‘You gave a colleague of ours an address for your son, in Handsworth,’ Fletcher said. ‘When police attended the address, Constable here and another officer were attacked.’

‘By Ethan?’

‘It’s not clear yet. But not long after that, two detectives gave chase after a potential suspect and… I’m sorry to say that the young man in question lost his life. A road accident.’

Grant put his hand to his mouth. ‘Ethan…’

‘No. It wasn’t Ethan,’ Fletcher confirmed.

Grant heaved a sigh of relief and he heard Mary let out a gasp, though for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to look at her at that moment.

‘The dead man has been identified by his fingerprints as Dean Harland. Did you know him?’

‘No,’ Grant said.

‘No,’ echoed Mary. ‘Should we?’

‘We’re not on good terms with Ethan,’ Grant explained.

‘I heard that,’ Fletcher said. ‘But we really do need to speak to Ethan urgently about what happened yesterday. And about the deaths of the two people that my colleague, DI Stephens, was here to talk about yesterday.’

‘We already know that,’ Mary said. ‘Please, we’ll let you know as soon as we hear from him. If we hear from him.’

‘And you have no idea where he is now?’

‘We would already have told you if we did,’ Mary said, turning to face Grant. He thought she looked slightly flustered. ‘Honey, don’t you need to go?’

‘Yes, I really do. Sorry, officers.’

Fletcher looked at Constable as though questioning whether or not they were done. The slight shrug he gave suggested he was all out of ideas.

‘Sorry to have disturbed you so early,’ Fletcher said. ‘I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon.’

‘You’ll be in touch?’ Mary said. ‘Exactly who is in charge of this mess?’

‘I am now, Mrs Grant,’ Fletcher said, handing over a card. ‘You can deal with me from here on in.’

‘Very well,’ Mary said.

Grant showed the officers out and then stood there, his back up against the wood frame while he gathered his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt shaken.

‘For a moment… I thought—’

‘Don’t say it,’ Mary said, coming over to him and putting a finger up to his lips. She nestled her head into his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

‘Mum. Dad? Is everything ok?’

Mary pulled herself away from Grant and they both turned to Annie, who was halfway down the stairs.

‘Yes, sweetie, everything’s fine,’ Mary said.

Grant didn’t say anything to that. There were only so many secrets and lies he could take.

Chapter Thirty-Seven