The Bad Things: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns

Alex gave him her number before finishing the call and turning her phone off again, sapped by the effort of remaining civil throughout the conversation, but also strangely exhilarated.

‘Hey you,’ Malone’s voice drifted up the stairs. ‘Am I going to see you at all?’

She put her computer to sleep and went down to the kitchen. ‘Sorry, I was just trying to fix up my next interviewee.’

Malone looked up from the paper he was reading. ‘Oh? Am I allowed to know who?’

She put her arms around him and her chin on his shoulder. ‘No.’

He turned and looked at her. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘Nope. Just the way I work.’

For some reason she wanted to keep it to herself. Was it because somewhere deep down she knew her motives for wanting to interview Jackie Wood were more than just to help Sasha? She wanted, she needed to see the woman up close and personal; to look in her eyes and see her guilt. Or perhaps, she reasoned, it was because the fewer people who knew, the less likely it was there would be a slip-up that would give away the woman’s whereabouts.

‘Look, I’ve made you a sandwich.’

He pushed a plate towards her and she realized she was hungry. In her efforts to get Sasha to eat she had neglected to eat anything herself. Cheese and pickle. Perfect.

The front door slammed. Gus was home. Alex looked at the clock – he was later than normal.

‘Hi darling,’ she called out, knowing she had to tell him that Jackie Wood was out of jail. Nothing. Just the sound of his size tens thudding up the stairs.

She looked at Malone. That was unusual. Gus normally came in and gave her at least a civilized grunt before disappearing into his lair.

‘I’d leave him be,’ said Malone. ‘He’s a teenager, probably wants a bit of privacy.’

She put down the sandwich. ‘Nonetheless, I’ve got to go and talk to him.’

She went upstairs and knocked on his door. No response. She knocked again, harder this time, in case he was plugged into his iPod.

‘Come in.’

Alex didn’t think she’d ever get used to her little boy’s gruff new voice.

As she went in, he minimized the web pages he’d been looking at and turned to her. She switched on the light. ‘Did you bring the letter home about paying for the skiing by instalments?’ she asked.

‘What’s that? A sweetener?’ His lip curled.

‘Gus?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me, Mum? About the woman? Jackie Wood.’

Alex suppressed a sigh as she went further into his room, stepped over the discarded books and DVDs that littered the floor, and sat down on the bed. She patted the cover. ‘Come here.’

Avoiding her eyes, Gus sat down next to her.

She put her arm around him, trying to ignore the tick tock of the clock on the wall and the shock of stale booze on his breath. He leaned into her. She could feel the bones of his shoulder, his arm. Had he always been this thin?

‘They said at school that she was out. Someone had seen it on their phone. They said her conviction had been overturned so that meant she hadn’t had anything to do with it and so probably the bloke – Martin Jessop – was innocent as well, and we were all shitty liars.’ His eyes glittered with unshed tears.

‘She is out, Gus, but her conviction was said to be unsafe.’

‘What does that mean?’ he muttered.

‘It means that they found some discrepancy in the evidence that was used to convict her of conspiracy—’

‘What evidence?’

‘Forensic evidence. Something to do with particles of dirt found at the scene and the particles found on her clothing in the flat hallway.’

Gus ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You mean—’

Alex winced. ‘Yes, sweetheart, where little Harry’s body was found. Gus,’ she knew she had to tread carefully, ‘have you been drinking?’

He wiped his sleeve over his face. ‘Bit.’

‘In the afternoon?’

‘Why, wouldn’t you mind if it was in the evening?’ he shot back.

She rolled her eyes, hoping to defuse the situation. ‘Don’t be smart with me. You know I would, that’s not the point.’

‘Look, I was stopped outside the school gates by some reporter scum who wanted to do an interview, take my picture and all that.’ He plucked at the sleeve of his jumper. ‘And I don’t want it, Mum. I don’t, like, want it to be anything to do with me. I was only a baby. I don’t even remember Harry and Millie.’ He sniffed. ‘But they kept asking and asking and saying we were liars, that you were a liar. And I wanted to get away.’

‘I’m sorry, love.’ She pulled him closer.

‘And then a couple of mates asked me if I wanted a drink.’

‘Mates?’ she asked, more sharply than she intended. Please don’t let him have fallen in with a bad crowd again.

‘Yes, mates.’ He glared at her. She decided to leave it, for now. ‘Anyway,’ he carried on, ‘I thought you’d be more concerned about the reporters than the half pint of lager I’d had.’

‘I am concerned about that,’ she said, trying to believe it really was just a half pint of lager. ‘They had no right to stop you and talk to you. What did you say?’

‘Nothing.’

‘How did they know you had anything to do with her?’

He shrugged. ‘Dunno. But there are a couple of them at the gate now.’

‘What?’ Alex jumped up and went over to the window. Sure enough, a man in a shiny grey suit and yellow tie and a woman in a black shaggy coat were standing just outside the gate under the streetlight and looking at her front door. Both of them on mobile phones and having animated conversations. She wondered which of them would be the first to come up with an offer. Vultures.

‘Bugger,’ she said, stepping back from the window before they saw her, heart thumping, ‘I thought they wouldn’t find us.’

‘Come on, Mum, you know you can find anyone these days through the internet.’

Irritation crawled up her spine. She knew that. She damn well knew that, so why hadn’t she given it a thought? ‘They’ll go away as soon as they realize we’re not giving them anything. Or until they get cold or tired or hungry, or all three.’ She half drew the curtain.