She thought, quickly; at the same time picking her shirt from the floor with her free hand and covering her lap with it, in an automatic gesture, as if he had found them and was standing in the doorway. "One of the lawyers took me," she said, 'in a private plane, then in a hire car. Now why the interrogation?"
"I'm sorry," Bob replied, at once. "You took me by surprise, that's all."
"So we're both good at that. Now what is it?"
"Need it be anything? Can't I just be calling you?"
"If you're calling to say you're catching the first flight over, yes you can. If not, then what I said yesterday still counts."
"Sarah, I can't do that."
"Okay, have your damn medical next week. Once you're cleared for duty, take some family time and come across."
"I can't do that either, love. Something's come up, apart from the job."
"What? Have you had another incident?" For the first time she sounded anxious.
"No, I'm fine."
"Is it Alex? Is something wrong with her? Or Andy, or his baby?"
"No, none of that. I'm in Perth now; wee Danielle's magic, really, and
Karen's doing great. No, it's something else, a personal thing, a long, involved story that I should have told you a long time ago. I can't now, though, not over the phone. Sarah, I really would like it if you'd come home. Just for a week or so, even. I need your support."
"Hah!" Her laugh was harsh and brittle. "Those words sound familiar.
Last time they were used between us, I was saying them to you. I needed you, Bob, to help me cope with my parents' death, to be there when I went through my mother's belongings, to help me with questions about the estate and to advise me about things in which you've got much more experience than I have. I needed your support then, and I begged you for it. And what did you do? You caught the first fucking plane out of here, that's what you did. Well that is exactly what I'm not going to do.
Something's come up for me too, and I'm staying right here."
She could almost hear him struggle to keep his voice even. "Sarah, I need you with me."
"So? You'll just have to do what I did, and tough it out. Maybe then you'll find out what I did, all of a sudden. I don't fucking need you … for anything!"
She jumped up, ripped the battery from her cellphone, and threw the separate pieces, tangled in her shirt, across Ron Neidholm's bedroom.
When she turned back towards him he was there, by her side, to wrap her in his arms, as she exploded into tears.
Back in Perth, Bob Skinner stared at his dead phone, his face twisted with anger. He realised that he was breathing hard, and forced himself to bring it back to normal. When he was back in control, he closed his eyes. "What do you want, man?" he asked himself aloud. "Maybe she's right, maybe you did let her down. Maybe we're both right. What the fuck, someone's got to give. So let's just do what she says. Have the medical, see Maley's lot off, then go over there like she wants."
He found Sarah's number again and called it, but it came up unobtainable. "Playing that game, eh," he muttered, his anger flaring once again. "You can bloody well stay in the States, then, but not with my kids."
He shoved the phone roughly back into his pocket and stepped out of the car. Andy Martin looked at him, hopefully. "Bad idea, Andy," Skinner snapped.
"Do you want me to talk to her?"
"Like I said earlier, don't you fucking dare. Now let's see your colleagues."
He strode off, ahead of his friend, towards the police building. DCS Rod Greatorix was standing in the entrance hallway, beside the public reception desk. A bewildered look spread across his great gruff face as Skinner burst through the entrance door. He looked at the newcomer, and then at Martin, behind him.
"Andy?" he began.
"Let's go somewhere private, Rod," his deputy chief replied.
"By all means. Through here." He led them up a flight of stairs, then along a corridor to a small office, glass-panelled like the rest of the suite. Several detectives were working in other rooms; one or two glanced at them, briefly, as they passed.
"Would anybody like coffee, or tea… or something stronger?" the head of CID asked, as the others took seats, facing the small desk that was the room's only furniture.
"I'm fine, thanks," said Skinner curtly.
Martin shook his head. "I didn't want to get into this over the phone,
Rod," he began, 'and neither did Bob… whom you know, of course."
"Of course I do." Greatorix nodded and smiled. "It's been a year or two, sir; that course at Tulliallan, wasn't it. That was the last time we met."
"Yup. We were both lecturing, as I recall. A distinguished class; one of our students is a chief constable now, and another's in the police inspectorate. I'm not here to lecture now, though."
"Then what is it?"
"I'm here to help you with your enquiries."
Greatorix gave him a look of pure incredulity, then he leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Is that right? Are you going to tell me that it was you who banged that bloke on the head and chucked him in the Tay?"
Skinner looked him in the eye, unsmiling. "There was a time, Rod, when
I wanted to do just that, but it's long gone. No, I'm just going to tell you who he is. You'd better tape it, for the record."
The Tay side detective had switched into serious mode. "Just a minute then," he said. "I'll find a recorder from somewhere. Will we need a second officer present?"
"Andy's the second officer."
"Of course." Greatorix left the room.
Skinner turned to Martin. "I've never told you much about my father, have I?"
His friend shook his head. "No, but I don't suppose I've ever told you much about mine."
"I've met your father, for Christ's sake. But no, it's true, I haven't. I'm not a demonstrative guy, Andy. Quick-tempered, yes, but on a personal level I'm not good at discussing my feelings. That's why, in my past, I've been able to bury things so deep. Maybe that's why Sarah and I are in trouble now. I'm not the sort of person who can just laugh and kiss it off, and she isn't either. There were all sorts of things I never knew about Leo and Susannah Grace, until after I'd seen them stretched out on mortuary tables. And when I think about it, there are all sorts of things I don't know about Sarah herself. When I went to Buffalo for the first time without her and met her friends, it was like they were talking about someone I hadn't met. And now she's back over there, with her own agenda, it's as if the part of her I don't know has come to the surface and taken over. She went on about needing me, but I can't see for what.
"None of us ever think of ourselves as bad communicators, until we realise how little we know ourselves." He caught Martin's eye. "How about you and Karen? Do you talk to each other, about each other?"
Andy laughed, softly. "Bob, before Karen and I got together, each of us lived our private lives so openly that there was hardly anything about either of us that was news to the other. But yes, we do; we share things. I hardly go to church any more, but Karen's my confessional, and I'm hers. I wouldn't like to think that I'd any secrets from her."
"That's good. Sarah and I should learn from you… but then again, she may have secrets that I wouldn't want to know about, and I don't know if I could bring myself to tell her all of mine."
"That's for you both to judge; but at the very least, talking about the problem has to help. Anyway, you started to talk about your father.
What was he like?"
"William Reid Skinner? He was a hell of a man. All of my life I've tried to live up to him, and all of my life I've fallen short."
"Most of us think of our fathers that way, Bob."
"Maybe, but that's how mine was. He was a lawyer, like Sarah's dad, and as successful in his own way, by Scottish standards. He was a quiet man, very dignified and very controlled. You couldn't make him lose his temper even if you tried. He never raised a hand to me in my childhood; indeed I don't remember him ever raising his voice.