Mike shrugged again. Smiling at him, Aunt May slipped out the back door.
Suddenly becoming aware that Smiler was staring at him, Mike said, 'What?'
'You’re not gonna like it.'
'Spit it out.'
'They killed the wrong girl.'
Mike sat up. 'What are you talking about?'
'They killed the wrong girl,' he repeated. 'The other one’s hiding, but she’s very, very poorly, close to the vale.'
'What fucking vale?' Mike asked, exasperated. It had been a long day, and he was tired. All he really wanted now was a shower, a couple of cans, and an early night.
'You know what I mean. Close to the other side.'
'Smiler, I really haven’t got time for this. Go and watch some telly, eh? I need a shower and a rest.' Mike rose and went upstairs, leaving Smiler to his own devices.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Shelly hit her head on the bottom corner of the fridge, and moaned as her head fell forward. The force pushed the door open. Blinking, she saw a carton of orange juice. Inch by inch, and not even sure why now, she reached for it. Slowly, her fingers wrapped around the carton. Then they slipped and her hand hit the floor.
After a moment she tried again. This time she managed to pull it out, but forgot what to do with it. Her hand, weaker than the wing of a dying bird, flopped and hit the floor again. The carton hit the side of her face, and the loose top came off. Orange juice trickled into her mouth, slowly at first, then more. She swallowed, using her last reserve of energy. And reaching deep within her, she found the strength to grasp the carton, tilt it further up until she was gulping.
She drank nearly half the contents before dropping the carton.
She watched, not really caring as the juice ran across the floor and pooled in the corner beside the back door. Slowly, over the next five minutes she began to sit up. Realising her predicament, that she was far from stable yet, she rested her back against the cupboard and, leaning forward, peered into the fridge.
Ham. No good.
Potato salad. Ugh.
'Please don’t let them be diet freaks… Ahh, thank God.' She reached out, her hands still shaking, for the chocolate cake, and brought it to her mouth, practically drowning herself in the cream filling as she stuffed it in as quickly as she could.
Ten minutes later, her sugar levels climbing but still feeling shaky, she got up from the floor and made her way upstairs. Three rooms, two facing each other, the other one facing her. Opening the door on her right she found a small boy's room, untidy with clothes, empty pop cans and chocolate bar wrappers scattered about the place.
Judging by the amount of toy trains and the pictures on the walls, she thought, the little scruff is obviously a train freak.
Nothing there for me.
She crossed the landing. The next bedroom had to be the boy’s parents, a double bed with white and lemon bedspread and matching curtains. Noticing the nearly full ashtray on the bedside table, she sniffed. Disgusting, smoking in bedrooms. She never allowed Danny to do that. Apart from the smell, she had a phobia about fire. Moving over to the white painted wardrobe, she flung the door open.
'Yes!' She pulled out a pair of pale blue jeans. They looked a size too big, but they would do. A pink blouse that would fit nicely. Obviously whoever the clothes belonged to was pear-shaped.
Quickly, she took the clothes into the bathroom. There was no time to shower, she had to get out of there as soon as she could. Her poor feet she would definitely have to bathe. She looked down at them and winced. Sore and bleeding, they seemed to hurt more the longer she looked at them. 'Shit.' She would have to shower. It would be quicker anyhow.
No one likes confrontation, especially when they’re naked and wet, but she was nearly past caring and figured she would be a match for Katie, whoever she was.
'Bring it on, Katie!' she muttered, as she stripped and jumped under the shower.
Ten minutes later, dressed and feeling so much better, she ran a brush through her hair. Looking in the mirror, she wondered where she’d got that bruise on her temple. Gently she touched it, and winced.
'Where the hell?'
No matter how hard she tried to remember, there was no recollection. Shrugging, she threw the brush on the bed, left the bedroom and hurried down the stairs. Crossing the sitting room, she picked the phone up. She tried Alicia’s mobile number first, tutted when there was no answer, and decided to ring their flat. She would leave a message for Evan -- if she phoned Danny, she would never get away. He would want the full story now, and there was no time.
What do I say? She paused, the phone halfway to her ear. It will have to be something only Danny would understand. But what?
Sighing, she muttered, 'I love him to bits, but sometimes he’s such a damn thicko.'
Making her mind up, she rang Evan. Disappointed that there was no answer, she left a one word message. Danny should know what that means, she thought, hanging the phone up.
Her clothes stuffed into a plastic carrier bag, and pleased for the strong pair of black court shoes she’d found that, thank God, actually fit, she stood up to go. She lifted her head and glanced out of the window. Her blood froze. Her heart hammered in her ears. A face was pressed against the glass, staring in at her.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
A few hours later, Mike came downstairs to find Smiler fast asleep in front of the TV. He heard a scratching at the kitchen door, and hurried along the passage. Tiny greeted him with a frantic tail wag, and a friendly whine.
'Need to go out, boy?' Mike smiled as he clipped the dog’s lead onto his collar. 'Come on, we’ll leave Sleeping Beauty to his dreams. God knows what he’ll have imagined when he wakes up. Probably half the village will be full of zombies and vampires.'
They walked up to St Mary’s Church, through the churchyard, passing headstones so old that the weather had removed all trace of whoever they’d been dedicated to, out of the gate at the far end and down to the rocky beach.
Mike let Tiny off to roam around, and, pleased that the tide was out, he walked across to the tiny islet where St Cuthbert had spent years of solitude.
Sitting down on a boulder, his back to the large cross, he stared out at the Farne Islands. Every now and again he turned his head and looked over at the magnificent Bamburgh Castle.
He loved it here, loved the peace it gave him after days, or weeks, dealing with the human depravity that seemed to be getting worse on a daily basis. This was where he’d played as a boy, with his friends who were like brothers, but more than brothers. Tony Driver and Dave Brooks.
Strange how things work out, he thought, as Tiny came up and shoved his head under Mike’s hand to be patted. Cops and robbers, that’s what we played, just about every day. Me and Tony, the good guys, and Dave always the bad guy. He followed through at school an’ all, forever getting flung out of lessons with his big mouth. Trouble was never very far away from Dave. But look where we are now – me and Tony still the good guys, and Dave... He sighed. Dave’s gone one better, a real good guy. He only went and joined the monastery on the mainland and became one of the brothers. Who would ever have believed that was gonna happen?
'Amazing,' he muttered.
A breeze sprang up, bringing the smell of the sea with it. Mike breathed deeply. He could taste the salt on his lips as he pictured them running around. Some days they played at pirates, or space ships, but they always went back to cops and robbers. Three boys, one whose parents had died in a car crash, one whose teenage mother hadn’t wanted him, and the other used and abused and failed by the system. All three had washed up on Aunt May’s shores. She’d taken them in, left her job in Social Services and become a safe harbour for all three.
It must be nearly a year since I’ve seen Dave, and I’m overdue a letter from him. Frowning, he made a mental note to visit the monastery when this case was over, before he went back to Durham. Time… It just runs away with you.
'I thought that was you,' a voice said behin
d him. Pulled abruptly out of his thoughts, Mike swung round to find Jill Patterson standing next to him.
'Well, hello,' he smiled.
She gave a quick twitch of her lips that Mike figured was an attempt at a smile.
'I saw you from back there. Er… I owe you an apology. And him. I thought I’d best get it over with sooner rather than later.' Tiny wagged his tail as he sniffed around her feet. She gave him a soft smile and patted his head, adding, 'Actually, it may not have seemed like it earlier, but I really do like dogs.'
'Accepted,' Mike said at once, his smile stretching to a grin. 'On behalf of Tiny as well.'
She gave a faint smile, 'Sorry I was angry, I never should have snapped at you.'
'Kids, eh.'
'Hmm. It was a shock to see what she’d done to her hair. It was the last thing I’d expected.'
Mike remembered the face studs. If Jill thinks her daughter’s hair was a shock, wait till the kid turns up tomorrow with face studs. She’ll probably have a heart attack.
'She was supposed to wait at my cousin’s. Of course, with Billy being in a wheelchair, he couldn’t really stop her from leaving. The little bitch hadn’t even been to school. She’d been at a friend’s. Apparently both of them spent the day dyeing their hair. Then she turned up at Billy’s when she was supposed to, as if he wouldn’t guess what she’d been up to. He played war with her, she stormed out in a strop and headed for home.'
Mike couldn’t mention the face studs without dropping Smiler in it. Instead, he said, 'Perhaps you should check her friends out? They may not be...' He shrugged. 'Desirable?'
Jill sat down on a rock next to Mike. She was quiet for a moment, staring out to sea. Then, sighing, she shook her head. 'Jayne never brings them to the house, and she won’t tell me who they are. I’ve thought of following her.' She looked under her lids at Mike, then swung her head back to face the sea. 'It may come to that yet. Short of chaining her up… She’s sixteen. What the hell can I do?'
Mike was at a loss. There wasn’t a lot he knew about sixteen-year- old girls. Except that they could cause some mighty big trouble if they took it into their heads to do so.
'I’m sure you put the right groundwork in…'
'Well, I thought I had. She’s never been any bother at all until lately. Of course, the divorce…' She hesitated. 'Jayne adores her father…'
Suddenly she jumped up, her face bright red. 'Sorry, I really shouldn’t be bothering you with all this. It’s not your problem.' Her tone had suddenly turned frosty.
'Really, it’s no bother.' Mike patted the rock she’d been sitting on. 'I was gonna ask you a few things about the case. Why don’t you sit back down?'
'You know my working hours, and where my office is. Good night.' Turning quickly, she walked away, leaving Mike watching her and wondering just what the hell her husband had done to make her the way she was. 'Jesus,' he muttered, for a few minutes there she’d nearly been human.
With a sigh, his reminiscing mood shattered, Mike stood up and headed back to Aunt May’s.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mike found Smiler sitting hugging himself, rocking back and forth in the chair. His eyes were tightly closed, and he was muttering to himself in double-quick time.
'Smiler,' Mike said gently, touching Smiler’s shoulder.
Smiler’s eyes shot open and he stared right through him. Mike, who was not easily frightened by regular everyday things, nevertheless felt a chill that went right into his bones.
'What’s the matter, Smiler?' Mike wanted to shake him, but knew that Smiler wouldn’t like it. Gently, even though his heart skipped a beat, Mike said his name again. 'Smiler. Talk to me.'
Smiler blinked, then looked at Mike. This time Mike heaved a silent sigh of relief. He knew Smiler was really seeing him.
'What the hell… Are you all right, kid?'
He kept right on staring at Mike, until Mike was about to speak again. Then Smiler suddenly said, as rapidly as gunfire, 'They know they’ve murdered the wrong girl. They know they’ve murdered the wrong girl. They know they…'
'Smiler. Smiler, it’s all right. Calm down. Chill, OK? You must have had a nightmare.'
Smiler looked vague for a moment, then started violently popping his knuckles, muttering so fast it was impossible to understand what he was saying.
Mike sighed, wondering if the island was the right place for Smiler. He seemed much worse then he’d ever been in London. I think the noise in the big city drowned everything out. Here, though, once the tourists have gone home, there’s nothing but peace and quiet.
'I like your Aunt May.'
Smiler’s normal voice came so suddenly that for a moment Mike just stared at him, even though, after all this time, he was used to Smiler’s dips in and out of reality.
'Sorry, what?'
'Your Aunt May… I like her.'
Hiding his relief, Mike said, as if nothing had happened, 'Yeah, she’s a funny one all right, isn’t she? What the oldies used to call the salt of the earth. She’s lived on the island all of her life. Born and bred here. Guess she wouldn’t live anywhere else… I spent a lot of my growing years here as well.'
'Sounds like you had a good childhood.'
Mike hesitated for a long moment before saying, 'Eventually… I’m going up to bed now. See you in the morning, then.'
Smiler nodded, watching Mike leave the room, wondering what he meant by eventually.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Heart pounding, Shelly grabbed everything and ran. As she was climbing over the fence into the field, she heard a man shouting, 'Hey, you! Come back here!'
'Like that’s gonna happen,' she muttered, as she landed in the field. 'No way!'
'Come back here!' the voice bellowed behind her.
Ignoring him, she ran to the corner of the field and scrambled through the hedge onto the road. Brushing twigs, leaves and grass out of her hair, she tidied herself up behind a large oak tree. Hearing no sounds of pursuit behind her, she waited until the road was empty and headed back the way she’d first come.
Searching her memory, she was pretty sure she’d never seen that face before. Someone as ugly as that you definitely don’t forget. Even being pressed up against the window couldn’t account for it. He certainly couldn’t be Katie. But she knew that just because she didn’t recognise him, it meant nothing. The brothers had many foot-soldiers, and she didn’t know them all.
Again she cursed herself for having become involved. She’d seen a story, a story the whole world needed to know. She should have found help.
This is way too big for me to handle.
But who to trust?
Who to believe?
Already she knew of a certain high court judge, a police officer and a vicar. And these are supposed to be good people, for fuck's sake, she thought, quickening her pace as she pictured their faces.
If you can’t trust them, who the hell can you trust? She knew their names, where they lived and even had photographic evidence. Still hidden, she hoped.
Evidence she would destroy as soon as she got the chance. She wanted none of this. God knows what they’ll do when they found out just how much I really know.
But they obviously already have. The thought struck her as she carried on against the wind. For a moment it stopped her in her tracks.
Of course they already have. I wouldn’t be here in the state I’m in if they hadn’t.
'Fool.' she muttered. Cursing herself, she battled on against the strong wind that seemed to have sprung from nowhere in the last few minutes.
About a mile down the lane was a crossroads, which would take her to the place she wanted. If Danny had the sense to work out what she meant from the message she’d left, he would be there as soon as he understood it.
Which doesn’t necessarily mean the same day, she thought ruefully, as she headed on up the road.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Danny had spent most of the evening with Shelly’s brothers, visiting her
friends. None had seen or heard from her for a couple of days at least. Now they were trying the last one that he knew of for the second time, hoping that she was now at home.
Gary leaned on the doorbell, still unconvinced that Danny knew nothing about why his sister was missing. He glared at him. 'She better be in, mate, for your sake.'
'Well, if she’s not in,' Liam gestured with his hand towards Danny, 'we can’t really blame him, can we? It’s not his fault. I mean, he can’t really be blamed if she’s not in.'
Ignoring Liam’s attempt at peacemaking, and fed up with people thinking he was a murderer, girlfriend-beater, kidnapper or whatever else, Danny snapped back, as usual without thinking it through, 'Look, I’m as sick of the whole flaming business as you are, OK? Got that?' He glared at Gary.
'Yeah…' Fist clenched, Gary moved forward, his face two inches from Danny’s. Whatever he was going to say next was cut short by the door opening.
A pretty blue-eyed girl looked enquiringly at them. She had long black hair, nose studs, eyebrow studs and at least three in her top lip. 'What do you want?' she snarled. They could all smell the alcohol on her breath.
For God’s sake, nobody light a fag up, please, or we’ll all end up in Kingdom come, Danny thought, but said, 'It’s me, Maria, love. Danny... er, Shelly’s boyfriend.' He stepped in front of Gary. 'We, er, these are Shelly’s brothers, Gary and Liam. You might have heard her mention them.'
'Get on with it,' Gary growled at his side.
'I am! I am!' Danny snapped back, gritting his teeth.
Talk about attitude!
'We… we’re looking for Shelly. Could you please tell us when was the last time you spoke to her, or saw her? Has she phoned you? Or maybes she might even be here with you now?' He raised his eyebrows hopefully.
In his pocket, Danny tightly crossed his fingers. Ever since he and Evan had left the police station, he’d been skirting around the fact that Shelly might be lying dead somewhere, murdered by the same crazy bastard who had done for Alicia. Or, if she’d been there when it happened, had she managed to escape, and was now lying in a doorway somewhere, looking like a hopeless drunk and ignored by everyone who hurried past her? He knew she always carried emergency sweets in her pocket, he’d seen her through a couple of hypos. He knew they weren’t pleasant, and what the outcome could be.
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