He didn’t stay for much longer. He couldn’t bear it. He would have liked to have touched Josh as he said goodbye, squeezed an arm or his shoulder, but he’d been warned not to. ‘Bye, Josh. I’ll come and see you again soon.’
His emotions were all over the place as Ava walked him outside. He pictured Josh as a boy, his eyes alight, his energy and enthusiasm, his whole life ahead of him, and now? Dan felt like punching the wall. Grief mingled with sorrow, drenched in rage.
‘Kaitlyn used to get angry too,’ Ava remarked.
‘Is it that obvious?’ Dan was startled. Normally he was imperturbable.
‘No. Don’t worry. We’re trained to notice.’
They came to his car. Weak sunlight lit the garden and for the first time, Dan noticed the daffodils. Their cheery faces felt incongruous against the darkness in his soul.
‘She tried to find out who was responsible, you know.’
After spending several hours on the internet that morning, Dan knew that although two airport employees had been arrested and thrown into jail for the bombing, there was still doubt over their guilt. Rumours abounded that they were just fall guys, that Morocco hadn’t wanted its booming tourist industry to falter, and that the real bomber, or bombers, had never been identified.
‘She never gave up,’ Ava went on. ‘People kept telling her to put it behind her, to move forward, but she couldn’t. That’s why she went to Morocco last week. She thought she’d found something new.’
Dan’s attention sharpened. ‘Like what?’
‘She didn’t say. But she was excited. Determined too. I told her to be careful but I knew she wasn’t listening.’ Ava gazed past Dan and back at the window where Josh sat. ‘She would have done anything to get her family justice.’
13
Dan headed for Kaitlyn’s house. Thanks to Lucy, he had her address in the Cotswolds, and although neither of them knew why Kaitlyn had taken the Kensington Airbnb for the week, they’d agreed it wouldn’t harm if he had a quick look at her home.
Fox Cottage was a large stone cottage set on the edge of Castle Combe, a quintessentially English village that was so ancient, so chocolate-box pretty, it was used regularly as a film location. A classic Audi Quattro stood in the driveway. Nice. Around the back, a Range Rover and horse box. Three immaculate stone stables, one of which housed a stunning red and black CBR600 motorbike. Behind that was a large paddock, where two bay horses were grazing. Even Dan could see they weren’t your usual nags. Their conformation was elegant, thoroughbred, and they gleamed with health.
The front and back doors both had strips of police tape across them. Do not cross. Lucy had said the local police had been in yesterday, the day after Kaitlyn’s murder, but reported they hadn’t found anything of particular interest. But what had they been looking for? He peered through the windows to see an open fireplace, oak beams and wooden doors. Thick carpets, deep sofas. Traditional but luxurious.
Dan drove on to Castle Combe Circuit. Hadn’t Sergeant Milton mentioned Kaitlyn was into track driving? He’d used Castle Combe himself from time to time, and although he hadn’t been here for a couple of years it seemed that nothing had changed.
His spirits lifted when he saw a track day was in progress for Mick’s Motorsport. Talk about perfect timing. Dan knew Mick and had driven for him regularly. As he walked to the office he paused to watch a handful of road cars popping out of Bobbies and tearing down Westway for Camp Corner: a couple of Golf GTIs, a Jaguar, Porsche and a Honda Civic. If it had four wheels and a current MOT, it was welcome.
He pushed open the office door.
‘Dan!’ a woman squealed.
‘Well, bugger me,’ a man added.
‘Hi Julie,’ Dan responded. ‘Hi Mick.’
‘Come for your old job?’ Mick asked.
‘Nope.’
‘Bugger off then.’ Mick, who sang Irish songs in a deep baritone, harboured a weakness for real ale that showed in the belly that hung over his belt. He came over and shook Dan’s hand. It was like shaking a wrench. ‘How’s things?’
‘Jenny’s great, kids are great, job’s great.’
‘Awwww,’ Julie said, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Does that mean you’ve dropped in just to tell us how much you’ve missed us?’
Dan smiled. They were a good team and they’d looked after him for a long time. ‘Not quite,’ he admitted. ‘I’m actually here because I’m helping investigate Kaitlyn Rogers’ death.’
The atmosphere immediately darkened. Julie swallowed and looked away. Mick passed a hand over his face, noisily clearing his throat. Both were obviously battling the emotion suddenly rising.
‘You knew her well.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘She practically lived here.’ Mick’s voice was hoarse.
They were visibly upset so Dan took some time filling them in, letting them recover a little. He watched their eyes round when he told them how he knew her.
‘You saved her?!’ Mick exclaimed. ‘Bloody hell. I didn’t realise you were a hero.’
Dan looked away, uncomfortable. There was a lot Mick and Julie didn’t know about him.
‘The nurse looking after Josh said she’d been to Morocco, trying to find answers.’
Julie wiped her eyes with her fingers. ‘She was a great person – we all loved her – but she was tormented. She lost her mum and dad, Josh, all in the space of an hour. The crash defined her…’
He listened as they told him about the girl he’d met, what she was like as a woman. Generous, fun-loving and kind, but with a shadow staining her soul. How angry she was about the crash. How she used cars and motorbikes to help release her rage.
‘She was obsessed with the air disaster. She tried not to let it show but she’d had enough of people telling her to “move on” and “put it behind her”. When you got to know her you soon saw she could no
