Read Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3) for Free Online

but
people do atypical things all the time, especially when it comes to
affairs. I don’t like this any more than you do—”
    “Nick.
Didn’t. Send. That. Message. ”
    “All
right. But for the moment, there’s not much more I can do. I can
ask French police to make contact with him but if there’s no
criminal investigation, they won’t exactly prioritise it. I’m
sorry, Anton.”
    “I understand.
Sorry to bother you. Let me know...if you hear any more.” I pressed
the ‘end call’ button, and crushed my phone hard in my hand. Anyone
with Nick’s mobile could have sent that message. All they needed
was the SIM card.
    But the
passport....
    “Anton?”
    For a
moment I couldn’t remember who was in the house with me. I walked
onto the landing. Charlotte stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“Have they found him?”
    “No.”
    She came up
the first couple of steps. “Anton, you look dreadful.”
    “Sorry.”
    “No...hon, I
think you should come down and talk.”
    “I can’t.
Actually, Charlotte...I really appreciate you taking the time to
come over, but I think I need to be alone now. So could
you...?”
    She frowned.
“Of course. I’ll be at home if you want to talk.”
    “Thank
you.”
    Squeezing the
words out hurt. When I didn’t say any more, she grimaced a little.
“I’ll give you a ring later?”
    I nodded, and
she turned. I heard the front door open and close, but I didn’t
move.
    I simply
didn’t believe the story his supposed actions told me. Whoever was
telling it, didn’t know Nick like I did. Anyone could have sent
that message. If someone had Nick’s keys they could have got into
the house and taken his passport. I already knew how easy it was to
fake activity in someone’s name.
    But if I was
right, then where the hell was he?
     

Chapter
4
    Officer
Homophobe’s less obnoxious partner dropped off Nick’s laptop that
afternoon—the techs hadn’t even had a chance to look at it,
apparently—and offered her condolences on the bad news. I didn’t
bother arguing with her, or with Andy when he told me that
the French police hadn’t
managed to make contact with Nick in Calais. He did say that CCTV
from St Pancras showed Nick with a dark-haired man checking in.
Nick was wearing a cap, he said.
    Nick hated
hats with a passion. Andy should have already known that, but to
him, wearing a disguise fitted with the whole ‘affair’
narrative.
    The case was
closed, so far as the police were concerned. Nick was provably
alive and there was no evidence of criminality, so there was no
need for them to be involved. It was left to me to tell Nick’s
friends and family what they were supposed to believe.
    Nick’s dad
took the news in silence, and only said when I finished speaking,
“Sorry, lad. It happens.”
    “So they say.
Let me know if you hear from him, please.”
    “Of
course.”
    I hung
up before I could be bogged down in sympathy I didn’t want, and
awkward explanations I didn’t want to hear. I sent emails to
everyone else, unable to face conversations.
    Then I had a
drink. I may have put my head down and bawled too.
    A little
later I rang Karl. Karl would understand if I bailed on the
conversation prematurely.
    “What will you
do?” he said, when I told him of what had happened, and how much I
disbelieved the evidence.
    “Find
him. I don’t know how though.”
    “Private
detectives do.”
    “Do you know
one?”
    “No, but I bet
one of Nick’s friends do. What about that reporter chap?”
    “Harry? Yes,
it’s possible. You don’t think I’m crazy then?”
    “Anton, you’re
not crazy. You might be wrong, but I can’t fault your logic so far.
Only....”
    “Only?”
    “How far will
you take this? What if the evidence is what it appears to be?”
    “It’s
not. I can’t explain to you how I know but...if Liz walked out on
you today without warning, and sent that message, would you believe
it or your gut?”
    “My gut. But
we have children—”
    “So the