The Night Caller: An utterly gripping crime thriller
Page 19
‘Do you think either of them might have had something to do with Jordan’s fall into the water?’ she asked.
Her lips moved, her eyes clouded over, and Carrie leaned forward expectantly.
‘I’m… I’m so confused,’ Emma confessed, and to Carrie she looked tired, so tired. ‘I don’t know what to believe, I’m… my head is spinning.’ She looked up, suddenly alert. ‘Martin was my teacher when I got pregnant with Jordan. Will he get in trouble, I mean, because of… my age, when we…?’
Inwardly, Carrie winced. ‘Well, you’re not pressing charges, right?’ she said, before adding, ‘of course if you want to put in a formal complaint—’
‘No! God, no, it… it wasn’t like that.’ She shut up then, and she nodded to herself.
Trouble was the more she said those words, the more she tried to justify it, the more wrong it sounded.
Carrie thought about Jordan then, wondered if he had found out about his father, about Martin. What did he think, knowing his mother was a schoolgirl, that the man who had got her pregnant was her teacher, a much older man? Had he found out? Had he confronted Martin? Had there been a fight which Martin had won? Carrie’s mind raced in a dozen different directions and her eyes drifted towards the door.
She needed to speak to the father again, but Emma was still talking.
‘But these men, the ones being pushed, now you know about Jordan, about his… sexuality, surely you need to look into it, dig deeper.’ She clutched at the edge of the little table between them, her knuckles turned white. ‘It’s a hate crime. They killed him because he was different.’
Carrie nodded, hoped she wouldn’t press that point. There had been so many reports of the Pusher targeting gay men. But that was before the copycat – if there was a copycat. It had been kept out of the media and so far the public hadn’t seemed to cotton on that the targets had changed. The first Pusher, yes, his only victims had been gay men. Carrie breathed heavily out through her nose. She still found it hard to believe the community hadn’t noticed the difference in the latest victims. No longer gay men; now they were men with hidden, distasteful lives. Ruffians, losers, pimps and pushers, small and big-time criminals.
But this news, this new knowledge… Carrie rubbed her brow, felt like they were going in circles with this man, this murderer. If Jordan was gay then they were back at the beginning, or was it just a coincidence? After all, if her theory was correct, if the copycat was a warped do-gooder, then where did Jordan fit in? Could he fit both profiles? Could he be both gay, and also have done something to attract the twisted attentions of Pusher number two? She couldn’t rule it out…
‘Emma,’ she said as she put her hands on the table between them. ‘I need you to answer questions about your son. I’ve tried to speak to you before. It really could help if you can tell me more about Jordan, this alleged child, his problems, issues he—’
‘He didn’t have problems,’ Emma snapped. But as soon as she had spoken, she hung her head again.
Carrie thought Emma would stay like that, chastised, ashamed-looking but to her surprise she pulled her head up and looked at her straight on.
‘Why haven’t you found him?’ she asked, and her voice was hoarse with grief.
Carrie’s lips twitched, almost she said because you’re concealing vital information, but she held back. Gently, more so than was natural to her, she said, ‘To do that I need your help, Emma.’
The room fell quiet. Emma picked at a loose thread on the cuff of her jumper.
‘Look, I admit it is slightly unusual to have had no sighting, you know of course the most recent body was discovered almost immediately, as have all the other ones, we’ve had experts on the tides in that particular body of water—’
Emma looked at her, piercing now, a light in her eyes. ‘What does that mean?’ she demanded. ‘What are you saying?’ Before she could form a reply, Emma was out of her chair, leaning across the table. ‘You think he is still alive, don’t you?’ she cried.
She heard the edge of hysteria in Emma’s voice. Every instinct told Carrie to deny it, that there was no chance. But with Emma’s hope, as false as it was, came a fire from her. If she believed her son was still alive, might she offer up some of the information Carrie kept asking for? Carrie breathed in, held it, exhaled soundlessly. She waited, locked her eyes on Emma’s, held her there, baiting her.
* * *
Carrie’s silence was all Emma needed to hear.
She felt like she could fly as she ran out of the suite. In the waiting area, Lee sat solitary on the couch.
‘Where’s Martin?’ she shouted, not waiting for a response, hurrying out of the room and down the corridor.
She peered through the glass doors that she passed, desperately seeking Martin, but not stopping as she looked. She bounced off the walls, staggering more than running. The police station seemed like a maze.
Someone caught her arm; she spun, saw Carrie, her face hard and closed off. She felt a pinprick of fear, and she pulled out of the grip, a moan, deep and low emerging from her.
Then someone else was there, Lee, very close to her.
‘What?’ he shouted in her face. ‘What’s happened?’
She reached for him blindly, grabbed at his coat, his arms, his face even, all thoughts of him being involved gone, along with her suspicions of Martin, too. ‘They think Jordan is still alive!’ she breathed.
Lee looked at the detective, his eyes searching Carrie’s face for verification.
‘That’s not what I said,’ Carrie retorted. Her voice rose to counteract Emma’s yells. ‘I just said it is extremely unusual not to have had a sighting of Jordan’s body yet, after a week, from that particular canal, we would have expect—’
Emma held her breath, beseeched Lee with her eyes. Lee nodded, just once, and took Emma’s arm.
‘We’re out of here,’ he said to Carrie. ‘Please find Martin for us, and tell him we’re leaving.’
Emma sagged against Lee in relief.
* * *
Breathlessly Emma herded them back to Martin’s apartment. They half-ran, slipping on the now icy pavement, grabbing each other’s arms as they brushed the snow out of their eyes and hair. It was really coming down now, and the conditions made it impossible to talk.
Not caring if she slipped, Emma chivvied them along, desperate to get inside his warm home, eager to tell Martin what the police had said. Then they could get back out there, continue the search that she had so far been conducting alone.
When the lift doors that would take them to Martin’s apartment closed, Emma started talking, unable to keep it inside any longer.
‘It was DS Flynn, she admitted they should have found his body by now, if he had gone into the canal, and stayed there,’ Emma said, practically spitting the words at him.
She tried to still her hands. An impossible task, they moved of their own accord, waving and grabbing at Lee, at her scarf, at anything within reach.
‘And?’ Martin prompted.
‘That’s it, that’s what she said.’ Emma reached for him now, pulling at the front of his shirt, tugging at it. ‘We have to get back out there, we have to look everywhere again, but not just the canals. We have to go inside the buildings, other areas, empty offices—’
Martin backed away from her. The material of his coat slipped through Emma’s fingers. He had the strangest look on his face, not the excitement or wonder she had imagined. It looked like… fury.
Wheeling around, Martin smashed his fist into the doors of the lift. There was a dull crack, a dent in the metal was all she saw before she flinched back, her spine against the mirror of the lift wall. From where she cowered, she saw his reflection as he drew back his arm, punched at the door again and again and again.
She clutched at Lee. Lee put his arm around Emma, brought her tight to him as she screamed. ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’
The volume of her voice stilled Martin until the only noise in the small lift was the sound of his b
reathing, ragged and harsh.
He put his bruised hand to his lips. He bit down on his knuckles; behind his fingers his teeth gleamed in a horrible grin. He leaned close to her, removed his fist from his mouth and put his hands behind him. ‘You said he was fucking alive!’ He moved back, still not taking his eyes off her. ‘He’s not alive, you’re deluded, Emma. You’re hearing what you want to hear, not what the police are actually saying.’
The lift doors swished open. Martin stumbled out of them, his hand raised, an unspoken command that they were not to follow him.
Speechless, Emma stared after him until the doors closed again.
Thirty-One
DAY SEVEN
‘Don’t you think we should check on Martin?’ asked Lee, his eyes, his voice, his whole body taut with anxiety.
They hurried through the streets, where the afternoon sun was beginning to disappear, heading to Emma’s home now. Emma closed her eyes briefly, thought of Martin and the way he had stumbled blindly from the lift. Lee had stabbed at the buttons and the lift went down, down, away from Martin and his fury.
Emma glanced at Lee now, resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. The way he had put his arms around her in the lift. He really was the loveliest soul. The kindest…
Why couldn’t it have been Martin that was pushed into the canal? And why do I feel scared of him?
The awful thought came suddenly. For a moment she hated herself.
‘Martin will be fine, he’s a grown man.’ She took Lee’s arm, guided him through an alley that led into Riverside Drive. ‘What made him act like that, Lee? Do you think…’ she trailed off, hesitant to tell Lee her initial suspicions about Martin and his involvement in Jordan’s disappearance. After all, Martin had had the same thoughts about Lee.
When Lee spoke his words were cautious. ‘He seemed to think we had some… definite news about Jordan.’ He looked over at Emma. ‘I think he thought we knew where he was or something. Emma, did we mislead Martin?’
She shook her head firmly. ‘No.’ But it felt like a lie. Emma stopped, rested against a wall as her muddled thoughts caught up with her heart. She opened her mouth to speak, but clamped it closed, sure if she spoke the words she was finally allowing herself to think, she might vomit instead.
‘Emma?’ Lee put a hand on her arm. ‘Emma, are you all right?’
‘He’s not alive, is he?’ The words burst from her, loud, shattering, too late to take them back. She covered her face with her hands. ‘Lee, he’s not alive, is he? Martin’s right, I’ve been kidding myself.’
The tears came, sobs, noisy, her chest heaving over and over again until it was hard to catch her breath. The truth, the acceptance was bitter, and hurt more than anything had ever hurt her before. She leaned over, winded, watched the tears falling as they rolled off her face.
Lee’s arms gripped her tightly as he guided her the last few yards home.
‘God, God it hurts,’ she rasped at him. ‘I can’t stand it, I really can’t…’
Bent double, she forced her feet into her house, walking as if asleep into the kitchen, dropping her bag, letting her coat slip from her shoulders to lie on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lee pick it up and drape it carefully over the back of a chair.
He moved quietly around the kitchen, and the pain in her chest subsided a little as he clicked the kettle on.
‘What do I do now?’ she whispered.
Lee picked up a scented candle that sat on the side before putting it back down. He cleared his throat and said, ‘I have an idea, will you hear me out?’
She glanced at him before rubbing her eyes. They felt sore, gritty and tender to touch. ‘What?’ she said, dully.
‘I want to go to the canal. Tonight, I’ll wait there, wait for the Pusher, I’ll see what he does. If he approaches me, we can get him.’
‘Bait?’ Emma sat up straighter. ‘You want to offer yourself up as bait?’
He nodded, eyes shining.
She pushed herself up and walked to the kettle. He moved out of her way, went to sit at the chair she had just vacated. With her back to Lee she said, ‘No, you can’t do that. What if he got you, too?’
But already she was thinking ahead, imagining that very night by the dark, cold water. She would have a knife on her, she would run at him, plunge it in, sink it into his skin, his face, his body, his bones. She would plunge it into him again and again until he was nothing but a bleeding pulp and then she could pick up all the pieces of him, throw and kick what was left into the dark water—
She rested her elbows on the worktop, put her head in her hands.
Behind her, Lee talked on. ‘You can hide, I’ll be by the canal. It’ll look like I’m alone. When he comes at me that’s when you come out.’ She turned to stare at him. A smile spread across his face, out of keeping with his gentle nature.
‘You can have a bat, Emma, or a hammer or a brick,’ Lee went on. ‘You can hit him, we’ll call the police.’
When she didn’t reply he came back to stand beside her. ‘I want him to pay for what he did,’ he said, and his voice was raw with emotion.
She thought about it, considered being out there by the water in the dark. Just her and Lee. She came to a conclusion. ‘This is crazy. We’d need there to be more of us, strong people.’ She regarded Lee, and she was full of guilt as she looked at his thin, wiry body.
‘We could call the police. That DS Flynn, she looks like she could take on anyone,’ Lee suggested.
Emma shook her head. Carrie Flynn wouldn’t let her do something like this in a million years. She wouldn’t even let Emma search the canals away from Salford. She scowled, recalling her roaring up in her car, the near rugby tackle and Carrie forcibly taking her home and telling her to stay put.
‘Not them,’ she said. ‘We can’t tell them if we go through with this.’
‘We have to ring them if we catch him. We have to hand him over, so they can arrest him,’ pointed out Lee.
She scowled at him. Do we? If the Pusher was arrested he would be sentenced and charged and given life. But he would still have his life. Her son wouldn’t. Briefly her eyes fluttered closed. If she had the Pusher in her sights she wouldn’t hand him over.
‘No police. Look, Lee, I don’t know about this. It’s bloody dangerous,’ she said shortly.
Lee bit his bottom lip. Slyly he said, ‘What about Martin?’
Martin… would he even agree to it? All that fury earlier, his strength that had dented the metal walls of the lift.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Call him, his number is on the table in the hall.’ She zipped her coat up, moved around Lee. ‘Have a drink,’ she said.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
‘Out to the canal,’ she answered grimly. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll be back before it gets completely dark.’
Jade heard Emma’s door close. She ran to her own window, waited for Emma to come into view before banging on the glass.
Emma looked up, startled, raised her hand in a half-wave.
Jade pointed to her own door, let the curtain fall, darted to open it.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘What happened at the police station?’
‘Jade, I need your help,’ Emma said, ignoring Jade’s question. ‘Lee is going to the canal tonight, we’re all going, we want to see if the Pusher goes for him, and we need as many people hiding there as possible. Will you come?’
Jade stared, open mouthed. ‘Are you crazy?’ she exclaimed. ‘You want to try and lay a trap for – for the man who killed Jordan? That’s a job for the police.’
‘Oh, forget it, forget the police, forget everything.’ With an impatient flap of her hand Emma pushed her way out of the door again.
‘Emma, wait!’ Nia followed as Jade hurried down the path after her friend. ‘Of course I’d come, but I can’t leave Nia, I haven’t got anyone who can sit with her.’
‘What about your new friend, Mrs Oberman?’ Emma asked.
‘Oh, there she is now,’ said Emma, and raising her hand she waggled her fingers.
Jade followed her gaze, saw Mrs Oberman outside her door. The older woman didn’t return Emma’s wave.
Jade stared at Emma. There was something strange about her today, like she was high, bordering on brazen. Prior to today, she had been scared and broken. Was she on the edge of madness? Were all of them?
‘Where are you going now?’ asked Jade.
‘The canal. Martin had me all distracted, you know before he turned up I was there every day, but since then…’ Emma shook her head. ‘I’m going out there now, and I’ll be going back tonight.’ She looked Jade in the eye, a full-on stare that made Jade flinch. ‘If I see you there, that’ll be great, if not, I’ll catch up with you another time.’
To Jade, Emma’s words sounded like a threat. But a threat of what? Of withdrawing her friendship, maybe, her support? Jade pinched her lips tightly together, knew what her friend was really thinking.
You owe me. All those years I looked after you, fed you, took care of you and Nan. You owe me, now.
But she didn’t say the words. Emma simply pulled her collar up, shoved her hands in her pockets, and with her head down she tramped off down the road towards the canal.
Jade watched her go, pulled Nia in close. She realised Emma hadn’t even told her how they had got on at the police station.
‘Mummy, why is Aunty Emma mad?’
Jade pressed a kiss to her daughter’s hair. This was what it would be like; Emma would be haunted, angry, detached from Jade and Nia for the rest of her life if she didn’t get Jordan back, or at least get some sort of closure.
‘She’ll be fine,’ she whispered, and then, hoisting Nia up on her hip she walked down to the kerb. ‘Mrs Oberman!’ she called, ‘Can I ask a favour…?’