on earth. It just happened to be him. Whether he was in his right mind or not didn’t matter. That didn’t even mean anything, ‘right mind’. In the end words completely failed to explain any of this experience, any of her son’s emotions or actions, any of Ellie’s reactions or distress, anything at all.

Words were useless, utterly useless.

You just had to try to keep living. Continue being in the world, keep on acting as if it meant something, there was a reason, behave like your actions were meaningful. It was much harder than it sounded.

Ellie finished her tea, slipped upstairs and got dressed. She patted the keys in her pocket, put her jacket on and left the house, pulling the front door behind her.

She started walking. Not aimlessly, this wasn’t just a way of freeing her mind. No, this time she had a purpose, she was compelled, there was somewhere she needed to go.

She checked her watch. 2.35 a.m. She walked past the police station to the end of Hopetoun Road then hooked right, following the road up the hill. Her stride had vigour as she passed the two churches and the turn off for Station Road, then the primary school and the park. What did it mean to know a place so well? To know every bench in every park, every bin and postbox on every corner. Did it amount to anything?

She turned off Kirkliston Road at Viewforth and headed into the warren of residential streets. A left then a right and she was on Inchcolm Terrace. She hadn’t walked past a single soul since she left her house down by the water. Not even a car or a taxi had swished past in the streetlights. The town was hibernating.

She got to number 23 and stopped. Glanced up and down the street then looked at the house. The lights were off. She opened the gate and walked up the path. When she got to the front door she stopped. Looked at the glass and wood of the door, the doorbell, the handle she touched that first time.

She got the keys out of her pocket, Jack’s keys, slid the Yale into the lock and turned. The door clicked open and she stepped into the McKennas’ home.