Page 34 of The Family Across the Street
‘Okay, so I’m a delivery driver with Pack and Go, as you can see,’ begins Logan, pointing to the logo on his shirt, where a smiling box is circled with a clock, hoping that it gives him a reasonable amount of legitimacy, ‘and I went to a house this morning at around seven thirty to drop off a computer but the woman wouldn’t open the door. She needed to sign for the package but she wouldn’t open the door…’
‘Don’t you have procedures for that sort of thing?’ the woman asks and Logan can see her stifle a yawn. Right now, he’s the most interesting thing she’s seen all day and she’s already bored with what he has to say. He’s not used to being dismissed so easily.
‘No,’ he attempts to keep his frustration in check, ‘I’m worried that there is something going on in her house, something that’s stopping her from opening the door. I think she’s in trouble. Her name is Katherine West.’ Logan feels his shoulders relax a little. He’s told someone who can actually do something about it now.
‘I went back to try and deliver the parcel again and a kid said something about a real gun through the door, and then the kid said, “Ow,” and some guy told me to go away.’ Logan feels his certainty wither as he speaks. He sounds like he’s a bit mad.
‘Is it usual for delivery drivers to return a second time to try and deliver a parcel? Don’t you just leave a note and drop it at the post office?’
‘Yeah, we do usually, but I feel like something is going on at that house.’
‘Sorry, what did you say your name was?’
‘I didn’t. What difference does it make?’ Logan’s stomach turns over just once – this is not good.
‘What is your name?’ the policewoman asks very slowly and clearly, making sure he understands the question, a small smile playing on her lips.
Logan considers lying but she could just call the company. She knows where he works now and Mack only has ten drivers. He also thinks about just telling her to forget it but he’s piqued her interest now. He’s done a very, very stupid thing by coming in here.
‘Logan Clarkson,’ he says softly, ‘but I have no idea why that matters. I can give you the address of the woman’s house and you can send a car to check it out. All I wanted to do was tell you that I’m concerned about her.’
‘And how long have you known Ms West?’ she asks, her fingers tapping on her keyboard.
Logan feels his hands form into fists. He knows exactly what’s going on here.
‘I don’t know the woman. I am a delivery driver. I tried to make a delivery and she wouldn’t open the door and I found that strange. I’m concerned for her welfare.’
‘Is Katherine related to you in any way?’ Her tone is flat, her voice devoid of interest or emotion. But he knows she’s asking the questions this way so that he will slip up and give her an answer he doesn’t mean to give her.
‘Look… no… no, I told you, I’m just doing my deliveries.’ He struggles to keep his frustration out of his voice. ‘I don’t know anything about her. She’s got nothing to do with me.’
The policewoman throws him a look and then reads her computer screen, her lips moving as she does so. She looks up at him. Her hand goes back to the gun at her side. There is a small twitch right next to her eye. He can tell she’s a little – just a little – unsure now and worried about what he may do. He’s big enough to leap over her nice white counter.
‘Well, we will certainly send a car, Mr Clarkson. Am I correct in saying that you have served three years in prison for break and enter and assault?’
Logan knows that she’s stopped listening to him about anything at all. She is more concerned about his record. His past is not going to let go.
‘Yes,’ he replies, polite and careful. He knows that even the smallest misstep could land him back in jail.
‘We’ve had a few break-ins in the houses around this area over the last few months. You may be right to be concerned.’ She gives him a half-smile and even though he is a lot bigger than she is, his skin pricks with fear. He is a mouse to her cat and one wrong word will allow her to catch a hold of him.
‘Okay, and the address of the house you tried to get into is…?’
Logan registers the words; registers the way she has phrased her question. ‘I didn’t try and get into it. I just wanted her to sign for a parcel.’
‘And the address was?’
‘It’s um…’ Logan swallows. The policewoman’s face is making him nervous. ‘It’s twenty-four Hogarth, no sorry Holborn, twenty-four or twenty-six…’ He shakes his head. He’s been to the house twice today. How could he possibly have forgotten the address?
‘It’s on my phone, but I…’ He searches in his pockets. He has left his phone in the van.
‘I understand,’ says the policewoman, a hard edge to her voice. ‘Perhaps you can wait here while I go and get a detective. You can explain it to him. And then we can go and get your phone together. Please don’t move, Mr Clarkson. I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Fine,’ says Logan.
The policewoman turns and walks to the back of reception, where there is a door. She opens it and looks around, perhaps hoping to catch someone’s attention. She looks back at him quickly and then she steps into the back area, leaving him alone at the front.
Logan feels himself starting to sweat in the frigid space. He’s going to get hauled back there and then things are only going to go one way after that. He won’t be able to control his temper, he knows he won’t. He was just trying to do the right thing. And they may know something.
