‘If Nick has done anything to Yvonne, he’s hardly going to admit it,’ said Duncan.
‘I’m just thinking out loud here!’ Maggie snapped. She took a breath. Calm, calm, she needed to be calm. ‘Of course he’s not going to admit it. But what if he thought the police had a lead? What if he thought some bastard had seen him on his way to or from wherever Yvonne is? If she’s alive, he’d have to get there pronto and move her. And when he makes a move, we follow him.’
Michael suddenly sat up straight. ‘Yes!’
Aye. This could work. ‘So the important thing is not to alert him that we’re onto him. Michael, this is going to depend on you. You’re going to have to go to him and tell him the cops have let you know there’s a promising lead involving a local witness. They told you not to tell anyone, and specifically not to tell Nick, but you can’t see any reason not to. Nick’s going to put two and two together. He’ll be shitting himself that this lead from the local witness involves him – involves someone who knows him and saw him going to or from where he’s got Yvonne.’
Michael nodded. ‘Yes. I can do that. Maybe you could write it down, what I’ve to say? I’ll memorise it.’
Maggie bit back a sigh. She was moving around the room, opening drawers, looking for paper and a pen, when there was a crash from the hall.
Nick hurtled into the room.
Duncan and Michael leapt to their feet, and Michael said something in a strangled voice, but Nick ignored him.
He hurtled straight at Duncan.
And pulled him into a hug.
‘Dad! Oh God, Dad!’ He was crying, hysterically.
Duncan stood rigid for one, two seconds, and then he was hugging Nick back, tears streaming down his face.
Fuck!
How the fuck had Nick found them? Had he been tracking Michael?
The adult Nick was taller even than Duncan and very athletically built. He seemed to fill the room, to suck the air out of it so she had to gasp for breath. She was making for the door to the hall, thinking she’d find a weapon in the kitchen, but then a woman was in the doorway in front of her. A bonnie young blonde woman, staring at Maggie and then looking past her to the other people in the room.
This was Lulu, Nick’s wife?
Aye, this would be Nick’s wife. Just the type he would go for, a trophy wife, an airhead he could dominate. She looked like a right nugget, standing with her mouth hanging open, looking at Nick and Duncan, who were still holding each other and sobbing like babies. As Maggie watched the woman, she half-collapsed, a wee sound coming out her mouth.
‘Where’s Isla?’ Nick sobbed. ‘Is she here?’
It was like he’d put a cold hand to her throat.
Thank God Isla was well out the way in Sweden. She and a group of friends had gone camping for a month in Skuleskogen National Park to celebrate the end of their exams at uni.
‘No,’ said Duncan, and, before he could blurt out where she was, Maggie cut in with, ‘Of course she’s not here!’
Nick’s wife suddenly raised her voice over Maggie’s. ‘How could you do it? How could you have done it to him? Abandoned him like that? He was sixteen years old! All this time . . .’ She breathed in on a sob. ‘All this time, he thought you were dead.’ She turned to Duncan. ‘And that you had killed his dad and Isla. Have you . . . have you any idea what that’s done to him?’
‘Oh Christ,’ Duncan wailed.
Nick finally released him and stepped back, and Duncan stumbled forward and then collapsed back into his chair, looking up at Nick like he was seeing him for the first time, realising what he’d done to his son for the first time.
Fuck.
Nick looked down at him. ‘People do crazy things. I get that. It’s okay.’
‘It’s not okay!’ Duncan got out.
‘No, really, Dad, I don’t blame you. I was a right little brat. You probably thought you had good reasons for what you did. You thought I was trying to hurt Isla. I get it. I wasn’t, you know, I was just a silly kid with no concept of danger, but . . . I get it. I’m just glad you’re all right.’ His voice broke convincingly on the last word.
‘Nick,’ choked Duncan. ‘Nick. Oh God, Nick. I’m so sorry.’
‘Dad.’ And finally, the timing just right, Nick smiled. Sadly. The brave wee soldier. ‘God, I can’t believe it. I really thought you were dead. This is like . . . it’s like it’s a wonderful dream and any second I’m going to wake up and you’ll still be gone. You’ve no idea how many times I’ve dreamed stuff like this. Finding you in a bar or on a street or once . . .’ He attempted a shaky laugh. ‘On top of the Eiffel Tower.’