Land Rites (Detective Ford), Andy Maslen [best way to read ebooks .txt] 📗

downcast expression that she knew she’d been reaching. Thought of a way to lift her spirits. ‘How are you getting on with the gun clubs?’

‘I’m going to start tomorrow. I’ve got a list of five within a thirty-mile radius of Salisbury. One more if you extend it to fifty. Adlam’s a member of one of them,’ she said.

‘So keep him on a list of persons of interest.’

As Jools left his office, he called Hannah. ‘Have you got a minute?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you want to grab a coffee?’

‘I would love to.’

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Café on the Park, an independent coffee shop, occupied the lower half of a Victorian corner house facing the Greencroft, a small green space between the ring road and the police station. They had the place to themselves, which suited Ford perfectly. The conversation he had planned with Hannah was going to be difficult enough without an audience.

He carried their coffees to the table Hannah had chosen, by a picture window. It looked out over the park, where kids were running around, leaping on to swings, climbing a ‘witch’s hat’ made of elasticated rope, and slithering through a complicated network of green plastic tunnels. Hannah sat facing the door.

‘Did you want to discuss the case?’ she asked.

He took a sip of coffee and shook his head. ‘No. It’s not about work.’

‘Is it about your personal life?’

‘You could say that.’ He found it difficult to know how to proceed. Hannah’s face displayed no emotion. He ploughed on. ‘That research you were doing on mountaineering risks.’ She said nothing. He realised he hadn’t asked her a question. ‘I saw a document on your screen about the risks of rock-climbing. What was it?’

She wouldn’t meet his gaze, speaking into her coffee. ‘I told you in your Discovery on the way back from the first crime scene. It was just research for a friend.’

Maybe Hannah was the official expert on lying, but Ford had years of practical experience. He pushed harder. ‘Were you investigating the accident that killed Lou?’

Hannah opened her mouth, then closed it. Still avoiding eye contact, she answered, ‘No. I wasn’t.’

‘You’re sure? Because you told me once you thought I should be over it by now.’

‘I didn’t say you should be over it. I said I was surprised that you weren’t. Because according to the data, which admittedly is American, most widowers pass through the five stages of grief quicker than you have. Many also remarry.’

He’d asked her directly now, and just like before, she’d denied it was anything to do with Lou. How would her condition affect her ability to lie? He didn’t know. But that didn’t matter, did it? The point was, what had happened between him and Lou was supposed to stay private. Not turned into a research project just when there was an urgent need to solve two murders.

‘Look, I’m sorry for pushing you. And I have no right to ask you this, but can you at least tell me who this friend is?’ As he asked her, he realised he knew the answer. ‘Is it Sam?’

She looked relieved. ‘Yes, that document was for Sam.’

Her frankness irritated him. ‘Don’t you think you should have discussed it with me first?’

Her forehead crinkled. Ford could imagine her trying to process the question. ‘No. Sam asked me for help and I said I’d be happy to. It was easy.’

‘I’m sure it was. But that’s not the point, Hannah.’

‘What is the point, then? And please can you use my nickname?’

‘Fine. Wix. The point is, he’s my son and I didn’t want him to go on the climbing trip.’ Ford’s breath was coming in shallow gasps and he had to fight to calm himself.

‘Because of Lou? Her dying in a climbing accident?’

‘Yes. Because of that.’ There it was again. She just couldn’t leave it alone.

She frowned. ‘Statistically, the chances of a mother and son both dying in climbing accidents are extremely small. About—’

‘Please, I don’t need the exact percentage.’

‘—three hundred and twenty-eight point five million to one.’

Ford sighed. He tried again. ‘What I’m trying to say is, I feel deeply uncomfortable about Sam going on a climbing trip – the same sort of activity that did kill his mother, my wife – and I feel that the two of you bounced me into agreeing.’

She smiled. ‘That’s good.’

‘Good?’ What the hell was she thinking? How could it possibly be good?

‘That you agreed. It’s important for children, especially adolescents, to test themselves. Facing risk is part of developing resilience,’ she said. ‘In fact, according to a clinical psychologist I follow on Twitter called Dr Hazel Harrison, lack of resilience is strongly linked to teenage anxiety and depression.’

‘Which is all very interesting, but can you at least see where I’m coming from?’

She nodded, then took a careful sip of her latte. ‘Hot,’ she muttered. ‘Yes, I can see. You are locked into the early stages of grief for your wife, which, as I said before, is strange.’ She reached across the foot of table that separated their hands to lightly brush the backs of his fingers. ‘You’re compensating by trying to prevent the same fate from befalling Sam. Even though he is at far higher risk from your driving him to school than from climbing a thousand mountains. But you have to let him grow up, Henry.’

He’d hoped – expected – her to be contrite, ashamed even. Apology accepted, they could move on and get back to solving murders together. Now she was besting him in an argument and offering parenting advice.

‘Please don’t tell me what I have to do to raise my son,’ he said, regretting the sharp tone as soon as the words had left his mouth.

Hannah’s face paled. She bit her lower lip. A blush raced up from her throat to her jawline and cheeks. ‘I upset you. I can see that now. I am so sorry, Henry. Please forgive me.’

A tear welled in the inner corner of her left eye and slowly rolled down her flaming cheek before