TWENTY-FIVE

1.30 P.M.

If Kim had been forced to match a house to Eric Lane after what she’d been told, this was the one she’d choose.

The property was an attractive semi-detached house on a leafy street on the Bromsgrove border.

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.’

‘Aren’t they all?’ Bryant said affably. Every parent thought their child supremely gifted in something at one time or another.

‘No, Officer, they’re not,’ Eric Lane said without warmth or humour. ‘Boyce is distinctively average, despite his best efforts. His younger brother doesn’t even have to try.’

His expression was a mixture of despair and pride, and Kim couldn’t help but wonder what Boyce would make of his father’s description.

Dynamics established. Normal traditional family. Older, less-gifted brother chooses to be more like dad for recognition and approval. Younger child couldn’t give a shit but gets approval anyway.

‘Derren’s a handful, eh?’ Kim asked.

‘Won’t bathe, won’t shave, won’t conform. Even his computer programming tutors can’t do anything with him. They’re moving too slowly. He could teach them a thing or two. But that’s not why you’re here,’ he finished, folding his arms.

‘We’d like to ask some questions about your activities on the Seekers website.’

He frowned. ‘Why?’

‘We understand you take the hobby very seriously.’

‘I do, but what does that matter? If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing well. I have the record for the most completed puzzles.’

‘You mean for solving them or setting them?’ Kim asked.

‘Both,’ he said proudly before his expression changed. ‘But what does that have to do with you?’

‘We hear you have competition for that top spot?’ Kim said, seeing a shadow behind the net curtain. One family member was curious to see or hear what was going on.

Eric’s face darkened, and for the first time, Kim got to see the seriousness with which he took the hobby.

‘If you’re talking about Jared Truss, he’s a nobody. He’s just a sensationalist who wants to grow his following on YouTube.’

‘Sets some good puzzles though,’ Kim baited him. ‘So you’re quite similar.’

‘We are nothing alike,’ he bit out, giving Kim what she wanted.

‘I’ve been a seeker since I was ten years old. I’ve grown up with this hobby. I’ve watched it grow in popularity. I enjoy pitting myself against the mind of someone else. I enjoy the challenge of seeking out the next clue. I enjoy the satisfaction of getting a clue right and then finding the rest. It’s a very simple and innocent thrill, as far as I’m aware,’ he said, tipping his head, expecting an explanation for why they were asking.

Not quite yet, Kim thought. ‘And Jared?’

Disgust curled his lips. ‘He’s not interested in the purity of the game. He invents ghosts and serial killers and crime scenes. He records himself following clues he’s already laid. It’s disgusting.’

‘Why disgusting? Surely it’s just another form of entertainment?’ she asked.

‘But it’s fake. He’s making a show, he’s acting, and people are falling for it.’

How many times had they witnessed a situation where someone younger had moved into a community with fresh ideas and upset the apple cart? Things changed; they moved on. Some things improved and some didn’t, but one thing was for sure. You couldn’t stop it happening.

‘And you can’t coexist on the same platform – serving different markets?’ Bryant asked.

‘Absolutely not. One of these days, Ryan will listen to me and ban him from the site. Someone will get hurt, and then he’ll wish he’d listened.’

‘Why would anyone get hurt?’ Kim asked, feeling that was a strange statement to make.

‘Because he’s reckless, encouraging people to search dark woods, abandoned and sometimes unstable buildings, cemeteries in the middle of the night, setting clues in dangerous places. But Ryan won’t listen. He’s enjoying the subscription increase from all the new joiners.’

‘Brought in by Jared’s antics?’ Kim needled and was rewarded by a tightening of the jaw. She shouldn’t have been surprised that this man had approached the owner of Seekers to get Jared removed. What else was he prepared to do – hurt someone and then blame Jared for it?

‘Inspector, what exactly do you want to ask me?’

‘I want to know how far you’ll go to prove you’re the best?’

‘I have no idea—’ He stopped speaking as her phone rang.

She stepped away. ‘Go ahead, Stace.’

‘Boss, I think I know where you need to go next.’