The Silent Room (27 page)

‘Looks like we’re on to something.’ Newman drew up a chair and sat down. ‘We know who Freberg was. Hilary will confirm if Jack was the person he went to meet that day. This is big. Very big.’

‘We’ve got to be careful here,’ Ryan said. ‘Jack has been accused before, don’t forget.’

‘You’re not suggesting—’

‘I’m suggesting nothing,’ he snapped. ‘I’m advocating caution, that’s all.’

‘Matt, calm down . . .’ Caroline was in the doorway. ‘Sounds like you guys need to eat. Dinner’s ready.’

As she told them what they were getting to eat, Ryan stopped listening. He was thinking about Jack, a methodical and meticulous gatherer of intelligence. The best. And yet the notes in his diary were sketchy. Was Freberg the man he hoped would make sense of them? Ryan felt hot as well as bothered. Approaching the mirror above the fireplace, he tore off the plaster holding his dressing in place and unwrapped the bandage.

Grace giggled. ‘Bruce Willis eat your heart out.’

Ryan grinned, glad to be rid of the tension between them.

‘What’s going on?’ Caroline was smiling, wanting in on the joke. ‘C’mon, paint me a picture, someone . . . please.’

Ryan moved towards her. Taking hold of her hand, he placed it gently on the top of his warm, shaven head. Caroline stroked it, wincing when she felt the uneven line of stitches and elongated scar beneath her fingertips.

Grace cocked her head on one side. ‘Actually, it suits him.’

They adjourned to the kitchen. It was time to take that break.

Caroline had prepared a banquet. Just how she’d managed to do that in a strange house was a mystery to all but Ryan. Grace had fallen over herself earlier with offers of help. She’d been shooed away and told not to fuss. All Caroline needed was the ingredients, the relevant utensils and cooking pots, someone to turn the oven to the correct temperature and she was good to go.

They all sat down, a happier and more relaxed atmosphere around the table tonight. Bearing in mind their collective decision to pull the plug on the silent room, the meeting would be their last as an undercover team. For Caroline’s benefit, they engaged in small talk for a while. But their conversation inevitably turned to the case that had occupied every waking moment since Jack’s disappearance less than a week ago.

Ryan shared his theory that Jack had been putting things together. ‘Given the state of his notebooks, I’m not sure he had all the answers. It seems pretty clear to me that Freberg had agreed to help him join the dots. I think they were both killed investigating something bigger than either of them could possibly imagine.’

Grace looked up, a forkful of vegetable curry in her hand. ‘We don’t have much to go on, but too many people have been hurt. We need to turn the whole thing over to O’Neil in the morning.’

‘First you need to talk to Hilary,’ Newman suggested.

‘You took the words out of my mouth,’ Caroline said. ‘Before any more accusations are levelled at Jack, I think you should warn Hilary and ask her about that trip. She’s had such a rough time of it lately. She could do without another interrogation from Eloise O’Neil, no matter how pleasant the woman is. It’ll be better coming from you, Matt.’

I’ll go round later,’ Ryan said.

‘I can do that . . .’ Grace was searching for the right words.

‘No, I will.’ Ryan overruled her, swallowing his grief. ‘I may not be her favourite person in the world, but I wouldn’t want her thinking that I don’t care. I have to face her some time. May as well be now.’

Hearing the sadness in his voice, Caroline reached for his hand. ‘She’s hurting, Matt. She’ll come round, in time. She thinks the world of you.’

Ryan wasn’t too sure. He’d made promises he’d not kept, to Hilary and the children. He’d have to live with that for the rest of his days. The way he saw it, his relationship with the family would never be the same.

51

When they had finished eating, Ryan picked up the phone, arranging to meet Hilary at a neutral location, a place where they could talk freely away from the kids. At this time of night the young ’uns would be in bed, but he couldn’t face Robbie.

Not yet.

Feeling like a coward, he set off straight away.

Hilary’s dad lived in Tynemouth – a house overlooking Longsands beach – so he’d chosen the Grand, a hotel nearby. Grand by name and by nature, the Drawing Room Bar was a warm and comfortable place to sit and have a quiet drink. Perfect for their needs. She was already there when he arrived, tucked away in a corner of the room, to the left of the bar. Sitting with her back to him, she’d selected a table for two so that none of the hotel guests would be tempted to join them.

Stopping at the bar to order drinks, Ryan hovered for a moment and then forced himself forward, a lump in his throat the size of a football.

He was dreading the encounter.

Pale and haggard, Hilary looked up as he sat down.

Ryan took the opportunity to ask after the children, then explained why it was so important to see her, why it couldn’t wait ’til morning. He told her about O’Neil’s calls too, and his hunch that she’d be knocking on his door sooner rather than later.

When Hilary was ready, he placed a small recording device on the table between them and got straight down to business. Reminding himself that this was his friend and not a witness he’d never met before, he began gently by asking whose idea it had been to go on a trip to Norway, even though he was pretty sure of what her answer would be.

‘It was Jack’s,’ she said. ‘You know it was.’

Ryan registered the resentment. ‘I just needed to be sure. The timing is very important. If this blows up in my face, as I suspect it might, I won’t be the only one asking you these questions. O’Neil will. That’s what the tape is for. I’m hoping it’ll suffice, that no one else will bother you.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I appreciate you’re in no position to offer guarantees.’

‘Your trip was a rather special weekend. A surprise, wasn’t it?’

Hilary nodded, her eyes misting slightly.

He pointed at the tape. He needed a verbal response.

‘Yes,’ she said.

He tried not to lead her. ‘Can you tell me about it?’

‘It was the weekend of Father’s Day.’

‘Which was Friday the fourteenth to Sunday the sixteenth of June?’

‘If you say so. Sorry, yes, it was that weekend.’

‘I understand Jack sprang it on you.’

‘In more ways than one . . .’ Hilary frowned. ‘I couldn’t believe he wanted to spend the day without the kids. He’d had his head in the clouds for weeks and was gutted when he realized what weekend it was. That’s why we asked you to—’ She stopped abruptly glanced at the recorder on the table. Ryan nodded his permission for her to continue. He had absolutely nothing to hide. She understood and carried on. ‘That’s why I suggested you deputize for him. If Jack had known it would be his last Father’s Day he never would have gone.’

‘I’m sure that’s true.’ Ryan took hold of her hand, squeezed it gently giving her a moment to compose herself. ‘Had anything happened beforehand to spark the idea? Had he received a phone call, a letter, anything out of the ordinary you might have noticed?’

‘No.’ She cleared her throat. ‘But he was a bit stressy.’

‘In what way?’

‘In every way.’ Her tone was bitter. ‘I . . . I could tell he needed a break.’

‘So you weren’t too surprised when he gave you less than two days’ notice?’

‘Not really.’ She’d not touched her drink. The conversation was killing her. Ryan felt like a shit walking her through it so soon after Jack’s death. It had to be done. There was no way round it. ‘For someone so cautious, he was an impulsive man when it came to me. He was always buying gifts and hiding them around the house for me to find: tickets to concerts, that sort of thing. He’d made a mistake with the dates, that’s all.’

Or so you thought.

Ryan pressed on. ‘Which airport did you fly from?’

‘Liverpool.’

‘To?’

‘Sandefjord, Torp.’

‘Were you met off the plane?’

‘No, we took a taxi straight to the hotel.’ She rubbed at her forehead, exhausted with all the questions. ‘Ryan, I think I know where all this is heading.’

‘Stick with me a second. Where did you stay?’

‘The Thon Hotel Brygge in Tønsberg.’

‘For how long?’

‘A couple of nights. It was wonderful, right on the quayside. Jack must’ve booked it beforehand. They were certainly expecting us.’ She paused, the light leaving her eyes. ‘I was in a bit of a strop when we left. I noticed he didn’t pay the bill . . . I assume he’d prepaid.’

Unless Freberg had organized the trip at the other end.

Ryan made a mental note to check that out later. ‘Tell me about it. Did you go sightseeing?’

She was nodding. ‘In the immediate area; there was no need to go further afield. It was the perfect location for a weekend away.’ Her voice grew cold. ‘Except it wasn’t a weekend away, was it? It was a fishing trip.’

Ryan didn’t quite know what to say. ‘Did you visit Verdens Ende, by any chance?’

Another nod. ‘It was the first place on our list. We went straight there after breakfast on the Saturday morning. Jack said he’d heard it was amazing. He wasn’t wrong. It was beautiful.’ The memory brought forth a smile. ‘He told you about it?’

Ryan felt his stomach tighten. He took a sip of beer, sidestepping the question with one of his own. ‘Did you meet anyone, either there or at the hotel afterwards?’

‘I didn’t.’ She met his eyes across the table. ‘Jack was planning to do so on the Sunday morning. He dropped that bombshell when we got back to the hotel, said it would only take an hour or two.’

‘At Verdens Ende?’

‘So I gather.’

It was so like Jack to do a recce the day before.

‘You said “planning to”?’

She looked away. Ryan allowed her some time to think. This was all beginning to fit and he didn’t want to push her too far too soon. But after a few minutes, she seemed to have drifted away from him, as if she was in some other space and time. He needed to regain her attention and get her back on track.

‘Hilary?’ he said gently. ‘Did Jack meet someone?’

She shook her head. ‘We had an awful row when I found out what he was up to. I felt used, like I was there under false pretences. Jack . . .’ She pressed her lips together, holding on to her emotions. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so stressed. I went off on one, which didn’t help matters.’

Ryan felt sorry for her.

As a couple, they hardly ever argued.

‘What
was
he up to?’ he asked.

She acted as if she’d not heard.

‘Hilary?’

‘It was something to do with Oliver. At least, that’s what he said.’ She could see Ryan wasn’t convinced. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You know as well as I do that it was an obsession with him.’ Her comment drew the stares of an elderly couple arriving at a nearby table. Hilary looked at them, apologetic. They changed their minds and moved away.

‘I had no idea it was that bad,’ Ryan said. ‘I promise you.’

‘Do you seriously expect me to believe that?’

‘It’s true. I knew how upset he was but—’

‘Upset?’ She was close to tears. ‘It haunted him every single day. He was convinced that the accident was preventable. Nothing I said made any difference. I told him to stop torturing himself.’ She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was harder than before. ‘You two were so alike. Friends, yes, but couldn’t you see that it was an unhealthy alliance? You never got over the loss of loved ones because you didn’t want to. You allowed those tragedies to define your whole lives. Take my advice, Ryan. Get on with yours before it destroys you too.’

Ryan stared into his beer glass.

There was no arguing with anything she’d said. In fact, she was spot on in one respect. He’d had been drawn to Jack before they had even been introduced, having found out through idle chatter in the police canteen that he’d lost a brother. Grief did that to people sometimes. It was a strong foundation for friendship Ryan wasn’t about to apologize for. Hilary was wrong about one thing: they shared so much more than she gave them credit for.

Didn’t they?

Seeing that she’d hurt him, she apologized.

He changed the subject. ‘Do you know who he was meeting?’

‘Some guy he tracked down on the Internet shortly after Oliver died, someone he thought might be able to answer his questions. The man wasn’t interested in talking to him then – and who could blame him? Jack was in a hell of a state. I guess the bloke changed his mind.’ She glared at Ryan as if he was partly responsible. ‘Is that what all this is about? Jack threw his life away trying to work out who or what killed his brother?’

‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that.’ Ryan didn’t go into it. She’d hear the full story the minute he made sense of it himself. He wanted to put her out of her misery. She deserved the truth. ‘Did Jack take anything with him when he went to meet this man, or bring anything back when he returned?’

Hilary shook her head. ‘He wasn’t away that long. The guy didn’t show.’

‘He told you that?’

‘He didn’t have to. It was written all over his face. We weren’t really talking on the Sunday. He was jumpy from then on, constantly making calls and checking his watch right up until the flight left on the Monday morning. As soon as we were in the air he apologized, said he’d make it up to me.’

‘And did he?’

Hilary nodded. ‘And some. He’d called my old man from Norway, asking if he could keep the kids a bit longer. We stayed at the Hard Days Night in Liverpool – quite apt, under the circumstances. Jack had read a review in the
Guardian
when it first opened. We’d been planning to go for ages. He joked it was a second honeymoon.’

Ryan smiled. ‘Sounds like a great way to kiss and make up.’

A tear rolled silently down Hilary’s cheek. ‘I haven’t been very fair on you, have I? I’m sorry for being mean.’

‘Forget it. I have.’ That was a lie. What she’d said couldn’t be unsaid. Worst of all, she was right. He and Jack had allowed their past to shape the present – and now her husband had no future. Ryan wouldn’t let that happen to him. Armed with her account of what went on in Norway, times, dates, et cetera, he ended the interview and walked her back to her father’s house. Giving her a hug, he told her he’d be in touch and left to tell the others.