Corn Dolls

by K. T. Galloway

  They walked out the same way they had come. The crowd of protesters still hung about the front door of the building and Annie heard the detective mutter under his breath at their ill-directed persistence.

  “Oh, and Annie,” DI Swift said as he opened the front door onto the crowd for her. “It’s Swift, or Boss. Drop the DI, and don’t ever think about calling me Guv.”

  Annie smiled to herself as she headed down the steps through the throngs of people. Maybe this case—and Swift—were just what she needed.

  Four

  “O’Malley, get your arse over here now and let me kick it to kingdom come!”

  Annie shrank a little inside as she stepped into the conference room in a middle rate hotel on the outskirts of the city.

  At least let me get my coat off before you say your welcomes!

  “Hi Marion,” she said, mustering a smile. “Nice to see you too.”

  At five foot nothing, with a sleek bob that made her look like Edna from The Incredibles, Marion had a cold smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Annie joined the group of people surrounding the woman, who all looked as though they were being held against their will. Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, Annie scoped the other members of the group. She recognised a couple of them from the station, including Rose, who caught her eye and withered surreptitiously at Marion. There was another probation officer, and one of Annie’s psychotherapy team who worked over in Cambridgeshire. The other lucky members, Annie didn’t know, but that didn’t stop Marion reprimanding her in front of them anyway.

  “What’s this I hear about you being poached by Joe Swift?” she shouted.

  Rose stifled a surprised noise and muttered how she had been waiting much longer to be poached by Swift. Annie felt herself blush as everyone’s eyes turned their focus on her.

  “It’s just for this case he’s working now,” she said. “It’s not forever, and I’m still working as a psychotherapist with my giant caseload too!”

  “Yes, well.” Marion looked like her head was about to explode, her face puce, her eyes bright. “It would have been nice to have been consulted first, seeing as I’m your boss, young lady. And Swift has demanded you full time, so I’m reallocating your cases.”

  Annie wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Marion was normally condescending and trite, but it was usually just the two of them. Not a networking event where people came to meet and greet. And now, those who didn’t know Annie, had just heard her being talked to like a child. So much for making a good impression.

  She bit her tongue. Retaliation wasn’t worth risking her job, at least not while she was sleeping on an ancient camp bed in her office, anyway.

  “It was all very last minute,” she went for instead. “I couldn’t say no, there’s a child’s life at stake.”

  Try arguing with that one!

  Marion made a noise that could either be an agreement or a reprimand and turned her attention back to one of the women Annie didn’t know. Rose took the chance to peel herself away and grabbed Annie’s arm, guiding her away from the pint-sized boss and towards the back of the room, where the other reprobates were hanging out.

  “You never said you were going to be working with Swift?!” she hissed. “God, I’d give my right arm and leg if I could work with him for even one day.”

  “Shhh,” Annie said, turning her head to check no-one was listening in. “It’s just for one case, and only because I’ve worked with a member of the family of the missing girl.”

  “You know his back story, right?” Rose sighed.

  “I know some of it, but I can’t talk about a client without breaking confidentiality and I certainly can’t talk about it here and now.”

  “No,” Rose interrupted. “Swift’s back story? I don’t care about your case. Except the missing girl, obvs. We all want her back safe and sound. No, Swift comes with baggage bigger than T-Swizzle.” She giggled, then hiccupped.

  Annie suddenly realised just how much Rose must have had to drink already to drown out the sorrows of being cornered by Marion. Annie nodded towards the fire escape, which was propped open for the smokers, and they headed out to the empty courtyard.

  “T-Swizzle?” Annie asked, when they had made themselves comfortable at an old wooden picnic bench with an overflowing ashtray.

  “Taylor Swift! Ha! Her and Joe could be related,” Rose said, her eyes sparkling. “Anyway…Joe. His wife took off last year. Apparently, she went out for a walk and then… poof, vanished into thin air. No one knows if it was intentional or not, but it was a bit odd in the office for a time; apparently there’s no active case for her. He went off the rails a bit, understandably, and this is his first case back. All I’m saying is, he’s got issues. Oh and he’s probably still married.”

  Annie held up a hand to stop Rose.

  “Wait,” she said. “Do I really need to be hearing this just before I start working with him?”

  “Yes!” Rose said. “You need to have all your wits about you if you’re going to be working with him.”

  The wink Rose gave her made Annie cringe.

  “What?” Annie said, really wishing she had shut this conversation down before it had got started. “It’s work. He asked for my help, he’ll get my help. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s a missing girl here, Rose.”

  Rose looked confused. “But you’ve met him.”

  “Look, he might be easy on the eye, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with him.”

  “What a waste.” Rose looked put out. She slumped onto the table and sipped at her champagne.

  Annie felt her heart race at the thought of sharing her life with anyone. How could she even begin to explain her living situation, for starters? No. That would never do.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Annie’s head swung to the propped-open fire door and her stomach dropped into her shoes — Joe Swift was standing there in all his suited glory.

  “Not at all,” Rose said perkily, as she stood up. “Be my guest, I was just about to go and mingle anyway.” She sailed off, with a none-too-subtle grin at Annie.

  Annie was left with the awkward feeling that Swift had heard everything she just said. He took the space vacated by Rose and looked Annie square in the eye.

  “Hello again,” Annie said.

  “Annie.” Joe looked exhausted, the tiny lines around his red eyes telling their own story. “Do you have a car?”

  She nodded.

  “Pick me up from the station at eight tomorrow. We’re going to meet Maggie Finch.”

  “Right, okay,” Annie said, hesitantly.

  “I hate these things,” Swift added, nodding to the conference room, which was now full of their colleagues. For a moment, he seemed more human, less like a DI with the weight of a missing girl on his shoulders. “Is that why you’re hiding out here?”

  “Kind of,” Annie said, thinking again of her conversation with Rose. “But Marion is already on the warpath. She’s pissed at me for working with you, even though you’re the one who asked me. So, I’d avoid her more than usual if I were you. She’s after blood.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he said, grinning. “She tried to pull strings higher up to stop me, but my plight was worthier than hers. You’re obviously good at what you do; Marion was not letting you go easily.”

  Annie fell a swell of pride followed immediately by panic.

  “I’m not going though am I? I mean, I’m still working with the probation service. I’m still a psychotherapist. This is just a one-off to help you out.” No matter how much she said it, Annie couldn’t help but feel a little like this shift was bigger than she had planned. Her excitement was unravelling.

  “Yeah, we’ll see, one case at a time, hey?” Swift said unhelpfully. “Shall we head in and see who else we can piss off? What with you defecting, and me being my usual self, I’m sure there are a few more feathers we can ruffle.”

  “I need my job, Swift,” Annie said. “I’m no
t sure I should be fraternising with you if it’s going to cause more trouble than it’s worth.”

  Swift unfolded himself from the picnic bench and gave Annie a salute.

  “Annie,” he said as he stepped back into the hustle and bustle of the event. “It’s always worth the trouble.”

  And with a wink he was gone.

  Five

  Annie rolled the car into the parking lot at the back of the police station and turned off the engine. The sky was already bright blue above her, the air was thick, her back sticky. A promise of what was to come, as this summer had already been penned as the hottest on record. Only a scattering of protestors had littered the front of the building as Annie had driven past, half seven too early for most of them. Pulling into an empty space, Annie got out her phone and tapped out a text to Swift, grabbing his mobile number from his business card. She was early, stupid really given that her office-cum-flat was literally just around the corner, but the one-way system was more often than not at a standstill in the city centre and she wanted to make a good impression on her first day as a consultant to a detective. Especially as it could be her only day as a consultant to a detective.

  She’d drifted off into a fitful sleep after ducking out of the networking event early the previous night. A sleep-addled, hangover brain would not do for this morning, Annie knew that. But she’d noticed the cold looks she was given by Marion as she’d gathered up her belongings and slipped out the door.

  “You’re early,” Swift said as he pulled her passenger door open and folded his large frame into the battered old Golf. “Also, aren’t you old enough to have an adult car yet?”

  Annie gave him the side eye and turned over the engine.

  “Good morning to you too, Swift. You’re welcome for the lift,” she said, taking the car back out onto the road and heading in the direction of the North Norfolk coast. “I don’t see you offering to drive us to the very tip of the county in the middle of nowhere. And my car is clean, even if it is older than my career.”

  “Fair point,” Swift conceded, looking at the pristine seats and floor.

  “What time do you normally get into the office?” Annie asked, winding her window down and feeling the warm blast of air on her cheeks. “I could have picked you up from home, saved you the extra journey.”

  Swift gripped his bag on his knees as though someone was going to reach in his closed window and grab it out of his hands.

  “No,” he said shortly. “I’m always in the office.”

  They drove in silence for a while. Annie could feel Swift glance at her every now and again but she kept her eyes on the road. As the busy streets of the city gave way to the dual carriageway, she turned the radio down and wound up her window.

  “You’ll need to direct me from here, I’m not sure of the address,” she said. “And it might also help if you can bring me up to speed on this case?”

  Swift relaxed. He threw his seat back as far as it would go, cranking the back down a notch as he unglued his knees from where they had been stuck together. He flipped open his bag and drew out a bunch of papers.

  “Don’t worry, just take this road as far as you can go without ending up in the North Sea; I’ll direct you when we get nearer,” he said, flicking through the pages. “Here it is.”

  He held up a photograph and Annie glanced at it for as long as she dared to without drifting over into the fast lane, or onto the grass verge. It showed a wooden front door, and from the quick glimpse she got at it, Annie could see it had once been blue. It looked old and worn; the paintwork peeled and cracked. There was something else…she couldn’t quite figure out what, stuck to the door by the knocker.

  “This is where we’re going to,” Swift said by means of explanation. “That’s the Finches’ front door. The house is pretty much on the same note. It’s run down. Not just the decor either, the whole place felt neglected, dirty.”

  Annie nodded, taking in what Swift was telling her and trying to fit it around Tim Barclay, the dad, the man she had worked with over the summer months. She could picture him in his jeans, never the smartest, but he had looked clean at least; except for the few occasions he’d been using. Annie had mentioned this to his parole officer, as drug use was a violation of his terms, but she wasn’t sure what the outcome had been. Annie ran this all past Swift as she overtook a convoy of caravans heading towards the coast.

  “He left them, though, didn’t he?” Swift said, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

  Annie nodded. “Yes, he left them in the middle of our time working together, about a month ago now. Maggie was pregnant, not sure if she still is or if she’s had the baby, but he said he didn’t want to be a burden to them anymore.”

  Annie sighed, remembering the hollow shell of Tim Barclay as he’d told her how he’d just packed up his bags and left, right in the middle of the day, while Maggie and Orla were out crabbing. How small and insignificant he had seemed, sitting on her comfy chair with a plastic cup of water shaking in his hands.

  “Did he tell you where he was going? Where he was staying?”

  Maggie shook her head. “No.”

  “Okay, so this is what I couldn’t talk to you about yesterday. Look at this one,” Swift said, holding up another photograph. “Our guys think it’s a sign of something more sinister, maybe voodoo or a cult.”

  This time, closer up, Annie could make out the grotesque figure of a corn doll nailed to the wooden door.

  “What the heck?” she said, narrowly avoiding a speeding Audi.

  She pulled the wheel back to the left lane and took another look. The doll looked crudely made, not like the ones she’d seen at school harvest festivals or craft fairs. The head was twisted from strands of golden corn and tied in shape with a necklace of gingham fabric. The skirt of the body was loose and flowing.

  “Is this the weird stuff you were hinting at yesterday morning?” Annie asked, tearing her eyes back to the road, a chill creeping down her neck.

  “Yep,” Swift said, putting the papers back in his bag and throwing it on the backseat. “Whoever took Orla left this hammered into the front door. At least, that’s what it looked like. Maggie had never seen it before, and that’s not something you’d forget in a hurry.”

  “That’s not the work of Tim Barclay,” Annie said. “That’s not the work of anyone who loved that girl, surely? Have you cross-checked the MO with other areas? That’s quite a distinctive calling card.”

  “Yeah,” Swift said, running his hands through his hair. “Nothing comes up on other abductions of minors. Nothing that matches exactly anyway. There were a handful of other pagan symbols over the last ten years that were similar; a Phobos and Eris, but they’re Greek and different enough not to match.”

  “Hmm,” Annie mused. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like a family member has done this. It feels like something far more sinister. The perpetrator must have planned this too. If you’re going to do something like hammer a corn doll to a door, you come prepared. Is the doll representative of anything? What makes your guys think it’s voodoo or a cult?”

  “And that, Annie, is why I have brought you in.”

  Annie flicked her head towards Swift. “What?”

  “Eyes on the road, please.”

  “I thought you brought me in because I know the father?” Annie said, her stomach knotting in fear. “So you could use my skills to get information out of the mother?”

  “Well, yes I did,” Swift started, but Annie wasn’t listening, she couldn’t tear her eyes from him as his words echoed emptily around the car.

  “What the hell, Annie?” Swift shouted as the long low horn of an HGV sounded. “Watch the ROAD.”

  She jerked the wheel in time to avoid rear-ending the lorry and swerved out into the fast lane. Her heart hammered fast in her throat.

  “I thought working in this sector would mean people were less interested in me and my life history!” she shouted, her hands gripped on the steering wheel. “Yet here you are,
bringing me in on a case that has everything to do with my life history.”

  Swift started squirming in his seat, trying to get a hold on the conversation, but Annie was on a roll.

  “No, don’t! Don’t you dare try and placate me with niceties about my work, how you brought me in because I’m good at what I do. Rose warned me about you, but I didn’t listen because she said you’d just try and get me into bed. But, you know, what you’ve done is way worse than that! What do I know about satanic cults and voodoo kidnappers? I’m a psychotherapist who works with probationers to keep them on the straight and narrow. I am not my father!”

  Six

  “Woah, Annie,” Swift stared at her wide-eyed as she caught her breath, her knuckles still white on the wheel. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about. Please.”

  Her heart rate running away like a steam train, Annie wound her window down as she pulled back in front of the lorry. The wind from the passing cars rocked her little Golf about like a boat on the ocean. Petrol fumes and dust flooded her senses, but Annie didn’t notice.

  Breathe, you idiot.

  She took a moment to collect her thoughts.

  “Annie?” Swift’s voice sounded like it was coming from down a well. “Are you okay? Do you need to get out, because if you do you need to pull over in the next lay-by. I don’t want a dead shrink as well as a missing child on my conscience.”

  With the last few words, Swift’s voice returned loud and clear to Annie’s ears.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled from under her hair. “Sorry. Shit. I just thought...”

  Annie stole a glance at Swift. She could feel her cheeks burning with the embarrassment of what she’d just done. Another articulated lorry swept past then, rocking the car harder than the others, and Swift grabbed hold of the door.

  “Do you think you can tell me what just happened there?” He looked peaky; his tanned face now a shade of shiny grey. “I’m used to people freaking out on me. But to tell you the truth it’s normally the criminals!”