The Night Hawks

by Elly Griffiths

  ‘Maja is coming to me at the weekend,’ says David. ‘It’ll be the first time that she’s seen my cottage. I hope she likes it.’

  This is the most human statement Ruth has ever heard from David. She knows that he lives in Stiffkey, another charming north Norfolk village.

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ she says. ‘Kids love the seaside.’

  ‘I hope it’s sunny enough to go to the beach,’ says David. ‘Otherwise I might be a bit stuck.’

  Ruth has heard similar things from other separated fathers – though never from Nelson, to be fair. She stops herself from offering a list of child-friendly local attractions.

  ‘You’ll have a great time,’ she says firmly.

  ‘You’re a single parent, aren’t you?’ says David. ‘I met your daughter last weekend.’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ says Ruth tightly. She doesn’t want to discuss Kate or her parentage. David saw Nelson with Kate last Saturday and will have drawn his own conclusions.

  ‘Must be tough,’ says David. ‘Signe says it is anyway.’

  ‘I cope,’ says Ruth in a tone which – she hopes – puts an end to the conversation.

  They have finished their sandwiches and Ruth is wondering whether to save her cake for later. Two seagulls are watching closely from the balustrade as if they know of her internal struggle. Suddenly, David appears to be sunk in gloom.

  ‘I sometimes wonder if I was right to come back to ­Norfolk,’ he says.

  ‘Why did you?’ Ruth starts to pick at the cellophane around her lemon drizzle.

  ‘I missed it,’ says David, after a slight pause. ‘I was at school here and the place just got to me.’

  ‘Was that West Runton?’ asks Ruth. ‘I thought that you didn’t have a very good time there.’

  There’s another pause. David drains the last of his coffee.

  ‘It was hell,’ he says. ‘Freezing cold, sadistic teachers, inedible food. I was a sad child anyway. My mother died when I was quite young and my dad . . . well, he was a cold fish. Home was unbearable but school was even worse.’

  ‘It sounds awful,’ says Ruth. ‘Poor you.’ David is a very grown-up-looking man, perhaps it’s the height, but suddenly she sees him as a child, gangly and awkward, unwanted at home and unhappy at school.

  ‘But, on Sundays,’ says David, his voice dreamy, ‘we used to go on a walk to the sea. That coast almost made up for everything.’

  ‘It is beautiful,’ says Ruth. ‘I came here to do a dig twenty years ago and never left.’

  ‘Was that the henge?’ says David. ‘You mentioned it the other day.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘It was an incredible discovery.’

  ‘Alan says that the timbers are in King’s Lynn museum. I must visit them.’

  ‘You should. They’ve done it really well.’ Cathbad, of course, thinks the wood should have been left where it was, prey to time and tide, ebb and flow, life and death.

  ‘Alan and the Night Hawks are going out tonight,’ says David.

  ‘Where?’ says Ruth. ‘If they’re going to Blakeney Point I hope they leave the trench alone. It’s a burial site. It should be treated with respect.’

  ‘I’m going with them,’ says David. ‘I’ll keep an eye on things.’

  Ruth is so irritated that she eats her cake.

  ‘What do you mean?’ says Judy. ‘Who was right?’

  ‘My father,’ says Paul. His leg is vibrating again. He looks around, as if searching for escape.

  ‘Your father?’ prompts Judy.

  ‘You know I told you he used to say that there was a dead body in the garden,’ says Paul. ‘And, if we didn’t behave, it would rise up out of the ground and kill us.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Judy. She’s not likely to forget.

  ‘Well, he was right, wasn’t he? There was a body buried there.’

  Paul says this as if his father has won again. It makes Judy feel quite sad.

  ‘But it wasn’t a human,’ she says. ‘It was a dog.’

  ‘He used to talk about the Black Shuck a lot,’ says Paul. ‘He said that he haunted the house. You know the legend? It’s this giant dog, jet black with red eyes. If you see it, you die with a week.’

  ‘I’ve heard the story. I was born in Norfolk.’

  ‘Well, maybe the Black Shuck was buried in our garden.’

  He says it with a slight smile, but Judy doesn’t think that it’s really a joke. The way Paul talks about his father is utterly chilling. Judy has heard stories of abusive parents before but there’s something about using a local legend to terrify children that strikes her as especially evil.

  ‘Have you talked about your childhood with anyone?’ she asks. It occurs to her that some therapy might not be a bad thing.

  ‘Only with Chloe. It makes you close, having parents . . . a father . . . like that. I used to go into Chloe’s room at night when he was shouting.’

  ‘Who was he shouting at, your mother?’

  ‘Sometimes. Sometimes he was just ranting at something he saw on the telly. Any little thing could set him off. A contestant getting a science question wrong on a quiz programme, a scientist who wasn’t him being asked for their opinion. We lived in constant terror of getting something wrong. And it was worse for Chloe.’

  ‘You could still talk to someone about it,’ says Judy. ‘It’s not too late. Therapy can really help with supressed memories.’

  ‘I haven’t suppressed them,’ says Paul. ‘That’s the problem.’

  Judy judges that it’s time to let the matter drop although she thinks she might bring it up again.

  ‘What about the bones in the garden?’ she says. ‘Do you have any idea whose dog it might have been? Did your parents have a pet?’

  ‘No. Dad didn’t believe in pets.’ He says it like not believing in Father Christmas. Judy is ready to bet that Santa didn’t play a big part in the Noakes children’s lives.

  ‘We found a dog’s bed and feeding bowl in one of the outhouses,’ says Judy. ‘Do you know anything about that?’

  ‘A dog’s bed?’ says Paul. ‘That can’t be right. We never had a pet. I used to beg for one. My mother bought me a hamster once, but Dad made her take it back.’

  His voice breaks slightly, and Judy sees the boy inside the tall, awkward man. She asks if Paul has a pet now.

  ‘A hamster,’ he says with a slight smile. ‘I’d like to have a dog, but I couldn’t leave it alone all day.’

  ‘We used to have two hamsters called Sonny and Fredo,’ says Judy. ‘They died last year. I was surprised how upset I was.’

  ‘I’ll be devastated when Daphne dies,’ says Paul.

  Across the town, in The Crossroads GP Practice, Tanya is hearing a similar story from Dr Chloe Noakes.

  ‘He used to tell us stories about the Black Shuck,’ says Chloe, sitting in her surgery framed by a large poster of a waterfall advertising antibacterial handwash. ‘I used to imagine it rising up in the night, its eyes red, prowling into the house and up the stairs. I was so scared I used to wet the bed. And got punished for it, of course.’

  ‘And you had no idea that an actual dog was buried there?’

  ‘No. I thought the body in the garden must be a human. Or maybe I just got mixed up. When I got older, I just assumed Dad had made up these stories as a way of controlling us. He liked the legend of the Black Shuck though. That’s why he changed the name of the farm.’

  ‘It was North End Farm before?’

  ‘That’s right. Apparently one of the previous owners fell into a combine harvester and died. I used to have nightmares about that too.’

  Chloe gives Tanya a tight smile. She’s a small woman, neat and contained in all her movements but, although very thin – underweight, in Tanya’s opinion – she’s not insubstantial. Chloe has a presence, though this is probably
helped by the fact that she’s a doctor sitting in her own surgery.

  ‘How involved were you with your dad’s company, ­Cambridge Bioresearch?’ asks Tanya.

  Chloe seems to tighten still further. ‘Not at all involved.’

  ‘But you did work experience there.’

  ‘When I was eighteen and applying to medical school. You have to have something to put on your personal statement.’

  ‘But it must have interested you. I mean, you’re a scientist.’ Tanya studied sports science at university and considers herself very much on this side of the fence.

  ‘Look.’ Chloe leans forward. Tanya can see the tiny lines around her mouth and eyes. At thirty-three Chloe should not have these lines. Maybe she’s a smoker? ‘Look, I’m a doctor, I’m a GP. Dad was a research scientist. They are very different jobs. I want to help people, Dad wanted . . .’ She stops.

  ‘What did he want?’ asks Tanya. It strikes her that this would be very useful information.

  ‘Knowledge,’ says Chloe. ‘Control. He was interested in science for its own sake, not for what it could do for people. Claudia is a bit different.’

  ‘Claudia Albertini?’

  ‘Yes, Dad’s partner in the business. She’s a scientist, a pharmacologist, but she wants to make the world a better place. She and Dad used to argue all the time.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About animal testing, for one thing. Claudia wanted to stop it, or at least make sure it was as ethical as possible. Dad didn’t care.’

  ‘What about human testing? Dr Albertini told my colleague that the company does a lot of drugs tests.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Chloe. ‘All drugs companies do. It’s perfectly legal.’

  ‘Did your dad and Dr Albertini argue about the drugs tests? Maybe Claudia thought that your dad was taking some shortcuts?’

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘It’s just a line of enquiry.’

  Chloe takes a visible breath. ‘I really don’t know anything about the business. I haven’t even heard from Claudia in years.’

  Tanya looks at her notes. ‘You said that you last saw your parents a few months ago when you asked them to sign some papers. What was that about?’

  ‘I was remortgaging my house,’ says Chloe. ‘Dad was my guarantor.’

  Is it usual to have your father as a guarantor when you’re in your thirties and, presumably, pretty well paid? Tanya doesn’t know. Her parents have never even owned their own house. And Tanya has a good, if healthily distant, relationship with her family. But Chloe hated her father. Why had she ever accepted his financial help?

  ‘Why were you remortgaging?’

  ‘I don’t see how that’s relevant.’

  But finances are always relevant, thinks Tanya. Why would Chloe need to remortgage? As far as Tanya knows, she lives on her own with no dependents, which is quite unusual in itself at thirty-three, she thinks. Most of Tanya’s schoolfriends were married or in relationships by then. Is Chloe gay? Tanya doesn’t think so and, over the years, she’s become good at picking up the signals. But, then again, maybe Chloe is gay and doesn’t know it yet. Tanya was still dating men in her late twenties. Until she met Petra, in fact.

  Tanya decides to drop the subject. For now, anyway.

  ‘Did your parents own a dog?’ she asks.

  ‘What? Is this a joke? I told you about the Black Shuck.’

  ‘We found dog accessories in one of the barns.’ As soon as Tanya says this, she realises how weird it sounds. What are dog accessories? Designer poo bags? Little necklaces with bones on?

  Chloe is not about to let her get away with this. ‘Dog accessories? What are you talking about?’

  Tanya gives the doctor a hard stare. A joke’s a joke but Tanya’s a police officer on duty and she’s not going to let anyone laugh at her.

  ‘Did your parents own a dog?’

  ‘No,’ says Chloe. ‘Like I said, Dad hated all animals.’

  Chapter 21

  Cathbad is tempted to walk to Cley. At night, it would only take about two and a half hours. Cathbad loves walking, which is why, years ago, at a rather directionless time in his life, he became a postman. But, somehow, when you have a house and a life partner and three children, you can’t just walk all night, stopping to sleep in a hedgerow if the mood takes you. Cathbad misses the freedom of the wandering years, although he is honest enough to admit that it was also an anxious and sometimes lonely time. He’s much happier now, in his little cottage with Judy and the children and Thing. But he would like the occasional midnight walk.

  So he drives to Cley and waits in the car park for the Night Hawks. They arrive in cars and vans, unloading their metal detectors and a worrying array of equipment, arc lights, shovels, even fishing rods and nets. Cathbad doesn’t believe in disturbing nature, often at its busiest during the hours of darkness, and this looks rather too invasive for him.

  It’s hard to recognise people in the dark. Cathbad can’t hear Alan’s voice but thinks he identifies people whom he met on previous excursions: the IT guy, Neil, and the historian, Paul. A younger man, who appears on a bike without headlights, is hailed as Troy by the others. No one speaks to Cathbad and he assumes that, in his camouflage jacket and woolly hat, he blends into the background. Another middle-aged thrill-seeker looking for treasure.

  ‘Where’s Al?’ asks someone.

  ‘Maybe he’s already on the beach,’ says someone else.

  ‘His car’s here,’ says a third voice.

  ‘We can’t wait for him,’ says a voice Cathbad recognises. David Brown. Cathbad remembers him from the dig with Ruth. Now there’s an edge of anger to his voice that wasn’t there the other day.

  ‘Has anyone heard from him?’ says Paul.

  Now would be the time for Cathbad to speak up but, by now, he thinks that it would be more prudent to remain silent. He will be the Other, the Visitor, the Third, the one who walks beside you, unheard and unseen. The Night Hawks make their way down to the beach, making enough noise and light, with their boots and equipment and torches, to scare away all the wildlife for miles around. A line from the Good Friday service, and his Irish Catholic upbringing, comes back to Cathbad. Judas goes to meet Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, preparing to betray him. Judas is accompanied by a gang of soldiers and temple police, ‘all with lanterns and torches and weapons’. It’s never a good sign when men go out armed at night, even if it’s only with metal detectors.

  Cathbad doesn’t need a torch. He knows the coastal path very well and has often made this journey, by day and night. He walks by the water’s edge, his walking boots are waterproof and he likes the way the waves break over his feet. On the higher ground, he can hear the Hawks talking. They have the original GPS location for the place where the skeleton and the grave goods were found. Cathbad knows that Alan wants to scour the area looking for more Bronze Age treasure. Cathbad has appointed himself guardian of the dead man, the possible priest who was buried with a dagger in his hand. He will defend him from the temple police.

  Paul is obviously still worried about Alan, but David Brown says that Alan can take care of himself. ‘I know him better than you do,’ Cathbad hears him say. Interesting, he thinks, splashing along in the shallows. He remembers the sea serpent. He has looked up the reports from 1936, when the creature was spotted by no less a personage than the Mayor of Norwich, who described it as moving swiftly and silently through the water. Is the Norfolk Nessie out there in the darkness somewhere, sleeping in the depths for hundreds of years, only to rise again when the omens are right? Cathbad sends it a peaceful salutation, just in case.

  They turn inland and the torches reflect the still waters of pools and lagoons. A night bird flies overhead and there’s an answering call from the saltmarsh. Cathbad can hear the tarpaulin flapping long before they reach the trench. Someone shouts, ‘The
cover is off.’

  David says, ‘Alan must have got here already.’

  ‘There’s no sign of Alan,’ says someone.

  A confusion of lights and voices and then a shout, hoarse and terrified. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Bring the arc light over here.’

  ‘Jesus Christ.’

  Cathbad moves into the light just as it shines into the uncovered trench. He can see the chalky soil, the gleam of quartz and the dead body of Alan White, face down in the earth.

  Once again, Nelson is roused from his sleep. Blearily, he looks at his phone. Cathbad. Why the hell is Cathbad calling him in the middle of the night?

  ‘This had better be good,’ says Nelson.

  ‘I don’t know about good,’ says Cathbad. ‘But I think Alan White has been murdered.’

  ‘What? Where are you?’

  ‘On the beach near Blakeney Point with the Night Hawks. Alan’s body was in the trench. The one where we found the Bronze Age skeleton.’

  ‘Jesus. Don’t let anyone move it or touch it.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Nelson gets up and reaches wearily for his clothes. Michelle doesn’t stir.

  ‘Don’t touch the body,’ says Cathbad, turning back to the group.

  They seem to register his existence for the first time. David says, ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m a friend of Alan’s,’ says Cathbad. ‘He asked me to come along tonight.’

  ‘I know who you are,’ says David. ‘You’re the chap who was here with Ruth the other day. Cathbad.’

  ‘Cathbad?’ Paul raises his head. He was the first person to see the body and had climbed into the trench to check for a pulse. He is now squatting on the ground, looking as if he might be sick. Some of the Hawks have rigged up the arc light which gives the whole scene a strange, theatrical atmosphere.