Deborah Crombie - Duncan Kincaid & Gemma James 09 - Now May You Weep

His feet had carried him along the familiar route to school of their own accord, but when he reached the gate he saw that the schoolyard was empty. The bell had rung, and it suddenly seemed to Kit as if walking into an already seated class and explaining his tardiness was a feat as far beyond him as walking on the moon.

He had turned round and gone the other way, back through the quiet streets until he’d reached Notting Hill Gate, and then into Bayswater Road. At some point, he’d taken off his school blazer and stuffed it into his back- pack, for it was warm, and he was aware of the stare of the occasional passerby wondering what a boy his age was doing out of school on a Monday morning.

He kept thinking of some other family living in the cottage in Grantchester, but even though he’d stayed there again with Ian for a few months before moving to London, he couldn’t get a picture in his head that didn’t include his mother.

For an instant, when he’d thought Ian might be coming back, he’d imagined living there again. Not that he wanted to leave Duncan and Gemma and Toby—not at all—but he missed his old school and his friends, especially Colin. He had belonged, and that belonging had been part of him, as were his memories of his life before his mum had died.

Now it seemed Ian meant to take even that away from him. Kit didn’t want another family; he couldn’t bear to see Ian with another woman, a replacement for his mother. Was that why Ian had suggested the paternity test? Did he intend to put the past behind him, so that he could start his new life—his new family—unencumbered by the child he had never thought of as his own?

Kit went on, putting one foot in front of the other automatically, and it was only when he looked up and saw Marble Arch that he realized he’d walked the whole length of Hyde Park. Turning, he looked back at the park, and the sight of the people walking their dogs made him think of Tess with a pang.

But Tess would be all right, he assured himself. Wes would take care of her. He missed her, and Geordie, Gemma’s cocker spaniel, but he could not face going back to the Notting Hill house. He couldn’t sit calmly at the kitchen table and tell Wesley that his dad was getting married again. And what would he say when Duncan called, or Gemma? Even if he didn’t tell them about Ian, he would have to explain why he had missed school, and what sort of excuse could he possibly invent?

A number seventy-three bus barreled by, turning the corner into Oxford Street, on its way to Euston and King’s Cross Station.

King’s Cross. Fumbling in his pocket, Kit pulled out the spending money Duncan had given him for the week and counted it. There was enough—at least for a single ticket, and just now he didn’t care about the return. He wanted only to be someplace familiar, someplace that felt right, someplace where he could think things through.

He set off after the bus at a run.

“It’s our son,” Kincaid explained to Ross. “He seems to have taken advantage of our absence to play truant from school,” he added, trying to make light of it.

“How old is the lad?” Ross asked.

“Twelve.”

“Och, I don’t envy ye, then,” Ross said sympatheti-cally. “It’s a difficult age. Weel, I’ll leave ye to get on with it. I’m sure you’ll turn him up—or he’ll come home of his own accord when he gets hungry.” He got into the car, but as his sergeant began to reverse, he called out to them. “I didna realize the two of you were married. It’s verra confusing these days, what with the women having different names.”

“Of all the—” began Gemma as Ross drove off, then she shook her head. “Never mind. Tell me exactly what Wesley said.”

“He started to get worried when Kit didn’t come home at the usual time. After an hour, he rang one of Kit’s mates at school, the boy he’d been partnering on his science project—his name’s Sean, I think.” He should know this, Kincaid told himself furiously. It was his business to know these things. He forced himself to go on. “Sean told Wes that Kit wasn’t in school today at all.”

“Did he leave a note?”

“Not that Wes could find.”

“What about Tess?” asked Gemma. “Did he take Tess?”

Kit seldom went anywhere without the little terrier he had befriended in the days following his mother’s death.

“No. But his school bag is gone, so he must have started out—”

“Oh, God.” Gemma had gone dead white. “You don’t think—someone—”

“No.” Kincaid pulled her to him in a fierce hug. “No, I don’t think anything’s happened to him. I think he was angry with me, and decided at the last minute to do a runner. I’m going to call Laura Miller.”

Laura Miller had worked with Vic in the university’s English faculty, and Laura’s son, Colin, had been Kit’s best friend at school. Kit had stayed with the Millers for several months after Vic’s death and still visited Colin every few weekends.

“Right.” Gemma gave him a shaky smile. “That’s where he will have gone.”

But when Kincaid got Laura on the phone, she said she hadn’t seen Kit since the last time he’d come to visit. She promised to quiz Colin and to ring back if she learned anything.

When he related this news to Gemma he saw the flare of panic in her eyes. “We’ll have to put out a bulletin,”

she said. “If he’s been gone since first thing this morning, he could be anywhere—”

“No, wait.” Kincaid held up a hand as a thought occurred to him. “Let me try one more thing.” This time he rang a Grantchester number. Nathan Winter had been Vic’s next-door neighbor and, briefly, her lover. A Cambridge biology professor, he had encouraged Kit in his love of science, and the two had become friends.

“Hullo, Nathan? It’s Duncan—”

“It’s all right, Duncan,” came Nathan’s familiar deep rumble. “He’s here. I found him down by the river a half hour ago. I’m just taking some tea and sandwiches out to the garden for him—he was ravenous, poor lad.”

Relief left Kincaid’s muscles weak, but the emotion was quickly replaced by a rush of anger. What the hell had prompted Kit to go to Grantchester without telling them? And how was he going to get the boy home, if he couldn’t trust him? Even if he had Nathan put him on the train, he’d no guarantee that Kit would do as he was told. “Put him on the phone, Nathan. I want to speak to him.”

“Duncan, wait. Let him stay with me for a bit, let me talk to him. He wouldn’t have come just on a whim. He muttered something about Ian having rung him this morning—”

“Ian?”

“That’s all I’ve got out of him, so far. But perhaps I can help him sort it out, whatever’s happened. I’ve a light day for tutorials tomorrow, and he can come with me.”

Kincaid thought of the circumstances that had sent Kit running to Grantchester once before. Then, he’d been escaping from his grandmother’s abuse. What could Ian have said to the boy to induce such a response? And if he had been home, would Kit have confided in him, instead of running away?

“All right,” he said to Nathan at last, feeling as if he’d set the seal on his failure. “Perhaps for a day or two, until I can get back. But you should know what’s been going on.” He told Nathan about Eugenia’s latest maneuver.

“I’ve asked Kit to have DNA testing, to put paid to her once and for all, and Ian’s agreed, but Kit won’t consider it. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

“I’ll do my best. Look, I’d better go. He’s coming in from the garden.”

“Okay. Tell him he can stay tomorrow, at the least, and ring me when you’ve had a chance to speak to him. And, Nathan,” Kincaid added, “don’t let him out of your sight.”

Dinner that night was a strained affair. Louise served Gemma, Kincaid, Martin, and Hazel in the dining room, Heather and Pascal having gone to Benvulin for the night.

Everyone seemed preoccupied with his or her own worries. Hazel had at last reached her mother-in-law, Carolyn Cavendish, who had told her that Tim was being questioned by the London police. Louise had not heard anything from John since Chief Inspector Ross had taken him to Aviemore, and both Gemma and Kincaid were