by Penny Grubb
‘Get your coat,’ said Webber. ‘We can do better than snapshots.’
Ahmed watched as Webber spun on his heel, his stare landing first on Suzie, then on him before casting further afield to the opposite office. Ahmed held his breath. Were he and Suzie the only ones not currently out and about? He didn’t want to be taken away from these new ideas on the Morgan case.
‘Suzie. With me. Get your coat.’
Webber marched out. Ahmed lip-read the expletive as Suzie rose to follow.
* * *
It wasn’t until he felt soft mud under his feet that Webber wondered about the advisability of bringing Suzie. She’d been a silent presence in the car, radiating resentment. He hadn’t wanted Ahmed. Ahmed had seen nothing in those aerial shots; he’d have been asking questions the whole time, crowding out any embryo ideas that anyone else might be brewing. The woman from the lab had felt some anomaly even if she hadn’t been able to articulate it. She wasn’t one to explore unevidenced theories; she was only comfortable with facts. He’d learnt that much about her in their short acquaintance. But she would work out whatever it was that bugged her and she would explain it to him if he had to keep her here all night.
He held aside the tape to let them through. Suzie shot him a glare. The mist closed in like a sodden blanket. Moisture leached from it to settle on his hair and clothes. Suzie had had the foresight to bring a hat. The lab woman’s coat sported a massive fur-fringed hood. Webber hoped it wouldn’t restrict her vision. She’d seen whatever she’d seen from a wide angle, not that any of them would be able to see much in the failing light.
‘Straight across that way.’ He leant close to the lab woman and pointed out into the gloom. ‘Those trees are the ones that ran along the middle two photos. OK?’ He waited for her nod before going on. ‘Pictures at the top of the board show the other side. I was going to suggest we take a direct line, but it’s not much of a path. We could have done with better light.’
‘Like tomorrow morning?’ A grumpy comment from behind. He ignored it.
‘We’ll follow the perimeter round. It’s a better path, but it’ll take us out of sight of that stretch, and we’ll be coming at it from the side.’
‘OK, let’s go.’ The woman sounded impatient now, not understanding his worry that the unfamiliar angle would fail to spark her subconscious about whatever she’d seen.
They trudged in silence up the track to the highest point, where the woman stopped and peered out across the vegetation. The water in the gravel pit shimmered through the trees. Webber watched her as she held out her hand framing sections of the landscape. Then, as though happy she knew the way, she gave a nod and set off again, striding ahead of them.
‘What do you think she’s going to find?’ Suzie’s voice was low, her tone resigned rather than resentful. ‘And why now? Why not tomorrow?’
Webber glanced at the woman in front, too far away to hear the exchange. He would look silly if it all turned out to be nothing, but he gave her a truthful response. ‘Something’s been bugging me about this site, but don’t ask. I’ve no idea what.’
‘You never said anything.’
‘Didn’t have anything to say and you know how it is when you start putting ideas in people’s heads. Their imaginations go into overdrive, but she saw something.’ He pointed to the woman ahead whose form was vanishing into the gloom. He quickened his step, not wanting to miss her reaction when they arrived at the stretch she’d studied on the photographs.
They caught up with her at a tangle of wire that had once been a fence. The mist and failing light made the wire hard to see. Webber pulled out his torch to illuminate the tangled obstruction.
‘Why isn’t this side taped off?’ the woman asked as they forced a way through.
‘No vehicle access. No sign anyone came this far. The walkway foundation’s back that way.’ Her gaze followed the line of his pointing finger. ‘Concrete lorry would have come in from the road up there. No one uses this bit. It’s too boggy. Watch your step.’
She climbed clear of the trailing wire and peered ahead. ‘Torch,’ she said, reaching back.
He passed it to her. She played the beam ahead into the scrub as she moved forward. ‘Now, that’s unusual,’ she said, walking up to a tangle of misshapen branches. Her tone was light. She might have been commenting on a piece of jewellery.
Webber tried to read her expression, but her features were losing clarity in the fading light. Suzie had a point. He should have left this till morning.
‘That’s unusual, too,’ the woman said, waving the torch towards a lush stand of waving grasses.
‘Talk to us,’ he said, trying not to snap. ‘What are you seeing?’a
She shrugged. ‘I just wouldn’t have expected to see that … oh, look, there’s more.’ She strode forward. He and Suzie, without the torch beam to guide their feet, followed as best they could. ‘It must be something about the land,’ she said. ‘What was here before?’
‘Nothing,’ said Webber. ‘There’s never been anything here. It’s …’
He stopped as the woman jerked to a standstill, her face frozen as though she’d seen a poisonous snake curled in the grass. He and Suzie exchanged a glance, then moved together to the woman’s side.
Her gaze seemed fixed on the twisted woody stems of some kind of bush tangled in a stand of tall grass that shimmered in the dusk.
‘What is it?’ he asked, fighting an urge to grab her well tailored lapels and shake the answer out of her.
‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was high, unsteady. ‘I can’t see properly in this light, but look … There and there. Maybe there, too. It might be animals. I can’t tell. It’s substantial. It’s …’
He could see her hand trembling and strained his eyes to try to draw something … anything … out of the bland scrubland in which they stood. Animals? The association of ideas sent a tremor through him. He imagined tigers springing out of the mist.
The damp air hung heavy. The only sounds were the swish of the grasses and the distant rumble of traffic. The path behind them had dissolved into the twilight. All around were the stands of woody stems … tall grasses … Out of place in this barren stretch. The torch beam was no match for the incoming dusk. An invisible hand carved a hollow inside him. His mind took the scene ahead and overlaid it on to the distant memory of a long-ago case. He knew what it was that didn’t look right. She’d said, maybe animals. Yes, it might be some kind of illegal disposal. He could only hope.
‘Back off,’ he said. ‘We’re in a graveyard.’
Chapter 27
The light in the kitchen gave Webber hope that Mel had waited up for him, but the house was silent, the living room dark. He hoped someone had been in touch; that was how it was supposed to work, but he hadn’t checked. He supposed he should feel relief. If she was asleep he didn’t have to worry about what to tell her, what to hold back. He would gloss over going out there with Suzie but whoever rang to say he’d be late might have let it slip.
He sank into a chair, too tired to think about foraging for something to eat though hunger gnawed at him, but with too much in his head to think about sleeping. He’d wanted Melinda up and about so he could share the details that spun around in his mind. She could have had the satisfaction of being in the know before it broke in the press. It wouldn’t be long. It might be unfolding on the late news right now. It wasn’t something they could keep quiet; a whole new stretch had been cordoned off and this time properly. The initial team had been quick to unearth small animal bones. He recalled the relieved sigh with which Suzie had greeted the find. He supposed she’d been tired too, ready to clutch at straws, wanting to get home. ‘Too shallow,’ he’d told her, and could have added too recent, way too recent to account for the abnormal growth. She would work it out in her own time. This whatever-it-was had no bearing on the Jenkinson case, nor on Robert Morgan. It might even pre-date the latter’s demise.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Relief suffused him.
Mel was still up. Her tread was soft. Maybe Sam had woken during the evening.
‘Hi,’ he greeted her. ‘Sam OK?’
She nodded and eyed him curiously. ‘I thought I heard you come in.’
Pre Suzie, she’d have been concerned at his tiredness, she’d have asked if he’d eaten, what had happened, why was he late?
‘Someone called you, didn’t they?’ he asked. ‘It was all a bit chaotic.’
She reached down for the switch on the standard lamp, then walked across to the television, but held back from flicking on the plug. He was pleased. The last thing he wanted was to see that the late night news had picked up the story. ‘You’re not as late as they said you might be.’
His eyelids grew heavy. Simply having her here had calmed the turmoil in his head. Straight to bed was his best plan but he couldn’t immediately summon the energy to stand up.
Melinda gave a small sigh. ‘Have you eaten?’
He looked at her surprised. They had a script for this. Were they still allowed to use it? He would say that he was OK, that he’d sort himself out in a moment. She’d say either that she’d saved him something or that she’d cook him a snack. He would give her a grateful smile and then doze in the chair until she put a plate in front of him. And just occasionally if they’d had a row, she would say, fine, sort yourself out. Since Suzie, all bets were off. She was still standing by the TV looking down at him.
‘No, I haven’t. I’m starving.’
She hesitated, then said, ‘Cheese sandwiches? Cheese on toast?’
He let out a sigh of contentment. ‘Thanks, Mel. Anything. Whatever’s easiest.’ He attempted a laugh. ‘I’m getting too old to be out following hunches. If I’d known where this one would lead, I’d have left it for next week.’
She marched through to the kitchen without a word. He heard the clatter of plates. It struck him she’d looked irritated.
‘I’ve been out to the gravel pits again,’ he called through.
No reply.
‘That’s why I’m late.’
An uninterested, ‘Yeah.’
The plate landing in his lap jerked him awake from a doze. He smiled his gratitude and fell on the warm toast biting off a huge mouthful savouring the tang of the cheese. ‘You had a good day?’ The boost of calories reminded him to ask, though the words were muffled.
‘Yeah, pretty good. This gravel pit thing, whatever it is, it’s not going to pull you into work tomorrow is it?’
‘I’m not sure. No, probably not.’ He reflected that whatever they’d found up there could probably wait another year or two without spoiling. He was about to expand on the idea when she spoke again.
‘Good, because I need you to have Sam while I’m out tomorrow.’
‘Why? Out where?’
A smile of satisfaction spread across her face. ‘Because I don’t trust Joyce enough to have her and Sam in the same space, and because I’ve arranged to go out with her tomorrow to see someone.’
He realised belatedly that her initial move towards the TV had been nothing to do with late night news. She’d been heading for her evidence boards, but probably changed her mind when she saw how tired he was. He felt impatient that she didn’t want to interrogate him on why he’d been out at the gravel pits. He needed her to ask; couldn’t make the effort to explain it from cold. And his find had to trump whatever small progress she’d made on her case. He looked up and met her eye, seeing his impatience reflected back at him. She too thought she had momentous news to impart and was waiting for questions.
‘Who are you going to see?’ The line of least resistance was the only one he had the energy to follow, and if he wasn’t the one speaking, at least he could focus all his attention on his food.
The blackboard clacked against the television casing as she pulled it free.
She said something about a teacher; a filler to bridge the gap while she gathered her thoughts. Sam rarely came home from playschool without a new achievement to be announced. Whatever it was, it would be told again. He didn’t need to listen.
‘I thought you didn’t believe in hunches.’ Her tone was sharp; it penetrated his drowsiness. Hunches?
‘Oh, you mean the gravel pit. I don’t. It was my subconscious seeing that abnormal growth. In summer it must be obvious, but no one’s really looked.’ It seemed a good moment to expand on the story, but tiredness was settling over him like a heavy blanket. It was easier to let her words roll on unheeded.
As he climbed into bed later he flinched at the touch of the cold sheets. He wasn’t sure if the bed was empty when he climbed in, but she was there beside him at some point. He turned, gathering her into his arms pressing her head to his chest, a comforting presence to drive out the demons and soothe him to sleep. She said something but he didn’t catch it.
The next morning with Sam chirruping happily over his cereal and Melinda humming to herself as she clattered about in the kitchen, he eyed the boards behind the TV. She’d told him all about it last night … fragments came back to him … she and Joyce had pushed forward another step … a trip out … he was to look after Sam. He struggled to recall whether or not he’d told her what they’d found up at the gravel pits, but only remembered gathering her to him as he slipped into sleep and wondered if she’d tried to pull away.
He felt refreshed, happy that she seemed happy, yet the previous evening’s lassitude still wrapped him in a haze, giving a sensation of disconnection from the world around him. Once the chaos of Sam at breakfast was over, he would sneak a surreptitious look at those boards, see if he could jog his brain into completing the pattern without having to ask.
‘Get that lot out to dry when the washer finishes.’ Melinda was at his elbow, smiling at Sam, reaching out to smooth the boy’s hair and wipe a stray cereal flake from his chin. ‘Plenty of stuff in for lunch if I’m not back, but I will be. Probably.’
She had her coat on; her bag swung from her arm. She leant down to kiss the top of Sam’s head, then turned to Webber to give him a brief goodbye, her lips brushing his cheek. A few days ago it would have been unmistakeably an act put on for Sam. Now it might be real again, but maybe that was wishful thinking. The thought stalled him until the slam of the door snapped him to alertness.
‘Mel, where are you …?’ As he set off after her, Sam wailed panicked disapproval as he saw his second parent set to disappear, and Webber was distracted until it was too late.
He watched her car drive off, saw her face briefly in profile; she didn’t look back. All the demons crowded in; the anomalies of senseless traffic chaos, bodies buried in concrete, an ancient site spitting out a decades-old secret. He stared after her. It was mundane scenes like this that came back to haunt people. If something terrible happened, this might be the last he ever saw of her. He wanted to etch every detail on his mind.
Chapter 28
Ahmed stifled a yawn. This was turning into a waste of a Sunday evening. He’d come round to be with Cari not to make small talk with her family. They should revive their plans to sneak off to the registry office with a couple of friends in tow. It was as though her mother had picked up on his thoughts because the nearer the day approached, the more subterfuge it took for him and Cari to get any time alone together. There was her mother now, wrecking what little was left of his time here tonight by determinedly taking her away to talk wedding details in which he, as a man, was deemed to have no interest. Her brothers were on shift work so he’d be left with the three young cousins, a trio whose heads he would happily knock together. As Cari trailed after her mother, she peeped back and caught his eye. They exchanged the ghost of a raised-eyebrows glance. The door closed behind them and Ahmed slumped into his chair blowing out a sigh.
One of the cousins said something in the sing-song tone they used to goad him. He ignored it; he’d learnt to ignore them months ago; couldn’t even be bothered to make sense of the words, though the sly looks that shot between them told him they were making something of the call he’d
taken just after he arrived.
It had been from Suzie. He’d been careless enough to use her name. Much adolescent hilarity that he should be talking to her in the presence of his wife-to-be. Muted hilarity, though, because he’d blown up at them last time he was here. There had been one too many snide remarks about his boss being a woman. For all their youth this trio were fresh out of the ark.
He felt his mouth curve to a smile as he imagined their reaction should they know about Suzie and Webber. Then a bolt of frustration shot through him. He could curse Martyn Webber for unearthing another ancient crime. Webber should have been concentrating on the job in hand not mulling on botanical anomalies. What Ahmed really wanted was to have another go at Tom’s mother. Davis and his team thought she had nothing more to tell, but Ahmed was convinced that Tom had been back to see her in that gap before he disappeared. He’d get it out of her if he had her face to face. He’d tried putting it to DI Davis but been rebuffed.
‘… hey, Ayaan?’
One of the cousins held the coffee pot, ostensibly offering a refill.
Ahmed gave him a hard look but no other response and returned to his dilemma over Tom’s mother. He’d thought about engineering an accidental meeting and having a go at her himself, but he’d have to be very creative to find a credible reason to be in any of the woman’s haunts. Or he might approach Webber about it, but then he’d end up in bad odour with Davis and Suzie. And the carrot of a permanent move to York was in front of him. When he thought about starting his married life 50 miles from Cari’s parents and her antediluvian cousins, as opposed to in Scarborough practically on their doorstep, he couldn’t jeopardise it. His only option was to do nothing, keep his eyes and ears open and look for his chance.
* * *
Monday eased its way into late afternoon, the light long gone, rain battering the windows. Webber stood with John Farrar in the otherwise empty office. Farrar’s presence wasn’t to do with any of Webber’s cases, but he asked about the makeshift graveyard up beyond the fishing lakes.
