Page 32 of 36 Hours

Kim counted no more than ten dwellings on either side of the tree-lined road. Every property had a small front driveway, but the one at which Bryant had stopped was immaculate.

The fencing that faced the road looked new or freshly painted. The paving slabs had been jet washed back to their former glory. Miniature trees had been pruned, and a hanging basket was overflowing with colourful blooms.

‘Petunias,’ Bryant offered. ‘Missus hates them.’

‘Good to know,’ she said, knocking the door. To her, flowers were the same as relationships. They needed love, care and attention, so she chose not to bother.

The door was answered by a lad who looked to be in his late teens. He wore baggy jeans, a hoody and somewhere behind the facial hair, his mouth appeared to be chewing. Earphones rested around his neck.

An assortment of aromas had followed him to the door. Of course, lunchtime.

‘I’m looking for Eric Lane,’ she said as they both held up their identifications.

His eyes widened. ‘No way the feds want my dad. What did he do, forget to wash his hands after taking a piss?’

Kim got the feeling that the kid would be impressed if his dad had stepped out of line.

‘May we speak with him?’

‘Sure, come on in. They’re gonna love this.’

Kim stepped into a hallway that bore a familiar smell. Erica, her foster mother, had often used a carpet deodoriser to vacuum up and clearly Mrs Lane did the same.

‘Come through,’ the teenager said with amusement in his voice.

She followed him into a long room which was both lounge and dining room. What she assumed to be the rest of the family were enjoying a Sunday roast.

The expression of all three diners was not amusement.

‘Derren, what is…?’

‘It’s the feds for you, Dad.’

Eric Lane was one of the tidiest men she’d ever laid eyes on. His black hair was cut short and without fuss. His white shirt was crisp without a crease in sight. His physique was lean but not scrawny.

His wife appeared the most displeased of the three. A whole morning of cooking was about to be ruined by unexpected visitors.

She looked to her husband as though waiting for him to ask them to leave.

Someone Kim assumed to be their other son sat at the table looking like a mini me of his father, even showing the same expression. He looked to be the older of the two boys, possibly early twenties.

‘Carry on, Helen, and keep mine warm,’ Eric Lane said, pushing back his chair. ‘Derren, finish your lunch.’

‘Nah, I’m good. Way more fun watching you lot implode cos someone disturbed your dinner.’

Whether relevant to the investigation or not, Kim always liked to understand the dynamics of a family she was questioning. In this one, there was a clear black sheep.

Eric Lane’s face darkened. ‘Derren, your mother has?—’

‘I’m done. Going upstairs now. See ya.’

Eric shook his head as Derren walked past them back to the front door.

Oh, so that was how it was going to be.

‘Teenagers, eh?’ Bryant offered as they all stepped outside the house.

‘The price you pay for a gifted child.’