It’s more than an hour from Major Crime’s offices to the force boundary. The sky is bright blue, the streets full of people chasing away hangovers and the excesses of Christmas. A walk in the fresh air. Perhaps a pint, or a Bloody Mary. New year, new you.
Leo listens to a phone-in on 5 Live and feels a crushing sense of despair at the passing of another year with nothing to show for it. He’s still living in a shitty flat with a neighbour who burns herbs in a tin by her door to ward off evil spirits. He’s still working for a boss who belittles and bullies him on a daily basis. And he’s still doing nothing about it.
Leo taps the screen on his phone and listens to the ringtone fill the car’s speakers.
‘What is it?’
‘Happy new year to you, too.’ Leo hears the tiny exhalation which means his ex-wife is rolling her eyes. ‘Can I speak to him?’
‘He’s out with Dominic.’
‘Can I ring later?’
‘We’ve got some friends coming over for drinks.’
‘Tomorrow, then?’
‘You can’t expect me to drop everything and—’
‘I just want to wish a happy new year to my son!’
Allie leaves a silence so long Leo thinks she’s hung up. ‘I write it down, you know,’ she says finally, her tone clipped. ‘Every time you lose your temper.’
‘For God’s sake, I don’t—’ He stops himself, clenching a fist and driving it through the air, stopping just short of the steering wheel. How can he ever win, when the very existence of the allegation provokes him into proving it right? ‘This isn’t fair, Allie.’
‘You should have thought of that before . . .’
‘How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?’ Leo’s voice rises again. Over and over again, the same narrative, the same guilt-trip.
‘You’re lucky I let you see him at all, after what you did.’
Leo counts to ten. ‘When would be a convenient time for me to call again?’
‘I’ll text you.’ The line goes dead.
She won’t. Leo will have to ask again, and, by the time he gets to speak to his son, happy new year will feel like an afterthought.
As Leo drives, the distances between the villages grow, and even the sky seems to open up, until he can look in every direction and see nothing but emptiness. Bleakness.
One day, when his lad is a teenager, Leo will be able to simply pick up the phone and call him. They’ll make their own arrangements to meet after school, or to go to a football match, without Allie as a self-appointed gatekeeper. Without her constantly reminding Leo of what he’d done. You’re lucky I didn’t call the police, she’s fond of saying. Or Social Services. I still could, you know. It hangs over him, shadowing every conversation, every brief contact she allows him to have.
I still could.
God, it’s miserable in Wales. It isn’t raining, which is a blessing – not to mention a rarity – but clouds are rolling in from the north, and wind bends the trees sideways. What do the police do all day, out here? There must be some crime, Leo supposes – sheep theft, the odd burglary – but he doubts CID is a hotbed of activity. Today’s drowning will be the highlight of their year.
The mortuary is in Brynafon, and Leo’s glad of the SatNav as he winds his way around the mountain roads, before dropping back down into what passes for civilisation. A light drizzle hangs in the air, settling on the town’s slate roofs. Leo follows the hospital signs to a small car park, empty except for a silver Volvo XC90 and a brown Triumph Stag held together with rust. The mortuary itself is a low boxy building. Leo presses the buzzer.
‘Push the door,’ comes the tinny response. ‘There’s no one on reception today, but I’ll be through in a sec.’
Leo does as he’s told, finding himself in a small L-shaped waiting room. The clock on the wall reads ten thirty-five. Sensing he isn’t alone, he turns, and his mouth drops open. Standing in the corner of the room, her face flushed and uncertain, is a woman.
Harriet.
‘What are you doing here? Did you . . .’ Leo can barely find the words. ‘Did you follow me here?’
The woman gives a bark of laughter. ‘I was here first! If anything, you must have followed me.’
Holy crap. Harriet. Harriet Jones, or Johnson or something. A primary school teacher from Bangor, a detail Leo only remembers because he did indeed bang her.
He’s about to interrogate her further when a door opens on the far side of the room, and a woman in a white lab coat brings with her the unmistakable smell of death and Dettol.