All his usual composure gone, Grace was shaking. He nodded. ‘Thank you,’ he said weakly.
‘We have a car outside.’
He followed them numbly along the corridor and out into the light drizzle. Edwards opened the rear door of the car and Grace climbed in. The officer helped him with his belt, then they drove down the ramp to the barrier. As it lifted, with Trundle driving, Edwards switched on the blue lights and siren.
‘Do you have any more info on what happened, guys?’ Grace asked.
Pip Edwards turned to face him. A highly intelligent officer who had been an engineer before joining the police, he said, ‘It’s too early, sir. Apparently, one witness said he’d seen him looking at his mobile phone and stepping into the road. But eye-witness reports at RTCs are often unreliable, as I’m sure you know.’
Grace nodded, feeling his eyes welling up. He called Cleo, hoping to hell it wouldn’t go to voicemail as it normally did when she was busy. But, to his relief, she answered on the second ring.
As he ended the call, he asked Trundle to swing by the mortuary to collect her.
40
‘You’re not serious?’ Larry Olson asked, standing shocked and bewildered among the mass of emergency service vehicles. His customer, having thrown up on the road, was now sitting in the back of a police car. Nearby, a shocked-looking woman was talking to an officer with a body-worn camera. She looked like she was giving an account of some kind.
It was a single vehicle accident with one pedestrian casualty. The Forensic Collision Unit Team were busy measuring and taking photographs to secure evidence, including a drone to obtain a perspective of the scene. The prime objective was to collect the evidence quickly and efficiently because, with the location being right outside the school, they wanted to clear the area before parents and children started to gather, mid-afternoon.
There were police cars and motorbikes everywhere, a fire engine, a Collision Investigation Unit van and a cordon of blue-and-white tape all around, with a large bunch of rubber-necking public outside it, phone cameras held aloft. It felt like being in the VIP area of an event he really did not want to be attending. Olson noticed a local news reporter talking to bystanders and taking photographs of the police activity.
The Road Policing Unit officer, who had introduced himself as Inspector James Biggs, said, ‘I’m afraid it’s standard procedure, sir.’
‘You’re impounding my car?’
‘We are, sir. It’s what happens to any vehicle involved in a potentially fatal accident.’
‘I... I need it... I need it for my business to survive. When... when do I get it back?’
‘I can’t tell you that at the moment. It will be a month or so at best — maybe two — until we have completed our enquiries.’
‘Two months?’ Olson’s voice rose several octaves in desperation. ‘Two months? My customer wasn’t to blame, two witnesses said he was driving within the limit — the little boy just stepped out in front of us — he was looking at his damn phone. I was in the car. My customer was driving sensibly, keeping strictly to the 30 mph limit. There wasn’t anything he could do.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Inspector Biggs said. ‘I can’t comment on any witness accounts.’
‘Why on earth would you need the car for that long?’
‘We may have to release it to the insurance company. There’s quite a bit of damage on the vehicle. They will probably make a decision on whether to repair it or write it off.’
‘Write it off?’ Olson calculated the poor value he would get from an insurance company. No way. ‘I can get that fixed at a local body shop.’
‘That will have to be a discussion with you and the insurers, sir.’
Olson stared around, bewildered. A police officer with a broom was sweeping broken glass into a dustpan. Two other officers were taking measurements with a laser device.
‘We will do what we can to get the car released as quickly as possible, sir, but I’m afraid we’re going to need to establish whether there was anything defective such as the vehicle’s brakes or steering,’ Biggs said.
Olson shook his head. ‘This is ridiculous. The car was in perfect condition — all my cars are fully checked out before we put them on the forecourt. I can’t afford for you to have this car for two months.’
‘That’s not really the issue here, sir,’ the Inspector said patiently. ‘There’s a human life involved. A child. At this moment, he’s my primary concern.’
‘Yes, I understand that, but I still have to keep my business alive.’
‘Frankly, sir,’ James Biggs said, ‘right now all I care about is doing my best to establish what happened. A small boy has been airlifted to hospital on life support. Forgive me for borrowing your terminology, sir, but we are concentrating very hard on keeping him alive.’
41
On the journey to the mortuary to collect Cleo, Roy Grace sat tense in the rear seat of the speeding police car, desperately worried for Bruno. His phone rang and he answered instantly.
‘Boss,’ said Branson, ‘I’ve heard the news and we’re all gutted — and hoping he’ll be OK. Kids are resilient, you know.’
‘Yep,’ Grace replied bleakly. ‘Let’s hope so.’
‘Don’t worry about anything here, I’ll take care of it all — do whatever you want to, take whatever time you need, and just know that we’re all here for you.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate it. Let’s quickly run through the actions for today so that you can deal with anything that comes up.’
‘You sure you want to?’
‘We have to, Glenn. Let’s just talk over everything so you have all you need.’ Grace just managed to keep his focus despite the enormity of what he might now be facing with his son. ‘That last piece of information that came in this morning from Chris Gee at the Paternosters’ house — what do you make of it?’
Gee had delivered an interesting development. The forensic team had discovered two sacks of cat litter behind a large bag of barbecue charcoal in the cupboard in the utility room.
‘Would you forget you had two sacks of cat litter in your house, boss?’
‘I don’t think so — if I had a cat.’
‘Yeah. Don’t think I would either. I guess it could happen but maybe Niall Paternoster thought we wouldn’t find it?’
‘We’ve already figured Niall Paternoster’s not the brightest flame in the bonfire. He told us that he and his wife’ — it took Grace, with his distracted mind, a moment to recall her name — ‘Eden, had argued because they needed cat litter, which is what he claims she went into the store to get. On the face of it, Gee’s discovery certainly casts some doubt on that story, don’t you think?’
‘Just a little, in my humble opinion.’
‘We have just under twenty-four hours left to keep Paternoster in custody. When Exton and Potting lob the cat litter in, see how he reacts. I’m unlikely to be back in the office for a while, but please ring me with an update and leave a voicemail if I don’t pick up.’
‘Will do, boss.’
They were just driving in through the mortuary entrance. ‘OK, thanks, just about to collect Cleo, then on to the hospital. I’ll call you later when I get a chance.’
‘I hope you have some positive news about Bruno — we’re all thinking of you.’
As Grace ended the call, a tear from one eye trickled down his cheek. Then his phone rang.
It was Cassian Pewe.
‘Roy?’ His voice was all charm and sympathy. But there was something else underlying his tone that unsettled Grace. ‘I’ve just heard the terrible news about Bruno. God, I’m so sorry. Please take whatever time out you need. There are moments in life when family has to come first. I’ll speak to your team and tell them to give you whatever space you need.’