Like This, for Ever

climbed the stairs, he heard the two men talking as his dad showed the detective out.
    ‘We’ll let you have the keys back as soon as we’ve completed the search of the marina. Shouldn’t be more than a few days.’
    ‘That’s fine,’ said his dad. ‘I’ve got a spare set. And I really should get there myself before too much longer.’
    The door closed, his dad returned to the kitchen and Barney reached his own floor of the house. His computer was on, he was already logged on to Facebook. It took a couple of seconds to open up the Missing Boys page.
    Peter Sweep had posted twenty minutes earlier.
    Tomorrow, tomorrow, the killer will come out tomorrow. Take care, my pretty pale boys, watch out for Peter.
    The comments stream was building rapidly.
    Sick bastard.
    Pervert. You don’t fool anyone.
    Sick twat.
    Barney had a vision of Peter, sitting at his keyboard, watching the fury unfold and smiling to himself at how easily people could be wound up. They were like fireworks – light the blue touch paper and retire.
    His mobile was ringing. It was Harvey. ‘Have you seen it?’ he said, as soon as Barney answered. ‘Sam’s just been on the phone,’ he went on, when Barney had confirmed that he was looking at the Facebook page that moment. ‘He thinks we should get some kids together and patrol the streets tomorrow. You know, safety in numbers.’
    ‘I think they’ll all be safer at home,’ said Barney.
    ‘That’s what Jorge said when I rang him at the theatre. He said the best thing we can do is encourage everyone to go straight home from school and stay indoors till Wednesday morning.’
    ‘I agree with him,’ said Barney.
    ‘Yeah, but they’re not safe at home, are they? Home is where they’re disappearing from. Somehow he’s getting into homes. How is he doing that?’
    ‘He knows them,’ said Barney, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before. ‘When kids go missing, it’s nearly always someone they know. Someone they don’t think will hurt them. Like the school caretaker, or the man at the chip shop.’ Or the parent of a— No, he wasn’t going there!
    ‘So we can’t trust anyone?’ said Harvey.
    ‘Dad, if you knew who the killer was, would you tell the police?’ asked Barney from the doorway of his father’s study.
    His dad didn’t even look up. ‘Of course.’ He did though, Barney noticed, close down the screen he’d been working on. Barney stepped a little further into the room.
    ‘What if it was someone you cared about?’
    Now his dad looked up. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘What if it was me?’
    His dad half smiled, then looked nervous. ‘Barney, what are you talking about?’
    ‘What if you found out the killer was me? Would you tell the police?’
    ‘Oh you funny kid, come here.’
    Barney didn’t move, so his dad did, standing up, pushing back his chair and wrapping his arms around his son. Pressed against his dad’s chest, smelling the warm, male scent that was possibly his real earliest memory, Barney felt himself relaxing. He was being stupid. There was an explanation, there was always an explanation.
    ‘The answer to your ridiculous question is that I would not give you up to the police, no matter what you’d done, because you are the one thing in my life I absolutely could not live without. Do you believe me?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Barney, amazed. Had he really not realized until now that his dad loved him? Really, deeply loved him. The one thing in life he could not live without? You couldn’t feel like that about one child and … God, he was an idiot. Downstairs, in the kitchen, something pinged.
    ‘And that’s dinner,’ said his dad. ‘Downstairs in five, young man.’
    His dad left the room. Barney turned to follow him and had a sudden thought. His dad had left his computer switched on, which he hardly ever did. Twenty minutes ago, maybe a bit longer, Peter Sweep had posted on Facebook. Twenty minutes ago, his dad had been at his computer. Barney could settle it, once and for all. He moved the mouse to the menu bar at the top of the screen and clicked on History. The menu box dropped down and Barney could see the internet sites his dad had visited since he’d got home fromwork. He stared, read through the list, counted the sites and then closed the box again.
    There was an explanation. There was always an explanation.
    Barney left the room and made his way slowly downstairs. In the kitchen he could hear cutlery being placed on the table,