A Step Into The Dark

by Vince Vogel

  It was what she reread now as she sat holding her coffee.

  I lost my virginity to a blond I did at the canal. And when I say ‘virginity’ you know what I mean. I spotted her in a local park and it felt like some uncontrollable destiny. Like we were being led on some slipstream to that moment in time. It was the first time I saw her in the real world. She was walking towards me. She was so beautiful in her own unique way. Yellow. I wanted to say hello. I always just wanted to say hello. I approached her. She used to smile at me. But this time she did what all the bitches do. She grimaced and pretended that I wasn’t even there. I felt so angry. I saw red—actual red!!!! Like blood was in my eyes. Without even knowing what I was doing, I followed her. If I was to be invisible, then so fucking be it. Like always she never noticed a fucking thing about me and I followed her as if I were her own shadow. When she was all alone by the canal, I snuck up. Right by the giant set of eyes that watched me from a wall. I wondered if they were your eyes watching me. I hope I made you proud, Robert. She never even knew she was gone. She made like there was another outcome. But there wasn’t. Her face surprised me. It looked sweet as she wheezed her last breath. As beautiful as when I first ever saw her. Yellow.

  Before she’d fallen into sleep, Alice had checked for unsolved disappearances of young women near canals. She found one that appeared to match. A young woman went missing four years ago while walking back from spending the day with friends at a fair. Her name was Gemma Gibbs, nineteen. There was a search of the local grounds, including a canal that she would have walked past. But they never found a body or even a single sign of Gemma.

  37

  “Blimey! What happened to you?” Tyler put to his grandfather the moment the old man walked into the kitchen.

  “Jean caught me smoking again,” he said sarcastically to the boy.

  “Ha! Ha! Jean wouldn’t do that.” Tyler looked up at the back door as Jean came in from the garden, having seen to the vegetable patch. “Is he tellin’ the truth?” the nine-year-old said to her as she came in.

  “Truth about what?” she asked, going to the sink and cleaning the dirt off her hands.

  “That you beat him up when you caught him smoking?”

  She turned around from the sink and gazed at Jack while he eased his aching body into the chair opposite his grandson.

  “He is, Ty,” she said with a grin.

  The boy shot his eyes to his battered granddad.

  “She have a bat or somethin’?”

  “Her bare hands, mate,” Jack stated. “I tried to duck and weave, but she was too quick. If I were you, I’d think twice the next time you’re cheeky or refuse to do your homework.”

  The boy narrowed his eyes, the dubious look on his face intensifying at the old man opposite. He couldn’t trust him at the best of times.

  “Nah!” the boy scoffed. “You’re lyin’, like always.”

  Jack chuckled heartily and then stopped when it began to ache his bruised chest. Tyler served himself cereal and Jack did the same, though he couldn’t be bothered to eat it once he had. Jean came and sat down, a coffee in her hand. She smiled sideways at Jack and placed her hand on his. He smiled back and they kissed.

  “Not at the dinner table,” Tyler scolded them. “We’ve discussed this. You’re too old and it makes me feel a bit sick.”

  “You know, I can’t wait until you bring your first girlfriend home,” Jack put to the boy. “Then it’ll be our turn. Time to get your baby pictures out.”

  Tyler rolled his eyes, reached into a pile of comics, pulled one out, and then ate his cereal while reading it. About two minutes later, the sound of the mail hitting the mat made it into the kitchen. Tyler immediately dropped his spoon and ran across the hall to fetch it.

  “We’ll never need a dog,” Jack gently remarked to Jean.

  She grinned. The boy returned.

  “Doh!” he said as he went through the letters he held. “Nothin’ for me.”

  “Start payin’ the bills then,” Jack put to the boy.

  Tyler handed them over and went back to his comic and breakfast. Jack spied through the letters. His heart dropped when he saw one that looked official. Not a bill or offer. He opened it up and saw that it was from the social services. They wanted to arrange an appointment when someone could come by and speak to him about Tyler’s custody. He typed the number into his phone, saved it, and then placed the letter deep inside his pocket.

  “What was that?” Jean asked as she observed him, a perturbed look on his face.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Jack got up, poured his breakfast down the sink and went outside. Standing at the edge of his narrow strip of lawn, he took out a smoke and lit it, pulling hard on the filter. He tried to think of something, some way that he could hold this off until he knew for sure how worthy Renton Williams was of having Tyler. But his mind was as blank as the blue sky that shone over his head.

  He heard the door behind him and soon Jean’s warm head was resting in the crook of his neck. It made him shiver.

  “Letter from the social services,” Jack informed her.

  “I gathered that. What did it say?”

  “They want to arrange an appointment. Come see Tyler. Ask questions. That sort of thing. It’s the beginning of them taking him off us.”

  “You don’t know that. You can fight for custody.”

  “I can’t. Do you not think the first thing I did yesterday was get ahold of Renton’s criminal record? He’s off parole soon. He served all licenses. None of his convictions were for violence. He’s clean.”

  “But you told me that he used to knock Carrie about all the time.”

  “She never reported it. Nothing ever placed on record. It’s as if he never touched her.”

  “What about where he’s living?”

  “A bit poky, but it’s alright. I spotted three bedrooms. There’s two floors. His missus keeps it clean.”

  “And what about her?”

  Jack tugged the cigarette and concentrated his eyes on the glowing sun. He let it burn his eyes for a moment before looking away, his vision covered in spots.

  “She looked frightened.”

  “What—like he’s knocking her about?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see any bruising. She was wearing a full-length dress and maybe she watches her tongue a bit better than Carrie. But I got the impression he made her nervous.”

  Jack finished his smoke, kissed Jean goodbye, and got in the car with Tyler. The nine-year-old was off to a mate’s house for a sleepover. As Jack drove them, the boy sat in the passenger seat, playing on his phone. He couldn’t help glancing over at his grandson every so often, wondering if this would soon be a thing of the past. Jack driving him to school or to a friend’s house or off on a day out.

  “What’ve you and Danny got planned for today?” he inquired.

  “Not much,” Tyler replied without looking up from the game.

  “What’s not much?”

  “Ugh!” the boy groaned. He paused the game and placed the phone back in his pocket. Having done that, he turned to Jack and said, “You wanna talk?”

  “Yeah, I do. Maybe in the future you’ll be lucky enough to only have to communicate through technology, but until then, I’d like to make the most of it and talk. So what you got planned for the day?”

  Having let out an elongated sigh, Tyler said, “His mum’s gonna take us shopping. Jean gave me some of my birthday money and I wanna buy a new game. Then we’re gonna go to the cinema to see the new Pixar film. After that, bowlin’ and then home to play his Playstation.”

  “Sounds fun. Is Danny going to Duxford with you on Wednesday?”

  “Obviously. He plays for the footy team, doesn’t he?”

  “Alright, misery guts. I was only asking.”

  The two descended back into silence and Tyler’s mobile phone was pulled out of his pocket, the game renewed.

  “We’re here,” Jack announced ten minutes later.


  Tyler turned from his game and looked out the window at his friend’s driveway. He instantly lifted his bag from the footwell, took hold of the handle and went to burst out the car, but Jack called him back.

  “Don’t I get a hug and a kiss?” he asked when the boy popped his head back into the car.

  “Ugh! Really?” He was grimacing.

  “Not if you don’t want to.”

  Rolling his eyes, Tyler dropped the bag on the ground and crawled into the car. He threw his arms around Jack and the latter held the boy tight.

  “Ahh!” Tyler joked. “You’re gonna squeeze me to death.”

  “Have fun,” Jack said when he let go.

  He watched Tyler bolt to the house, ring the bell and wait for the door to be answered. The nine-year-old turned to Jack one last time, waved, and then disappeared into the house.

  Sighing to himself, Jack drove off to work.

  He reached New Scotland Yard at nine and went straight to his desk. The place was already busy. He walked through a whole section of ringing telephones and chatting detectives. It was the telephone response team, receiving information from the public. Except most of it wouldn’t be information. Most of it would be people calling with their concerns. Was it safe to send their children out onto the streets. Stuff like that. Any information would come in the form of suspicious cars. Suspicious men. And anything else suspicious. It would be ninety-nine percent unusable trash with the one percent of valid leads buried in there like a diamond sparkling among the debris of a landfill. It was the job of the response team to separate the single speck of wheat from the mound of chaff.

  Alice Newman had called a briefing for half past nine, so Jack had some time to make himself a coffee and sit at his desk.

  Having fixed the coffee, he sat down and switched his computer on. It took less than a minute to check e-mail. Nothing of note came up. He was about to get up and find the others when he felt a presence behind him.

  Swiveling around in his chair, he found the wide frame of Chief Inspector Don Parkinson standing there. He always looked annoyed, Don, and his crooked nose suited the look. He had a face of granite and often appeared to be chewing a wasp. A shock of brown, curly hair like a baby’s sprung up from his head. It was so unbefitting of Don.

  “You alright, Don?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, mate. I got something for you.”

  He fished a letter from the inside pocket of his jacket and Jack winced. He’d had enough of letters for one lifetime.

  “It’s from Col,” Don said as he handed it down.

  Jack’s heart turned to ice and his stomach to knots. He gazed down at it with a stunned expression. Col was his old partner. His former best mate. A man he betrayed terribly.

  “Why now?” he said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “But for the past ten years he’s denied every attempt I’ve made to contact him, Don. Every time I’ve sent a letter, it’s come back unopened.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know. I went to see him yesterday. He kept talking about you. Wanted me to give you this.”

  “You read it?”

  “No. He said it was for you, so I guess only you should see it.”

  Jack glanced down at the envelope again. Not even his name had been written on it. There wasn’t much inside. A single page folded over.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Don said with a grunt, and he was on his way, his thick back disappearing within the throng of desks and offices.

  Jack unfolded the page of lined paper.

  I have something I need to share with you. It’s important.

  That’s all it said.

  “Jack?”

  He looked over to where the voice had called from. The tall, gaunt figure of Chief Inspector Mark Hobbs stood outside his office. He tipped his head forward and pointed into the room behind him.

  Jack folded the letter and placed it back in his pocket before getting up and making his way to his superior’s office.

  38

  “Shut the door,” Hobbs said as Jack came inside.

  Having done this and taking a seat, the detective gazed across at his chief inspector while the latter went over some papers behind his desk. He was a tall and thin man with dark gray hair. Long limbs swung out of a small pigeon-chested body and this gave Hobbs a cumbersome appearance even when he sat. It was several seconds before he looked up at Jack and this made the detective uncomfortable. Hobbs wore a morose expression. Usually, he wore a pleasantly serene one that gave little away, but today he looked up at Jack with a disappointed look.

  “You look like shit,” was the first thing the chief inspector said.

  “You mean this?” Jack replied, pointing at his bashed-up face. “I fell through a drain cover last night.”

  “Not during an altercation with Renton Williams?”

  Hobbs gave him a knowing frown. That was quick, Jack thought.

  “No. It was later. After I’d been to the station.”

  The disappointed look grew on Hobbs’ face.

  “What happened?” he asked. “In your words.”

  “I went to see the guy over my grandson. He’s applied for custody.”

  “He’s the father, right?”

  “Biologically.”

  “So how’d you end up decking him?”

  “He wound me up and I lost my rag. I was stupid.”

  “Damn straight. I found out that his solicitor has requested a copy of the arrest. I gather they want it for this custody battle.”

  Jack already knew they would. Knew it the moment he saw the police car on his drive. Heck, knew it the second he threw the punch.

  “It’s something to hold over me,” Jack muttered. “I guess I’m waiting for the fallout.”

  “So I take it you’re dead against this Renton character having the boy?”

  “The guy hasn’t had anything to do with him since he was a toddler. Ty doesn’t even know him and the guy wants to come in and take him away. I wanted to ask him to give it some time. Do things slowly.”

  “And he didn’t agree?”

  “No. He chased me down the stairs of his flat and grabbed me. I saw red and acted stupidly.”

  “You’re a policeman, Jack,” Hobbs said in a tone that told Jack it shouldn’t have to be said. “But I understand if these things can have their effect. I don’t know what I’d do if anyone threatened to take my two daughters away. I guess you had an element of reason to act as you did. How’d he come off, out of interest?”

  “Cut lip and a black eye, I think.”

  The two gazed across at each other, Jack feeling smaller by the second.

  “So what did that, then?” Hobbs went on, nodding at Jack’s bruised face.

  “I fell.”

  “But into who?”

  “It was nothing, sir.”

  Hobbs sighed. He gazed indifferently at some papers to his side and then turned his eyes back to Jack.

  “Is any of this going to affect what happens here?” he asked.

  “No, sir.”

  Another sigh escaped Hobbs’ screwed lips.

  “Okay. Then I’ll leave it. But you have to understand that I cannot have officers of mine going about getting into scraps. If you’ve got a problem, then see a counselor. You happen to have an aversion to them, but if I get one more report, no matter if it’s just for riding a bike with no lights, I won’t hesitate to send you in for six months conditional counseling. Is that understood, Jack?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Then go see DI Newman. She’s about to organize you into teams. I think she wants you on these letters of Robert Kline’s. I hear you went up to Derby yesterday.”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you make of it?”

  “I get a feeling it could be him, but I’ll need more time with the letters.”

  “I think DI Newman already has somewhere for you to go.”

  “Oh.”

  “So get out and see her.”<
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  Jack stood and they shook hands over Hobbs’ desk. As Jack walked out the door, Hobbs called him back.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “If you need my help in anything, Jack, just ask. Don’t tackle this thing on your own if you don’t need to.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  And with that, Jack left and met up with the others. Alice was already into her brief, having decided to start early as everyone appeared to be there. A knot of twenty-odd officers stood around. Jack leaned up against a filing cabinet at the back with George Lange.

  “I’m placing several of you on looking into Tommy Lewis,” Alice was saying. “We’ve compiled a list of people he was known to associate with. We want to find out who knew or had access to those guns. At the moment, this is our only lead.”

  “What about the public response, ma’am?” someone asked.

  “Nothing of note. We released Tommy Lewis’ name to the press this morning, but we’ve had nothing of any worth come in. As far as the killer, we’ve had descriptions of cars and men seen around the Boreham Wood area at the time, but they appear to clash with each other. Not one car model reported matched. We had sightings of a red car several times and the Ford make, but no two matching models. As far as physical descriptions of men, it’s similar, in that none really match to any degree that we can call them a solid lead.”

  The whole time she spoke, Jack felt Col’s letter in his pocket as though it were writhing in there. He couldn’t help thinking about Col and why, after ten years of refusing to see him, he wanted to now. And why the short note and the mystery?

  “I also,” Alice was saying, “need several of you to look into local people with histories of gun crime. It’ll be legwork, but I’ll be involved, too. We need to eliminate them from enquiries, I’m afraid, and we may show up a connection with Tommy Lewis or even the victims. As you know, Lewis was involved in several gun clubs before his incarceration, so there might be connections there.” Alice paused and looked past the first few rows of people to the back. Seeing Jack for the first time, she winced, wondering how he’d come by his injuries. Turning away from him, she went on, “As well as that, we have the girl, Tina Shaw, who was found at Lewis’ house. As you know, she’s currently presiding in a psychiatric hospital. She gave me details yesterday of the place she was being held. I’ll be needing a separate team away from this case investigating the people who abducted and trafficked Tina Shaw. Now what we need to…”