Dreaming of the Bones

been out of the country at the time of Vic’s death.
    Byrne had received their account of Miss Pope’s evidence—that Vic had already been ill by half past three— with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. ”We’ll go over the statements again, but I really don’t see that this puts us much further forwards,” he said. ”We’ve no apparent motive for Dr. McClellan’s death—or for Lydia Brooke’s in the event she did not commit suicide—and now it seems that these poems you thought the murderer had stolen were simply misplaced.” Byrne steepled his long fingers together. ”Quite frankly, Duncan , we’ve not had a single good lead on this case, and my manpower resources are dwindling. You know how it is. I’ve a missing child to deal with, and the mugging of an eighty-year-old woman in her bed.” He shrugged.
    ”You’re telling me you’re turning Vic’s case over to a file clerk. Alec—”
    ”If anything turns up I’ll put every available officer on it. But in the meantime ..Byrne cast a look of appeal at Gemma, then turned back to Kincaid. ”What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
    Kincaid had reluctantly conceded Byrne’s point, his sense of frustration mounting. Would he keep on, he wondered, if he weren’t personally involved?
    By the time they’d driven back to London and pulled the car up on the double-yellows in front of Gemma’s flat he had arrived at an answer. Like Alec, he had learned to accept a percentage of failure in his job. But he had spent all his adult life learning the art of catching killers—and with knowledge came responsibility. Someone had deliberately set out to murder Vic, not only taking her life, but changing her son’s life forever. He would not give up until he knew the truth, no matter how long it took or what it cost him. He would see justice done, for Vic... and for Lydia as well.
    The morning’s wind had given way to an unexpectedly warm and hazy afternoon, and they found Kit playing in the garden with the children. He was humming tunelessly as he built something with old bits of brick, and he gave an uncomplicated smile of pleasure when he looked up and saw them watching. It seemed that at least for a few moments he’d found some solace.
    Kincaid had taken him aside then, telling him that Ian had come back, but only temporarily, and would take him and Tess to the Miller family that evening. Kit stared at him a moment, his face unreadable, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the house without a word.
    Now, looking out the kitchen window in the growing dusk, Kincaid wondered what he had expected. Relief? Anger? Disappointment? Anything at all, he thought, would have been better than the silence in which Kit had collected his things, then gone out into the garden with Tess.
    He could barely make out the outline of boy and dog huddled together on the flagstone steps. ”What’s he thinking?” he said as Hazel came to stand beside him. ”Why do I feel as though I’ve failed him?”
    ”You’ve done the best you could under the circumstances,” said Hazel softly. ”Sometimes there just aren’t any right answers. And he may not really be thinking at all. Emotional overload—too much to take in at once. Give him a while to find his balance.”
    ”Did I make a mistake in not telling him the truth now?” Kincaid asked. ”Is it better for him to think that the man he’s seen as his father doesn’t love him, or for him to learn that he’s not who he always thought he was?”
    Hazel didn’t answer, and in the moment’s silence they heard a thump and faint laughter from upstairs, where Gemma was giving Holly and Toby their baths before tea. ”Professionally, I’d say you’re doing the right thing,” Hazel said slowly. ”Personally, I know how difficult it must be. For the time being, give him all the reassurance you can that you mean to stay in his life. Let him get used to the idea.” She touched his arm and looked up into his face. ”But Duncan , you must be absolutely sure of your commitment to him, or it’s better not to do anything at all.”
    ”I realize that.” He looked out into the garden. For the first time, he understood the magnitude of Gemma’s responsibility to Toby. Was he capable of making the same commitment, capable of giving Kit the stability he needed? And how would he know until he tried?
    The doorbell chimed. ”I’ll go,” said Hazel. ”Why don’t you have Kit run up and tell Gemma and the little