‘Why?’ Tracy’s voice tightens. ‘Why are you so interested in my dad?’ She’s retreating to the far side of the room, giving herself time and space to think, looking at Nathan properly for the very first time. Katie is waiting for the penny to drop, but there’s nothing.
‘Do you watch the news?’ she asks, already thinking she knows both the answer and the reason.
‘Why? Are you saying my dad’s been on there?’
Katie’s thoughts are tumbling over and over. She wishes she didn’t have to do this, and again she wonders if she might just walk away, forget about it all and give up for once. She’s so caught up in the possibility that she misses Nathan moving across to the sofa. When she turns, she can see he’s holding up a remote control. He punches in the number for a twenty-four-hour news channel and of course the story of ‘The Cartoonist’ is there, headline news.
Tracy stares at the screen for a few seconds, eyes not blinking, not moving an inch. Then she’s staggering away, folding her arms across herself, her back pressed up against the patio windows leading out to her garden. All the time she’s looking back at the screen, at the photos and at the banner headlines scrolling across the screen and spelling out the terrible crimes that have been committed. The photo used was of Nathan as he’d been a few years earlier, cut from an image of Katie’s investigations team. He’d stood apart, barely in frame; the reluctance to be there was written all over his face.
‘This is the man we’re after’s brother,’ says Katie, pointing at the TV and then at Nathan. ‘He is a criminal psychologist. He works with the police and is helping us to find both his brother and—’ She cuts herself off, realising there’s no need to continue. The image of Markham has already flashed up on the screen. It’s an old photo of a younger man, likely the only photo her colleagues could get their hands on. It might not be ideal for a public response, but Tracy’s is immediate.
‘You’re wrong,’ she says, grabbing at the curtain behind her as if that might hold her up. ‘Whatever you think he’s done.’ She turns her attention to Nathan. ‘He would never…’ Her breathing has quickened. ‘He promised me.’
‘Promised what?’ says Katie. ‘When?’
Tracy spins suddenly, trying to get a look at the garden as if she’s heard a noise out there, her hands shaking uncontrollably against the glass. Katie wants to pull her close, but she can tell she’s petrified of everything and everyone.
‘Do you know what this will do to your father?’ says Tracy, with a desperate stare in Katie’s direction.
‘Please,’ says Katie. ‘We just need to know where he is.’
‘I don’t know,’ she replies, sinking down. ‘I haven’t seen him since…’ she pauses again, grips the curtain tighter, ‘since a long time ago.’
‘Perhaps your mother?’
‘My mother is dead.’ She sinks further so she’s curled into a ball, her arms wrapped around her legs, dragging them in. ‘But you’re wrong. He wouldn’t… He promised. He swore on his life it wouldn’t happen again. That’s why your father…’
‘What happened?’ says Nathan firmly when she doesn’t go on. ‘You have to tell us.’
But she doesn’t speak. Nathan’s hands are stretched out towards Tracy, but Katie moves across and blocks his path, her mind suddenly clear – the way it always was when they were approaching a solution.
‘Your dad was there, wasn’t he?’ she says, unable to prevent a gasp as she finally recognises the truth. ‘He was in the barn the night you were attacked.’
Tracy pulls her limbs in further; before she lowers her head to her chest she offers a single nod.
‘Did he attack you?’
‘No,’ she says, her voice childlike.
‘Who was the man that died?’ asks Katie.
‘Evil.’ She looks up suddenly, eyes wide. ‘Pure evil. He killed the other girl. It was like that bastard had control over Dad, could make him do whatever he wanted. Dad never actually touched me on that day, he just stood there like a zombie, like he couldn’t believe who he had become. He was never like that before. He was a good dad.’ The tears come again, and Katie needs to know more before she can console her.
‘How did Alex Maclean die?’
Tracy visibly shakes at hearing the name. ‘Like they said,’ she manages eventually. ‘Your dad chased him up to the roof. And then…’ One hand comes up towards her ear, as if to try and block the sound she’s reliving. ‘There was a scream.’
Katie has interviewed enough witnesses over the years to know when they’re holding back, and she knows she must push on, right to the end.
‘You heard more,’ she says.
Again Tracy tries to deny it, but there’s something surging to every corner of Katie’s body that convinces her to ask again, finally cracking Tracy.
‘Not really. I was drugged and confused. He said something about giving up, just before… I mean, he might have meant he was giving up on life, readying himself to jump, because I just can’t see your dad doing that… Maybe Maclean wanted him to do it, took control of him somehow, like he was a devil or something, the same way he had with my dad.’
‘And what happened to your dad?’
‘He’d been cuffed, but I begged for him to be let go. Not so much for him, but for my mum. I couldn’t bear her knowing that Dad had been there, had stood and watched his own daughter being abused.’ Tracy wraps her arms defensively around her chest. ‘Of course, she had to live with him leaving her, and she was never the same, had no fight left when… when she got sick.’ She sucks in another uneven breath. ‘But it was better than her knowing the truth. That was why I threatened your dad, told him I’d heard everything that had happened, told him I could get him in the shit.’ She stares at Katie, blinking back the tears. ‘I didn’t know he had a daughter too. I guess that was the reason he agreed in the end.’
‘To what?’
‘He made my dad swear he would leave home as soon as he could without it seeming suspicious, and he said if there was any evidence he’d committed more crimes he would hunt him down and finish him off like the other guy.’ She pulls the curtain across, trying to cover her face, trying to block the path between them. ‘It was just words, it didn’t mean…’
Katie knows exactly what it meant, there can be no doubt now; not when she remembers the change that had taken place in him, and the horror on his face in the care home when his darkest secret had broken free. Another possibility crawls unbidden into Katie’s consciousness, something she quickly suppresses. A resolution is close, though, she’s certain of that much; they’re coming to an understanding, or at least being guided towards one.
Katie wants to sit down on the floor next to Tracy, to curl up and wait until she feels her strength return, but Nathan’s there too and when she looks back at him she can see the expectation in his face.
‘What now?’ he says.
She has no answer. She is exhausted and in shock. Her phone starts to buzz. She struggles to squeeze it out of her trouser pocket, working through the possibilities and settling on it being DS Peters back at the office with news. But when she finally gets to look at the screen she can see that she’s wrong: it’s a message from an unknown number, the same number that had texted her in the car.
LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY POOR LITTLE GIRL.
The calculation is quick, as is the following movement. She lowers the phone and rushes over to the patio window, standing over Tracy as she draws the curtains fully back and peers out into the garden. The edges are lined with carefully maintained shrubs, some of which have grown higher than the surrounding wall. She determines it would be possible to climb the other side and see but not be seen. Her eyes dart around, looking for the slightest trace of movement, but there’s only a light breeze moving the leaves on a big oak tree in the far corner. When she looks down she can see that Tracy is cowering even more, as if fearing she is about to strike her, and suddenly she pictures her as a little girl, down on the floor of the warehouse, her own policeman dad standing over her, perhaps offering a hand as he lifts her to her feet.