Tastes Like Fear (D.I. Marnie Rome 3) by Sarah Hilary Read Free Book Online Page B

our friendly neighbourhood arsonists?’
    ‘Let’s not take Mrs Tarvin’s word for everything.’ Marnie dropped her empty coffee cup into a litter bin. ‘And let’s see the Beswicks before this story breaks.’
    Sean and Katrina Beswick lived in a terraced house on Taybridge Road, not far from Clapham Common. The house was bay-windowed, clinging to its original features the way a pensioner clung to her handbag on pension day. The neighbours had put up a pierced cement wall, but the Beswicks had a privet hedge that until recently had been kept trim. In the last three months, it had grown a shaggy fringe.
    May’s father opened the door, face falling when he saw Noah and Marnie.
    ‘No news,’ Marnie said, knowing the news he feared. ‘We’re still looking for May.’
    ‘Come through.’ He held the door wide.
    They followed him to the sitting room. At six foot four, Sean was the only one on eye-level with the pictures he’d hung too high up the walls. Inoffensive landscapes, the kind Dan described as middle-class graffiti. A rack of wine bottles filled the gutted fireplace. No books. Flat-screen TV and shelves of glassware, sticky with dust. White walls, lots of empty space. An estate agent would’ve called the house bright and sunny. But it wasn’t, bent double under the weight of its missing child.
    ‘How’s Katrina?’ Marnie asked. ‘And Loz?’
    ‘On their way back from work, and school.’ Sean pushed his fists into the pockets of his jeans. He had a tall man’s stoop, fair head down, broad shoulders hunching. Not dressed for work, and he hadn’t shaved. A laptop was open on the low table by the sofa. He flicked a glance in its direction. ‘I’ve been registering with websites that search for missing kids, forums where kids can leave messages. Not that May was into computers, didn’t even use the phone we got her. Well, you know that … Loz is different, she lives on the internet.’ He flinched, backtracked. ‘We’re careful, of course. We have parental controls on the worst of the websites.’
    ‘She’s at school.’ Marnie gave the man her steady smile. ‘How’s that going?’
    ‘Questions, sympathy, you know. Some of the kids are cruel, maybe they mean to be, maybe they don’t, speculating as to whether May’s alive or dead, if she ran off or someone snatched her. The school deals with it, then they start up again. I wish we could keep Loz home, but we can’t. We agreed to try and carry on as usual.’ He blinked across the room at nothing, his brown eyes like May’s but fidgety with pain. ‘To try to be normal.’
    Marnie said, ‘Shall we sit down?’
    ‘Of course, sorry.’ He stooped to shut the laptop. ‘I’ll make coffee. Would you like coffee?’ He moved in the direction of the kitchen, carrying his hurt as a limp in his left leg.
    ‘Just water would be fine.’ Marnie let him go. Noah stayed with her, taking in the small changes since the last time they were here. Each visit a little more dust, another layer of neglect. One of the landscapes was crooked on the wall. It stood out like a handprint.
    Sean returned from the kitchen with two glasses of water. ‘Here.’
    ‘Thanks.’ Marnie sat on the sofa. ‘We wanted to give you advance warning about a story that might be in the papers tomorrow, or tonight.’ She waited until Sean was seated, his hands propped between his knees. ‘You might have heard about the traffic accident last night.’
    ‘York Road was closed.’ Sean smelt of stale sweat and cigarettes. No ashtrays in the house. Maybe he smoked in the garden. ‘Kat had to find another route to work.’
    ‘One of the drivers saw a girl leaving the scene of the crash. We’re looking for her. We’ll need to make an appeal to the public if we don’t find her soon.’
    ‘You think it’s May?’ His shoulders creaked as he leaned forward. ‘The driver saw May?’
    ‘We showed him a photo. He doesn’t think it was her. We’re looking for other witnesses,