Written in Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

interview. Mariner was still coming to terms with the fact that his only role was as a witness, and in this respect he felt entirely inadequate. He’d been over and over it in his head but on the walk towards the church he’d seen nothing unusual, no one behaving suspiciously, not a thing out of place. Up until the point when the building had erupted it had been a perfectly normal evening. If they’d been there sooner there might have been something, but they hadn’t.
    ‘I really don’t remember seeing anything,’ Mariner reiterated yet again, his annoyance showing through. ‘I heard it and felt it, but by then it was too late.’
    The interviewing officer was sympathetic. ‘You’re not alone sir,’ he said. ‘An event like that, we must have had a hundred expert witnesses in the area, but none of those who survived can remember seeing anything that helps our investigation.’
    ‘Do we know yet what caused the explosion?’
    ‘The investigation is ongoing, sir.’
    ‘But they must have some idea.’
    Initially, Mariner had thought he must have missed something. It had been four days since the explosion, normally more than enough time to at least have some idea of the cause, but there seemed a high level of secrecy surrounding it. The team would have been in there examining the forensic evidence and, if it was a bomb, would have drawn some conclusions about the type and amount of explosive used.
    ‘If they do know they’re not ready to share it with us yet, sir,’ was all the officer would say.
    Mariner flatly turned down the counselling that was offered. Resources were stretched and there were others whose need was greater. But he suggested to Anna that she should take it up, using the one lever available to him. ‘If we do start a family—’
    She stared at him. He’d used the ‘if’ word.
    Jamie had been due to come home for Christmas, but Anna called and arranged for him to stay at the hostel. ‘He’ll have a better time there than he will with us,’ was her reasoning and it couldn’t be argued with. Even without the explosion things were strained to say the least. They drove over and took his presents instead to where Jamie had lived since Manor Park, his residential care home, had been swallowed up by a national organisation whose ethos followed the trend towards community-based care. At the time Anna had experienced mixed feelings. Largely indifferent to his role in society, Jamie had been happy where he was, but gradually Anna had been persuaded that getting involved with the community on a daily basis would be of long-term benefit.
    Mariner pulled into the drive of the unremarkable semi-detached house to see Louise, the manager, in bright yellow rubber gloves, gathering up rubbish from the front garden and stuffing it into a black bag. It included old nappies and takeaway cartons, more than the wind would have randomly deposited.
    ‘An early Christmas present from the neighbours,’ she said, grimly.
    ‘What have you done to deserve that?’ Mariner was appalled.
    ‘Oh, nothing specific.’ Louise assured him. ‘Just the general threat we pose to the neighbourhood. That old confusion between mental illness and learning difficulties lingers on.’
    ‘Not any more, surely.’ But the bag of rubbish said otherwise. ‘Have you reported it?’ Mariner wanted to know.
    ‘I don’t want to inflame the situation. They’ll get used to us eventually.’
    ‘You’ve been here nearly six months. How long does it take?’
    ‘Clearly a bit longer than we thought.’ Louise smiled. ‘Come on in. It’s much more festive inside.’
    It was. Reflecting the needs of its clientele, Christmas decorations inside the hostel had been kept to a minimum, but the air was rich with the comforting smell of home-baking.
    ‘We’re making mince pies,’ Louise said. To prove the point, when he appeared Jamie was wearing a floury apron, his hands still spotlessly clean, participation limited to observation