do they think about me?’ Imogen said. Elias, a man who had been a ghost when she was growing up, suddenly thrust in to her life during a murder investigation barely a year ago. She had always been an only child and so it was hard to think of herself as an older sister to three grown men.
‘Your brothers? Surprised, but they want to meet you.’
‘They do?’ Imogen hadn’t even considered meeting his children, but hearing Elias call them her brothers made that seem inevitable and her discomfort returned.
‘Yes. We’re having a family gathering soon, would you like to come?’
‘I don’t know. It feels too soon for that. I can’t just get a whole new family now that my mother has gone.’ Imogen said. Irene was the only parent she had ever known; she had longed for more when she was younger and now that her mother was dead, she felt like it was wrong to replace her immediately.
‘At least consider meeting with me properly – we could have dinner on Friday night.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s too soon. I need more time.’
Imogen stood up and left her half-finished gin on the counter. This was all too strange. First he wanted to get to know her, now he wanted her to meet her brothers. Just the word brother sounded alien to her in this context; she had no reference for it. It didn’t mean anything to her, not in the same way as mother did, not in the same way that orphan did. That’s how she felt, orphaned, even though her father was sat right opposite her. It didn’t matter; she was all alone in the world now. No more Greys.
He stood up and held his hand out for her to shake. She took pity on him, knowing full well that she was the only person he could truly share his grief over her mother’s death with. She put her arms around him and felt his tension ease within her embrace. From now on, he would be the only connection she had to her mother, too. She had to consider carefully what to do next. There was a whole other world that she could immerse herself in, but the idea of it scared her. She was only just getting accustomed to the one she was living in now. Imogen needed to decide whether she wanted all her life changes to happen at once, get it over with. Could she handle any more heartbreak?
‘Please state your name for the tape,’ Imogen said. She had barely got into work when she was informed about the young girl waiting to be processed and questioned.
‘Caitlin Watts,’ the girl said, not looking at Imogen but clearly sizing Adrian up.
‘And how old are you?’
‘I just turned nineteen.’
‘You were spotted breaking into the old chapel on Smalling Street, is that correct?’ Adrian said.
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ She tilted her head down, keeping her eyes on him.
‘Was there a reason for that?’ Imogen asked.
‘Not a good one. I just wanted to see if I could,’ Caitlin said, still staring at Adrian.
Imogen noted that there was no nervous disposition with this girl at all; she seemed almost defiant, even a little defensive. What was her game?
‘We’re trying to get hold of the reverend in charge, who will tell us if anything is damaged or stolen.’
‘He’s away at the moment, gone to some pilgrim site in Kent.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I live with him,’ Caitlin said with a hint of a smile. ‘He’s my grandad.’
Imogen tried to gauge whether this was a lie or not; there was something very hard to read about Caitlin, a dishonesty about her. She looked over to Adrian, who shook off his surprise at this revelation very quickly and recomposed himself. Imogen could tell the girl was fixated on getting a reaction out of Adrian; her strange flirtation seemed to be working on him, he was visibly flustered by her.
‘Do you have any way of contacting him?’ Adrian said.
‘Not for a couple of days. He will be back before the weekend, though. He’ll tell you that nothing is missing or damaged; I’m not like that.’
‘If that were true you wouldn’t even be here at all,’ Imogen said.
‘We’ll check out your story – where will you be if we need to contact you?’ Adrian said.
‘I’ll be at my grandfather’s house, or at class. One of the two.’
‘What are you studying?’ Adrian said.
‘Psychology at the university. I want to be a shrink, get inside people’s heads and stuff.’ She smiled at Adrian.
‘You’re not staying in halls?’ Imogen said.
‘Not really any point, seeing as I live in the town. It saves money, which my grandad doesn’t have that much of.’ She answered Imogen coldly, seemingly annoyed that she was there at all, as though this would be a lot easier if Adrian were the only person in the room. She was an interesting girl – there was a definite vulnerability about her, something she was trying desperately to hide. Imogen could identify.
‘Are your parents not in the picture?’ Imogen asked.
‘No, apparently being parents was boring and not nearly noble enough, so they skipped off into the sunset together. I think they live in South America somewhere. They’re missionaries or something.’
That explained her strange behaviour – abandonment issues.
‘You don’t have any contact with them?’ Imogen pressed.
‘Not for around ten years now. But you know, I’m privileged apparently, so I don’t really deserve their attention. They only have time for Third World children.’ She brushed her glossy black hair behind her ears. The hair was the same colour as her perfectly groomed eyebrows, which almost looked painted on, but they were natural, Imogen could tell. Caitlin was making Imogen self-conscious; she watched as the girl’s striking blue eyes bore into Adrian and no doubt pulled at his heart strings.
‘I’m sorry, that must be hard,’ Adrian said.
Imogen shot him a look; it wasn’t like him to make personal comments like that. There was something a little mesmerising about Caitlin. She couldn’t tell whether it was intentional and manipulative or just the way she was, but Imogen was almost certain it was the former. Imogen was the one with a record for falling for suspects; it was the reason she’d lost the opportunity to get the DI job, because the DCI had found out about her relationship with Dean, which although not entirely illegal was most definitely frowned upon. The truth was that Imogen was a little relieved about not getting the position; she wasn’t sure she could handle the extra responsibility as well as everything else she had going on, on top of losing her mum.
That fleeting thought of her mother sent a chill through her; she couldn’t call her, she couldn’t go and visit.
Imogen shook off the
