Page 100 of The Man Made of Smoke

Maybe so. But what would it have done to you, my son?

I stared across the darkening street. That made sense, didn’t it? How would I have reacted, having moved on from everything, to being told that I’d actually been right all those years ago, and that I’d let James Palmer down not once but twice?

Perhaps I wanted to protect you,my father said.

Perhaps that’s all Ieverreally wanted.

I crossed the road.

Inside the police station, it was the same officer behind the desk as on my first visit. He had been polite enough that time, but his face fell when he looked up and saw me approaching him now.

“Dr. Garvie,” he said slowly. “What can I do for you?”

I wasn’t Fleming’s favorite person on the island, and the officer had the air of a man who took his lead from people he considered more important than him. If something of the school bully remained in Fleming, then this man reminded me of the boys who had stood behind him back then laughing.

“I need to speak to Liam,” I said.

He bristled slightly. “You meanDetective Fleming?”

“Obviously that’s who I mean. You don’t have a bunch of other Liams hiding back there, do you? I need to speak to him.”

“Detective Fleming is very busy.”

“He’s about to get a lot busier.”

The officer took a deep breath.

“Everybody is working very hard, Dr. Garvie. But there haven’t been any developments in the search for your father and—”

“You’re wrong.” I leaned down on the desk. “There have been. There have also been developments about the body that was recovered from the rocks yesterday. You just don’t know about them yet.”

Because none of you are as good police as my father was.

I held up the sheaf of paperwork I’d brought with me.

“Trust me,” I said. “Liam really wants to see me right now.”

That was very far from true, of course.

As I was shown into Fleming’s office, it was immediately apparent that the only reasons he might want to see me were ones that neither of us was going to enjoy. After the door closed, and it was just the two of us, he stood up and walked round from behind his desk, stopping a distance away from me that was clearly meant to be intimidating.

“You’ve got a fucking nerve coming here,” he said.

I held my ground.

“Why?” I said.

“Because I know what you’ve been up to.” His face reddened. “I saw your car parked outside Sarah’s house yesterday evening. And then a little bird told me the two of you were both at your father’s house this morning.”

Despite myself, I took a step back now, more out of disbelief than anything else. Given the circumstances of our altercation the other night, I supposed that what he had just said shouldn’t surprise me, but it did.

“Jesus Christ,” I said. “You’ve beenfollowingus?”

“I do what I have to.”

The anger in him was obvious. Theindignation. There would almost have been a childishness to him—like a little boy who’d had a toy taken away—except that he was very much a grown man now. I was aware of both his physical presence and the fact that we were alone together in his office right now.

You are detached, I told myself.

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