Chapter 22
I push the door all the way open, an electric pulse of alarm racing up my spine.
“What are you doing?”
Shaun turns around, straightening up to his full height, hoisting the backpack onto his shoulder.
“Sorry, I just used the en suite instead, I couldn’t find the—”
“I mean what were you doing, looking in my bedside drawer?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” he says. “An honest mistake.”
“This is your grandfather’s house, right?”
“Yeah.” He nods, once. “Or it used to be, at least.”
“Visit him often, did you?”
“From time to time, when he was—”
“But you didn’t know there was no downstairs toilet.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You had to ask me where it was.”
The beginnings of a red flush are creeping up from the base of his broad neck. “It’s been a while since I was last here.”
“Why are you lying?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Adam.”
“You’ve never been here before, have you?” I feel the tingle of adrenaline in my stomach. “Who are you? How about you show me some ID?”
The friendly smile slides off his face. “Told you who I am.”
“Why are you here?”
“Told you that as well.” He hitches the strap of the rucksack higher on his shoulder. “Collecting some stuff for my grandad.”
“You mean your grandpa?”
His eyes narrow. “What?”
“A few minutes ago you called him your grandpa,” I say. “Now you’re calling him grandad. Which one is it?”
“Both,” he says with an annoyed shrug. “Either. What does it matter? The point is, you’ve got his stuff, and I’m here to get it back.”
I shake my head. “Everything in this house belongs to me now. That’s how it works.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No,” I say. “It’s the law.”
“Better for you if you just hand it over, all of it.” He takes a step toward me. “Trust me on that one.”
I drop my hands to my sides. “Are you threatening me?”
“Better for you, your wife, your kids.”
A ball of hot rage flares in my chest.
“You need to leave,” I say. “Right now.”
He comes closer, tension crackling between us like static electricity, the rapid sluice of adrenaline tingling all the way to my fingertips.
“I don’t know who you are,” I say. “But I want you out of my house.”
He pauses when he’s only a foot from my face, his eyes as flat and hard as black pebbles. Close enough for me to see the darkness behind them.
“Whatever,” he says. “You don’t have to be an arsehole about it.”
And then he’s brushing past me, the sharp smell of his sweat curdling into the hard citrus of his aftershave, kicking a cardboard box out of his way as he goes. As he turns at the top of the staircase, I notice the knuckles of the hand gripping his backpack strap are white.
“Your bag,” I say, clamping down on my fear now that he’s walking away. “Show it to me.”
“What?”
“Show me what’s in your bag.”
He starts to descend the stairs. “Are you having a laugh?”
I grab the blue backpack from behind and wrench it from his shoulder.
He tries to keep hold of the strap but he’s already on the third step down, off balance, and I have the height advantage now.
He turns on the staircase and for a moment he’s pulling back against me, pivoting, before he lets go of the strap and grabs the banister instead.
“What the hell!” He spreads his hands, palms up, but doesn’t move back up the stairs toward me. “You want me to bang you out, mate?”
I unzip the top of the backpack, pulling it fully open and rooting through the contents. Inside is a half-full bottle of Sprite, a phone charging cable, a black baseball cap, an empty plastic Asda bag, a battered pair of sunglasses, a small can of orange spray paint, two screwdrivers, and a torch.
In among these contents is the little Motorola flip phone.
I take it out and hold it up to him.
“This just fell into your bag, did it?”
“Screw you.”
Pocketing the phone, I throw the rucksack back to him and he catches it against his chest.
“If I see you again,” I say, “I’m calling the police.”
“Doubt that,” he says, zipping the bag and swinging it back onto his shoulder. “Because next time you won’t see us coming.”
Jeremy’s reply to my text drops in as I’m watching Shaun walk away down the drive.
No, not heard back from Kevin Hopkins yet. Can I help with something?