The Half Truth(59)

John lifted the radio to his mouth. ‘Yep, I heard.’ A twiddle of a button and the radio fell silent.

John and Martin walked into Brogan’s office and stood in front on their boss’s desk.

‘Sir.’

‘Sit down, you two,’ said Brogan. ‘Do you want to tell me what exactly happened today?’

‘Sasha Bolotnikov gave us the slip,’ said Martin.

‘And how exactly did that happen?’

‘Took off. Caught us off guard,’ said John.

‘And the listening bug you put on Tina Bolotnikov didn’t work?’ said Brogan, tapping the edge of his desk with his pen.

‘No, Sir,’ said John.

Brogan leaned forwards. ‘So that’s the official line. The one going in the report. Shall we have the truth now?’

‘That is the truth, Sir,’ said Martin.

‘I don’t know what went on there today, you two, but I wasn’t born yesterday and I can make a good guess. Covering for a suspect is not something I approve of.’

‘She’s not a suspect,’ countered John.

‘You don’t know that for sure. She could be playing you at your own game,’ said Brogan. ‘You’re getting too close to all this, John. Boundaries are blurring. You need to watch your step because I’m going to be looking very closely at this now. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ said John. ‘Is there anything else?’ He was keen to file his report and get back down to Sussex. Brogan had insisted both he and Martin come back to HQ for a personal face-to-face debriefing of that day’s events. In other words, a sophisticated bollocking.

‘That’s it now, you can go.’ Brogan dropped his pen onto the desk. ‘Oh, actually, John, you wait behind, I want a word with you.’

Martin closed the door as he left.

‘My wife bumped into Hannah Edwards the other day,’ said Brogan, his voice too casual for John’s liking. ‘Hannah mentioned that you had been round to see her.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Lovely daughter, she’s got. My missus said they both seemed happy. They’re moving on with their lives.’ John wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, so he said nothing and let Brogan continue. ‘It’s a good thing, John. You need to move on as well.’ Brogan paused but John remained silent, he had no desire to get involved in a conversation about moving on with his DI. Brogan sighed as he realised he was getting nothing from John. ‘Right, get out of here before I change my mind about leaving you on the Porboski case.’

John knew the last time he saw Hannah they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. His realisation that he was, in fact, damning Hannah for doing exactly what he wanted Tina to do, move one from her dead husband, had plagued him tirelessly. The hypocrisy wasn’t wasted on him.

He pulled up outside Hannah’s house. He hoped he had timed it well. By his reckoning, Hannah should be back from the school run within the next few minutes. With a bit of luck, the boyfriend wasn’t about.

The blue Ford C-Max swung onto the drive. John could see Ella in the back seat.

John got out of his car and stood at the end of the driveway. Hannah was now at the front door with Ella.

‘Hannah,’ said John, standing at the apron of the driveway.

She turned. He saw her face register him. A frown followed. She turned back to the door, unlocked it and ushered her daughter inside.

‘Go in, darling,’ she said. ‘Mummy will get the shopping out of the car.’ She walked to the boot of her car. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you,’ she said opening the hatchback.

‘I wondered if we could have a chat.’

‘A chat? Honestly, John, I don’t think we need to chat about anything.’ She heaved two bags of shopping from the car.

‘Here, let me,’ said John.

No, I’ve got it. I can manage.’ She put the bags on the ground and faced John. ‘It’s not a chat you want. You want forgiveness.’ John took a step back on to the path, the words unexpected. Hannah continued. ‘So listen to me. I. Forgive. You.’ She slammed the boot down hard and grabbed the shopping bags. ‘Now you can get on with your life and let me get on with mine.’

Hannah strode up the path and in through the front door without looking back once.

John’s feet may as well have been welded to the spot and his throat fused closed. He couldn’t form a reply. This was not how he had envisaged this encounter. It appeared he had just angered Hannah even more.

Finally, his feet responded to message from his brain and he walked back to his car feeling no better than he had before. If anything, he felt worse.