Kim waited.
‘Learning or working. Those are the rules. College or a job, but he skipped so much school that he failed all his exams and couldn’t get a job. After the accident, he—’
‘Accident?’
Mrs Mills allowed her annoyance to show. ‘Inspector, I don’t have time to relate Jamie’s entire life history. He’s gone and that’s the end of it.’
Were there some urgent cushions that needed her attention? Kim wondered, but even without Bryant she knew when she was outstaying her welcome.
‘Please tell me about the accident and then I promise I’ll leave you in peace,’ Kim assured her.
‘He was knocked off his bike, around eighteen months ago. He was badly hurt, in hospital for two weeks. Major injury to his right knee. It had to be fused back into place. He made a remarkable recovery but his bike-riding days were over. He went further into himself. We tried to shock him into action by giving him an ultimatum. Either stop moping around and get a job or move out. He chose to move out.’
‘And when did you last see him?’ Kim asked, breaking her own promise.
Mrs Mills stood. ‘He visited around six months ago, Inspector, and now I really must ask you to leave.’
Kim stood and tried to shake the feeling of unease at the woman’s detachment to the loss of her own son. She’d talked of him with no more emotion than that of a stranger.
Kim headed for the door and took a card from her back pocket. ‘If there’s anything you need, please call me.’
Mrs Mills looked at the card. ‘Please keep it. There’s nothing we need. We have each other and our faith. Jamie is in a much better place and at peace now. Please leave it that way, Inspector.’
The door closed behind her as soon as her feet rested on the path.
Kim took her helmet from the handlebars, wishing she’d been able to ask more questions. Why had Jamie preferred the option of moving out when pressed to find a job? What had been at the core of his bouts of depression? Had his religious upbringing played any part in his decision to leave the family home?
The attitude of Burns reflected the attitude of the boy’s mother: rub him out, make him invisible.
She’d just spent a good twenty minutes with the woman yet she felt as though she knew no more about a young man who had apparently chosen to end his own life.
EIGHT
The firm of accountants, Dunhill LLP, lay on the outskirts of Halesowen town centre and was an old Victorian house converted into offices. The car park was a mixture of reserved and open spaces. The space for ‘G. Denton’ was empty.
Stacey rang the bell, enjoying every second of being out the office. It had once been her safe place, but not any more.
The door buzzed and clicked, and Stacey entered.
The reception was a high semi-circle in front of an attractive woman in her early forties. Her black hair was impossibly shiny and her face made up perfectly. Stacey could only imagine the effort that went into getting ready for work.
Stacey held up her ID. ‘Detective Constable Wood. Is there someone I can talk to about Gabriel Denton?’
‘Is he okay?’ the woman asked as alarm shaped her face.
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’
‘Everyone is in a budget meeting at the minute but I probably know Gabe as well as anyone.’
‘Okay, and you are?’
‘I’m Wendy Clarke, receptionist, secretary, office manager, take your pick.’ She pressed a few buttons on the phone. ‘Voicemail can take the heat for a few minutes.’ She came around the desk and pointed to two sofas around a glass coffee table.
‘I understand Mr Denton has worked here for many years,’ Stacey said.
Wendy nodded. ‘Twenty years. We have thirteen account executives and he has the highest customer retention rate of all of them.’
‘And you’ve known him for…?’