Chapter Forty
VENN WAS DRIVING. HE HADN’T SWITCHED on his headlights, and they didn’t go very far, just into the lane, and across the cattle grid onto the Brennans’ land.
He stopped there and they went the rest of their way on foot.
Quietly. No need for words because they’d planned this out in advance.
Ross had suggested they should wait until they could get back-up, but Venn had given a little laugh.
There were occasions when Ross still thought he was an actor in a cop show.
Or perhaps he wanted to think the Brennans were more dangerous than they really were, because he’d been taken in by them.
He’d believed everything they’d told him, glad of the excuse to leave them and cut short his search, as soon as Matthew had phoned.
Glad to get back to the centre of the action. Now, he was sheepish.
‘What sort of back-up would we get at this time of night?’ Venn said. ‘How long would it take them to get here? And really, I don’t think that will be necessary.’
‘Sorry, boss,’ Ross said. Over and over again. ‘I should have checked.’
They didn’t need torches. The moon was up now and provided light enough for them to see. Their shadows were faint, ghostly. They didn’t walk on the drive, with its gravel-filled potholes. Instead, they crossed the dry grass. Venn could hear it cracking under his feet like stubble after a harvest.
When they reached the house, they had to cross the yard to get to the back door.
There was no point going to the front. Venn knew that it was always locked.
There was a light in the kitchen. Venn could see Tessa through the window.
She was just sitting at the table, as if in a dream.
He’d never seen her sitting still before.
She’d always been active – preparing a meal, or folding washing, or making coffee.
Now, in the cruel overhead light, she seemed older and very, very tired.
There was no sign of the child, and for a moment he panicked.
Perhaps he’d misjudged this too and been over-confident in his reading of the situation.
Then he saw a comic on the table beside her. Hadn’t Cath said that Alex had been reading a comic when she left him in the car?
He knocked at the door and went in before there was an answer. Jen and Ross followed him.
‘This isn’t about confrontation,’ he’d said to them when they’d been making their plans in the bar of the Fisherman’s Arms. ‘There are no monsters here.’
Tessa looked up.
‘Where’s the boy?’ Matthew kept his voice light, without a trace of accusation. ‘We just need to take him back to his mother. You understand, don’t you, what she must be going through?’
She didn’t reply. Matthew waited. He could sense Ross behind him, desperate for action, to redeem himself, but Venn knew the value of patience. He was happy to wait.
Tessa stared at him, stared through him. He supposed it was stress, this lack of communication. And exhaustion. She had no energy left.
‘You do realize,’ he said when he decided she wouldn’t respond, even if he waited all night, ‘that we’ll have to search for Alex. We have to know what’s happened to him.’
She nodded across at Ross. ‘Your chap’s already been here. He came with us. We looked everywhere.’
‘Not everywhere,’ Venn said.
Now, it seemed she was ready to speak, but the door behind her suddenly opened and Bob Brennan was standing there, framed like a character in a film or a photograph, the kitchen light hitting him.
He was carrying a shotgun. It was hooked over his arm, not pointed towards them, but there was something threatening about his posture, tall and straight, legs apart.
He could have been the sheriff new to town in an old-fashioned Western.
Or a gangster in a different kind of movie.
‘This is none of your business.’ Each word weighed out. Heavy as stone.
It occurred to Venn in the moment before he replied that he’d been wrong about this man too.
He’d been taken in by the buttery local accent, the ageing hippy clothes, the love of music.
He’d thought no man like that could pose a threat.
Yet here Brennan stood, resentful and angry.
Armed. He could be one of Jim Hooper’s crazy online followers.
‘I’m afraid that it is.’
Brennan stared at Venn. Tension flickered like lightning between them.
‘Let us deal with this.’ His voice was a growl, deep and not quite human. ‘We’ll make it right.’
There was a moment’s silence, and then Tessa spoke. They’d almost forgotten that she was there.
‘It’s over, Bob.’ She stood up now and stood between Venn and her husband, between Venn and the shotgun.
‘No! We can make it right.’
‘Oh pet, we can’t control it. Not now. This isn’t something we can fix. Let’s get it sorted. Let the little boy go home to his mother. What good was this going to do? You never thought it through when the little one arrived.’ Now, she sounded like a mother, talking a child down from a tantrum.
Her feet were bare. She walked to the kitchen door and slipped on a pair of Crocs.
She turned to Venn. ‘Come with me,’ she said.
‘The rest of you stay here. No need to go in mob-handed and scare the poor kid.’ She moved back to her husband and touched his arm.
Her voice softened again. ‘Put away that gun. That’s not who you are.
’ Then suddenly she was a farmer’s wife again, and her voice picked up more of the North East twang: ‘The kettle’s not long boiled if you want to make a brew. ’
She didn’t wait to watch Bob put down the shotgun, but Matthew heard it being propped up against a wall, and as he was leaving the room, he saw Ross take it and remove the shot. Tessa led Venn out into the still, dark night.
‘When did you know?’ Matthew asked. She was walking a little ahead of him. There was moonlight but he thought she would find her way, even blindfolded. She might have been born at the other end of the country, but she was rooted here now.
‘I only knew today. Suspected days ago. But didn’t want to believe. Couldn’t believe.’
Matthew had a string of questions, but he couldn’t ask them. That would have to wait for more formal interviews. For the morning when he was clear-headed and professional. Not uncontrollably sad, as he was now.
He knew where they were going. Ross had searched for Alex in the farm and the outbuildings with the Brennans, but he hadn’t been to the glamping pods, out of sight, surrounded by trees.
He’d only been there once, and he’d been in a hurry to get back to the pub and the search down the valley, so he might have forgotten about them.
Or perhaps he’d thought it would have been a long walk, without any real hope of a result.
He hadn’t picked up the anxiety that Bob and Tessa must have been feeling when he turned up to look for the boy, hadn’t wondered why Jake made a brief appearance and then left his parents to it.
They’d discuss the mistake later, but Venn thought Ross wouldn’t be so careless again.
Now, there was a light ahead of them. Flickering and unstable.
Venn imagined a disaster, arson, being this close to rescuing the boy and losing him, just as he’d thought he’d found Hannah alive and well on the farm almost a week ago only to realize that she was dead.
He quickened his pace and tried to race past Tessa Brennan, but she took his arm to slow him down.
‘It’s the firepit,’ she said. ‘No need to hurry. We don’t want to scare them, do we?’
They were closer now. Tessa led him to the glamping pod where the Kinzalows had been staying.
He could smell woodsmoke. Jake was sitting on one of the driftwood chairs staring into the fire.
There was no sign of Alex. It took all Matthew’s patience not to run across, to shout, to shake the young man.
Instead, he squatted next to Jake. Jake must have heard them coming, the crunch of their footsteps on the dry grass, but he looked up suddenly, as if he’d only just realized that they were approaching.
‘Where’s Alex, Jake?’ Not a shout or a demand. A quiet question. When there was no answer, Venn added, ‘His parents are frantic.’
‘He’s inside. I couldn’t wake him.’
Matthew felt a stab of panic, but still, he didn’t rush. ‘I’ll go and look, shall I? That is okay?’
‘Sure,’ Jake said. ‘I don’t think you’ll wake him, though.’
Matthew got to his feet. Tessa stood behind her son and wrapped her arms around him. In the firelight, Matthew could see that she was crying.
Alex was lying on the high bed, with its colourful quilt and carved headboard.
He lay on his back and his eyes were shut.
He seemed fast asleep, but Matthew couldn’t see any signs of him breathing.
The boy didn’t move. When Matthew touched his bare arm, though, the skin was warm. He shook him gently.
‘Alex, we’ve come to take you home. Your mother’s wondering where you are.’
The eyes opened and the boy smiled. ‘I’ll be able to tell her, won’t I, that I’ve had such a big adventure.’
‘I’m sure she wants to hear all about it. I’ll carry you, shall I? If you’re still very tired.’
The boy sat up, pushed the quilt away and turned towards Venn. His feet didn’t reach the floor, so Matthew took both his hands as he slid off the bed.
‘I’d like Jake to give me a piggyback,’ Alex said, ‘if he wouldn’t mind.’
So, they walked back to the farmhouse, with Matthew and Tessa on each side of the pair, and Alex on the shoulders of a killer.