Out of the Dark

by Natasha Cooper

  ‘Jeannie Nest was found murdered last week,’ Caro said before Lakeshaw could stop her.

  Trish swallowed, the saliva burningly bitter in her throat. She thought of last night’s watcher with the blanked-out numberplate. Remembering the lack of reaction from any of her neighbours on the night David had been almost killed in the street, Trish felt the sensation of icy water down her spine again. If it hadn’t been for the friendly cabbie last night, she too might have been left for dead in the road. She could have screamed her head off, but no one would have come to help. She gripped her left wrist with her right hand, trying to will calm into her mind.

  ‘Ms Maguire?’ Lakeshaw was still looking furious and Caro wary. Trish shook her head, not even having heard what he’d just said.

  ‘Did Jeannie Nest have a son aged about eight, called David?’ she asked, surprised to hear that her voice sounded steadily confident.

  ‘Yes. He’ll be eight next month.’

  ‘Has he been identified positively as the boy in hospital?’ If she could keep on asking questions, she might be able to forget the man – or men – who seemed to be watching her.

  ‘I haven’t heard. But it seems more than likely that he will be. Now, what I need to know is …’

  ‘When will they be telling him his mother’s dead?’ Trish heard her own voice whipping through the space, effectively shutting Lakeshaw up.

  ‘That’ll be taken care of, Trish,’ Caro said kindly. ‘As soon as he’s considered well enough to deal with the news. You don’t have to worry about that.’

  ‘I want to be there when he’s told.’ Do you? asked a small voice in her mind. Wouldn’t you rather keep right away now to show the watchers that David’s nothing to do with you and that you know nothing about him or his mother?

  ‘Out of the question,’ Lakeshaw snapped. ‘In any case it may be too late.’

  ‘Sir …’ Caro Lyalt began, but Trish didn’t need an advocate. She knew what to say. She just hoped she’d have the courage to see this thing through.

  ‘That boy was sent to me by his mother. She had sewn my address into his clothes; she had taught him for as long as he can remember how to find this place. She trusted me to look after him, even though we’d never met. I have to be there when he’s told that she’s dead. I have to.’

  ‘Sir, he seems to trust Trish. It really might help to have her there.’

  ‘Possibly. But first I need to know who else you’ve spoken to, Ms Maguire.’

  Trish thought she could see a plea for forgiveness in Caro’s hesitant smile. She didn’t respond to it. ‘I talked to a variety of barristers and clerks in my search for the person who prosecuted Ron Handsome when Jeannie Nest testified against him. I can give you their names if necessary. And also my father, who knew her years ago. Now, if there’s anything else you need to ask, couldn’t we deal with it on the way to wherever David is now? I’m more than willing to tell you anything, but I have to see him.’

  It took a bit more persuasion, but eventually Lakeshaw agreed. Trish only just remembered that she was supposed to be meeting Anna Grayling at the National Film Theatre later in the evening. She made the others wait while she phoned and had to leave an uninformative message on Anna’s voicemail. The last thing she wanted was Anna getting involved in all this.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she said to Caro, ushering her out of the flat in order to double lock the door.

  Caro drove to a hospital in Whitechapel, where David was being cared for in a single room on the fourth floor. There were two uniformed women police officers outside the room, talking to a man in plain clothes. Trish realised that the threat, whatever it was, was considered serious. No hard-pressed police force was going to expend manpower like this without good reason.

  One of the officers stepped forward to say, ‘He won’t talk, sir.’

  ‘Does he know about his mother’s death?’

  ‘Yes. Not in detail, of course. He didn’t seem surprised and he’s hardly cried since. But he still won’t say anything.’

  ‘Let me try,’ Trish said, surprising the plain-clothes officer, who started to ask a question. They all ignored him as Caro took Lakeshaw on one side and began talking urgently. Trish couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  ‘OK, Trish,’ Caro said, coming back ahead of Lakeshaw. ‘The DCI is prepared to allow you to have a go, on condition that you introduce him to David and try to persuade him to answer questions. OK?’

  ‘So long as Lakeshaw says absolutely nothing until I’ve had a chance to talk to David myself,’ Trish said, hoping she’d made it clear the condition was non-negotiable. Eventually she got Lakeshaw’s agreement.

  David nearly smiled as he saw Trish walking towards him, then his eyes dilated and his face whitened.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Trish said. ‘He’s a police officer, and he’s going to make sure you’re safe.’

  She sat down beside the bed and tried to take David’s hand. He balled it into a fist, and not only shut his eyes but creased up his whole face. Maybe he thought if Lakeshaw was invisible, he wouldn’t exist.

  ‘David?’

  He didn’t say anything, clamping his lips together as though she was about to force food into him.

  ‘You’re safe now, David. I know that everything that’s happened has been very frightening, but the police are here to protect you. You’re safe now.’

  The boy shuddered.

  ‘This is a chief inspector. He needs to ask you some questions about your mother. I know how hard it is, but we can only help if you talk to us.’

  At last David’s lips parted. Returning blood warmed the greyish flesh back into its usual plum red.

  ‘She’s dead.’ His eyes filled, but the tears didn’t fall and he didn’t sniff.

  ‘I know. He’s just told me. I’m more sorry than I can say, and I know how awful it must be to talk about it. But they have to find out who … how it happened. Can I ask you some questions?’ Trish hoped she was doing the right thing. ‘Please, David. It’s the only way to make sure that the people who did this to your mother are arrested.’

  He looked up at the ceiling. The familiar lengthening of his nostrils and quivering of his lips told her how hard he was fighting not to cry. But he couldn’t win.

  His hand was still hard and round, but Trish kept hers over it, waiting for the moment when he let himself need something from her.

  ‘David,’ said the man behind her.

  ‘Not yet,’ she commanded, without looking away from the boy’s face.

  ‘I have to. David, can you tell me what happened to make you want to run away from home? Was someone unkind to you?’

  ‘I didn’t run away.’ He didn’t relax completely, but he uncurled his fingers and turned his hand so that he could cling to Trish.

  ‘OK. So, what made you leave home then?’

  His mouth shut again and he stared up at the ceiling. His palm was pumping out sweat.

  ‘Chief Inspector, I think you should show him your warrant card.’

  He looked surprised, but after a while shrugged and held it out. David peered at it, then looked at Trish for just long enough to show her he had no idea what to do or say.

  ‘David, you must try to tell this man what he needs to know.’

  ‘I can’t. She told me never to say,’ he whispered. Trish bent forward to hear better. ‘She said I mustn’t say anything to anyone. Not even you. Whatever happened. I was to come to you and you’d look after me. But I wasn’t to answer questions, not from anyone. That’s what she said.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a minute.’ But he clung to her, adding his other hand to hold her back. ‘OK, David. I won’t go for a while.’ She twisted her head so that she could look at Lakeshaw, and was relieved to see some pity softening his bullet-like eyes. ‘You must understand.’

  ‘Oh, I do. But we won’t be able to leave it like this for long. He’s a witness.’

  ‘Only to fear. She made him leave bef
ore he saw anything, didn’t she, David?’ He nodded, tears beginning to slip out from under his lashes. ‘I thought so.’

  ‘David?’ said Lakeshaw, sounding almost gentle. ‘Why did she make you leave?’

  He glanced at Trish, who tried to look encouragingly confident.

  ‘She c’llected me from Joe’s house and we were walking home,’ he said in a voice that was hoarse with effort. ‘And she kept looking behind her and hurrying on. We went a different way home, but she didn’t stop looking back. Then when we were at home the phone went. I answered it, but when I gave it to her they’d gone. Then later on she opened the back door to let Mrs Tiggywinkle in and she screamed.’

  ‘What did she see?’

  ‘She said it was just another cat, like Mrs Tiggywinkle, and that it’d given her a shock. She said she was sorry. But she put on my fleece and told me to go straight away now to Trish Maguire. So I did. She’d always said that if she ever had to tell me to go, I mustn’t ask questions, and I mustn’t say anything. I must go straight off, and she’d c’llect me as soon as she could.’

  ‘That’s very clear,’ Trish said, but Lakeshaw wanted to know whether David had any idea what his mother had seen when she kept looking back in the street.

  He took one hand from Trish’s so that he could stick his thumb in his mouth.

  ‘And what about in the garden? Did you see anything? Any sign of this other cat?’ David’s eyes widened and he shook his head, still sucking his thumb.

  ‘What did you say when you answered the phone?’

  ‘Just the number, like she always told me.’ He plugged his thumb back in his mouth. Trish and Lakeshaw waited. Eventually, the glistening digit was removed again. ‘Then he said: “David, is that you?” And I said, “yes.” He said he wanted my mum. Then she took the phone and said, “hello, hello,” but there wasn’t anybody there.’

  ‘What did the man sound like?’

  Tears spilled over his eyelashes, making them stick together. ‘Angry,’ he said as he began to sob, choking as the tears poured out faster and faster. ‘Angry like my mum.’

  ‘Get a nurse,’ Trish said, trying to stand up. David’s stiff, bent body lifted off the bed as he clung to her hand. She sat back, making him lie down again and stroking his dark hair with her free hand. ‘It’s all right, David, I’m here. I’ll stay while you need me. Get a nurse, Chief Inspector. Now, David, tell me about Mrs Tiggywinkle. How long had you had her?’

  It was a long time before David was calm enough for Trish even to think of leaving him. By then he’d told her all about the cat and how they’d got her as a kitten and how she liked to sit on the garden wall and lick his mother’s nose. By that stage, he’d let the nurse hold one of his hands, even though he had his other round Trish’s. Lakeshaw urged her to get up and follow him out into the corridor.

  ‘No,’ said David, tightening his hand around hers again.

  ‘I won’t stay away long.’ Trish brushed the hair sideways along his forehead, and felt the wetness of his skin.

  She couldn’t see how he would ever grow out of this. Whatever else had happened to him might, in time, be eased, but this terror would live with him for ever. Imagining what he was going through made her feel as though she’d been skinned.

  ‘And I won’t go further than the corridor. Then I’ll be back. I promise.’ She smiled but his face was stony.

  ‘She said that, too. My mum. She promised she’d come and c’llect me from your flat.’

  ‘Look, can you see those glass bits in the door?’ Trish said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll stand so that you can always see my head in one of them. All right?’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘Let me go, David. Just for a bit.’ Trish beckoned Caro, who came quickly across the squeaky floor. ‘Caro, this is David. You’ll be kind to him, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course. You told me he liked apple juice. I’ve brought some.’

  Trish should have trusted Caro. She, too, might have no children of her own, but she knew what to do. ‘I’ll be back in a minute or two and I’ve promised I’ll stay by the glass bits of the doors.’

  ‘Good idea. Budge up, Trish. Now, love, shall I put the straw in the box for you?’

  He shook his head and muttered that he wasn’t thirsty. Trish had to peel his fingers away from her hand and pull it free.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lakeshaw asked when they got outside. Trish shook her head, unable for the moment to say anything. He produced a clean handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said when she’d blown her nose. ‘I don’t usually do this. But he’s so brave, and he’s so lonely. And his mother’s dead. It just got to me for a moment.’

  ‘I can see that. You must find your work hard if you get this involved so quickly with total strangers.’ He himself sounded quite detached, only a little curious. Trish wondered how good an actor he was.

  ‘I try not to, but yes, it can be hard.’ She buried all thoughts of the child she might have had. ‘Now what do you want to ask me?’

  ‘What’s made you suddenly so cooperative?’

  ‘The realisation that if David’s mother really has been murdered, she can’t have been killed the day she sent him to me.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘You wouldn’t have wanted to know the names of everyone I’ve talked to about her if she had been. If Jeannie Nest had been killed on the day of the car crash, it would have been irrelevant who I’d talked to about her.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So when did she die?’

  ‘Some time on Tuesday night,’ he said. ‘We think. But, as you must know, timing of death is not an exact science, whatever it may look like on the telly.’

  ‘So are you suggesting that my questions might have triggered whatever happened to her?’ Trish thought of the Mull Estate and its threatening atmosphere and the frighteningly young baby-thugs playing there. And the blond young man. And her father.

  Had someone on the estate heard of her questions and found them so threatening he’d had to kill Jeannie Nest? If so, what would he do now to anyone he thought might know too much? And why the hell, after everything that had happened, had Trish forgotten to activate the burglar alarm this evening? She must have been completely barking mad – or suffering some kind of death wish.

  For God’s sake, stop it, she told herself. The man who came to the flat was probably an opportunist burglar, trying to con his way in past a cleaner who might not have spoken such good English as Maria. The midnight loiterer was probably a drunk who’d been peeing in the gutter and scarpered out of embarrassment. If you fantasise like this you’ll turn into one of those neurotic victims who’re too scared to leave their own front doors. Brace up.

  ‘Is that what all this is about, Chief Inspector?’ she asked in an impressively firm voice. ‘You think I caused this woman’s death by asking the wrong questions?’

  ‘It seems possible.’

  Oh, God. Please no, she thought. It was hard to sound calm as she started to speak again, but she managed it. ‘Even though she was so scared on the Sunday that she sent David away? Isn’t it much more likely that whoever had been frightening her came back to kill her later? A boyfriend – or someone connected with the Handsome case who’s been looking for revenge ever since she testified?’

  ‘It’s possible, but I’m not convinced. I do think your questions triggered the violence.’

  ‘Well, I don’t believe it. There has to be more to this. What did Jeannie Nest say when she reported the harassment?’

  ‘What harassment?’

  ‘All that stalking stuff David described. His mother sounds completely terrified. I don’t believe anyone in the witness-protection programme would keep quiet about what happened. She’d have reported it straight away. So what exactly did she say?’

  ‘Very little,’ he said, giving no sign that he’d been trying to resist the suggestio
n that the victim had made a report.

  ‘I don’t believe you. If she was frightened enough to send David to me, she must have asked for protection.’ Trish waited, but Lakeshaw didn’t comment. ‘What happened when she rang in? Or wasn’t there anyone there to take her call?’

  ‘Of course there was. It was logged and investigated,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And nothing. No action was considered necessary. All the panic buttons in her house were checked and found to be working. There was one in every room and beside the front and back doors. She was considered to be safe.’

  ‘Ah, I see. No wonder you want to blame me and my questions for what happened then,’ Trish said, trying not to sound as relieved as she felt. For a minute she’d believed she might have been responsible for what had happened to Jeannie Nest. ‘It must be awful to realise that a woman died because no one took the trouble to listen properly.’

  The flash of bitterness in Lakeshaw’s eyes made her add, ‘Or are you afraid one of your officers actually sold her new name and address to the Handsomes? If they’re moneylenders, they’d be able to afford a pretty crunchy bribe. Is that it?’

  Lakeshaw moved a little way down the corridor as a nurse came towards the door of David’s room with a stainless-steel bowl in her hand. Trish stood her ground. ‘I’m not leaving the window here. I promised David.’

  ‘I think it’s about time you came clean about your father and his connection with Jeannie Nest, don’t you?’ Lakeshaw didn’t seem to be even trying to avoid sounding offensive.

  So Caro doesn’t have any boundaries, Trish thought, battling with a sense of betrayal. She must have passed it all on.

  ‘It’s the most likely reason I’ve come up with to explain why I was chosen for David’s refuge,’ Trish said at last, deciding that anything less than the truth would only cause trouble. ‘My father was in a relationship of sorts with Jeannie Nest at about the time David must have been conceived. But he can be of no interest to you over this because he hasn’t seen her since, and he had no idea she’d had a child.’