I carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, to try and get a glimpse of what was outside the window, but all I could see was another wall with windows in it just like the one I was looking out from. If I peered upwards, I could see a small square of sky. Even it looked grey and grimy. I shuffled over to the sink, trying carefully to avoid dislodging any of the cords around me, and banged the cold water tap on with my elbow. As I turned my head sideways to lean in and get a drink, something glinted, caught in the drain fitting. It was hard fishing it out with my tied hands but eventually my fingers closed around a small piece of flat metal. It was the larger half of a broken scalpel blade. Something like that could come in handy, I thought, so I took it back with me to the hospital bed, and slid it into a stitched pocket in the mattress.
I lay there staring at the ceiling panels, going over the last twenty-four hours. Who had tried to kill me? Who had leapt out of the coffin that I’d mistaken for a counter? And who had buried me? It was one thing to murder someone, but to try and take them out by burying them alive? What kind of monster was I dealing with?
That familiar scent I’d caught a whiff of when I was attacked was frustrating me … I couldn’t place it. Did it belong to Oriana? Was it her perfume? Or Sligo’s aftershave? My mind kept jumping from one question to the next, but I couldn’t find any answers.
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of a heavy lock unlatching. The door swung open and two men walked in. One was dressed in the pale green clothes of a nurse, and the other looked like a detective, wearing a dark suit under a beige overcoat and carrying a briefcase.
‘God, the press was going crazy out there,’ he said to the nurse, while smoothing down his hair. ‘I’ve never seen so many photographers and journos in my life. It was like squeezing through a pack of wild animals. Bloody vultures.’
‘He’s conscious,’ said the nurse, dismissively.
‘I can see that,’ he replied, sternly. He spun the chair beside the bed around and sat on it, then pulled a leather-backed wallet out of his pocket, flipping it open to show me his ID. ‘Senior Sergeant Dorian McGrath,’ he said, before snapping it shut again. ‘Just so we both know who we are.’
McGrath had a narrow, shrewd face with wispy eyebrows above hazel eyes. Pale bristles shone on his jawline.
He stared at me while the nurse fussed and fumbled with a monitor nearby. McGrath seemed irritated, scowling in the nurse’s direction, then turning his attention back to me.
‘You’re a very lucky boy, Callum Ormond. The doctors say just another minute or two down there and you would have suffered brain damage.’
McGrath slid his chair back, making a loud grating sound, and stood up. He stepped close to the bed and loomed over me, centimetres from my face. ‘You’ve been one hell of a thorn in our sides, Ormond. You’ve done a lot of damage and you’ve wasted a lot of police hours. But now that we have you–’ he paused to make a crushing movement with his fist, ‘we want some answers.’
I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to tell him anything.
He moved in even closer to me. I could smell coffee on his stale breath.
His next question dropped on me like a bomb. ‘What have you done with your sister?’
What?
‘What have you done with your sister?’ he repeated slowly and aggressively, spit flinging off his pursed lips.
Gabbi? Fear gripped me.
‘You know, your sister, Gabbi Ormond,’ he mocked. ‘What do you know about her disappearance?’
Disappearance?
‘My sister?’ I whispered, shaken. ‘What are you talking about? What’s happened to her? She was at my uncle’s house, being cared for. What do you mean, she’s disappeared?’
The sergeant leaned away from me and frowned.
‘They told me you were a top-notch liar, but I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself. They warned me you’d be convincing, said you can lie straight-faced and look like you’re telling the truth, but you really are something else. Look,’ he scoffed to the nurse who had been keeping to himself with a folder in the corner. ‘The kid looks like he’s going to cry!’
Anger surged through me. I jumped up, tried to rip my hands out of the restraints, but McGrath pushed me back, then sat down.
‘What has happened to Gabbi? Has she been kidnapped?’ I screamed at him. ‘Tell me what has happened to my sister! I need to get out of here and save her! She’s sick–what if the kidnappers don’t know how to look after her?’
‘Don’t move, Ormond. Just answer my question. What have you done with her?’
‘Listen to me! Answer my question! I know nothing! This is the first time I’ve even heard about it! I need to get out of here to save her. What’s happened to her?!’
I tried to keep my voice steady, but I couldn’t control it. The detective wasn’t taking me seriously.
Dorian McGrath shifted in his seat. ‘I can handle this,’ he said to the nurse, who looked uneasy, like he was about to call security. ‘Ormond. I know you’re not working alone. An anonymous phone call came in last night, alerting us to where you were. Emergency Services suspected it was a hoax, but they sped to the scene, located you, and dug you out. We’re very interested in the identity of the emergency caller.’ McGrath opened his laptop, and switched it on. After a moment, he looked up at me, and turned the laptop a little. ‘Listen to this.’
Suddenly a recording of Winter’s distressed, sobbing voice cut through my tumultuous thoughts and into the grim air of my hospital room.
‘Emergency Services? Oh thank God! Listen, you have to help me! Please! My friend, he’s, he’s been buried alive! These people put him in a coffin and buried him!’
‘Calm down. Take a deep breath,’ said the operator. ‘Where is your friend? Are you nearby? Are you in danger?’
‘Infinity Gardens! The cemetery! He’s been buried here, in a coffin, but I don’t know where! I need help! I’ve been digging, but I can’t find him! There are a dozen fresh graves, and he’s in one of them! He’s going to die if we don’t get to him soon!’
‘You say he’s in a coffin?’ the operator asked dubiously. ‘Is this some sort of prank gone wrong?’
‘No, this is not a hoax! Or a prank! There are these people who are … Please, please just believe me! Please help! He’s going to die if you don’t come quickly! We need to dig him out! Send people with diggers! Fast! He’s running out of oxygen! Please–’
Senior Sergeant Dorian McGrath stopped the recording.
In front of my boiling thoughts, I forced my face into an impassive mask. Winter’s call had saved me, and I had to save her from being identified.
‘Do you recognise that voice?’ the sergeant asked.
I shook my head, trying to control my racing heart.
‘Who cares!’ I cried. ‘I need to find my sister! Isn’t that more important right now?’
‘Once you get out of prison,’ said McGrath, raising his eyebrows, ‘you should go to Hollywood. Won’t be for a hefty number of years, mind you,’ he said with a sly smirk, ‘but you sure are one convincing act.’
Fury and frustration spilled over. I tried to pull the restraints on my wrists apart but they seemed to just tighten, painfully.
‘You’re sitting there,’ I yelled, my voice breaking, ‘making stupid comments instead of getting out of here and searching for my sister! She’s in a coma, for crying out loud! She needs twenty-four-hour care! I know you’re not going to let me go, so you need to find her!’ I stared at the sergeant’s cynical face. He was convinced I was full of it. ‘As if I have her!’ I continued. ‘Where do you think I’ve stashed her? Under this stinking mattress?’
It was no use. His face remained impassive.
‘The girl who called us–your accomplice–who is she? Is she holding Gabbi?’
I glared at him, furious.
‘I can see it’s going to be a long day,’ sighed the sergeant. ‘Let’s start at the beginning,
shall we?’
He was on at me for ages, going over and over the same questions, trying to trick me into admitting that I’d taken Gabbi–that I knew where she was–that I had accomplices who were holding her while I was in captivity.
I was sick of hearing it.
‘What you’re suggesting is crazy,’ I said, exhausted. ‘Why would I take Gabbi? I can’t look after her. Me? A fugitive? On the run, somehow managing an intensive care unit as well?’
‘We don’t think you took your sister to “look after her”,’ he snarled.
‘You think I’d harm her? Is that what you think?’
‘Why not? Finish what you started back in January,’ he said bluntly. ‘If we hadn’t turned up that day, sending you running with our sirens blaring, I have no doubt you would have completed the job. We would have been carrying two dead bodies out of that house.’
‘It wasn’t me!’ I yelled.
We were interrupted by another nurse with a tray of food and a drink. She looked nervous and couldn’t look at me–her hands were shaking, making the juice in a plastic cup ripple.
‘It’s OK,’ the sergeant said to her. ‘Just put the food down and be on your way.’
She nodded towards him, put the tray down carefully, and then happily backed out of the room, leaving us behind.
On a plastic plate was a bowl of lumpy, greyish stew and some boiled carrots. I was thirsty, but I had no appetite. I was worried sick about Gabbi.
McGrath reached for the restraints on my wrists, holding out a huge, threatening pair of clippers.
‘Can I trust you if I cut those off?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Ah, the first honest thing you’ve said all day!’ The sergeant laughed before clipping the restraints and handing me the tray. ‘You’re nothing I can’t handle.’
I picked up the plastic fork and poked one of the grey lumps. I quickly put the fork down again.
‘Sergeant, please tell me what happened. Where were my mum and uncle when Gabbi was taken? They haven’t been hurt, have they?’
He ignored my questions. ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ he suggested. ‘Why did you break into the undertakers’ premises?’
‘I didn’t break in. The door was left open for me, just like Rathbone said it would be.’
‘Rathbone?’
‘It was all arranged by Mr Sheldrake Rathbone, our family solicitor. He organised the meeting. It was at his brother’s place–the undertakers’. We were going to exchange information.’ The sergeant was looking at me in disbelief again. I thought of something that might help my case. ‘Check my blog and you’ll see his message,’ I said, hoping I wasn’t about to put Winter in jeopardy by exposing her messages too. ‘It was a private message. I’ll give you access.’
‘This is very tiring, Callum. Do you think we haven’t already checked your blog? There’s nothing there from a “Mr Rathbone”. There aren’t any private messages. You seem to be a mixture of cunning and stupidity. Why on earth would you expect us to believe that your family solicitor would be dealing with a criminal like you–unless he was advising you on how to best confess your crimes? Or preparing for your long-overdue court appearance? Anyway, back to the break-in. Was it just to steal money?’
‘Steal money?’
‘We found the money on you, Cal.’
‘What are you talking about? They must have planted it on me! We need to get back to Gabbi! Focus on her! You need to find her!’
‘Nice one!’ laughed McGrath, standing up and pacing around the room. ‘You, want us to find her.’ He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. ‘You’d need to tell me what you’ve done with her first.’ He spun around, fixing me with an angry glare. ‘Where is she Cal?’
‘You’re wasting time on me!’ I yelled. ‘You’re letting the real kidnappers get away! What do I have to say to convince you that I had nothing to do with it? You need two names, and two names only–Vulkan Sligo or Oriana de la Force. Rathbone is corrupt. He’s working for Oriana. They’re the ones who are responsible! You need to investigate them. They’re after something I have. Something I had,’ I corrected. ‘They’re the criminals! And they’re ruthless! They’re murderers!’
‘Oh sure,’ mocked McGrath, waving his hands in the air. ‘Criminals are always running around pinching little girls in comas. You read about it every day. I’ve had it with your lies and games. I can’t leave until I get the truth and all I’m getting from you is a whole lot of rubbish about criminals being after you. After you! You’re the criminal! Give me a break!’
McGrath sat back down, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
‘I’ll tell you what we know already. We know that you took your sister. Furthermore, we know that a short time later you broke into the premises of an undertaking business. Your own stupidity and criminal behaviour led to your accidental burial.’
Accidental burial! I shook my head slowly. How could I possibly convince him?
‘You’ve already attempted to kill your sister–twice, actually. Once at the family home and later at the ICU in the hospital she was recovering in. If you cooperate and give us the name of your accomplice, or whoever has Gabbi right now–that is if she’s still alive–I can make things easier for you. If you cooperate, I can have a word with the magistrate, and we can try for a shorter sentence.’
My own situation was bad enough, but somewhere, someone had Gabbi. Someone who didn’t love her, or care for her safety. Someone who wanted to use her to get to me … or the rest of my family … what little was left of it. I couldn’t bear to think what Mum was going through. I had been so happy Mum had taken Gabbi out of the hospital and set her up in Rafe’s place, but she would have been safer if she’d stayed where she was. I clung onto the hope that the people who had Gabbi would figure it was in their interests to keep her alive.
‘Please,’ I begged, ‘I might be able to find out where she is. I’ll cooperate–I’ll work with you. You can keep me cuffed, although I promise I won’t try to run away. My sister’s life is more important to me than anything else in the world.’
The sergeant swore at me, then leaped up and violently grabbed me, his hands gripped on either side of my throat.
‘Stop the bull, Ormond! You already know where she is,’ he said, shaking me, ‘because you took her! Dead or alive, you know full well where she is! You concoct this crazy story about solicitors and criminals being after you, chasing some fantastical nonsense. You’re just trying to muddy the waters. But I’ve dealt with smarter crims than you, pal! And I make sure they go where they belong!’
‘Get off me!’ I demanded. ‘Listen to me! My whole family has been in serious danger ever since my dad made a discovery about the Ormond Singularity when he was in Ireland. I’m the next in line–that’s why people are trying to take me out, that’s why I have to protect Gabbi. She’s been taken to put pressure on me. They want to use her. To have bargaining power. Don’t you understand? They want all the information I’ve gathered so they can use it together with all their money and power to solve the mystery!’
I was wasting my time. McGrath had a funny half-smile on his face as if to say, keep going, I’m enjoying this nonsense.
‘Why don’t you make it easier for yourself and just tell me what really happened? We’ll find out in the long run. Here’s the deal: you tell me now, plead guilty when we charge you, and you’ll get a reduced sentence. OK?’
‘I’ve already told you I had nothing to do with Gabbi’s disappearance. Rathbone contacted me on my blog and we arranged to meet at his brother’s place in Temperance Lane to exchange information. I had something he wanted, and he had something I wanted. He was acting as a go-between for Oriana de la Force. I went there at the time we agreed, and then someone attacked me, knocked me out, and I wound up six feet under.’
‘Sure, sure,’ he said. ‘Let’s see if I have it right. Two leading members of the city’s legal fraternity elect to meet up with a violent young
offender in an undertakers’ business. Let’s not forget that the message you claim Mr Rathbone sent you has mysteriously vanished from your blog. And it was all a complicated set-up to kill you. You really expect me to swallow that?’
The way he put it, and the superior sneer on his face, made it sound pretty unbelievable.
There was a knock at the door. A policewoman entered the room and passed a sheet of paper to the sergeant. He paused by the door to look at it.
‘You might be interested to hear this, Callum. Here is the sworn statement of Mr Enfield Rathbone, undertaker and brother of Sheldrake Rathbone, solicitor. Have a read of it.’
I looked up from the statement. Sergeant McGrath was eyeballing me. ‘So what do you have to say about that?’
‘Lies! All lies! I went there to meet Sheldrake Rathbone! I was waiting for him when someone knocked me out. All I know is that I woke up in a coffin, and before I could do anything about it, I was six feet under!’
‘You don’t deny you were in a coffin–’
‘I’ve never denied that. But I didn’t voluntarily get in there!’ I shuddered, recalling the claustrophobic terror. ‘Someone knocked me out and then drugged me or something. When I woke up I could hardly move, or say a word. It was all hazy. Test my blood! I promise you’ll find something sinister in my system!’
‘We’ve already had the toxicology results on your blood tests rushed through the lab. There is no evidence of any drug in your system to support your statement.’
‘Then they used something that disappears quickly! Everyone’s heard of drugs like that!’
McGrath took the statement back from me, folded it and slipped it into his briefcase. ‘This is your last chance to tell me where we can find Gabbi.’
I knew it was no use pleading my case. Nothing I said was going to be taken seriously.
‘You do understand the serious nature of the charges against you?’
I ignored him again.
‘I’m leaving,’ said McGrath. ‘You have refused to cooperate.’
August Page 2
