The Promise: The twisty new thriller from the Sunday Times bestseller, guaranteed to keep you up all night. Katerina Diamond
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It was almost as if it were him that she was avoiding. He couldn’t think why. She disappeared inside her house, and he picked up the pace and ran home.
Once inside, Connor dropped his bag on the floor and rushed out to the garden, quickly climbing the tree until he reached his den at the top. He saw the girl close her bedroom door and slide her backpack onto a chair. She took off her coat and hung it on the door before grabbing a large hooded jumper out of her cupboard and putting it on. She kicked off her shoes and grabbed a book from a shelf next to her bed, then lay down and began to read. Connor pulled his cigarettes out now that there was no way she would notice him.
After some time the light outside started to fade and he saw her reach for her bedside lamp. At the same time, he saw the kitchen light in his own house come on. His father was home. Unwilling to deal with him just yet, Connor decided to light up again and wait until the last possible moment before heading back inside.
‘Con!’ Jacob called from the back steps. ‘Con, are you out here?’
Connor put the cigarette out and shuffled across the floor to the exit. He climbed down, annoyed that he couldn’t just be left alone for once. So much for keeping out of his father’s way.
‘So how did it go?’ Jacob asked as he walked back into the kitchen.
‘It was OK, how was work?’
‘Same shit, different place.’
Jacob took a swig of beer, draining the bottle. He picked up two fresh bottles off the table and handed one to Connor. Connor noticed his father’s mood and decided now was as good a time as any to bring up going out the next evening. He had promised he would be different to how he had been back home. He’d vowed to try and mix with good kids and get in with the right people, not people who would try and coerce him into doing stupid things. But maybe those were his people, they seemed to find each other. Pippa reminded him so much of the girl he had back home. They didn’t look alike, but they were the same type. Not even the cultural differences could hide that desperation to be popular, to be envied and coveted. Connor was familiar with those feelings, although they were gone from him now. All he wanted was to be allowed to be himself.
‘Is it OK if I go out Friday? Some of the people in my class invited me bowling,’ he said.
‘As long as you’re back by ten … Let me guess, you need the car? Just be careful over here, don’t forget you shouldn’t be driving for another year.’ Jacob rolled his eyes and Connor left the beer on the side, going upstairs before he got embroiled in another conversation with his father. They didn’t always end as well as this one.
Having finished with the list of people who had used the recruitment agency and specifically dealt with Erica Lawson, Imogen was frustrated. Every single person had an alibi for the night of the murder and so it was back to the drawing board. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy. They had already checked menus of the restaurants closest to her house and moved further afield in a spiral pattern. In order to check for witnesses, they would have to visit the restaurants that flagged as serving the right type of food themselves. They had two restaurants to visit in the city next, they needed to speak to the staff and check any footage that might be available through CCTV. Imogen’s stomach growled at the thought of food. It was nearing lunchtime and she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. She looked over at Adrian who was staring at some paperwork, although she could tell that his eyes were not connected to the page but instead lost in thought. She wondered when he’d last eaten.
‘What say we go down the Guildhall and pick up one of those jacket spuds? I’m starving and I’m not sure I can face the canteen food today,’ Imogen said.
‘OK. I’m down with that.’
‘It’s right by the restaurants we need to go to and we can show them the pics of Erica, see if they saw her with anyone,’ Imogen said. She felt as though she were overexplaining, but if Adrian suspected she was worried about him, he would shut down. Cautiously, she reached out to pat him on the shoulder.
‘OK, you’re acting weird. What’s going on?’ Adrian folded his arms and leaned back in the chair, his eyebrow raised suspiciously.
‘I’m hungry, that’s what’s going on.’ She knew he wouldn’t take kindly to any show of sympathy at this point, but he didn’t look well. He didn’t seem to stop for lunch any more, or go home in time for any kind of substantial meal. He looked to be in a permanent state of exhaustion as far as she could tell.
‘Bullshit. What’s up with you?’
‘Nothing!’ she protested, in a voice slightly higher than normal.
‘You don’t need to worry about me, Grey, I’m fine. Just a little tired.’
‘Well that’s lovely, but I really am starving. Come on.’ She walked out, knowing he would be following behind her. She had to remind herself not to be too nice to Adrian. Not to arouse suspicion. He had been there for her before, now it was her turn to be there for him. They were a package deal, her and Adrian. She always felt in safe hands around him somehow – they were more than colleagues; they were friends.
Outside, she opened the car door and got in – less than ten seconds later Adrian was sitting in the passenger seat, resigned to doing as he was told. They drove to the Guildhall and parked in the multistorey before walking to the centre and ordering lunch at the jacket potato vendor. They sat on the low-lying wall and ate in silence for a few minutes. This was all a strange feeling for Imogen, aside from her mother she had never looked after someone before, not like this. She was genuinely concerned that Adrian was hurting and she wanted to make his pain go away. Knowing that she had no control over that, she tried to control the things she could, like making sure he ate. It beat thinking about her own problems.
‘OK, you were right, I feel better,’ Adrian said eventually.
‘Me too. Let’s go and see this Carmichaels place and The Bay Tree restaurant then. Let’s also hope she didn’t travel out of town for her date or we will have a shitload more restaurants to get through.’
‘That’s the spirit!’
They walked through the arch onto the high street, then down to the cathedral square which was still partially cordoned off due to the horrific fire that had ripped through the Royal Clarence Hotel, the oldest hotel in England, in fact the first building to use the term ‘hotel’ in England. The hotel had collapsed in on itself after burning for over twenty-four hours in October 2016. Now it was just a façade, the interior completely obliterated. No floors, walls or ceilings, just a charred empty box on the inside. In the corner of the square, tucked out of the way was a small restaurant with a blue exterior called The Bay Tree, and on the opposite side of the square was Carmichaels, a burgundy-fronted restaurant. As much as it would make sense for them to split up, it was better to go to both places together, see if anyone was behaving strangely when they were shown the photo. It meant that one of them could keep an eye on things while the other one did the talking.
They walked into The Bay Tree as the staff were clearing the tables after a lunchtime rush. They offered a reasonable set lunch menu and Imogen made a mental note to remember it if she ever went on a date again. Now that Dean was gone she didn’t see much chance of that. There was a Mediterranean smell about the place, lemon juice and olive oil, fresh coriander and salad vegetables. A flustered blonde waitress with pink cheeks and a glistening forehead approached them.
‘Table for two?’
‘Ah, no thanks.’ Imogen flashed her warrant card.
The waitress’s eyes widened in surprise, followed by an irritated huff, obviously annoyed at their timing.
‘We need to ask you a couple of questions. Were you working here on Thursday night last week?’ Adrian said.
‘No, I wasn’t,