Blood Mist (Eve Clay)

by Mark Roberts

  ‘No!’ she said. ‘No, no, no, no!’

  She felt a sharp pain in her chest and, for a moment, thought she was going to collapse. But the sensation lifted and as it did so a voice spoke inside her. ‘Don’t turn away from the verge of truth.’

  In her heart, she was six years old again and Philomena’s hands were on her shoulders, her voice as clear as if she’d been in the incident room with her.

  Eve Clay, thirty-nine years old, joined in with Philomena’s proverb, and spoke to the darkness.

  ‘Ignorance is not bliss. It’s just ignorance!’

  She turned, walked back and sat down.

  1 7

  _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  She put the earphones back in and listened.

  Pause.

  Underline the first and seventh syllables, first and seventh, follow the pattern. The words thundered inside her head.

  1 7

  Eve ning is on a the is

  _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  the fall all and a on child

  _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  She wrote down:

  Eve is the child

  Play.

  She looked at and heard the next syllable: of

  She wrote the word down.

  Eve is the child of

  The desk phone rang.

  She counted syllables across the words.

  ...ac tor art i fact the...

  Seventh in the sequence: the

  Eve is the child of the

  Suddenly she felt as if she had turned to stone, like her flesh and bones had transformed into flint, encasing her organs, which had melted into boiling lava.

  The desk phone stopped ringing but straight away her mobile rattled against the tabletop. The desk phone rang again.

  Urgent! Urgent! Urgent! Urgent! Urgent! The word bellowed inside her and she turned from stone and lava to flesh, bone and blood.

  She picked up her landline but couldn’t find her voice.

  ‘Eve, are you there?’ It was Hendricks.

  ‘Bill?’

  ‘Eve, what’s wrong?’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘I’m downstairs with Eric Watson.’

  ‘Leave him with Sergeant Harris for now.’

  ‘Eve, what’s happening?’

  ‘Come upstairs, Bill. Please hurry.’

  He hung up immediately and she called Stone.

  ‘Call Cole and anyone who’s been working on the Baptist’s writing and tell them to get to the incident room as soon as possible. I’ll leave instructions. I’ve cracked the Baptist’s code. I want everything we can squeeze from his writing by dawn.’

  She took a deep breath and looked at the next seven syllables, underlined the first and seventh in the sequence.

  One to one to one to who.

  Eve is the child of the one who...

  64

  8.25 pm

  In the observation suite of Alder Hey in the Park Hospital, the little girl appeared to be in an enchanted sleep.

  An examination by an A&E consultant had shown no apparent medical problems with the child. Her blood pressure was normal and there were no external injuries. A CAT scan showed her brain activity as normal, but she showed no signs of coming round.

  Riley sat next to the unknown child.

  The green curtain around them parted. Riley expected to see Sergeant Alice Cowans, child-protection officer, returning from the toilet. Instead, it was an obese woman in her forties, dressed in a white coat and bearing a metal tray of needles.

  ‘I need to take her blood sample.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ said Riley. ‘She’s out for the count.’

  ‘It’s all over the hospital.’ The phlebotomist took a needle from its sterile wrapping. ‘She’s survived one of them murders.’

  ‘That’s pure nonsense. She was found at an RTA.’ Riley felt sharply protective towards the child and didn’t want prying eyes coming to stare at her. ‘Put that out there.’

  The phlebotomist swabbed the vein inside the girl’s elbow. The girl jerked and her eyes fluttered. The woman looked at Riley’s face and said, ‘You look like you’ve been in the ring with Mike Tyson.’

  ‘You look like you’ve been in the ring with Hulk Hogan.’

  The curtain parted again. As Sergeant Cowans came through, she said, ‘I got lost on the way back.’

  ‘Everything’s well signposted,’ said the phlebotomist. She prepared the needle.

  Cowans and Riley exchanged a look.

  The little girl’s eyes flickered. She stared up at the ceiling.

  ‘You awake, hon?’ asked the phlebotomist.

  The girl appeared not to have heard. She yawned and displayed two perfect rows of white teeth.

  ‘Just giving you a little needle—’

  ‘Hon!’ said Riley, rolling her eyes. The phlebotomist flashed her a dirty look.

  Cowans walked towards the bed and looked at the girl. She was pretty enough to be a child model and her hair, though gritty in places from the spray and snow, was as rich as honey and shone in the light from the anglepoise lamp on the wall above the bed.

  When the needle sank into her arm, her face formed a mask of pain, but she didn’t make a sound. As the phlebotomist drew her blood into the barrel of the needle, the girl’s eyes drifted towards her. She stared at the woman, her face dissolving into neutral.

  The phlebotomist drew the needle out and capped it. As she taped a cotton-wool ball onto the girl’s inner elbow, the girl looked at Riley.

  ‘All done now,’ said Riley. ‘You’re in Alder Hey Hospital. You’re perfectly safe. I’m a police officer. My name’s Gina Riley and this is another police officer, Alice Cowans and she’ll be looking after you until we can find your parents and get them to come and collect you. Can you hear me?’

  The girl nodded.

  ‘Do you understand what I’m saying to you?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘Can you speak to me?’ She said nothing. ‘I need to know your name.’ Silence. ‘Would you like me to send for paper and a pencil and you can write down your name?’

  Cowans turned to the phlebotomist, who was watching from the corner of the cubicle, slack-jawed and crawling with sly curiosity. ‘Would you like to go and get a seat, make yourself comfortable?’ she asked

  The little girl looked at the phlebotomist and a smile danced on her lips.

  She pointed at the woman and beckoned her back to the bed with a tiny, bird-like flutter of her fingers.

  The phlebotomist looked at Riley and Cowans triumphantly as she rolled back to the girl’s bedside. ‘You don’t want them, do you? You want me, don’t you, hon?’

  The girl’s lips moved and her voice was so soft it sounded like hissing.

  ‘Speak up, love, I can’t hear you.’

  The girl spoke a little louder and the phlebotomist bent down from the hips, turned her right ear towards the child.

  ‘I still can’t hear you, hon.’ Annoyance now bobbed up to the sugar-coated surface of her voice.

  ‘I...’

  ‘Go ahead, girl.’

  The little girl rose from the pillow and pressed her mouth to the phlebotomist’s ear. Riley and the phlebotomist stared at each other.

  In a heartbeat, the girl’s hands were at the phlebotomist’s head, her fingers entwined in tight knots of hair that she twisted and pulled. The phlebotomist screamed as the child bit down hard on her ear, her eyes pooling with rage and pain. The girl tugged with her teeth, anchoring her weight against the woman’s head. A spray of blood hit the wall above the bed.

  Riley grabbed hold of the girl’s face and skull and tugged it away from the woman, who staggered backwards, screaming and holding the bloody wound at the side of her head.

  Half of the woman’s ear hung from the girl’s mouth and her fingers were full of cheaply dyed blonde hair.

  The phlebotomist’s screams grew louder, shriller.

  The little girl held Riley’s gaze as she pulled the flesh into her m
outh with her tongue and chewed, a stream of blood running down from the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Raw is righteous.’

  The little girl threw her hands at Riley’s throat, but she intercepted her, grabbed the girl’s wrists. The girl writhed and raged on the bed.

  Riley pinned her down on her stomach and pressed the entire weight of her body on the child, who bucked and fought back with a strength that belied her physical size.

  ‘Get her legs!’ said Riley.

  As Cowans leaned in to restrain her, the girl lashed out with her foot, catching her in the face. Cowans staggered under the sudden impact and backed into the green curtain.

  ‘We need a doctor! Doctor!’

  The curtains opened and a twenty-stone security guard and a female doctor appeared.

  The guard approached from the side, pushed her feet down.

  ‘I’ll get a sedative,’ said the doctor, departing.

  ‘Why...’ Riley struggled to speak, so fierce was the girl’s resistance. ‘...did the Red... Cloud leave... you... behind?’ With one hand, she pressed the girl’s head against the pillow.

  The girl’s eye was close to Riley’s face. She stopped chewing and swallowed. ‘We are Red Cloud and we turn human flesh to shit,’ she said, darkness filling her eyes, her face contorting with apocalyptic fury. She spat a stream of thick, bloody phlegm into Riley’s eye.

  ‘You’ve got big feet for such a little girl,’ said Riley. ‘What size shoes do you wear? Size 2?’

  The girl screamed, as if a rod of hot steel was twisting through her core.

  Riley turned to Sergeant Cowans, blood streaming from her nose. ‘Call Eve Clay...’

  The little girl fell silent.

  ‘...and get her to come here immediately.’

  She started screaming again, growing louder with each out-breath. In the spaces around them, children started crying and, within seconds, the cries turned to screams as terror took hold.

  65

  8.26 pm

  1

  7

  Eve

  ning is on a the

  is

  The

  fall all and a on

  child

  Of

  actor artifact

  the

  One

  to one to one to

  who

  Reigns

  parasite yes you

  in

  Dark

  ling red cloud one

  ness

  ‘How did you crack it, Eve?’ asked Hendricks.

  ‘The answer machine message in the Watsons’ hall. The numbers 1 and 7 tattooed on Adrian White’s chest. I listened to it over and over again. If I hadn’t listened so much, I’m not sure I’d have made that final leap. Only the first and the seventh syllables count. The five beats in between, the heartbeats if you like, are just padding. Look at the six lines I’ve written down.’

  The phone on her desk rang out, but it sounded far away.

  ‘I wouldn’t let him get under your skin. It’s probably common knowledge out there that you didn’t know your parents or even who they were. How many people did you meet, adults and children, when you were in the care system?’

  ‘Hundreds. Hundreds and hundreds.’

  ‘People talk. Facebook. Current status? On the toilet, trawling over other people’s lives. White’s created a fictional history of your life based around that snippet of fact.’

  She took the earphone jack from the iPad and pressed play. Stone’s voice filled the room, reading the second chapter of The Matriarch.

  ‘You going to get your phone, Eve?’

  ‘I’ll do 1471.’

  She could feel her blood pressure rising as her face flared red. Hendricks watched her with quiet sympathy.

  ‘Eve, you were the public face of the hunt to catch the Baptist. You know what I call this? Head games. And he can only play head games with you if you agree to join in with him.’

  Hendricks confirmed a truth Clay’s rational brain had already worked out. But in her heart, a maggot-sized version of Adrian White was stretching and contracting from chamber to chamber, playing on her insecurity, fuelling the torment of not knowing.

  ‘You’re right, Bill. Head games. Power play. He must have known he was going to get caught one day, that his power over life and death and people’s hearts and minds was going to end with him being sent down and the key being thrown away. So, what was next for him?’

  The door opened and DC Cole, the well-read officer who’d been assigned to reading and recording the Baptist’s writings, walked into the incident room.

  ‘I’ve cracked the code,’ said Clay.

  Cole looked impressed.

  She explained the pattern and handed Cole a stack of photocopies from The Matriarch as he sat at his desk. She pointed at the verse that followed and read, ‘Eternal night have clear to the red day Blood to ask undressed by the stars he moth stood in a on her night night so to those night on those when those red to the wind... Here’s the problem. The code breaks down immediately after the message, Eve is the child of one who reigns in darkness. My gut instinct is that there are other buried messages and it’s a matter of trawling through White’s writing, word by word, to see if the code kicks in again.’

  Cole switched on his desk light and drilled the top page with his eyes, followed the text with his index finger.

  ‘Don’t—’ began Hendricks, softly.

  ‘I know,’ interrupted Clay. ‘I won’t let anyone else see I’m rattled.’

  ‘I’ve got Eric Watson waiting downstairs.’

  The phone on Clay’s desk stopped ringing and her iPhone erupted.

  ‘He was a part of the Christian Grace Foundation.’

  ‘You’d better get back to him then.’ As she watched Hendricks walk away, Clay connected the call.

  ‘DCI Eve Clay?’ A voice she didn’t know above the echoing screams and cries of children.

  ‘Yes, who is this?’

  ‘Sergeant Cowans, child-protection officer. I’m at Alder Heywith DS Gina Riley and the girl from the Watson crime scene.’

  ‘What the hell’s going on there?’ It sounded like the soundtrack from a suicide bombing.

  ‘DCI Clay,’ urged Sergeant Cowans, ‘please get here as quickly as you can. We’re going to a one bed room on the third floor.’

  ‘I’ll meet you there,’ said Clay. ‘How’s the girl?’

  ‘Savage. She’s been sedated. DS Riley told me to tell you...’ Cowans clearly didn’t understand what she was about to say. ‘She’s Red Cloud.’

  Clay disconnected and raced towards the door.

  66

  8.40 pm

  In Interview Suite 1, Eric Watson sat half slumped over a mug of tea that had long gone cold. As Hendricks waited, sympathy for the man in front of him collided with his urgent need to gain information.

  ‘Eric.’ There was an edge of iron in his voice and Eric Watson looked up.

  ‘Three nights. Three families. If the pattern continues, there’ll be a fourth family within the next twenty-four hours, and you know what, Eric, chances are it’ll be someone you know or knew in the past.’

  Watson’s interest was piqued. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Did you not hear about the Patel family?’

  He thought about it for a moment and said, ‘Hanif and Kate Patel?’

  ‘Yes. It’s been all over the news media.’

  ‘Like I said, I’ve been locked in my study, getting my cross-examination ready. I worked, I ate, I slept a little. Do Not Disturb sign on the door. I was in court all day, with Jonas Bamber in the dock.’

  ‘Bamber, as in drug lord Jonas Bamber?’

  ‘Do you know how much money, time, effort and manpower has gone into getting his case this far?’ A fresh wave of tears rolled down Eric’s face. His mind rocketed to a different place. ‘I can’t believe what’s happened...’

  ‘Jonas Bamber. You were saying...?’

  ‘My
boss made it clear to me. If I messed it up on the day, then all that... work... so many people...’

  Hendricks handed Eric a paper handkerchief. ‘I understand,’ said Hendricks, who’d once found out the result of a General Election two days late, having been locked deep undercover on a people-trafficking ring.

  Eric wiped his face.

  ‘The Tanner family?’ asked Hendricks.

  ‘Daniel and Gillian Tanner were...’ Memory played out in Eric’s eyes, and he looked utterly uncomfortable. ‘...Christian Grace Foundation. So were the Patels.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Eric, but your family was targeted and one thing we know is that the three families all belonged to the Christian Grace Foundation. Hence my remark that you’ll know or have known the next set of victims. I need to know what the Christian Grace Foundation was.’

  ‘It was a small evangelical church based in Edge Hill. We used to have our services in a little hall in the old Archbishop Blanch School. Kate Patel was a governor of the school.’

  Eric sipped his tea. Hendricks pushed. ‘Go on!’

  ‘There were ten families, ourselves included.’ Silence.

  ‘Eric, please, talk to me.’

  ‘The idea was that we would take the example of the very earliest Christian Church and build an extended family in which everyone was equal and we all had a role to play, with no one better or bigger than anyone else.’

  ‘There must’ve been a hierarchy, Eric? Ten families? It sounds small and manageable, but...’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. It was a naive dream to think we could all come to each other’s aid in time of need, like the early Christian Church. But at first, back then, it all seemed so... possible.’

  ‘Someone must have started the group? You say there were no leaders, but in my experience, the founders are usually the leaders. Who were the founders?’

  ‘Founder. Singular. Karisa Aden.’ As he spoke her name, there was fear in his voice but also a real sadness. ‘Married but her husband was away doing missionary work for the Lord. No kids, so she said, barren as Sarah in the Old Testament.’