Like This, for Ever

back to my superiors?’
    The counsellor looked shocked. ‘None of it,’ she said. ‘These sessions aren’t about your fitness to do your job, I thought I’d made that clear when we started. They’re to help you deal with what you went through in Cambridge. And last year.’
    ‘Yes, you did say that. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’
    ‘Are you afraid of what people think of you?’
    Bless her, she had no idea.
    ‘I’m not scared,’ she said, in a small voice.
    ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.’
    ‘I’m not scared,’ Lacey went on, speaking louder now. ‘I can’t feel fear any more. I sometimes wish I could.’ She leaned forward, closer to the counsellor. ‘I test myself, I go out walking after dark, around some of the roughest parts of London. I walk through deserted open spaces, even along the riverbank at low tide. All the places where women alone are supposed to be at their most vulnerable. Where sensible women wouldn’t dream of going.’
    ‘You think you’ve lived through the worst, what else can there possibly be?’ asked the counsellor.
    ‘In a way, but I think it’s worse than that.’
    ‘What can be worse than that?’
    Lacey thought about Tulloch’s eyes upon her in the interview room, about the way Sergeant Anderson, DC Stenning and all her other former colleagues couldn’t quite look at her. She thought about Barney and his mates at the rugby yesterday, terrified and fascinated in equal measure.
    ‘I’ve become what other people are scared of,’ she said. ‘I’m the thing they fear.’
    ‘I won’t keep you long, Sir. I just want to ask you a few questions about the boat you keep at Deptford Creek.’
    The detective was tall with dark, curly hair and a friendly, open face. On the doorstep, he’d introduced himself as Detective Constable Stenning and Barney’s dad, looking wary, had invited him inside.
    ‘You mean my late father-in-law’s yacht, I suppose,’ said his dad. ‘The
Laird of Lorntie,
moored at the Theatre Arm.’
    ‘Yes, that’s the one. You do still own it, then?’
    ‘I do, yes. I keep meaning to do it up a bit, put it on the market, but somehow never seem to get round to it.’
    ‘Can I ask when you were last there?’
    Barney’s dad let his head fall to one side, as though he were thinking about it. ‘My son has a better memory than I,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Barney, can you remember when we were last at the boat?’
    Barney had been curled up on the sofa in the kitchen, pretending to be absorbed in his DS.
    ‘October,’ he sighed, in his best impersonation of a bored teenager. ‘Maybe November. We had to clear leaves off the deck.’
    ‘Sounds about right to me,’ agreed his dad. ‘I can probably get you an exact date if I look through last year’s diary. I had a locksmith go earlier this year when the keys went missing, but he made his own way there.’
    ‘What about when you went to dry it out?’ added Barney.
    Barney’s dad tapped his fingers against his temple, the classic
Lord, I’m so forgetful
gesture. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘The locksmith called to tell me the boat was looking quite damp. Soggy bedsheets and upholstery, that kind of thing. I had to spend a day there dryingeverything out. I took time off work. Do you want me to check my diary?’
    ‘Shouldn’t be necessary,’ replied DC Stenning. ‘You weren’t there on Saturday evening then?’
    ‘I’m afraid not,’ replied Barney’s dad. ‘This will be about the young boy, I suppose? The one we saw on the news.’
    ‘Tyler King,’ said DC Stenning. ‘We confirmed his identity earlier today. What about your son?’
    ‘I doubt Barney could find his way to Deptford Creek without me,’ said his dad. ‘He was at a sleepover on Saturday night.’
    ‘And you were … ?’
    ‘I was here. For an hour or two I enjoyed the unusual peace and quiet, then I got a bit lonely. I went to bed early.’
    God, his dad was good. A singing sound told Barney he’d received a text message. He pulled out his phone. It was from Harvey.
    Check out Facebook now!!!
    Tricky one. He didn’t want to leave his dad while the detective was still in the house. On the other hand, Harvey sounded pretty desperate.
    ‘Dad, can I go upstairs?’
    His dad nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, looking at the detective. ‘That’s unless …’
    ‘Oh, I’m done,’ said DC Stenning. ‘Thank you for your time.’
    Barney got up, gave DC Stenning a shy smile and left the room. As he