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“If that’s what you want, sir.” Barbara stood and nodded at Tucker to do the same. He clambered out of the chair with some difficulty.
“If you change your mind, Mr. Bell…”
“I won’t.”
“Okay then. We’ll see ourselves out.”
“Yeah. You let yourselves in, right?”
They walked out of the front door and back into the freezing air. It was actually a relief after the stale, smoky atmosphere in the house.
Barbara coughed and patted her chest. “One of those homes where you want to wipe your boots when you leave.” She glanced at Tucker. “You got Nathan’s hackles up.”
Tucker looked thoughtful. “He’s lying about something.”
“You said he was never a suspect.”
“Doesn’t mean I was never suspicious.”
They both looked back at the house. A curtain twitched in the living room then dropped closed again.
“Nathan didn’t used to smoke,” Tucker said.
“He was fifteen. Maybe he took it up later.”
“Maybe, but something doesn’t feel right.”
Barbara nodded. “Agreed. But we can’t arrest folk because things don’t feel right.”
She wished she could. The idea of Jacob living here with a dad like Nathan gnawed at her gut. A little too close to home.
“I’m curious about those tattoos,” she said.
“Ex-offenders often have knuckle tattoos,” Tucker said. “Maybe Nathan spent some time in jail?”
“Well, we can check on that.” Barbara pulled a dirty shot glass out of her pocket.
Tucker frowned. “Where d’you get that?”
“Picked it up in the kitchen. Must have forgotten to put it down. I’ll bag it and we can check Nathan’s prints. See what comes up.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re not all by the book, Detective Atkins.”
She smiled. “Sometimes, I read between the lines.”
They walked over to the truck. The windscreen was coated in snow. Tucker started to wipe it off with his coat sleeves.
“You know the truck has a heated windscreen?” Barbara said.
He stared at her in wonder and dusted the snow off his jacket. “Man, modern tech.”
Barbara pulled open the driver’s door, then paused. A slight, dark-clothed figure walked along the track toward them. Jacob.
She raised a hand. “Hi.”
He frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“Just having a little chat with your dad.”
