Free Driftnet by Lin Anderson Page A

Edward said.
    ‘When?’
    ‘I don’t know.
Sometime this week. And Rhona? If you’re not in, I’m not leaving a
message about this on an ansaphone.’
    ‘You won’t need
to. I’ll be here.’
    So she told
Chrissy and Tony she was taking the week off to go to Paris with
Sean and she told Sean she couldn’t go with him because she was too
busy at work.
    Rhona moved the
protesting cat from her stomach and reached for the remote. She
switched the television on, flicking through channels until she
found the early evening news. She sat impatiently through the usual
political headlines, then at last the announcer stated that there
would now follow an appeal by the mother of the Glasgow murder
victim. Flanked by two Detectives and surrounded by newspaper men,
sat a small, dark-haired woman. A woman who looked nothing like the
murdered boy.
    Rhona leaned
back on the couch while the camera moved in, as if it needed to be
closer to hear her whispered words, so close that Rhona could see
the red swollen eyes, the skin sagging with distress. The woman
became suddenly aware of the camera and drew herself up, taking a
deep breath, she began.
    My son has been
murdered. Her voice pierced Rhona’s heart. He has been murdered by
a madman. A madman who preys on boys. My son was a clever boy. A
boy with a future. I loved him. Please help the police find Jamie’s
killer. If you have children you will understand. Her voice began
to falter. Please, please tell the police anything that might help,
before this madman kills again... The words petered out and the
camera moved aside, as if embarrassed by so much grief.
    Now it was the
turn of the policeman on her right.
    Bill looked
exhausted but he was as professional and cogent as ever. He evenly
explained that the murder victim, James Fenton was a student of
Computing Science at Glasgow University. A quiet hard working
student, who kept himself to himself. The police had in their
possession a curtain that had been spread beneath his body. It was
their belief that the murderer had left in a hurry and that he
would otherwise have taken this curtain with him. Someone might
recognise it.
    The camera
swung to the left. After the greyness of grief, the bright swirling
colours of the curtain dazzled Rhona’s eyes.
    Rhona spent the
next day sifting through forensic journals for articles she had
promised herself to read. She went out briefly for fresh milk and
bread and hurried back, worried that Edward might phone in her
absence. But it was Sean who phoned first. He always sounded more
Irish on the phone, as if distance marked out who he was more
clearly.
    There was an
awkward silence, then he told her he would be staying on for a
second week.
    ‘Why?’ she
asked, her voice small.
    ‘The guy I’m
filling in for has met a rich divorcee in Florida.’ He was trying
to joke, cover the awkwardness. ‘He doesn’t want to leave yet. So,’
he said, and she could hear the caution in his voice, ‘you could
come out the second week.’
    ‘Sean...’
    ‘I’m sleeping
on someone’s couch at the moment but I could get us a hotel room.
I’m off during the day. Springtime in Paris and all that.’ He was
waiting for an answer.
    ‘I’m not
sure.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘I mean I’ll
need to check with work.’ Silence.
    He gave her a
number.
    ‘You can try my
mobile or this number.’
    ‘Is that where
you’re staying?’
    ‘No it’s the
club.’
    ‘Right.’
    The call ended
as badly as it began. As she hung up, the thought crossed Rhona’s
mind that Sean was not used to being turned down.
    After tea Rhona
put on a video and sat down with a glass of wine. The cat resumed
its favourite perch on her lap. The phone rang at nine o’clock. It
was Edward.
    ‘Rhona?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘There will be
an envelope in tomorrow’s post,’ he said.
    ‘Thank
you.’
    ‘As you’ll see,
the murdered boy has nothing to do with you.’
    ‘With us,’ she
corrected him.
    He ignored
that. ‘I hope this is