After a long moment Mrs White turned towards Graham and said: “We will be quite alright here if you need to go to work.”
Graham turned to Agnes and found her looking at him, her eyes open and eager. “Yes Graham, you must.”
He had gone back to work the previous afternoon once he’d grown board of walking the streets, weaving between shopkeepers and vagabonds. Of course, Agnes would not be nearly as keen to see him go if she knew the truth. But it was a convenient justification for not breaking that to her yet.
“If you’re sure my dear,” he said.
She nodded. So did Mrs White. Graham looked at them both and, for a moment, considered not going. But he would have to leave sooner or later and it might be better to have Mrs White help Agnes feel at home. If she made friends with the old woman she might have someone she could talk to about this business when he wasn’t around.
So he put a hand on Agnes’s shoulder, which was all bone, and squeezed gently. Then he turned, with some degree of relief, and left the boarding house.
Detective Poleman was surprised to see him. Not more so than Graham was to be there. He had expected an afternoon of Agnes crying and blaming him for not being on the case. He had not anticipated being in work again until the following morning.
Poleman stood up as Graham walked towards him, he was a tall fellow, slim but not skinny. He had a bald head and the overall appearance of someone who should be committing murders rather than solving them. When Hayes had first introduced him Graham had been sure he was just that.
“Kable, what are you doing here?” He did not sound displeased to see Graham, quite the opposite, his arrival seemed like a pleasant surprise.
He ignored the question. “Any news on our mysterious Jack the Knife?”
Poleman sat down and shook his head. “Nothing that makes any sense. Another one of the bodies is gone.”
One of the hallmarks of the murders, beyond the rather grisly way the girls were killed, was that the bodies vanished days after they had been found. Two had gone from locked and guarded rooms with no trace whatsoever. Worse still was the nagging question of; if the bodies could be removed so easily days later why not remove them before they were discovered at all? It was as if the killer wanted the bodies to be discovered.
“Who was guarding it?” said Graham, pulling up a seat beside Poleman.
“Couple of rookies but we also had Avery watching from the building opposite he morgue.”
“He didn’t see anything?”
Poleman shook his head. “Says the time flew by, all of a sudden it was morning and then the mortician arrived and found the place empty.”
“Did he fall asleep?” said Graham.
“Says he didn’t but who knows. Neither of the constables saw anything either. All the doors and windows were locked, no sign of anyone breaking in or out.”
They talked about the intricacies of the case for a while longer before getting agreeing that the only way forward was to actually visit the morgue themselves, otherwise they were just guessing and trying to decide whether the testimony of one person or another was reliable.
They walked across town because Poleman wanted Graham familiar with the streets and the only way that was going to happen was by ‘walking the beats’. If all he did was sit in cabs he would never get that first hand knowledge that all the officers who had grown up in the city came by so naturally.
Graham enjoyed the walk, he had often strolled around the village when he had a particularly taxing problem to deal with, he found that it cleared his head. This time was no exception and by the time they reached the morgue he had decided what he was going to do.
There was really no need for Agnes to know that he wasn’t assigned to Bridget’s case. He could continue to go to work each morning and she need be none the wiser about what he was actually doing. He would ask Hayes who was working on the case, he was sure he would tell him that much, and he would speak to them about it. In the evenings he could take news back to Agnes. Everyone would be happy.
It might even work out for the best: Hayes had told him that he had his best people on the case, people who no doubt knew the intricacies of Lunden better than he could hope to. They would know the places to look and the people to speak to. They would resolve it, one way or another, much quicker than he could.
At the morgue they found exactly what the reports had promised: no sign of breaking in or out, no sign of struggle. The body had apparently vanished into thin air. No further along, they called it a day after that. Poleman invited him to the Overlook for a drink but Graham thought he didn’t expect him to agree to it. He didn’t. He hailed the first cab he saw and made his way home before night fell.
CHAPTER 14
CLOUDS HUNG OVER THE HOUSE LIKE A BRUISE lined with visible blood vessels that split and spread as they moved. The air was warm, too warm, a summer storm seemed imminent. Graham unlocked the door. It was six o-clock but the house was quiet. It felt quite ominous. Mrs White would usually have dinner cooking by now. Or was this one of the days she volunteered at St. Margaret’s? Graham decided that it must be, helped himself to a lamp and made his way up the stairs.
In the weeks since their arrival he and Poleman had made no progress on the Jack the Knife murders and he had little news about Bridget. Agnes had believed him when he’d told her that he was still looking but she grew eager for progress. She also grew stronger and more like her old self with each day that passed.
He walked along the dark corridor feeling uncharacteristically anxious. The lamp made shadows seem to jump up the walls and outside a ghostly wind had begun to howl.
When he opened the door to his rooms he found the lights off. As far as he was aware Agnes had yet to venture outside but perhaps Mrs White had managed to convince her to go to St. Margaret’s with her. Graham knew that she had been trying. They had become close, as he had hoped, but that was something he was starting to have second thoughts about.
Despite her Christian values he had begun to observe a cruel streak in Mrs White. Not two days ago he had come in to find her sitting at the table. When he asked he what she was doing she had said nothing but he had seen her sweep something off and place it on the side. Later when she was gone he had come back and found a large spider with four of its legs missing. It was crawling around in little circles, next to four black lines that might have been eye lashes but he knew were its legs.
“Hello Graham.”
He turned around to face the sofa where Agnes was sitting. “Is everything okay dear?” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”
“You tell me Graham.”
He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was angry but he laughed and said, “I’ve no idea Agnes.” Although he thought he probably did.
She said nothing for a moment and he stood there in the room full of shadows not sure what to do. Soon the dancing shapes around the room became too much for him and he walked towards the chairs to turn on some lamps. When he was done the room was brighter and he could see Agnes sitting with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him with eyes that had retained a spooky dull glow.
He coughed to clear his throat and drew himself up to full height. “What’s all this about?” he said, trying to project authority.
She looked at him for a moment without speaking. She had always had more power in her stare than in her voice. “How is your investigation going?”
“Not very well,” he said and it wasn’t a lie. He and Poleman had been taken into Hayes’s office that very afternoon and informed that they were being taken off the vanishing prostitute case.
“And how is Bridget’s case going?”
“You know?” he said, there seemed no point in trying to bluff his way out of it, lying to her further and digging himself into an even deeper hole. Sometimes it was better to take your medicine. “How did you find out?”
“That’s not important,” she said, although he thou
ght it was. Who had she been speaking to about his work? “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t...” he stopped himself. “I was protecting you Agnes. You haven’t been well.”
She shook her head, her mouth hung in open disgust. He could still see some of the scars from that night on her skin. “She’s our daughter Graham. Have you given up on her?”
“No,” he said. Although it had been quite easy to focus his mind on other tasks and forget her for a while. “Of course I haven’t.”
“Then why aren’t you looking for her?”
Agnes sounded upset now rather than angry. He put the lamp he was still holding down on the table in front of her and sat down beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her into him. “They have people looking for her Agnes. The best people there are.” Of course when he had gone to ask Hayes who they were he had refused to tell him on the grounds that he might interfere with the investigation. The news he had been giving Agnes had been vague because it was made up.
“You think she’s dead, don’t you?”
He shook his head.
“She’s not dead Graham, I know she isn’t.”
“You can’t know that,” he said, although shortly he wished that he hadn’t. Above all else, he realised, it was an incredibly insensitive thing to say to someone whose child was missing, just hearing himself say it hurt.
Agnes rounded on him, threw his arm off her shoulder and face him. “I can know it Graham because whether you believe it or not I have a connection with Bridget.”
He knew what she was talking about and he wasn’t shocked. Frankly he was surprised that it hadn’t come out before now. He could feel his blood rising at the very mention of it, he wouldn’t have that sort of talk in his house. “I understand that you’re upset Agnes,” he said in a forced calm tone. “But you know that isn’t true.”
She shook her head and he could see that below the surface she was buzzing with rage, positively vibrating in her skin. “It is true Graham. No matter how many times you say otherwise, it doesn’t make it so. I spoke to her the night they took her.”
“Agnes you’re being hysterical,” he said.
She stood up and looked down at him, her face a mask of anger and hurt. “You’re so close minded,” she said and seemed to have more to say but couldn’t stop being furious for long enough to get it out.
Graham stood up in front of her and tried to take her hands but she pulled them away. She didn’t try to walk away though so he got his chance to speak, calmly and clearly. He thought it would make her realise that she was wrong. “Agnes, if you really can ‘speak’ to Bridget then why can’t you tell me where she is?”
She didn’t say anything to that and he thought it meant she had realised she was wrong. That, of course, he knew what he was talking about and in her distress she had fallen back upon old superstitions. It was understandable but it wasn’t going to help the situation if she thought she was psychic. He thought she was calming down.
“Don’t you see,” he said, “if you could communicate with Bridget then you would know where she was and we could go and get her. This whole mess would have been over long ago.”
She still didn’t speak. She stood in front of him staring at him but he didn’t think she saw him. She seemed to look straight through him and for a moment he thought she was trying to communicate with Bridget. Well let her try, it wouldn’t do any good. It might just prove to her once and for all that there was no such thing as psychic connections, even between mother and daughter.
He reached for her hands again and she stepped away. “Stay away from me,” she said.
“Agnes there’s no need...” he stepped towards her again and she backed away. It was as if she was scared of him but not Agnes, she didn’t scare easily and she had no reason to be afraid of her husband.
“Don’t touch me Graham. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying dear,” he said.
“No Graham, you don’t know what I’m saying, I understand perfectly.” There was an eery calm to her voice now, she had made her mind up about something.
They looked at each other for a moment and then she turned away and walked to the door. “Where are you going?” he said.
She removed her coat from the hook and put it on. It had been three weeks since she had been released from the hospital and she was gaining weight but the coat was still too big for her. She did up the buttons and it hung loose from her shoulders, she looked like a child playing dress-up with her mothers clothes. “You’re right Graham,” she said in that tone she had which told him he was completely wrong. “I should know where she is.”
“What do you mean?” he said. He walked across the room and stood between her and the door.
She shook her limp hair and placed a hat on her head. “You’re her father and I’m her mother. One of us should be looking for her and I am the one who has a connection with her.” She nodded as she tied the bow beneath her chin. “It’s common sense that I should be the one looking.”
“You don’t mean to go out there?” he said, surprised but keeping it together.
“Unless you plan to stop me,” she said and turned to the door, dressed for the night.
“Of course I plan to stop you,” he said, drawing himself up to full height. “You’re my wife and I refuse to let you out.”
She smiled. “Listen to yourself Graham. Are you going to keep me a prisoner in my own home?”
He could tell that he was being manipulated and he refused to let it happen. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that Agnes was an exceedingly bright woman, perhaps more intelligent that he was, but that was not going to change his mind. She was his wife and she was to do as he said. “That’s not going to work Agnes. Take off your coat and sit down.”
She shook her head. “Unless you are planning to stand in front of the door all night I will just wait until you move.”
“Well then I suppose we will just see who gives up first, won’t we.”
She smiled and laughed a fake laugh, it was too prim to be real.
“What?”
“Nothing, you just sound like a child, ‘you stand there and I’ll stand here, lets see which one of us can stand here the longest’, it’s just funny, and a little pathetic.”
Graham had never hit Agnes before but without realising it his right hand balled into a fist and he took a step towards her. “You need to remember who you’re talking to,” he said.
She did not seem the least bit worried. “Oh yes of course, where are my manners. It’s funny and a little pathetic ‘detective’.”
She closed her eyes and raised her head. He realised that she was waiting for him to hit her. She was willing to drive him to that in order to get what she wanted. Well he wouldn’t let her do that to him. “Take off your coat and go and sit back down.”
“I will do no such thing. Graham, if you don’t step aside and let me out at once I will wait until you are asleep tonight, or, if you insist on staying up all night to guard the door I will wait until tomorrow morning when you leave for work. Mark my words, I am going to look for our daughter and if I don’t go now then I won’t be coming back.”
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“Do I look like I am making idle threats?”
He looked at her. She seemed perfectly calm which was more than could be said about him. No, he didn’t think she was making an idle threat. “You won’t find anything,” he said.
“At least I will be looking.”
He nodded. Maybe it would be good to let her go out and see what it was really like out there. The streets weren’t full of clues like one of her silly books. Let her spend a few hours wandering around, maybe she would think about what had been said and come back a little more grateful for everything he had done.
He stepped aside. “Thank you,” she said.
He watched her open the door and wanted to call her back. Teach her a lesson
, sure, but Lunden at night was no place for a lady like her to be wandering around.
The door closed behind her and he didn’t move. He heard her footsteps walking down the dark corridor and he wondered if she was scared. He heard her on the stairs and then the footsteps stopped. He wondered if she had changed her mind, seen sense and decided to come home, then he realised that she had simply gone too far for him to hear her.
CHAPTER 15
SHE COULD HEAR VOICES. THEY SOUNDED STRANGE AND far away even though she knew that they weren’t. It was dark and cold and there was movement that she had grown used to over the weeks. Bridget tried to remember when she had last seen the sky but she couldn’t. The little room was a few inches shorter than she was, a perfect cube so that she had to crouch down to move around. There was a thin mattress on the floor and a blanket that had been clean when they had first put her in the box but was now soiled and smelly.
They brought her food every few hours. A different person each time. When they opened the window to pass her the tray she threw out her mind, hoping to find her mother or anyone that might be able to help. When she was in the box there was silence, her signal was blocked somehow. When they opened it to give her food she became overwhelmed by the person right in front of her and saw nothing but their fear.
It was always fear. Wherever she was even the people who worked there were afraid. She thought that, if she was older, she might have been able to use that fear somehow, to manipulate it to her own ends. Although she spent a lot of time thinking about it she could not think how.
They were travelling somewhere. There was constant motion. Sometimes she heard wheels, more often she felt the gentle motion of water. She did not know where they were going and the people who brought her food didn’t know, or they had hidden their knowledge behind a wall of fear.
Terror in the Night (Blood Hound Book 1) Page 7
