Like This, for Ever

Jorge was close enough to be in earshot.
    She seemed to think about that for a second, then, ‘I was brought up in Shropshire,’ she said. ‘Very close to the Welsh border. We knew a lot of Welsh people. The Welsh live and breathe rugby.’
    ‘My dad likes it,’ he said, fixing his attention on the game. ‘A few of my mates’ dads play. And one of our teachers from school.’
    Seemingly tired of hair in her face, Lacey pushed it back behind her head, then twisted it round at the back of her neck into a knot. She stuffed the loose end into the collar of her coat. He’d never seen a woman do that before. ‘I got your text,’ she said. ‘The one you sent me last night.’
    Careful now. Barney saw Jorge stiffening. He’d heard her, too. He just had to hope Jorge had the sense to keep quiet.
    ‘I was at a mate’s house last night,’ said Barney. ‘I sent a couple of texts to my dad. Did I send one to you by mistake? Sorry.’
    ‘No, I mean the one about Deptford Creek. About what you saw down there.’
    Barney looked Lacey full in the face. He was a good liar, he took after his dad, this would be easy. The hair she’d imprisoned was starting to break free and fly in the wind again, like ribbons, like weed in a rough sea.
    ‘I didn’t send any about Deptford Creek,’ he replied. ‘Maybe it was someone with a similar number.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket, reeled off his number. ‘Anything like that?’ he asked her.
    ‘I can’t check right now,’ she said. ‘The police have my phone. It may take them a few days, but they will trace who texted me last night. It will be better to own up now.’
    She was bluffing, she had to be. It was a pay-as-you-go phone, it couldn’t be traced.
    ‘Barney, I heard you all come home. It was obvious something had happened. Ten minutes later, the text arrived. Whatever you were doing down there, however much you think you might be in trouble, I promise you, the police won’t be interested. All they care about is making sure they have as much information as possible about what happened there last night.’
    Exactly,
thought Barney.
If they find out we were there, they’ll find out Dad was. Hatty will describe that sweatshirt and then that will be it.
    ‘Barney, this is a murder inquiry. A multiple-murder inquiry. I’ll come with you, but you have to talk to the police.’
    No, he was not going to tell the police that his dad had been at the boat. There would be a perfectly good reason, there had to be.
    ‘I’m sorry, Lacey, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

41
Monday 18 February
    ‘SUSAN, IT’S DANA Tulloch.’
    ‘Hi Dana, anything new?’
    ‘Yes, I think so. I’ve just had a report back from the lab and it’s interesting.’
    ‘Hang on, let me grab a pen.’
    Dana waited. She’d never been in Susan Richmond’s office, could not picture the room where the psychologist was right now. She looked down at the notepad on her desk. She’d written the name PETER SWEEP in a large circle and was drawing faint pencil lines from one letter to another, in the time-honoured way of solving anagrams. So far she’d come up with Peeper Stew, Peep Wester and Weeper Step.
    ‘OK, fire away,’ said Richmond.
    ‘The clothes that Jason and Joshua Barlow were found in were sent away, which is perfectly normal procedure,’ Dana told her. ‘Their father had confirmed they were the clothes the boys were wearing when they went missing, so potentially what we found on them could be important.’
    ‘I guess you’re always hoping for the killer’s DNA.’
    ‘Goes without saying. There were quite a lot of hairs and fibres on both boys’ clothing, but that’s perfectly normal for children of this age who’ve spent the day at school.’
    ‘Makes sense.’
    ‘There was a lot of blood around the necks of the boys’ sweaters, but again that’s exactly what we would have expected.’
    ‘I guess.’
    ‘There was also blood, or what appeared to be blood, on Jason’s trousers. Left leg, just below the knee. When we had the initial report, we assumed it was just spatter.’
    She paused, giving the other woman a chance to catch up with her notes. ‘And now you know it’s not?’ Richmond asked after a second.
    ‘It’s not even blood,’ said Dana. ‘Or rather, not real blood.’
    ‘What other kinds of blood are there?’
    ‘It’s fake blood,’ said Dana, looking at the picture she’d found on the internet. ‘The sort you buy in bottles