Losing You (27 page)

‘I understand you’re angry,’ Russ said in the end, ‘and I don’t blame you, but your mother wants to see you, so ...’

‘I don’t care.’ Oliver didn’t turn round; he kept his eyes on the fields, his shoulders squared against his father as though he could somehow block out the reasons either of them were there. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to her,’ he went on roughly. ‘Or I have, but she wouldn’t want to hear it.’

Suspecting she probably wouldn’t, Russ said, ‘Maybe she needs to.’

Though Oliver’s head moved to one side, he said nothing.

‘I didn’t think she’d come here,’ Russ admitted. ‘Right up to the last minute, I felt sure she was going to back out ...’

‘She should have, because I don’t want to see her. If it weren’t for her it wouldn’t have happened.’

‘That may be true, but I’m sure you don’t believe she did it deliberately.’

‘It hardly matters whether she did or didn’t, the fact is
I might have killed someone and if it turns out I have, it’ll be her fault, every bit as much as mine, but I’m the one who’ll have to pay.’

‘She will too, in her own way.’

‘Like hell she will. All she’ll do is get drunk and pretend it never happened. For Christ’s sake, she’s ruined my fucking life.’

Unable to dispute the likelihood of that, Russ continued standing where he was. He was searching for a way to reach his son, to find some words that would offer hope, or comfort, or some sort of rationale he could hold on to, but there wasn’t much rhyme or reason to what was happening to Oliver now.

Feeling the door moving behind him he was tempted to carry on blocking it, but in the end he stood aside, allowing it to open.

Sylvie’s eyes were anxious and beseeching as she looked up at him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘He doesn’t want to see you.’

Flinching, she said, so Oliver could hear, ‘Please, Oliver, don’t be angry with me. I want to try and make this up to you ...’

‘Make her go away,’ Oliver growled. ‘I told you, I’ve got nothing to say to her.’

Realising he’d made a mistake in forcing Sylvie to come here, that he should at least have discussed it with Oliver first, Russ eased her back on to the landing.

‘What shall I do?’ she asked tearfully. ‘You said that I should speak to him ...’

‘I was wrong. I thought it might help, but I can see now that it won’t, not while he’s feeling like this.’

‘So how can I make him feel better?’

Sighing as he dashed a hand through his hair, he said, ‘You can’t, no one can, apart from the girl – and even if she makes it God only knows what kind of state she might be in.’

Covering her face with her hands, she muttered, ‘Maybe it would have been better if I had killed myself ...’

Marching her away from the door he said, furiously, ‘You don’t have the luxury of being able to talk like that any
more. Your son is suffering in there, and all you can think about is yourself and how hard this is for you?’

‘But I am thinking of him ...’

‘Then prove it. Check yourself into any clinic and start drying out.’

Shrinking from him, she said, ‘You make it sound so easy, but it is very hard to do what you are saying.’

‘And how hard do you think all this is for Oliver?’

‘I know it is difficult, but I know you, you will make it all right for him. You have friends in the police, right at the top. If you ask them, they will make it go away ...’

‘Are you out of your mind?’ he cried savagely. ‘There’s no making something like this go away, not for anyone. A girl is dying – for all we know, she’s already dead. Either way, your son is going to pay with his licence, his conscience, even his freedom. How does that make you feel, Sylvie? Are you proud of what you’ve done? Has it sunk in yet what all this really means, or are you, even now, so desperate for a drink that you can’t take it in?’

‘It is you who gives me the need for a drink. I am afraid of you when you are like this.’

His eyes flashed. ‘Your excuses sicken me,’ he told her harshly.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded as he started back along the landing.

Turning round, he said, ‘I’m going to check on Oliver, then you and I are going to get on the phone and find a clinic that’s able to take you today.’

‘No, no, we must talk about this some more. I need to ...’

‘There’s nothing left to discuss,’ and pushing open the door to Oliver’s room he closed it on her cries of protest.

‘Why don’t you knock?’ Oliver snapped, quickly closing down his computer again.

‘I’m sorry, I should have,’ Russ apologised. ‘I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.’

‘Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?’

Watching him walking back to the window, a man and yet still a boy, Russ said, ‘I got it wrong about bringing your mother here, I can see that now. I thought ... I guess
I was hoping to use you to make her see sense, and you’ve already got enough to be dealing with.’

Oliver shrugged and kept his back turned.

After a lengthy silence, during which he was overcome as much by helplessness as frustration, Russ said, ‘Now may not be the best time, but at some point we’ll have to work out how we go forward from here.’

‘We can’t go forward, until we know what’s going to happen to ... to ...’ As his voice started to falter Russ went to put a hand on his shoulder.

Oliver’s attempt to shrug him off was only half-hearted. ‘I keep seeing her face,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘I mean when she hit the car, but that doesn’t make sense, because I know I didn’t see her then. It all happened too fast.’

Understanding that the clarity of her image had probably come from the news, Russ said, ‘I know it’s going to be impossible to put any of it out of your mind, but you have to try ...’

‘OK, you tell me how!’

‘Well, to begin with, shutting yourself away up here isn’t going to help ...’

‘So what do you want me to do, pretend it hasn’t happened? I’m sorry, I can’t do that.’

‘Of course not, but right now there’s nothing you can do to change things, and the job’s still open with Paul Granger so maybe you should take it.’

‘And be grateful?’

Ignoring the bitterness, Russ said, ‘And throw yourself into it to help pass the time until we have a better idea of what’s going to happen.’

‘You mean with her ...’

‘I mean with you. Whichever way things go with Lauren Scott now, you will still be facing charges, so maybe the way you conduct yourself during this time could count in your favour if you’re seen to be doing the right thing.’

‘And that would be working for you?’

‘Oliver, don’t make this even harder than it already is. I’m trying to help you, for God’s sake.’

Dropping his head in his hands, Oliver pushed his fingers into his hair and wrenched it by the roots. ‘I should have
rung you from the party,’ he seethed angrily. ‘I know that now. All my mates, everyone keeps emailing and asking why the hell I took off the way I did. Some of the things they’re saying ... They’re really going for me. Not that I blame them, I know it was my fault, but I didn’t set out for it to happen.’

‘Of course you didn’t, and they know that.’

‘Some of them might, but I’ve started getting hate mail even from people I don’t know. They’re saying I’ve always been arrogant and too full of myself ... Someone even tried to say I used to go out with Lauren Scott and this is what I’ve done to get my own back because she chucked me. Can you believe that? I’d never even heard of her before Saturday, and how the hell was I supposed to know she was going to be on that road, when I’ve never spoken to her before in my life?’

‘People can get very mixed up and misinformed at times like this. Quite often there’s no point trying to reason with them. Many of them really don’t know what they’re talking about. They just jump on a bandwagon and think they have the authority to say whatever they like, whenever they like, as if they’re the only ones who have right on their side.’

Oliver’s head went down. ‘It’s the worst thing about Facebook,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s putting stuff on my wall ... You should see some of it.’

Guessing he’d probably rather not, Russ said, ‘It might be a good idea to stay away from it for a while. Just keep a low profile, stay out of town and get some work experience under your belt with Paul.’

Oliver nodded, then looked up at the sound of something crashing outside.

Russ’s eyes closed as he murmured, ‘Please don’t let that be what I think it is.’

As he turned to the window overlooking the forecourt, Oliver came up behind him and cried disgustedly, ‘God, just look at her. She’s taking your car.’

Able to see that, as well as the dent in Angie’s newly sprayed Renault, Russ took off out of the room and down the stairs, but by the time he reached the forecourt Sylvie
was already speeding through the gates at the end of the drive. He supposed he should feel thankful that she’d bothered to open them.

‘What are you going to do?’ Oliver asked, as he joined him.

Having no clear idea of what could be done, since this was obviously another attempt to escape a clinic, Russ simply shook his head and put an arm round Oliver’s shoulders.

Chapter Fifteen

CLIVE ANDREWS WAS
sitting outside the neurology unit in a marked police car when Jackie Dennis, the inspector in charge of the Scott/Lomax investigation, called his mobile.

‘Clive,’ she said, when he answered. ‘I hope this is a good time.’

‘Depends,’ he responded drily. ‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’

‘It’s about Lauren Scott. Are you with the family at the moment?’

‘Not exactly. I’m waiting to drive Emma Scott home for the night.’

‘I see. How’s the girl?’

‘Hanging on in there, but exactly what she’s hanging on to is hard to say.’

Sounding suitably sombre, Dennis said, ‘This can’t be easy for the family. Everything I’ve heard or read about the girl these past couple of days tells me what a bright young lady she was.’

‘Is,’ Andrews said stiffly.

‘Sorry, of course.’

OK, there was a chance Lauren Scott might not be that person any more, but as they didn’t know anything for certain yet, Andrews was going to believe there was hope.

‘So, before I get into updating you from my end,’ Dennis continued, ‘has anyone from the family come up with any sort of explanation yet about where Lauren might have been before the accident?’

‘No. I don’t think any of them know.’

‘Mm, that’s what I thought, and there’s nothing on her Facebook page about what she was doing on Saturday night, apart from going out with her friend Melissa, which we know didn’t happen. There are dozens of messages turning up from other friends, wishing her well. They’re very moving. She was –
is
– a popular girl.’

Appreciating the correction, Andrews said, ‘What about the mobile phone? Any leads there?’

‘I’m coming to it. First though, has there been any sign of a boyfriend either calling Mrs Scott to find out how his girlfriend is, or turning up at the hospital?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. No one’s even mentioned that she has one.’

‘And her relationship status on Facebook is single, if that means anything. Being as pretty as she is ...’

‘Excuse me interrupting, but I’m wondering why it’s relevant? We know who committed the crime on Saturday night, so why the investigation into Lauren’s movements?’

‘Procedure, and the fact that we don’t want the defence digging up something that might help get their lad off that we don’t already know about.
Plus
all the secrecy surrounding where she was before Lomax hit her is cause for suspicion of a second, possibly unrelated crime.’

Andrews had to concede that was true. ‘So where are you going with it?’

‘Several places, one of which is an address just outside Glastonbury which we found in a text to her mobile, received Saturday afternoon, along with directions of how to get there.’

Andrews wasn’t sure why he felt surprised; after all, he was hardly familiar with Lauren’s friends or activities. ‘So what is this place?’ he prompted. ‘Have any of the locals been to check it out?’

‘They have, and apparently it’s an old millworker’s cottage belonging to a Mr and Mrs Ian and Rachel Osmond of Kew, London. They use it as a weekend retreat, so they weren’t in residence when our chaps turned up earlier. But we managed to get hold of Mrs Osmond at her shop in Chiswick, and she informed us that she and her husband were in Suffolk at the weekend, visiting her parents.’

‘So could she throw any light on why Lauren might be visiting her cottage?’

‘No. In fact, she claims never to have heard of Lauren. We’re still waiting to speak to Mr Osmond.’

‘You’ve obviously tried the number the text came from?’

‘Of course, but we just keep getting bumped through to a recorded message. It doesn’t correspond with either of the mobile numbers Mrs Osmond gave us for herself and her husband, but that doesn’t tell us much, because if it’s his he wouldn’t be the first cheating bastard to own a phone his wife knows nothing about.’

Remembering that Jackie Dennis was one such wife, now ex, Andrews said, ‘So without even seeing or speaking to this guy, you’re thinking he and Lauren might be involved?’

‘Aren’t you?’

He had to admit, he was. ‘Does the in-laws’ alibi check out?’ he asked.

‘It’s in progress, and we’re waiting to hear back from O2 with details of who the unidentified number is registered to. Meanwhile, I’d like you to ask the Scotts if either of them knows the Osmonds, or if the mystery number is familiar to them. I’ll text it to you when we’ve finished this call. We also need a DNA sample from them both to try and establish if anyone else could have been in the car on Saturday besides Lauren.’

‘Is there a suggestion someone might have been?’

‘Not yet, we’re still waiting on forensics, but they can’t tell us much until they’re able to eliminate the obvious candidates such as parents and friends, which reminds me, someone still needs to talk to Melissa Hunter.’

Spotting Emma looking for his car, Andrews started to get out as he said, ‘I need to ring off now. I’ll get back to you once I’ve spoken to the Scotts.’