The Descent (Detective Louise Blackwell)

by Matt Brolly

  ‘So why go all the way to Peru?’ asked Louise, keen to keep him agitated.

  Unfortunately, the question had the opposite effect. Chappell’s back straightened, the knowing glint returning to his eye as he appeared to remember the rainforest. ‘I needed a guide, needed to experience DMT in its purest form. I tried finding a shaman here but there are a lot of chancers out there.’

  ‘A shaman?’

  ‘I know, it sounds hippyish,’ said Chappell with a pitying smile. ‘But without a guide, you can’t fully understand what you’re experiencing. You need to be directed. The effect of psychedelics is to a certain extent determined by where you are, who you are with.’

  The explanation reflected what Dr Forrest had told her. Louise wondered if the man was giving away more than he’d intended. ‘And you found your spirit guide?’

  Chappell became wistful. ‘Yes, I did,’ he said.

  Ten minutes later, Louise sat in her car around the corner from Chappell’s bungalow, flicking through the book he’d given her. The conversation had soured following the mention of his shaman. He’d gone quiet, his earlier verbosity disappearing until he’d become almost monosyllabic. Louise hadn’t pushed about Victoria and Claire, knowing their conversation had reached a natural conclusion. The DMT found in the three women’s samples was still too much of a coincidence for Louise, but she realised there would be a better time to push him further about that link.

  She wasn’t sure why she was still there, waiting for him as if he were about to lead her somewhere of import. It was hard to admit, but there was something about Chappell she found compelling. It was the way he held himself, his confidence, the deep conviction of his words. She could see why Sally had been taken with him and even when he’d lost himself with his talk of DMT, his enthusiasm had shown a positive side to him.

  Louise would have stopped reading the book if it hadn’t been so relevant. It was poorly written, something lost in the translation, but even the mention of the near-death experiences, spiritual awakenings and contact with ‘them’ in the opening chapter hadn’t completely invoked her cynicism. She had no doubt the drug triggered such experiences but it was the shaman’s certainty that these experiences were real that made her want to continue reading.

  She grinned, imagining Robertson’s scornful look if she even so much as showed him the book. It was pointless waiting here for Chappell to move with plenty to do back at the office. With a last look down the road, she closed the book and headed back to the station.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The location of the ceremony had confused Amy, although the others seemed less concerned. After Jay had left yesterday she’d felt bereft. She’d wanted to call Megan but didn’t know how to express herself. The conflicting feelings still rallied within her. The negative ones – the growing doubt, the fear about what would happen to Megan – were intensified by where Jay had told them to meet.

  They were standing in the boat marina car park in Uphill. It felt wrong returning so close to the scene where Claire had died. The church of Saint Nicholas loomed from the darkness high above them, Claire’s landing spot only metres from where they were huddled.

  Without Megan and Jay they only numbered four. ‘Jay told me where we are supposed to go,’ said Beatrice. The youngest of the group, Beatrice was a flame-haired girl who always did her best to look presentable.

  Amy resented the way she announced this message as if she were Jay’s personal messenger. ‘I thought we were supposed to meet here,’ she said, hearing and hating the obvious jealousy in her words.

  Amy felt worse about herself when Beatrice responded, her face downcast. ‘I’m sorry, Amy. Jay thought it best if only one of us knew the actual location. He only told me because I was the last person he met.’

  ‘What about Megan?’ said Amy.

  ‘Jay said she would arrive with him,’ said Beatrice.

  The group went quiet, each of them dealing in their own ways with what that meant.

  ‘You better lead the way,’ said Amy, placing her hand on Beatrice’s shoulder to demonstrate she felt no animosity towards her.

  Beatrice led them through the graveyard of boats, along the mud-caked River Axe that led to the Bristol Channel. Not that many of the boats looked like they were fit for sailing. Even those moored on the river looked as if they wouldn’t last the journey through the meandering path to the sea.

  Without Jay, the sense of wonder and anticipation Amy had felt walking through the woods in Worlebury was missing. Though that wasn’t the only thing bothering her. Beatrice’s declaration that Megan would be arriving with Jay cemented the fact that tonight would be Megan’s turn to move on. She wanted to be happy for her friend – she knew this was what Megan wanted – but, selfishly, she wanted to keep Megan in her life. She considered asking Jay later if she could go with Megan. It would make everything so much easier, save her further days of unknowing without Megan in her life to help her through it.

  But that was a fantasy. Jay would never allow it. She had to be prepared, had to be in the right frame of mind so she could fully let herself go. Jay had showed her that when she’d made her first trip. He’d told her what she should expect to see. They’d talked about slipping from the constraint of herself, and her body, and this was something that would be impossible for her in her current state.

  Her foot slipped as they moved through the grassland towards the sea. Gradually, the boat yard eased into the background, as did the imposing view of the church on the hill. The sea air stung her dry lips as the smell of wood smoke drifted towards her.

  Jay was already there, sitting by the small campfire with a beaming Megan. Amy had the same visceral reaction she always did on seeing Jay, her pulse spiking as heat spread through her. Seeing Megan with him intensified her feelings and despite all her reservations, she felt momentarily at peace. As if at that precise second, this location was the perfect place to be.

  Megan stood and hugged her before turning her attention to everyone else in the group. ‘Hi, Amy,’ said Jay, taking his turn to embrace her, the comfort of his arms returning her to yesterday outside her block of flats. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ he whispered in her ear.

  She presumed he said that to everyone but still it soothed her to hear him use those words. His presence eased everyone. Amy saw it in the body language of her friends, the loosening of their limbs as Jay moved between them.

  Their camp was situated at the beginning of the beach where the river and sea met. The tide was coming in but was still in the distance. With the campfire lit, the pot boiling, Jay invited everyone to sit.

  Amy wanted to ask why they were here – on low ground, close to the edge of the shore with the sea rumbling in the distance – rather than high up. She studied Jay as he made the Ayahuasca tea. He seemed unconcerned, his concentration on his work, and by the time they’d all huddled in a circle around the fire she felt more at peace.

  Jay blessed the Ayahuasca using the chants and incantations he’d learnt in the rainforest and one by one filled their bowls. Amy took hers without question, and as Jay held her gaze all her reservations faded away.

  The sound of the sea increased as the drug hit her bloodstream. She thought she heard a whispering sound beneath the waves and it helped settle her. She heard Jay’s deep voice soothing the group. ‘Let yourself go,’ he cooed. ‘Move towards the waiting room and push through if you are able. You are safe. You are loved. Go to what is waiting for you, to your heaven.’

  Amy felt light, insubstantial, as if she could fade into the damp sand beneath her. Everything was fine. Jay was right, everything was right. Her concern about Megan – about everything – faded as she travelled through the impossible geometries, her body humming in ecstasy.

  When she returned, Jay smiled at her and there was such warmth and beauty in the gesture that Amy felt she could split into a million pieces. She’d been the first to return and for the briefest of times it was just her and Jay alone in the fad
ing light.

  ‘Was it beautiful?’ he asked.

  Amy could only smile, her mind still processing the journey the DMT had sent her on.

  With the last of the group returning, they began to tell their stories. Just as they’d done before Sally’s passing they each took turns explaining their reason for being there, Amy repeating the painful words she’d uttered so many times before.

  ‘It’s your turn now,’ said Jay to Megan.

  Megan held on to Amy as she told the group why she was there. The loneliness that had blighted her life since she was a child was a story they all shared but that didn’t make it any easier to hear; and when Megan again recounted the horrendous abuse she’d suffered, Amy had to close her eyes and focus on something else.

  The chanting began as soon as Megan finished speaking, Jay unrolling his cloth bag to reveal the single syringe. As he moved around the group, his hand finding Amy’s shoulder and staying there for a surprising amount of time, Amy once again wondered why he was going through this pretence. He’d already decided it would be Megan, and when finally he rested on her she felt somehow cheated.

  Amy moved towards Megan as Jay prepared it. ‘Are you sure?’ Amy said, hugging her tight.

  It was all moving too fast. There were things she still wanted to tell Megan, but Jay was already next to her friend, injecting the DMT into her system as the group chant of ‘death is not the end’ reached fever point.

  Megan’s eyes widened then snapped shut. Her body twitched and she groaned, the DMT entering her system immediately.

  Each of the group watched, mesmerised, their chanting falling to a low hum. Were they thinking about their own journeys like Amy? Amy could visualise what happened to her even if she couldn’t quite put it into words. The heightened senses were not uncommon, but what made the DMT different was the reality of the trip. She still believed what had happened to her on DMT was real. She’d transcended this world and it didn’t matter what others thought about that. Everyone in the group understood, and most importantly so did Jay.

  He’d told them what they would see. Megan would be there now. Free from self, in another dimension, ready to move on. All that was left now was for her to leave her body behind.

  The thought crashed Amy back into reality. They were on flat land. How would Jay help Megan through the final stage?

  As if in response, Jay got to his feet. ‘We’re going to help Megan move on in a different way,’ he said. ‘She didn’t like the idea of falling, so we will ease her into the next world in a different manner.’

  Megan had never told Amy that she didn’t like the idea of falling and Jay had told them all that it was a necessary part of the process. The sense of flying, or floating, in an endless space was part of the journey, and falling, he’d told Amy, eased the transition.

  She bent down and held Megan’s hand, a smile forming on her friend’s face even though she was so far away at that point. ‘You should look away,’ said Jay, as he leant over Megan.

  Amy held Megan’s hand and looked at Jay.

  ‘Please,’ he mouthed.

  The chanting increased in speed and volume as Amy looked away. Amy mouthed the words, but no sound left her lips. She felt Megan twitch and shake on the ground, the sound of the group frantic now. The high-pitched refrain – ‘death is not the end, death is not the end’ – pierced Amy’s ears, as she turned back around to see Jay’s hand over Megan’s nose and mouth.

  ‘Stop,’ said Amy, but her words were caught in her throat, or drowned out by the chants, as Megan stopped moving and Jay let go.

  The group stopped chanting. Amy thought she’d never experienced such profound silence before. Jay wrapped his arms around her. ‘It’s okay now, she’s gone. She’s where she needs to be,’ he said, and Amy thought she believed him as his tears reached hers.

  They took turns saying goodbye to Megan as Jay extinguished the fire. Somehow this was worse than when they’d left Sally at the foot of the cliffs. Jay had checked Megan’s pulse and she was gone but it didn’t feel right leaving her by the mud banks.

  ‘The sea will be in soon,’ she said to Jay.

  Even in the darkness, she could see Jay’s features. His eyes penetrating the shadows around him as he replied. ‘The sea will take her, Amy. It’s what she wanted.’

  As Amy made her way home – the group going their separate ways once they reached the boat yard – she thought about what Jay had said, both about Megan not wanting to fall and her wanting to be taken out to sea. She hated doubting Jay – he’d shown her so much, had irrevocably changed her life for the better – but she couldn’t stop wondering about whether he’d engineered the situation in his own interest. She could understand it if he had. He’d had to speak to the police, and another body at the foot of the cliffs would only lead to more interest in him. But she wished he’d been open about it rather than clouding the situation with mistruths.

  Revellers were out in force through the town. The pubs were kicking out, locals and tourists alike heading for further drinking dens. It was hard to believe that Amy had once been part of this life. She’d rarely had the money to go clubbing, but she’d enjoyed the few times she’d managed to get out, minesweeping drinks or getting boys to buy one for her. She looked down at her drab clothing, her lank hair clinging to her skin. She would be laughed out of the nightclub queue before she even had the chance to reach the front.

  She bought a bottle of wine from a late-night off-licence on Milton Road and headed back to her bedsit. The walls of her room seemed to close in on her as she unscrewed the bottle and drank, her body still groggy from the Ayahuasca.

  She couldn’t believe Megan was gone. She pictured her friend’s body all alone on the mud banks and wondered if the sea had reached her yet. Megan had moved on to a better place but it didn’t feel right leaving her there to be taken by the water.

  Amy took another swig of the coppery wine, her head swimming. The walls were converging in on her now, edging closer with every second. She reached for her phone and looked at the last message Megan had sent her.

  I need to see you

  ‘I need to see you, too,’ she said, before dialling another number.

  ‘Hello, emergency services, what service would you like?’

  Amy paused, her breath catching before she finally said, ‘Police, please.’

  Chapter Forty

  The glare of blue emergency police lights illuminated the night as Louise rounded the corner into Uphill. They’d received the anonymous call just after midnight. She’d still been up, devouring the book Chappell had given her, and had made the journey in fifteen minutes.

  The marina was already cordoned off. Behind the barriers, where she’d parked only the other day, two squad cars, one ambulance, and a fire engine battled for space. The uniformed officer recognised her car and let Louise through.

  PC Hughes walked over to her as she got out of the car. ‘You were the first responder?’ she asked him.

  ‘Yes, ma’am. I was with Stracky – Sergeant Strachan – ma’am, over by the Cineworld in Dolphin Square for chucking-out time when the call came in. The sarge is with the paramedics and fire service now, ma’am, trying to locate the body.’

  ‘Have you heard this anonymous message?’

  ‘No, ma’am. The details were relayed to us via dispatch.’

  ‘Okay, can we see if someone can send me the message, please,’ said Louise.

  Thomas was standing by a line of derelict boats. They were all on stilts, waiting for repairs or restoration. His hair was unbrushed, his clothes rumpled. ‘We got you out of bed, DS Ireland,’ she said, in greeting.

  ‘Something like that. Why are we here again?’

  ‘Anonymous tip-off. A deceased woman left on the beach. Could be linked to the others.’

  Thomas squinted as if trying to make sense of her words. ‘What did the message say?’

  ‘I only have the transcription at the moment. There seems to be a general reluctance t
o play me the message. Come on,’ she said, walking to a second cordoned-off area. Another uniformed officer and two officers from the fire service were managing the police line. Louise recognised one of the men, Assistant Chief Fire Officer John McKee.

  ‘John,’ she said.

  McKee was a rotund man; short in stature but loud of voice. ‘Louise. I wouldn’t advise either of you to go any further. We have a team out there now trying to locate this body. The sea is yet to hit full tide; when it does it will be pretty treacherous out there,’ he said, his voice a rich Welsh tenor. He shone his torch along the meandering inlet of water that headed towards the Channel.

  ‘We’ll be okay,’ said Louise, just as her radio sounded.

  ‘Strachan here, ma’am. We’ve located the body. Deceased woman, late twenties or early thirties from what I can see.’

  ‘Okay, keep the scene clean. I’m on my way.’

  ‘That’s the thing, ma’am. She’s been left on the bank. It appears the sea is closing in. We’re going to have to move her.’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘This very second.’

  Louise rubbed her eyes. ‘Okay, keep as close to the scene as you can. Take photos if you’re able. I’ll be there now. Thomas, check where the SOCOs are; get them to the scene as soon as they arrive.’

  The fire officer finished radioing his own team before saying, ‘I’ll lead the way.’

  McKee took a disparaging look at Louise’s footwear as they moved past the last of the boats and on to the grassland. The seawater was fully in now, filling the meandering river. ‘Let’s hope we don’t hit any mud,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s,’ said Louise, rolling her eyes as she followed the fire officer towards the glare of torches in the distance.

  ‘We had no choice,’ said Strachan, as she arrived at the scene. The body was a few feet from the seawater. ‘She should be okay here,’ he added, gazing over at the corpse.