Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3) (4 page)

“How many
years?” his colleague asked.

“Three.
The worst argument we’ve had in all that time has been over a legal
point on
New
Tricks
.”

She smiled a
little. “I can’t watch crime shows. They drive me barmy.”

“They drive
Nick barmy too, but I love them. Please, find him. Bring him home.
Or...at least, ask him to tell me where he is.”

“We’ll do our
best,” Chris said. “Do you have a photo we can use? Something
informal, a close up? We’ll have his official ID of course.”

I agreed to
email one to him, and they left, bearing Nick’s laptop and
passwords.

The
house was quiet when they left, and despite the warm day, I
shivered. The cold came from within, from fear. I knew Nick.
I
knew
him. If
something had come up that he had to attend to without telling me
first, there was no way he wouldn’t have contacted me. That meant
something or someone was stopping him doing so. Did Chris
understand that? Did Andy? What did they suspect that they couldn’t
say out loud?

I shook
myself. Sitting here working myself up wouldn’t help. I had people
to call and email. And maybe Nick would turn up in five minutes
just like Chris said.

He didn’t turn
up. Not in five minutes, not in five hours. I spent that time
making phone calls, a task I didn’t feel up to, and one which left
me wrung out and desperate by the end of it.

The first call
had to be to Nick’s parents. Fortunately I reached his father at
the first try because I dreaded breaking this to his somewhat
volatile mother. Robert listened in silence to my carefully
undramatic explanation that Nick had skipped work and that people
were a little worried about him. The silence continued when I
finished.

“Robert? I
just need you to ask Nick to get in touch if he contacts you.”

“Aye, I got
that, lad. But what’s going on with him? Are you two fighting?”

“Not at
all.”

“Then I can’t
understand why he would do this. He’s a steady man, responsible.
And he loves you. He wouldn’t do this to you.”

“I, um...look,
it could just be a miscommunication. He and his boss aren’t exactly
in synch.”

“I see. Are
you all right, Anton?”

I swallowed.
“I’m worried,” I said as mildly as I could. “But I’m sure he’ll
turn up.”

“Of course he
will. Look, I’ll hold off telling his mother for now. No need to
worry her. But you keep me informed.”

“Yes. Of
course. I’m sorry to bring somewhat worrying news.”

“Don’t worry
about us, lad. Now you call me if you need someone to talk to.”

“Thank you,
Robert. And I’ll tell you if we hear anything. Or if he turns up.
Which he will.”

“Yes, he
will.”

That had gone
as easily as such a conversation could, I felt, but I still felt
like crying when I hung up.

Then it was
Harry, Charlotte, other mutual friends, and my parents, with whom
Nick was close. It was just barely possible that if he was going
through some emotional crisis, he might contact them for help.

He hadn’t,
though it was good to talk to Mum and let out my real fears without
having to censor them as I had for Nick’s dad. She had no
suggestions I hadn’t already come up with, but she wanted me to
consider coming to their place if Nick hadn’t turned up in
twenty-four hours.

“I don’t know,
Mum. I want to be here if he turns up.”

“Yes, I know.
But you have to look after yourself as well. Have you eaten
today?”

I’d had coffee
and toast for breakfast, and no lunch. She guessed from my lack of
reply. “Go and eat something, Anton, and have a drink. Food first.
You can’t think on an empty stomach.”

She was
right, of course. I felt calmer after a quick meal of frozen pasta
and a big glass of the left over Shiraz from my special night with
Nick. When Chris called again to say the police would be over in
the morning to conduct a search, I was able to talk to him without
collapsing.

It was
time to call Karl. Not because I thought he would have any
information about Nick, but because Karl was and is my oldest, best
friend. He had known about Nick since my first encounter with him.
He’d been my best man at our wedding, just as Andy had been Nick’s.
When I told him what was going on, he only wanted to know how he
could help.

“Do you trust
the police to do this right, Anton?”

“They’ve
barely started. For now, I trust them. What’s the alternative?”

“Private
detectives, for one. Publicity in the newspapers for another.”

God, the
press
.
I couldn’t
bear the idea. “Let’s see how they go. I don’t think I can talk
about anything else right now.”

“I can
imagine. Anton, he’ll come back.”

“One way or
another.”

“If he’s still
alive, and I’m sure he is, he’ll come back to you.”

“Chances
are—”

“Don’t think
like that. Something’s happened, sure. But there’s nothing to
indicate he’s dead.”

“You mean
other than the fact he’s missing and no one knows why?”

“Yes. Focus on
the known facts, not on baseless assumptions. Scientific method and
all that, Dr Marber.”

I smiled for
the first time in hours. “True. But I’m worried, Karl.”

“I know. If
you want to come up here....”

“Mum’s ordered
me to their place.”

“Good idea.
Don’t do this on your own, brother. I’ll be cranky if you do.”

“I’m getting
the impression the whole family will be.”

“Yes, they
will. Anton, you can call me anytime, day or night.”

“I know.
Thanks, Karl.”

“Call me
tomorrow after the police have been. And if there’s anything—”

“I’ll ask, I
promise.”

“Try to sleep.
Do you have anything to help?”

“Might
do.” Between Nick and me, we’d accumulated a variety of
medications. I thought I remembered some sleeping pills prescribed
for me during the last of Nick’s hospital stays.

“Then take
them. You’re not alone, Anton.”

No, but I
wasn’t with the man I loved either. “I’ll call tomorrow. ‘Night,
Karl.”

It wasn’t even
seven. I checked my laptop again to see if Nick had emailed, and my
mobile to see if I’d missed a text or call. Nothing. This wasn’t
remotely like Nick. Though not an effusive man, he was lovely the
way he would send me a quick text a couple of times of day, or
email me a link to something particularly interesting, or just to
bitch about work. He’d tried not to dump too much of his anger over
Thorpe onto me, but he hadn’t been reticent about it, and if there
was something more serious going on, he would have told me.

Unless that
something was something I wouldn’t want to know about, like a
lover. But Nick hated infidelity and cheaters. He’d taken long
enough to forgive Harry for it and he hadn’t even been in love with
the guy.

No, he
hadn’t run away with anyone. I was so sure about that, it wasn’t
even the faintest possibility in my mind.

But it was
more of a comfort than what was a more distinct possibility. Nick
had come across those wanting to do him harm before. What
if...?

I had to
stop myself going down that track, so I went to the kitchen for
more wine. I thought about calling Andy and asking him for
reassurance on that point, but it was hardly fair to do that. If
Andy’s thoughts were the same as mine, he’d have to lie, and he was
hardly going to speculate, given my fears.

I called
Nick’s number again, and left a voicemail. Listening to his precise
instructions made my eyes fill. I had to stop myself calling back
just to hear his voice again.

I found
the sleeping tablets, and took them. I still had trouble staying
asleep, and spent too much of the night staring at the ceiling,
waiting for either of the phones to beep or ring, or my incoming
mail tone to sound. By the time daylight came through the curtains,
I knew I wouldn’t be able to do as Mum had suggested. I couldn’t
leave our home until Nick came back to it.

Chris
Stevens called at nine o’clock to let me know that so far there had
been no luck tracing Nick’s mobile phone, and that his credit card
appeared not to have been used. Just as I hung up, a panda car
turned up outside, and my heart leapt a little.

Unfortunately,
it was just the promised search team.

I showed
them our bedroom and Nick’s pitifully small collection of
belongings. “Does he not live here all the time?”
the female officer
asked.

“Yes. He just
doesn’t own much. He was the same when we weren’t married.”

A sneer
from her companion at the word ‘married’ told me that I wasn’t
dealing with one of the more enlightened members of the Met, but I
didn’t react. He was looking through Nick’s file of personal
documents. “No passport?”

“Yes, he has
one. He keeps it in there.” I went through the file, and then
through the others. “It’s missing. I know it was there a month back
because I used it to book our flights.”

“Would he have
taken it to work?”

“I can’t
imagine why. He’d need it in a couple of weeks as we’re travelling
to Sweden.”

The male
officer grunted in acknowledgement. “Any break-in recently? Any
visitors?”

“No and no. I
suppose he might have taken it to work for some reason.”

“Perhaps he
needed it for travel,” the officer said. “Let’s see the rest of his
belongings.”

I showed them
what was there, and the booking for our trip. They wanted to see
his credit card statements, and took down details of his bank
accounts. “Joint accounts only?”

“We have both
kinds,” I said. “Here are the recent statements for them if you
want them.”

“Have there
been any letters which aroused your suspicion?” the woman asked. “I
mean from banks you didn’t recognise?”

“No.
Nothing.”

“What about
friends he could use as a mailbox?”

“No one.
Oh. Well, there’s Charlotte Madsen. Dr Madsen. She lives around the
corner, more or less. He used to share a flat with her. But he
wouldn’t use her for that.”

“We’ll need
her details,” the man said, writing in his notebook. I sensed that
he felt an important connection had been made.

“Look,
Charlotte’s a good friend. She wouldn't participate in anything
sordid. She’s a respectable medical specialist.”

“We need to
follow up all lines of enquiries, Mr Marber,” he said.

“Dr
Marber,” I snapped. The man’s condescension had got to
me.

“Sorry.
Dr
Marber.” The
sneer was back. In my frayed mood, I felt like punching the man. I
could imagine how much that wouldn’t help the situation. “Is there
anything else you want to tell us?”

“No. I want to
find him. If I had any ideas, I’d have told you. What are you
implying, constable?”

“Nothing,
Dr
Marber. We’re
done here. Senior Constable Stevens will be in touch.”

The woman
officer gave me a sympathetic look as they left. I felt dirty for
having them in the house. Did they really imagine I had done
something to Nick?

They probably
did. After all, to their minds, my doing away with Nick and
covering it up with fake concern was just as likely as any other
scenario. They’d probably heard every variation of protestations of
innocence too. I was wasting my time trying to tell them I had
nothing to do with Nick’s disappearance.

A knock
on the door had me flying to open it. I’m afraid I didn’t hide my
disappointment as much as politeness demanded. “Oh, Charlotte.
Hi.”

“Hello,
Anton.” She held up a
Marks & Spencer bag. “I can’t cook but I can buy cake
like nobody’s business. I thought you might like a bit of company
and carbohydrate.”

“Uh...thank you. Come in.”

“I saw the
police car,” she said as she stepped inside. “No news?”

“No. They’ll
be in touch with you to see if you’re helping Nick conceal a secret
bank account or lover though.”

“What? I
wouldn’t!”

I indicated
the sofa and took the bag off her. “I know. I told them. We’re all
suspects unfortunately. Let me get plates and a knife.”

When I
returned from the kitchen she peered up at me with concerned eyes.
“Suspects in what? Do they think...oh god, Anton, Nick’s
not...not....”

“No, he’s not.
I won’t think about it, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

I set the
plates down. After a little bit she took the knife and forks from
me, then enclosed my hand in hers. “This is just horrible, Anton. I
couldn’t sleep last night, worrying about the two of you.”

I wiped my
eyes on my arm. “Yes. Everyone thinks he must have run off with
someone. I’d rather he had than...well, the other.”

“Nick hasn’t
run off with anyone. He wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But if he
hasn’t, where is he?”

“I don’t know,
hon.” She squeezed my hand. “Cake? What about tea?”

Charlotte
wasn’t particularly maternal as a rule, and she had a busy work
life. As I boiled the kettle, I realised she’d taken the day off
just to come over to help. The thought made me teary again.

“Anton?”
She’d followed me into the kitchen.

I sniffled and
smiled at her. “I’m okay.”

“You look it.”
She took the kettle off me and rooted around for the tea. I let her
fuss. I’d used up all my determination and positive outlook for the
morning.