Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3) (5 page)

I didn’t
buy cake often—Nick couldn’t eat most commercial versions, and I
could take sweets or leave them—so there was a slightly guilty
pleasure in indulging.

“I can’t do
this for myself,” she said. “I have a running battle with my weight
as it is. Beth can’t keep it on. Not fair.”

Her
girlfriend of six months was a researcher at UCL, and built like a
greyhound. A very
small
greyhound.
“Nick has the same problem.”

“I don’t
want to stay thin the way he did. Does.” She stopped.
“
Does
.”

“Yes. You
don’t need to look at me as if I’m about to explode,
Charlotte.”

“Sorry. I’ve
never been in this situation before.”

“Me neither.
I—”

We both froze
as my mobile made the ‘incoming text’ sound. I picked it up. “It’s
Nick.”

“Thank
God,” she said, hand over her heart. “What does he say?”

I read
the message. Time stood still. I think my heart actually stopped
beating.

“Anton? Anton,
are you all right?” She touched my arm.

I passed
my phone to her without a word. She looked at the screen, and then
at me. “That makes no sense.”

“Doesn’t
it?”

She stared at
me. “Of course it doesn’t.”

“But
isn’t this exactly what the police suspected? Excuse me, I have to
call someone.”

I went up to
the bedroom to call Andy.

“Anton, I was
just about to ring you. We just had a hit on Nick’s passport using
Eurotunnel to Calais departing an hour ago.”

“He just
sent a text.”

“Great! What
did he say?”

“‘
Sorry, I can’t do this any more. Have met someone
else.’”

“Oh.”
Andy paused. I imagined he was momentarily dumbstruck. But he
quickly collected himself. “Okay. I’ll check the mobile’s
location.”

“Nick didn’t
send it. It came from his phone, but he didn’t send it.”

“Anton, I know
what you’re saying, but—”

“Nick didn’t
send that message. Or if he did, he was made to.”

“His passport
is gone, I heard. I know this is hard to accept, but—”

“He’s still
missing. Until you find him, I don’t have to accept a damn
thing.”

“He’s allowed
to go to France, Anton. He hasn’t broken any law, though he’ll
probably be fired.”

“Andy,
listen to me. Nick didn’t send that text. You know the man. You’ve
known him longer than I have. Does this sound like something he
would do?”

“No, but
people do atypical things all the time, especially when it comes to
affairs. I don’t like this any more than you do—”

“Nick.
Didn’t. Send. That. Message.
”

“All
right. But for the moment, there’s not much more I can do. I can
ask French police to make contact with him but if there’s no
criminal investigation, they won’t exactly prioritise it. I’m
sorry, Anton.”

“I understand.
Sorry to bother you. Let me know...if you hear any more.” I pressed
the ‘end call’ button, and crushed my phone hard in my hand. Anyone
with Nick’s mobile could have sent that message. All they needed
was the SIM card.

But the
passport....

“Anton?”

For a
moment I couldn’t remember who was in the house with me. I walked
onto the landing. Charlotte stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“Have they found him?”

“No.”

She came up
the first couple of steps. “Anton, you look dreadful.”

“Sorry.”

“No...hon, I
think you should come down and talk.”

“I can’t.
Actually, Charlotte...I really appreciate you taking the time to
come over, but I think I need to be alone now. So could
you...?”

She frowned.
“Of course. I’ll be at home if you want to talk.”

“Thank
you.”

Squeezing the
words out hurt. When I didn’t say any more, she grimaced a little.
“I’ll give you a ring later?”

I nodded, and
she turned. I heard the front door open and close, but I didn’t
move.

I simply
didn’t believe the story his supposed actions told me. Whoever was
telling it, didn’t know Nick like I did. Anyone could have sent
that message. If someone had Nick’s keys they could have got into
the house and taken his passport. I already knew how easy it was to
fake activity in someone’s name.

But if I was
right, then where the hell was he?

Officer
Homophobe’s less obnoxious partner dropped off Nick’s laptop that
afternoon—the techs hadn’t even had a chance to look at it,
apparently—and offered her condolences on the bad news. I didn’t
bother arguing with her, or with Andy when he told me that
the
French police hadn’t
managed to make contact with Nick in Calais. He did say that CCTV
from St Pancras showed Nick with a dark-haired man checking in.
Nick was wearing a cap, he said.

Nick hated
hats with a passion. Andy should have already known that, but to
him, wearing a disguise fitted with the whole ‘affair’
narrative.

The case was
closed, so far as the police were concerned. Nick was provably
alive and there was no evidence of criminality, so there was no
need for them to be involved. It was left to me to tell Nick’s
friends and family what they were supposed to believe.

Nick’s dad
took the news in silence, and only said when I finished speaking,
“Sorry, lad. It happens.”

“So they say.
Let me know if you hear from him, please.”

“Of
course.”

I hung
up before I could be bogged down in sympathy I didn’t want, and
awkward explanations I didn’t want to hear. I sent emails to
everyone else, unable to face conversations.

Then I had a
drink. I may have put my head down and bawled too.

A little
later I rang Karl. Karl would understand if I bailed on the
conversation prematurely.

“What will you
do?” he said, when I told him of what had happened, and how much I
disbelieved the evidence.

“Find
him. I don’t know how though.”

“Private
detectives do.”

“Do you know
one?”

“No, but I bet
one of Nick’s friends do. What about that reporter chap?”

“Harry? Yes,
it’s possible. You don’t think I’m crazy then?”

“Anton, you’re
not crazy. You might be wrong, but I can’t fault your logic so far.
Only....”

“Only?”

“How far will
you take this? What if the evidence is what it appears to be?”

“It’s
not. I can’t explain to you how I know but...if Liz walked out on
you today without warning, and sent that message, would you believe
it or your gut?”

“My gut. But
we have children—”

“So the fact
we’re gay and haven’t got kids means Nick’s commitment means
nothing?”

“Anton, calm
down. I didn’t say that. All I meant was they complicate things,
and loyalties. Nick or you can cut ties with the other much more
easily.”

“You don’t
believe our marriage is real. Karl, I can’t believe—”

“Anton,
shut up and
listen
. I’m
trying to say that
if
Nick had
walked out on you,
if
his
commitment was that shallow,
then
he
had fewer considerations. But I
don’t
believe his commitment was that shallow. I could be wrong.
So could you. But I believe you when you say there’s something
fishy. I
believe
you.”

I exhaled, my
eyes pricking. “Sorry. I, uh....”

“You need
someone with you. Come up to us.”

“I can’t,
Karl. I just can’t. I need to be here.”

“Very well,
I’ll come to you. I’ll be there by supper.”

“You
can’t. Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. If you think I’m going to let my only sibling
and best friend sit on his own, maundering about his missing love,
then you don’t know me at all, Anton Marber. Now I’ll call Mum. You
sit tight. See you soon.”

Karl’s
announcement shook me out of the numb depression, which was
probably the best thing he could have done for me just then.
It
gave me something
else to think about, even if only with half my mind. I readied the
spare room, tidied up the small amount of mess the police had made,
and made a run across the river to Waitrose for food.

But even
shopping was harder than it should have been. I stood in front of
the ready meals, unable to make a simple decision about what to
buy. I couldn’t stop thinking about Nick and the purported message
from him. Even if I hadn’t known the man and his essential
integrity, I couldn’t fathom how he would have had time to meet
someone and fall in love. Through work? It would have to be another
cop, and Thorpe would have been quick to bitch at me if another of
his people had disappeared along with Nick. Then again, there had
been a
lot
of
overtime.

Fuck,
now
I
was doing it.

“Excuse me,
dear, could I...?”

I jumped, and
hastily stepped aside to let the woman pick up her choice. After
she finished, I picked up the same as what she’d chosen. Pizza.
Okay, pizza was good. That meant salad, and red wine. The path was
clear. I grabbed a couple of packets of prepared green stuff, and
two bottles of the Merlot on special. There. Shopping achieved.

Husband still
missing. Fuck it.

I would
believe Nick had fallen in love with someone else when I saw him
face to face and he told me with his own mouth—and not before. I
said as much to Karl once he’d dumped his bags and I’d dished up
our supper.

“Your
suggestion about asking Harry’s a good idea. I thought I could do
some investigating first.”

“What about
your job?”

I honestly
hadn’t given the university a moment’s thought since I’d spoken to
Nick’s boss the day before. “I’ll fit it in around this.”

“For how
long?”

“As long as I
have to. Nick can’t stay invisible. Sooner or later he’ll have to
get in touch about his stuff. At the very least, his bank accounts
are all here.”

“What if he’s
decided to ditch this part of his life entirely? He might walk away
from all that.”

“He hasn’t,” I
snapped. I gulped some of my wine, and glared at him.

“It’s a
possibility,” Karl said calmly. “The whole thing’s a shock to me as
well, you know. I can’t make sense of it any more than you can. All
I’m saying is that Nick might have left you for real.” He held up
my hand. “I don’t know why, I can’t fathom what would drive him to
do it, and frankly, I’d say he must be mentally deranged if he has.
But mental illness has to be considered. Has he been under
stress?”

“Yes.” I
blinked. It was so bloody obvious when Karl pointed it out, but I
hadn’t even considered it. “He’s been working insane hours, barely
a break. But I didn’t see any sign of him cracking up. He’s always
impressed me by how well he copes with pressure.”

“Maybe this is
the first sign. It’s no less worrying, I admit.”

“So I need to
find him. If he needs help, I have to offer it. If he’s fine
and...well, sick of me...then okay.”

“Okay. But get
an expert onto it, Anton. You don’t need the added stress and this
kind of thing needs access to records and skills you don’t
have.”

I opened my
mouth to argue, then closed it. He spoke nothing more than the
truth. “I’ll email Harry now.”

He wiped
his hands on the napkin. “Good. I’ll shower and call
Liz.”

“You could go
home tomorrow, Karl. I’m fine.”

“She can cope
without me for a few days, and there are a couple of things I can
deal with while I’m down here. Do you really want me to go
home?”

“No. But I can
cope.”

“Anton, no one
should deal with this sort of thing on their own. Now stop
wittering and go email Harry.”

I gave him the
finger and he grinned. I missed Nick like I’d miss a lung, but
Karl’s presence helped me breathe a tiny bit easier.

Harry
came through in minutes with the name of a respectable firm used by
Angus’s brother for employee vetting and other, more sensitive
tasks. Harry also offered his own services should I need them. I
was grateful for that. He’d known Nick for years longer than me and
just as intimately, and that could be important if the detectives
made no progress.

Next
day
Karl sat in with me
as I spoke to George Adeyemi from British Investigations at the
house. I liked George immediately. He shook my hand with a warm,
strong grip, and his sympathy over what I’d described seemed
unforced, even if a PI could probably feign whatever emotion he
needed for the job.

“So, before we
get down to specifics, let’s talk about costs,” he said.

“I don’t
care—”

“About costs,”
he said, smiling. “Yes, everyone says that. But we’re already
talking about a search in Europe, which is potentially quite
expensive, so I want you to have all the facts. Now, our firm’s
policy on missing person investigations is that if we don’t find
the person, we don’t charge.”

“How often
does that happen?”

He
smiled again. “Not often. We’re very good. But the bill will
certainly run to at least a thousand pounds, and could be as much
as ten thousand, although that would be very unusual. We’ll keep
you informed if we’re about to undertake a substantial expense, and
you can set a limit. At any point you can call a halt, and pay our
expenses to that point.”