‘I still don’t understand why she won’t press charges against him… After nicking her car. Knocking her to the ground. Threatening her with a knife. Drugging her drink. That little scrote’s a proper bloody nightmare, mate.’
‘Lucky too… Come on, Jack. Let’s try and wind down over a beer.’
Jack noticed Doc limping as they crossed the car park to the pub entrance. His friend was exhausted, and if he overdid things, the various plates and pins holding his limbs together gave him gyp. He patted Doc’s back between the shoulders as they entered the bar, and chuckled, putting his own good humour down to the prospect of seeing Charlie. It was the best he’d felt since Sunday’s fireball. ‘I’ll get ’em in, you sit down, mate. You look like you’ve been through a meat grinder.’
Doc nodded and wearily sat at an unoccupied table in the corner while Jack went to the bar to order drinks. The place was a proper pub, not too busy, and not a gastro-dump or wine bar-wannabe. Jack felt at home, listening to the hubbub of happy customers. He carried three pints to the table as Charlie arrived – wearing a head-turning outfit, a short red dress that showed off her ample curves – and Jack relaxed properly for the first time in days.
Over their drinks, Doc and Jack shared all they had discovered with Charlie, and by the time they’d finished she was also itching to arrest the boy, but for now, all three of them were winding down for the night. With work out of the way, they sat and laughed, chatted and drank, until the publican threw them out shortly before midnight.
Jack kissed Charlie goodnight, wishing he could go home with her rather than Doc, but he couldn’t tell his pal to take a taxi. Not tonight. He drove out of the pub car park far more cheerful than when he had arrived, but now his mind was back on the Leech boy and something Doc had suggested while they talked things through with Charlie.
‘Do you really think he was in cahoots with Smith, and they both planned to blow up the boat? Even though the phone messages verified what he told me?’ Jack had been both furious and disheartened when he had read the texts from Smith yakking on about how disappointed he was that Billy had missed the spectacular display he had arranged for him on Sunday.
‘Maybe… To be honest, I think he might well be the mastermind, pulling Smith’s strings. Everything Mrs Leech claimed – if true, and I believe it is – suggests Billy is no one’s victim.’
‘Yeah?’ Jack mulled that over for a minute then asked, ‘So he seduced a paedophile? Aged, what? Fourteen, thirteen? Nah… I can’t see it.’
‘We only have Billy’s word for it that Smith and he are in an unhealthy relationship. And I got the impression he’s congratulating himself, for pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes.’
‘Little runt – smirking, and that sly grin of his. I see what you mean.’
‘There was other body language too, and not just from our interviews tonight. I saw the way he looked at Judy, when he came to our house… Thirteen years of age, and a raging mess of hormones. He’s not gay, Jack. I’d bet my life on it.’
‘So, what about the photos then? They look pretty loved up to me. Not that I’m an expert on gay porn. Or paedo porn for that matter.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Okay mate.’ Jack turned off the A4 for Pangbourne, a few minutes out from Doc’s home. ‘Enough of the enigmatic grunting at me. What’s going on in that supercomputer you keep between your ear’oles?’
Doc sucked air through his teeth, and said, ‘Did you notice, in those photographs...? Smith had his head turned away, and his eyes were never on the camera. That seemed unusual for a start.’
‘Well, maybe… And?’
‘Billy’s been drugging his mother with Temazepam. Spiking her vodka.’
‘Bloody hell... You think the little toerag set up the paedo. Drugged him and took those photos while he was out of it!’
‘That’s why I am very keen to meet this Smith character again, Jack. Anyway, I’m shattered. It’s midnight already, and I need to sleep.’
Jack wanted to hit the hay, too, even without Charlie beside him. The thought made him grin at the precise moment the inside of his car was lit up by an explosive flash.
He’d pulled into Doc’s lane, arriving just in time to see the Land Rover burst into flames, the conflagration rapidly followed by a more violent explosion that blew the car apart. Jack’s view through the windscreen brought to mind a training film he had recently seen on terrorism.
A car bomb!
The thought was still entering his mind as a third blast joined the first two – the Mini’s fuel tank detonating. It took just a fraction of a second for the combined explosive power to erupt, blossoming into a massive fireball, obliterating the entire frontage of Doc’s house.
***
Birthday: Conflagration
Jack hit the brakes, but Doc was already out of the car before it stopped moving, his croaked cry of distress choking him as he called her name.
‘Ju-u-dy!’
He stumbled on the tarmac drive, his brain in free-fall, saturated with panic, unable to comprehend the extent of the devastation. Or the danger he was heading towards.
The front facade of his home had been breached, with part of the roof sagging above a gaping hole where the windows and wall used to be. Flames lapped at the edges of the jagged brickwork, fuelled by the furniture inside. Shattered glass, shrapnel and larger chunks of car littered the garden, and Doc tripped over a blazing tyre without even noticing the molten rubber scorching his lower leg.
In fact, Doc could not register anything, not even the blast of heat pressing him back, or the crackling and spitting of lethal orange flames. He was fixated on the sight of their bed. The metal frame was askew, dangling by a leg from the wrecked upper floor, hanging into what was once his front room. The mattress, upended, propped beneath the bedstead, surrounded by flaming bedclothes, was already charred and half consumed by fire.
As Doc threw himself forward, ignoring the scorching heat searing his nostrils, desperate to find his wife, his world gave way. He pitched forward, wondering if his heart had given out as his legs locked and the ground smacked him in the face.
‘Doc! Stop. You can’t go in there. It’s collapsing, mate.’ Jack’s voice, urgent but not panicked, cut through the fog in Doc’s head and he looked round and saw him hugging his legs, having rugby tackled him to the ground. ‘If you want to go in, we’ll use the rear patio doors. We’ll see if she’s okay, mate. Come on.’
An insane urge to launch himself at the inferno took hold for an irrational moment and he tensed himself, pulling his legs under him the moment Jack let go, ready to spring forward. Then his brain played a trick on him. Judy’s voice penetrated his panic, only it wasn’t coming from the house – it was inside his head.
‘Colin – stop!’
It had to be in his head – the sound came from the back of his skull.
Then:
‘I’m here! I’m fine!’
Doc heard it more clearly this time, despite the crackle and roar from the fire – it wasn’t his imagination – it was Judy’s voice and he turned to see her, stepping from a taxi onto the road by Jack’s car, her shocked face dancing yellow from the flames, a bandage round her forehead. Jack grabbed his arm and physically hauled him away from the burning house, and for the first few paces, Doc’s stumbling feet dragged as he used his friend’s strength for support.
‘Thank God!’ Doc let go of Jack, and flung himself into Judy’s arms, smothering her with kisses. ‘I was sure I’d lost you – I couldn’t bear the thought of being without you!’
They hugged as Jack spoke with a neighbour who had appeared from the house opposite, and Doc heard him confirm the emergency services were already on their way. The taxi driver was unfazed, and asked, deadpan, ‘Sorry to have to mention this, but who’s paying for the cab ride? It’s fifty quid. It’s a fair old drive to the hospital, and I had to wait half an hour for the lady before bringing her back.’
Jack pulled out his wallet w
hile Doc inspected the dressing on Judy’s head. ‘What happened? you’ve been to hospital?’
‘It’s okay. Just a gash that needed a stitch. I fell and whacked my head, but I’m alright. Your legs, though – your trousers are burnt. And you’re shaking like a leaf. Sit down, Colin.’
He sank onto the low brick wall at the front of their garden, and breathed deeply, counting the seconds repeatedly – four in, seven hold, eight out – until he relaxed as best he could. Judy put her hands on his shoulders, her forehead to his. He gradually calmed, watching Jack pace up and down the road, phone to his ear, gesticulating at whoever was on the receiving end of his agitation.
‘The baby? You said you fell? Please tell me–’
‘The baby’s fine. I had a scan while I was there. There’s nothing to worry about. All three of us are safe, thank God.’ She brushed her hair from her face and looked at the wreckage of their home behind him. Resolute. Watching her in the light thrown by the blazing house, it occurred to him that she was much stronger than he gave her credit for. She nodded to herself, as if to say I’m back, I can cope with this, a firmness in her voice as she told him, ‘Although I think we’ll need a new nursery… And a house to go with it.’ Smiling at him. Uncertain. ‘It looks like a bomb went off.’
‘It does indeed, my love.’
The neighbour stepped forward, and Doc went to stand, an automatic gesture of politeness, but the man placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
‘Colin. I have no idea what’s happened here tonight, but you and Judy are most welcome to use our spare room for as long as you need. I have some trousers that might fit you too.’
‘Thanks, Phil.’ Grateful, though he had other things on his mind than his scorched legs. The wail of distant sirens reached him, gradually getting louder, but Jack, having finished his call, appeared in front of him before any emergency vehicles arrived, his face pulsating with fury.
‘Charlie just told me some interesting news, Doc. I’m going over to the Leech place now as I have some more questions for that brat. I’ll see you later. You take it easy, mate.’
‘Woah.’ The word left Doc’s lips as he saw Judy’s look, a warning not to go rushing off. Not with his house still burning. ‘I’m coming, Jack.’
‘No, Colin–’
‘No, Doc–’
His friend and his wife spoke simultaneously, but Doc was adamant. While sitting morosely, his heart leaden in his chest, watching the flames destroy what was left of his home, Doc’s mind had not been idle. He’d been ruminating on young Billy Leech and his supposed lover, and now aimed his conclusion at Jack.
‘GCHQ got a hit on both phones, simultaneously. In this vicinity. Correct?’
‘Jeez, Doc. How the hell did you know?’
Doc waved the question away as he stood and hugged Judy, whispered in her ear. ‘We will get the person who did this, my love. You stay with Phil, and I promise I’ll be back in no time.’ Her body stiffened and he let go. She stared at him, silently, anger and sadness mingling in the violet of her eyes. ‘I have to do this. I love you, sweetheart.’
Her mouth opened to say something, to tell him she loved him, or maybe object, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to argue with her so spun around, jogged to Jack’s car, and eased himself in before his reluctant pal could drive off without him. Jack threw him a sour look, shrugged and squealed away, swerving past a fire engine racing down the lane in the opposite direction. When he managed to get the car on an even keel, Doc heard him mutter under his breath and sigh to himself.
‘Okay, mate. You knew about the phones. Tell me how.’
‘It was Billy at my house. He’s been sending messages to and from both phones to back up his narrative, to create an alibi, to throw us off the scent. He’s a very devious young psychopath. I’m guessing his tutor’s either dead or being held somewhere.’
‘Yeah… My thoughts were similar when Charlie told me. I dunno how you worked that out.’
Doc was too tired to explain, too emotionally drained. All he could think of was Suzie Leech. ‘She’s in danger, Jack. Mrs Leech… Again… And remember what happened the last time we tried to help her – driving late at night to her home in Chelsea.’
Jack glanced at him, then booted the accelerator and sent the car fishtailing along the road to Bucklebury Common. Doc had hold of the grab handle above his door, as was customary during Jack’s high speed driving, but at least the roads were quiet now.
Doc dialled her number, his fingers crossed, wondering if she would pick up.
Please let us get there in time… This time.
***
Billy sprinted across the farmers’ fields and paddocks, elated. Effortless feet flew along the dirt and grass tracks, as he revelled in sensations normally only experienced in his dreams. The sheer buzz and thrill of what he had achieved – and what he was still to achieve tonight, on this, his coming of age.
For some cultures, adulthood begins with the onset of puberty. For others, the critical year was the eighteenth, or even the twenty-first. But Uncle Peter had set his target for tonight, and already Billy had qualified as a man. A real man.
A killer of other men.
With his leg muscles propelling him, the burn of lactic acid unnoticed, Billy accelerated, making his final dash through the woods of Bucklebury Common to his home. Breathless on arrival but awash with endorphins, he bent from the waist to recover before striding to the cellar entrance. Once inside, he shed his tutor’s sweaty clothes, donned his own, and set Smiffy free.
‘Get dressed.’ Billy ripped the tape from Smiffy's eyes, but left the strip covering his mouth. He tapped it with his knife blade and said, ‘Leave this on. Now get up. We haven’t got all night.’ He had no desire to listen to the wimp’s inevitable bleating, he was feeling blissful and didn’t want the moment spoiled.
Billy had to help him to his feet, and Smith groaned with pain as he tried to stand and dress himself. Meanwhile, Billy packed the remaining ANFO into three containers Gramps had stored in the cellar years ago – an old pressure cooker with a busted seal, a bulbous glass flagon that reached Billy’s knee height, and a giant metal paint can with dried up dregs in the bottom.
The bottle neck was a shade too big for the detonator, so Billy stuffed the tube of black powder into the mixture, wrapped the attached length of home-made fuse around the bottle, taping the end to the glass to keep it in place, then popped the roll of tape over the neck to make it easier to carry.
Smiffy was watching as he struggled to dress, swaying as he pulled the damp shirt over his head. He was weak from lack of food and drink, which suited Billy just fine.
‘Grab the pressure cooker, Smiffy. We’re going upstairs to see my mum.’ He giggled, then guffawed, verging on hysteria as he tried to stem the laughter, but could not. This was simply the most amazing night of his short life. ‘I’m sure she wants to wish me happy birthday. Hahaha! And I’ve reserved her a front row seat, for the fireworks.’
And one for you too, Smiffy!
Smith struggled to lift the container, although it was lighter than either of the two Billy carried, but with some verbal prodding, his tutor managed to wobble his way up the steps. They continued round to the rear of the house and Billy slotted his key into the back door as Smiffy leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, hugging the steel container to his chest.
The kitchen light was still on, though that was situation normal. A far less usual sight, though one he was getting used to, was his mother, sitting behind the table once again, her asymmetrical facial features contorted with rage.
***
Suzie had tied herself in knots thinking about her son after Doctor Powers left. She had looked in on her mother, tried to calm her down after Billy had bellowed down the stairs, once again promised her they would visit her father’s grave tomorrow, and then spent hours moping in the lounge. Desperate for a Martini.
The fortified wine, the sickly, sweet vermouth, was the only alcohol she co
uld find, but even that had severely tested her resolve not to drink, so she’d prayed to the Virgin Mary, thereby drawing the strength to deny her base desires.
At half past eleven, she went to her room, wondering if she could sleep, knowing all the misdeeds her son had been perpetrating on her and her mother. Doctor Powers had been more than sympathetic and Suzie had almost crumbled, and told him to have the police arrest her son.
Maternal ties are strong though, especially when forged by traumatic circumstances, and she couldn’t bear to think of her son behind bars. More prayers had convinced her that all humans have good in them and Billy could be saved. If she could just stay on a righteous path, she could help her boy back from the verge of evil, the temptations the devil had strewn before him.
With visions of hellfire, damnation and demons rampaging through her consciousness, Suzie dozed until a phone call woke her forty minutes after midnight.
‘Doctor Powers?’
‘Sorry to disturb you so late, Mrs Leech.’ His kindly voice had grit beneath it, and she sat up, worried by his tone more than the lateness of the call. ‘I need you to check on Billy for me. Would you do that, please?’
‘Check on him?’ Suzie was groggy from her nightmarish half sleep. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Can you tell me whether he’s in his room? No need to disturb him if he’s sleeping, but I do need to know. Right now.’
‘Okay…’
Suzie had the master key, and used it to unlock her door before climbing to Billy’s room. She still had the phone to her ear as she slotted the same key into Billy’s door lock, trying not to make a sound as she twisted it. A soft click, then she eased the door open, the light from the landing sending a shaft across his bed.
Empty.
The Velux window’s wide open.
Suzie let a gasp slip from her throat, and Doctor Powers must have heard as he asked, ‘Are you alright? Is he there?’
‘No.’ She flipped on the light and took a quick look around, but the room was much as she had left it, still in a mess. Then she noticed the old fireplace with the covering panel thrown aside. ‘He must’ve climbed out, onto the roof!’ She went and checked that her son wasn’t sitting perched outside, stargazing. It was a desperate thought and she knew it. ‘He’s not here, Doctor. But I think I’ve found his hiding place.’
Gaslighting: A British Crime Thriller (Doc Powers & D.I. Carver Investigate Book 3) Page 34
