No Place Like Home by Jane Renshaw (top 10 non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📕

it’s fine. The sooner you can establish he’s not here the better, presumably. Please. Go ahead.’

‘We’ll do that, if you don’t mind, Mr Hendriksen,’ said the older cop.

‘Just let us get the kids out of here,’ Kirsty put in. ‘Actually…’ She went inside and returned with a front door key. ‘We’ll take them to my parents and leave you to poke about as much as you like.’ She took a breath and looked down at Sylvia, who was still slumped on the floor. ‘I’m so sorry, Sylvia, Andrew… I know you must be going through hell. But really, we have no idea what’s happened to Finn.’

The older cop took the door key from her. ‘Thank you. And we’ll need you to give us written permission to search your property.’

When they’d done that, Kirsty fetched a wide-eyed Phoebe and Max from upstairs and they left the house. It was all Bram could do not to sweep Phoebe up in his arms and run down the track to the bridge, to the car on the other side.

‘Mr and Mrs Hendriksen!’ came a shout from behind them.

Bram stopped, his heart thumping.

He turned.

The younger cop was running after them, flat out, arms pumping. Bram’s body wanted to break into a run itself, to take off, to flee. It took a conscious effort of will to stay where he was, feet planted on the dusty surface of the track.

He flashed a panicked look at Kirsty.

Did they want to search the car? Of course they did!

The policeman skidded to a halt in front of Bram. ‘Can you leave us a phone number? So we can contact you when we’ve finished?’

In the kitchen at David and Linda’s, Linda pulled Kirsty into a hug. ‘Are you okay? How are you holding up?’

They had called before they left Woodside to let them know what was happening.

Kirsty clung to her, tears starting. Phoebe looked on, frowning in concern. And Kirsty straightened, smiled, nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Come here, princess,’ said David, hugging Kirsty tight in his turn. ‘Those bastard Taylors!’

‘David,’ remonstrated Linda.

‘Sorry, love, but my God! First they scare the – bejesus out of us all with their antics, and then they try to set the cops on Bram because their wee yob of a son has done a disappearing act! The bugger could be anywhere. Who knows what else that lad’s been up to? Probably on drugs. Probably lying somewhere in his own piss, a needle sticking out his arm.’

Bram stared at his father-in-law. He really was a deeply unpleasant person.

‘David!’ Linda put a hand on his back. ‘Phoebe doesn’t need to hear this.’

‘I don’t mind, Grannie,’ said Phoebe. ‘Finn is a bad person.’

‘He’s still a human being,’ said Linda.

‘He’s a bad human being,’ Phoebe amended, and that made everyone smile.

‘Are you staying the night?’ Linda asked.

‘No – thanks, Mum, but we want to get back to Woodside once the police have finished there.’

‘Why should they be hounded out of their own home?’ David put in.

It wouldn’t, of course, have been possible to bring overnight bags even if they had intended staying with David and Linda – how could they have explained to the kids why they had to hold their bags on their knees instead of putting them in the boot? It had been hard enough trying to account for the smell in the car on the way over. ‘They must be spraying pig manure on the fields’ was all Kirsty could come up with.

David was running water into the kettle. ‘Scott just called,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Apparently the police want to search here too. Can you credit it? I suppose they’ve got to tick all the boxes, cover their backs in case the Taylors decide to sue or something…’

What?

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Bram managed, exchanging a frantic look with Kirsty.

If the cops came here, would they search the vehicles?

Possibly.

‘I’m going to phone Scott,’ said Kirsty, taking out her phone. ‘Bram, can you come with me?’ And the two of them practically ran outside.

Kirsty quickly called Scott to ask what was happening. From her side of the conversation, Bram gathered that the police were intending coming here after they’d searched Woodside, maybe in a couple of hours’ time. When she’d finished the call, they stared at each other.

‘We have to get rid of him now,’ Bram said at last. ‘But where can we…’ He dropped his voice. ‘How are we going to get rid of a dead body in broad daylight?’

Kirsty squeezed his hand. ‘It’s okay. I know a place. An old flooded quarry in a forest. We used to swim there as kids in the summer, but I don’t think kids these days use it. There’s a track right up to it. We could get rocks, put them in the tarp with the body, back the car up to the quarry and throw him in.’

‘But what if someone saw us?’

‘It’s surrounded by forest. We have to risk it, Bram. What choice do we have?’

‘Sorry, boy,’ said Bram, hooking a hand under Bertie’s collar to pull him away from the car. ‘Not this time.’

Bertie strained to get back to the car.

‘He really wants to go with you!’ smiled Phoebe. ‘No, Bertie, the sniffer dogs aren’t trying to find biscuits!’

They had told Linda, David and the kids that they were heading back to Woodside to help with the search. David thought this was madness.

‘The Taylors are only going to have a go at you again,’ he objected now. ‘Why should you help the buggers?’

Bertie pulled free of Bram’s restraining hand and launched himself at the boot of the car, jumping up at it and scratching with his paws, scrabbling sideways until his nose was level with the edge of the boot door. He snorted into it, sniffed, snorted. Scrabbled again.

Bram went after him and hauled him away, a smile plastered to his face. ‘Sorry, Bertie. Not this time.’

‘There’s an odd smell,’ said Linda, lifting her face into the breeze.

‘I think he’s rolled in something,’ Bram improvised.

‘Oh, bloody Nora,’ said Linda.

‘Over to