“Until now.”
“Yes. There is no record of Christopher Shaw working for Alan Hobbes. He is not listed as an employee. But he certainly seemed familiar with the layout of the house. And as we have seen, he also appeared to remove something from the property. I couldn’t tell what he was holding. Could you?”
Pettifer shook her head. “It was too grainy to see properly.”
“But it’s reasonable to assume that it was deliberately chosen—and that it was why Shaw was there.”
He added more notes to the board.
C) Alan Hobbes murdered (October 4, 2017)
—staff dismissed
—business dealings / investments
—charitable donations
—philosophy professor
D) CS present at scene (October 4, 2017)
—no record of employment by Hobbes
—apparent theft from property
—disabled security camera
“Do you think Christopher Shaw killed Hobbes?” Pettifer asked.
Still looking at the board, Laurence considered the question. While they were awaiting a precise time of death, it was clear that Christopher Shaw had been in the room with Alan Hobbes shortly before his murder. He had stolen something. He had disabled the security camera. Such things did not weigh in his favor. If it turned out he was not involved in the killing, they were remarkable coincidences.
But coincidences happened.
“I don’t know,” Laurence said. “What is clear is that we need to find out where he is now and establish why he was at the scene two evenings ago. As to the former, obviously, there is no current address for him on the system. He remains as entirely vanished as he has been for the last two years.”
“So we start with the family.”
“Yes,” Laurence said. “Or, rather, you start with them.”
Pettifer frowned.
“Which is fine,” she said. “But what are you going to do?”
Is anything missing?
Laurence thought of the lawyer looking toward the archway.
He took out his phone.
“Look into the possible whys,” he said.
Eleven
Katie slept badly. Every time she was about to drop off, she thought about Chris, and the constant sense of unease had her skimming the surface of sleep for most of the night. Where was he and what had caused him to run away like he had? However much she told herself he wasn’t her responsibility, the question kept her tossing and turning. When the alarm went off the next morning, the trill of music from her phone seemed especially loud, its happy tone almost painfully at odds with how she felt.
She rolled over quickly to turn it off, her head thick and groggy.
“Mommy!”
Siena calling through. Katie sat up and rubbed her face. Beside her, Sam was lying motionless under the covers, facing the weak light streaming in through the curtains. But she could tell he was awake, as the gentle snoring that had accompanied her through most of the night had finally come to a stop.
One of them had slept well, at least.
“Can you get Siena?” she asked him.
He yawned but showed no immediate sign of moving.
“I guess that’s a no, then.”
She went to Siena’s room to find her sitting up in bed, smiling and happy, as excited for the day ahead as she always was. The sight of her wafted away a few of the cobwebs.
“Morning, Snail,” she said. “Sleep well?”
“Moon.”
Siena pointed across the room toward the window. She had always found the night sky comforting, and Sam had left the curtains open for her at bedtime, the way she liked. Katie could see a stretch of blue-gray sky out there now. Shreds of pale cloud.
“In the night, yeah?” she said.
Siena nodded happily.
“Moon came to see me.”
“That’s nice. Now let’s go and loudly wake up your father.”
As Katie showered, she did her best not to resent Sam too much. Because as far as he knew, everything was fine. Katie had given him a radically truncated version of events when she returned last night. So he knew it was something to do with her brother—that Chris had come back and disappeared again—but nothing more than that. Nothing about the apartment or the car she’d seen. When it came to her brother, she and Sam maintained a policy of don’t ask, don’t tell. Even so, she had sensed his disapproval and had tried not to let it rankle. Sam cared about her, and so he worried.
It would have bothered her more if he didn’t.
She turned off the shower.
Then she got dressed and headed downstairs. Sam was in the front room, fully engaged now in getting Siena ready for the day at day care. In the kitchen, Katie found a cup of coffee ready on the side, and two slices of bread waiting in the toaster. Sam came to the kitchen while she was buttering the toast.
“Thanks for this,” she said.
“No worries. I like to be of some use.” He leaned against the counter. “You okay this morning?”
She put down the knife and licked her finger. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Ah, you know. We didn’t talk much last night. Or maybe I just didn’t ask.”
I wouldn’t have expected you to, she thought. Despite everything, that made her feel sad. Don’t ask, don’t tell was fine, as far as it went, but right then it would have been good to be able to unload a little of what she was feeling.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Why do you think Chris came back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it really was just because he wanted to see Mom. But God knows what’s happened to him now.”
Sam hesitated.
“Are you going to try to find him?”
“No. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“You’d find a way,” Sam said. “I know you. You’re very clever.”
“That’s why you love me, right?”
“No. It’s just one of the reasons.”
Katie smiled at him. “You don’t need to worry,” she said.
He leaned away from the counter and rubbed her upper arm.
“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he said. “That’s all.”
She felt a twist of pain at that. It had been upsetting when her mother told her Chris hadn’t wanted to see her. It broke her heart to think their relationship had deteriorated so badly that he might not know she loved him and wanted him to be safe, and that she always would.
I just don’t want you getting hurt.
Too late.
But then she heard Siena laughing in the front room, and she put her hand over her husband’s, pressing his palm against her arm. The warmth of it was reassuring.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t.”
* * *
The Tadpoles day care was based in a side room of the local community center. When Katie parked and took Siena inside, she was greeted by the usual chaotic scene. The children were running amok, and the air was filled with noise and the mingled smells of toast and juice and floor polish. There was an impression of barely controlled carnage about the place, but Siena herself seemed entirely unconcerned. She toddled off without a backward glance, the Snail flag draped over her tiny shoulders like a cape, and then planted herself down on the worn carpet and began talking at another child.