by Tania Carver
‘Who is he?’ asked Anni.
Mickey had shrugged. ‘Just some East European hired muscle. Nobody special.’
And that had been that. Apart from a call Mickey had received from Jessie James.
‘How are you?’ he had asked.
‘Oh, you know,’ she had replied. ‘Arm’s in a cast, itches like hell. But other than that, not too bad.’
‘Snap,’ Mickey had said. ‘That iron bar to the shoulder left me with my arm strapped up.’
‘Twins,’ she said.
‘How’s everything there?’
‘OK.’ Her voice guarded when she said it. ‘Having a bit of time off. Taking long walks along the beach at Aldeburgh. Doing a lot of thinking.’
‘Yeah,’ said Mickey. ‘Near-death experiences do that to people.’
‘You sound like you know what you’re talking about.’
He gave a small laugh. ‘Dangerous profession, this.’
‘Yeah.’ She told him about Helen Hibbert, the other woman in the container. ‘Put in a claim against the police.Suing for negligence, mental anguish and anything else this ambulance chaser she’s employed can think of.’
Mickey laughed. ‘Good luck to her.’ He paused. Felt there was something she wanted to say but wasn’t able to. ‘So you’re OK.’
‘Yeah. I’ve … got a lot of decisions to make. Trying to stay off the booze.’
‘Well I hope you make the right ones.’
‘Me too. I think I know what I don’t want. It’s just finding out what I do want that’s the hard bit.’
Anni put her glass down, bringing Mickey out of his reverie.
‘You ready?’ he said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Let’s go home, then.’
127
Talking. Talking. Always talking. That was what Stuart’s life seemed to have become. People wanting to talk to him. All the time. On and on and on. Never leaving him alone. And he was tired of it.
At least they had all gone, left him alone for now. In his room. In silence. That was something.
He sat back in his easy chair. Tried to relax.
The room was small. He liked that. But comfortable. Relaxing. And that was good too.
He closed his eyes. Tried to think. Put everything together. Make a timeline.
The police had let him go. He hadn’t done anything wrong, they said. But they did think he needed someone to look after him. So he had been placed in a special hostel. Sheltered accommodation, they said it was called. For people with learning difficulties. He hadn’t spoken to the others yet, but they looked friendly enough.
But for now he just wanted to spend some time on his own. In his own head.
They said he was going to be rich. And that was nice. Rich was nice. They sent him a solicitor. He seemed very pleased to see Stuart. Told him Jack Sloane’s final will had been verified and he could see no reason why he shouldn’t get his share of the Sloane money. He was also in line for a lot of compensation. Said that he could be Stuart’s new best friend. But his probation worker had told him to be careful. Not to sign anything without checking with her first. So he would. Definitely.
He opened his eyes, got up. Crossed to the window, looked out. He smiled. Saw the same things he had seen from his prison cell. Birds. Trees. The sky. Other people, but far away. That was good. Reassuring.
And he was sleeping better too. No more nightmares about being trapped inside his body. At least not yet. Some about the last few days. Of being stuck with Amy/Dee again. Of having to hold a gun to Josephina’s head. Horrible things. But nothing too bad. Nothing about his childhood again. Or his body. Just … nothing. And nothing was better than something when the something had been horrible.
He turned from the window, sat back down again.
Josephina. She was a lovely girl. Really lovely. And he was so happy she had gone back home and was with her mother again. He had spoken to her mother, asked her if he could come and see Josephina. Maybe take her out, play with her. Her mother said she didn’t think that was a good idea. She didn’t want anyone or anything that would remind the little girl of what she had been through. Stuart had understood. It had made him sad. But if it helped Josephina, that was OK. That was fine. It was what being an adult was all about.
He closed his eyes once more. He thought there were things he should probably be doing but couldn’t remember any. People looked after him. Helped him. It was strange living here, but he would get used to it.
He smiled.
He didn’t have to do anything. All he had to do was wait.
128
Phil had to sit down. His legs were aching. Marina got him a drink. Non-alcoholic. The party continued all around them. He watched. She studied him.
Already the bruises were beginning to fade. The cuts and abrasions starting to heal. There wasn’t anything on his face that was expected to leave a lasting scar. The stitches along his hairline and over his scalp were still vivid-looking and would be for some time. But his hair was starting to grow back and the stitches would dissolve away eventually. There would be a few lines, a few scars, but his hair would mostly hide those. Most importantly, they didn’t think there would be any long-term damage.
He had been lucky, she thought. Very lucky. She looked over at Eileen. Felt a pang of guilt at how lucky.
Mickey came towards them, Anni not far behind.
‘How you feeling, boss?’ asked Mickey.
Phil managed a smile. ‘Not too bad. I’ll be well again soon. And back at work.’
Mickey smiled. ‘Don’t make it too soon, yeah?’
Phil laughed. It seemed to quickly exhaust him.
Anni appeared alongside Mickey. Stood close to him.
‘We’re off now,’ she said.
‘Going anywhere nice?’ asked Marina.
‘Just … ’ Mickey searched for the right words. ‘Early start tomorrow. Could do without a late one.’
‘Well I’m not in charge at the moment,’ said Phil, ‘so I can’t tell you what to do.’
Anni smiled. ‘Won’t be too long, though. The old team back together again.’ She looked between Phil and Marina.
Phil nodded. ‘Something like that,’ he said.
Mickey tried to shake hands, but the cast on his arm made it difficult. Anni kissed cheeks.
‘It was a great send-off,’ said Anni. ‘Don would’ve been proud.’
Phil nodded, said nothing.
Mickey and Anni moved away. Phil and Marina watched them go.
‘Do you think they’re … ?’ Phil frowned.
‘If they’re not, it’s about time they did.’
They both managed a laugh, then fell into silence. Eventually Phil shook his head, sighed. Marina turned to him.
‘You OK?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. I was just … that speech. About Don. That I made. Was it all right?’
‘It was wonderful. You said everything you should have said. Incredibly moving.’
‘Good.’ But Phil didn’t look convinced. ‘It just felt … like there was more to say.’
‘There’s always more to say.’
‘No, but … you know what it’s been like recently. Everything that’s gone on. Before all this. Family stuff. My … biological parents. All that.’
Marina said nothing. She knew.
‘Well it’s just … I don’t know. It’s like … we’d just bonded. Recently. Properly. Don and me. Fully acknowledged father and son. And now … he’s gone.’
‘At least you had that. Some sons never even get that much.’
He nodded. ‘Suppose you’re right.’
She said nothing.
‘Enjoy every sandwich,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Something Warren Zevon said. Just before he died of cancer. He was asked if he’d learned anything about life. Enjoy every sandwich, he said. Because one day it’ll be your last.’
Marina just stared into her drink. ‘Maybe it’s time we went home too
.’
Phil looked round. Don’s old friends were fully engaged in their war stories. Even Eileen was talking to friends. The party had moved on from him and Marina. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Let’s.’
They left the pub and walked down the street arm in arm.
‘If you haven’t discovered this talented newcomer yet, hurry.
She’s on her way to the top’
Richard Montanari
Have you read all the Tania Carver books? Turn over to see …
THE SURROGATE
Tania Carver
A sickening killer is on the loose – a killer like no other.
This murderer targets heavily pregnant women, drugging
them and brutally removing their unborn babies.
When DI Phil Brennan is called to the latest murder
scene, he knows that he has entered the world of the most
depraved killer he has ever encountered. After a loveless,
abused childhood, Phil knows evil well, but nothing
in his life has prepared him for this.
And when criminal profiler Marina Esposito is brought
in to help solve the case, she delivers a bombshell: she
believes there is a woman involved in the killing –
a woman desperate for children …
‘With a plotline that snares from the off, and a comprehensive
cast of characters, Carver’s debut novel sets the crime thriller
bar high. A hard act to follow’
Irish Examiner
978-0-7515-4228-8
THE CREEPER
Tania Carver
‘Disturbing yet engaging’
Daily Mirror
Suzanne Perry is having a vivid nightmare. Someone is in her bedroom with her, and she can’t move a muscle.
She wakes, relieved to see the morning light, glad to put the nightmare behind her. Then she opens the curtains and sees a Polaroid stuck to the window. A photo of her sleeping self, taken during the night. And underneath it the words:
I’m watching over you
Her nightmare isn’t over, in fact it’s just beginning …
‘Creepy … some genuinely shocking moments’ Bella
978-0-7515-4253-0
CAGE OF BONES
Tania Carver
‘Keep the lights on for this one. Carver has delivered another utterly terrifying, yet believable chiller’ Mirror
Into the House. Down the stairs. Through the dripping dark of the cellar. Someone is there. Someone that shouldn’t be there
As a building awaits demolition, a horrifying discovery is made inside the basement: a cage made of human bones – with a terrified, feral child lurking within. Unbeknown to DI Phil Brennan and psychologist Marina Esposito, they have disturbed a killer who has been operating undetected for thirty years. A killer who wants that boy back.
But the cage of bones is also a box of secrets – secrets linking Brennan to the madman in their midst. With the death toll rising and the city reeling in terror, Brennan and Marina race to expose a predator more soullessly evil than any they’ve ever faced – one who is hiding in plain sight.
‘For thriller fans, Cage of Bones is a must, but be warned, it ain’t pretty’ Irish Sunday Independent
978-0-7515-4525-8
And next from Tania Carver in September 2013
THE DOLL’S HOUSE
From the outside, the house was unremarkable. Just one of many on an ordinary, suburban estate. But inside was a different matter. With pink ribbons and pink walls, stuffed toy animals everywhere and a dining table laid out for a tea party, it was a doll’s house. The doll was sitting at the table. Life size, with blonde, pigtailed hair and rosy red cheeks, dressed in her best pink party dress. Her finger and thumb curled round the handle of a fine china teacup.
An adult woman. Covered in blood. Eviscerated. Dead.
In all his years on the force, DI Phil Brennan of the Major Incident Squad has never encountered a scene like it. As he investigates he uncovers more bizarre revelations and realises that he must act fast; the next murder has already been planned and the victim is close to home …
