Dying to Know (A Detective Inspector Berenice Killick Mystery) (40 page)

Helen
gathered her coat around her. ‘Amelia’s child,’ she began.

‘Grace,’
Elizabeth said.

‘Do
you know what happened?’

‘Not
really. They said the child died. There were rumours of a grave, out on the marshes, there’s a ruined church, Neil took me to see it once. St. Bruin’s I think it’s called. I remember the name, because in all the lists of Saints I was supposed to remember as a child, I’d never heard of that one…’ She gave a brief smile. ‘It explains the tone of her writings, don’t you think? Amelia?’

‘It
does?’

Elizabeth
gathered her coat around her. ‘Her rage. Such a terrible loss, and there’s her husband taking refuge in his work. Not listening to her. You would be angry, wouldn’t you?’

Helen
watched the candle flames flickering in the draught. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I would.’

‘It’s
getting colder.’ Elizabeth looked out at the night. ‘Creepy place, this. Probably haunted.’

‘Ghosts,’
Helen said. ‘Liam said there’d been sightings at the lab…’

‘You
know Liam?’

‘Oh,’
Helen said, ‘Just a bit. Through Tobias, you know…’

‘Yes,
of course. He’s a nice man. A great help to Tobias.’ Her face shadowed. ‘Yes, people have talked of ghosts. Even Iain…’ Her voice faltered. ‘That poor, poor man. All of them… I really don’t know how we’re going to carry on…’ Her gaze went to the darkened windows. ‘Neil said that people always thought this land was cursed. He said, all the crops would fail, and they’d blame the salt from the marshes, or say it was too wet. Yet all the fields round about always thrived…’ She wrapped her scarf round her neck. ‘We should go.’

Helen
buttoned her coat. ‘And what shall we do about Lisa?’

‘I
know what I’m going to do. I’m going to take that red hair band to the police. First thing tomorrow.’

‘And
Tazer?’

‘I’ll
take her too,’ Elizabeth said. ‘If she’ll come with me.’

They made their way back towards the caravan. The half-moon was low and bright in the clear cold sky. Tazer trotted next to Elizabeth, glancing back at the house from time to time.

‘I’ve
got my car,’ Helen began, but Elizabeth indicated her own, parked some distance away. It shone in the darkness, sleek and luxurious.

Elizabeth
looked at the caravan, its darkened windows, its tattered curtains. ‘I have a very bad feeling,’ she said. ‘Very bad.’

‘Well,
you’ve been through terrible things…’

Elizabeth
shook her head. ‘No, worse than that. Even worse. The shadow of the past, that house…’ She shuddered. ‘Amelia’s pain, the land being cursed… The hate mail notes talked about a second tunnel, and how the first was the true tunnel…’ She gave a thin smile. ‘All those years ago, I promised my child-self, to deal with the rational, with what we can prove, and here I am caught up in a terror of the supernatural…’ Her eyes welled with tears. ‘Well, I’ll go to the police. I’ll tell them all I can. I’ll try not to talk about ghosts.’

‘Perhaps
they’ve seen it too.’

Elizabeth
nodded. ‘Perhaps they have. They can get their forensic people on to it.’

Helen
smiled. Elizabeth reached out, and again, they shook hands. Then there were two car doors opened, two engines starting, two sets of headlights cutting through the frosty night.

Chad glanced at the clock that sat on his desk. It was time to go home, he thought.

He
stared at his computer screen, scrolled through the text for Sunday’s sermon.

This
is no good, he thought. What I want to talk about is Sin. Danger. A murderer in our midst. Three men having died at the hands of someone else. I should address this, I should face this head on, this problem of evil. But this…

He
scanned the words in front of him.

Clichés,
he thought. Empty words of hope, that there might be meaning in it all, that out of the terrible actions of a human being we might still find reason to believe in our redemption.

And
anyway, he thought, exiting the document, switching off his machine, I haven’t really nailed the argument. I’m circling something just beyond my reach.

He
locked up his office, switched off all the lights.

Outside
it was dark and chilly, and he buttoned up his coat. The lights on the sea front were blurred by mist. The streets were deserted.

Evil,
and danger. He wondered whether to be more afraid.

A
distant siren sounded through the damp air. He thought about the police, that nice woman and her team, out and about.

She
must think I’m mad, he thought, going on about God, questioning whether the universe has any meaning at all, when there’s a real killer at large.

As
it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end…

Perhaps
that’s what I should have said. That God is constantly bringing the universe into being, and allowing it to go out of being. Which means we, as mere humans, have an illusion of a continuum. It might even explain cold dark matter, and the fact that we’re in a matter dominated universe rather than there being symmetry between matter and anti-matter, as that physicist was trying to explain to me…

Is
that really what I think? More to the point, he thought, as he walked up the hill towards the vicarage, is that the right viewpoint for a clergyman to express in an interview with the police?

A
nice woman, that Berenice, he thought. He’d felt scrutinized by her, but not in an unpleasant way.

Even
when he’d mentioned Helen, he’d felt she was weighing him up, as if she was going to say, what sort of marriage is that then?

A
good question.

There
was something about the way Helen was last night, standing there by the stove making an omelette. Something about the way she’d turned to him, a distance, as if she was elsewhere…

What
sort of marriage is that, then?

A
fractured marriage. One with gaping great holes, like thin ice on a lake, around which we circle, hapless, incapable.

Perhaps
it can’t heal. Perhaps it’s too late. Perhaps when that physicist appeared in our lives it was already too late, that blasted physicist, I could kill him…

Her
car was in the drive. He walked up to the house, round to the side door. Even now, he thought, I could just walk into the kitchen, she’ll be sitting at the table, I can see the lights on, the steamed up windows…

I
could just walk in and say it. I could say, ‘I’m thinking of killing that physicist, shooting probably, cleanest way after all, can’t be too difficult to get hold of a gun in these parts…’

I
could say, ‘You’re having an affair, aren’t you?’

His
hand on the door.

She
looked up, sitting at the table in the light, warm kitchen.

Their
eyes met.

He
walked in, shook the rain off his shoes, took off his coat. He heard himself begin to speak, heard himself suggest that they could have a Chinese take-away as it’s a Friday night, watched her breathe again, watched as the gaps in the ice seemed to widen.

There
is always, he thought, the risk of falling in and freezing to death.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Finn
Brady walked along the beach, dragging a huge lump of driftwood behind him. It left a trail in the sand, next to the light prints of his trainers.

It
was a wet morning, but he barely noticed the driving rain, almost horizontal in the wind, the white foam of the waves.

What
am I going to do, he thought.

I
ain’t going to leave her. If her bad-ass father has done something…

I’ve
got to do something.

I
thought Tom would help. Went up his yard last night, and there he is telling me he ain’t allowed near Hank’s Tower, Feds will pick him up if they see him there…

He
paused, looked out to sea. The waves were high, brown-churned.

Tom
went on about the flood they said would happen. He said that’s what these deaths are, ’cos there was an old tunnel and the second tunnel was cursed or something…

I
thought he’d help me, Tobias. And all he did was sit there with his jars and his mixtures, and his step-Mum saying he’s not allowed out and certainly not to help that Voake girl…

Finn
set off again, dragging the driftwood behind him.

To
Gabriel
,
it
seemed
that
two
things
were
happening
at
once
.
One
was
a
shriek
,
rippling
out
of
the
windows
of
the
house
,
shaking
the
walls
.
The
other
was
a
hammering
at
the
door
of
the
laboratory
–

‘
Mr
Voake
,
please
Sir
,
please
come
quickly
,
the
doctor
wants
you
–
’

The
shrieking
continued
from
somewhere
in
the
house
.
The
door
flew
open
.
The
maid
was
standing
there
,
and
behind
her
,
Doctor
Knox
.

He
was
grey
-
faced
,
silent
. ‘
Gabriel
,
’
he
said
. ‘
It’s
over
.
’

Gabriel
faced
him
. ‘
It’s
over
?
’

‘
She’s
dead
.
’

‘
Amelia
?
’

‘
Grace
.
’
The
tone
was
questioning
. ‘
Your
daughter
,
Gabriel
.
The
fever
has
claimed
her
.
’

‘
But
–
’

The
green
light
from
the
machine
seemed
to
glow
darker
,
seemed
to
fill
the
space
around
him
.
He
tried
to
speak
,
to
say
,
it
cannot
be
,
Grace
is
my
salvation
,
Grace
is
the
order
imposed
on
disorder
,
Grace
is
the
reason
that
emerges
from
chaos
,
she’s
the
goodness
that
has
come
from
bad
…