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.There were good odds that the rest of the house would match.Martin Reed washed his hands and dried them on the tea towel, then replaced it in precisely the same position.Here the pristine and symmetrical ruled, as the big man struggled to keep control of his surroundings.He reminded Goodhew of a child on best behaviour, trying too hard, concentrating on every small task, and almost imploding with the strain.Instinctively, Goodhew knew that this was a man who rarely left home.They were led into the front room, where Mr Reed invited them to sit on the settee.‘You met my wife, Mary?’They nodded.‘She won’t be joining us unless you really need her to.’Marks replied.‘No, that’s fine.She said you’d “gone into one of your moods”.What did she mean?’Reed did the slo-mo blinking thing again.‘She knew what I was like when we married.She keeps me sane, I suppose.Even now I get keyed up whenever you turn up.I tell myself not to be disappointed, but I can’t help wondering if this time.I try to put the thought out of my head, but it still sneaks back in.I kid myself that I have no expectations left, but in the hour before you’re due to arrive, I’m counting down the minutes.It would be much easier for me if you could tell me the gist of the news by phone each time.Is that possible?’‘I’m sorry, Mr Reed, but we’re now working on a different case.There’s a slim possibility of a link, but that’s all.Just the name Emma.’‘That’s it? The name Emma?’ Martin Reed shook his head, sagging as if the fresh disappointment had winded him.‘The case notes state that Joanne was also known as Emma.Is that correct?’Martin Reed spread out his large hands, palms up.‘It was nothing.She’d always preferred her middle name, and so decided to be known by it while she was at university.But Emma’s not a rare name, and it was never a big deal to Jo as far as I could tell.She used it briefly.To my mind, it seemed to be about.’ He paused to make the quotes sign with his fingers ‘.self-discovery.Some kids go spiky-haired or dabble with drugs.In her case, she changed her name.One of the detectives on the original team wondered if it was a pseudonym she used when undertaking something dodgy.As if.She was a very contented teenager, in fact.We waited for her to become the typical rebel, but it never happened.’ It sounded as though his words were practised – that he’d said them over and over in the last ten years – but that made them no less sincere.Marks plugged on.‘We also have some photographs we’d like to show you.Just let me know if anyone in them looks familiar.’ Marks slid the photos from the file, then laid it on the cushion between himself and Goodhew.He handed the pictures to Mr Reed, one at a time.The five-by-sevens looked tiny in the man’s huge hands.At each one he shook his head.‘These are recent?’‘Fairly.’‘So I could be trying to recognize people I last knew ten years ago?’‘Possibly.’‘No one looks familiar – but if I stare at them long enough, they all could.Do you have any idea how many people I’ve met since Jo vanished?’Goodhew lifted the front cover of the file.Plenty of sheets of paper inside.Words and more words.But hearing one person’s perceptions always had more resonance for him than a whole file of statements.He was aware that Marks was now mentioning names, and continuing to probe but getting nowhere.He showed signs of drawing their visit to a close, so Goodhew kept his eyes diverted from Marks, knowing that his next words would derail his boss’ line of questioning.He placed his hand firmly on Joanne’s file, like it was at risk of opening by itself.‘We have all the details here, but would you be prepared to now tell us what happened – just as you remember it?’Mr Reed looked at him like he’d just noticed him for the very first time.‘Why? This isn’t your current case.’Goodhew didn’t have an answer to that.Morbid curiosity or nosiness? Had he just asked an inappropriate question without thinking it through? So far, Joanne appeared to have zero connection to Lorna, and that made his intervention out of line.He continued to avoid Marks and simply replied honestly: ‘Just in case.’Whatever Martin Reed’s reservations, he started talking.‘I used to fear the progression of old age and I was scared of dying.I imagined turning into first my dad, then my granddad, seeing that as the most depressing descent into oblivion.The thought of watching my children turn into adolescents, then adults, then become middle-aged – watching them peak and then decline – I used to feel repulsed by the idea.Now it seems to me like heaven.Joanne would be thirty this year, but I don’t do what-ifs about anything except her age.Annie, my first wife, did.She what-iffed until it killed her.She didn’t just mourn her daughter; she pined for the wedding Jo might have had, the children and the career, and on and on.’‘Was she an only child?’ Marks asked.‘Oh yes.’ The happy-sad nerves at the corners of Martin Reed’s mouth underwent a flutter of involuntary twitches.‘Imagine having three, four, five kids.You couldn’t watch them all, not all the time, but we only had one and we still didn’t keep her safe.Logically we knew it wasn’t our fault, like logic makes a difference.‘Somewhere between the first and second anniversaries, I accepted she was dead.Not consciously, but I sensed she wasn’t in any TV crowds, or in front of me in the check-out queue, or on the other end of a ringing phone.My wife felt differently, though, and to Annie I’d now done the unforgivable: abandoned our child.’Martin Reed picked up the TV remote from the arm of the chair, licked his thumb, then rubbed at a small area on one side of the control.The silence between them lengthened.Goodhew spoke first.‘Mr Reed?’Martin Reed snapped back into talk mode.‘The very night before Jo vanished, Annie and I watched a TV documentary about parents who’d lost children.It said how high the resulting divorce rate was, and I couldn’t understand it.I thought they’d need each other even more, imagined them clinging together to get through their grief.After all, I assumed the parents would be the only ones who could really understand.‘In reality, I think of it as the last night of our marriage.I don’t mean that to sound melodramatic, but until Jo disappeared, we’d lived a charmed life: twenty-odd years of home and family, with nothing more serious happening than in every other household round here.‘You lose a child and you do understand each other’s grief at first, but if you get out of step with each other, it’s all over.Suddenly each of you is alone; I’d have a good day and Annie would have a bad one.Then she would resent seeing me coping when she couldn’t.And vice versa.’The next time he fell silent, nobody interrupted.Goodhew felt he ought to coax him into continuing, but the only thing he could think to ask Martin Reed was whether he was all right.And very clearly he wasn’t, so they just waited out the silence while more imaginary grime was scratched from the remote control.Suddenly he spoke.‘You can’t share any happy memories with your partner any more without feeling like you’re deliberately trying to cause them pain [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]