Philip Brennan 03-Cage of Bones (16 page)

45

P
hil noticed Glass’s response straight away. Don didn’t. He just walked into the room, smiled and nodded, found an empty chair, sat down.

‘Thanks, Don,’ said Phil, smiling. ‘Good to see you.’

‘Thanks for asking me.’

Phil was surprised. As soon as Don had entered the room, the years seemed to have fallen away from him. He was no longer Phil’s adoptive father and Josephina’s grandad, but a police officer again. Even his walk was different. Stronger. More purposeful.

And then there was the effect he had had on Glass. Out of character. Maybe Glass didn’t like Phil exercising his authority. Well, tough. Phil had already cleared it with him, mentioned Don by name. Glass had given the go-ahead. Perhaps he hadn’t been expecting such a public announcement.

Phil put it to the back of his mind, continued.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Anni. The boy?’

‘Yeah. Right.’ Anni stood up. Addressed the room. ‘Well I think we’re in this for the long haul.’ She looked down at her notes, looked up again. ‘There’s a child psychologist been brought in.’ She hesitated, looked at Marina. ‘Perhaps Marina could tell you the technicalities better than me.’

‘We’ll hear your impressions first, Detective Constable Hepburn,’ said Glass. ‘We can come to the technicalities later.’

Anni paused, looked apologetically at Marina, who shrugged, gave her a small smile. Anni, bolstered by this, continued. ‘As I said, there’s been a child psychologist brought in by Dr Ubha. Marina talked to the boy first, though.’

She raised her eyebrows, giving Marina a signal to speak. Phil knew what his DC was doing. A subtle dig at the DCI. With Anni’s gesture and Mickey backing him earlier, he felt a small swell of pride in his team.

‘Yes,’ said Marina, not standing, ‘I tried to talk to him. Very traumatised. In a very, very bad way. He’s been down there, or somewhere similar, for a long time. And from the way he was talking, I don’t think he was alone.’

Silence in the room. Marina continued.

‘He kept talking about his mother. Worried about her. Wanted to see her.’

‘Natural in a boy who’s been taken away,’ said Glass, interrupting.

Marina didn’t look at him, kept going. ‘True, but I got the impression they had been imprisoned together.’

‘We’ve checked missing persons lists,’ said Jane from the back. ‘Nothing. No one matching the boy’s description. Started on children’s homes, social services, nothing so far.’

‘He’s going to be in hospital for a while,’ said Anni. ‘He’s very weak. They’re working with him. Hopefully he’ll be able to tell us something, give us something to go on. And we’ve got some of his medical results back too.’ She sighed. ‘He’s malnourished to virtually Third World levels, and is a potential breeding ground for so many infections. The hospital have pumped him full of antibiotics. Wherever he’s come from, it’s left him in a hell of a state.’

Phil could tell, from the softness in her voice, that the boy had got to her. He wasn’t surprised. Seeing a child in that state would do the same thing to anyone with a spark of humanity.

‘We’ve also got back preliminary DNA results on him,’ Anni said. ‘No match. On anything. Not even a close match. It’s like he just … doesn’t exist. But since we don’t know who he is or why he was there, we have to assume that he matters to someone. We’re keeping a twenty-four-hour watch on his room.’

‘Thanks, Anni.’

‘There is one more thing.’ She took out a photo, placed it before her. ‘This was on his foot. Some kind of scar. Looks like a brand.’

‘What?’ said Mickey. ‘Like you do with cattle?’

‘Seems that way,’ said Anni. ‘I’ve started checking, seeing if any other bodies have turned up with similar markings. Nothing so far.’

She sat down.

‘Forensics from the cellar haven’t come back to us yet,’ said Phil. ‘They’re still doing tests to decide whether the bones are human or not, and same for the dried blood we found. So. Marina?’ He looked over at her. When his eyes hit, she jumped as if he had made physical contact. His heart broke a little more. ‘Would you like to give us your report on the crime scene?’

Marina stood up, eyes on her report. Phil was grateful for that. He was sure that everyone in the room knew something was up with them. Sure that everyone was watching and listening to them, and not for the right reasons.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Well, most of you know what was there apart from the boy. The cage. The implements. The flowers. I’ve been focusing on the Cabalistic markings on the wall. Checking them out. I think if we can understand what they mean, we can go some way towards understanding why the boy was there and who put him there.’

Glass nodded, listening.

‘All the evidence would indicate that it’s some kind of calendar. A growth cycle. The flowers point to that too. There seemed to be equinoxes, solstices marked. In fact, one’s happening about now. If that’s the case, then it looks like the boy is important. Very important. Whoever put him there has plans for him that include the equinox.’

‘D’you mean a sacrifice? Something like that?’ said Mickey.

Marina shrugged. ‘I couldn’t speculate, but it might well be. The boy was imprisoned, as if waiting for something. The cage was a holding cell. I think he was kept somewhere else beforehand. Only moved there for the ritual. The flowers point to that too. They’re very specific colours. Red, blue, yellow. My guess is they represent bodily secretions. Blue and red for blood, yellow for urine, and they’re all decaying, turning brown. I’ll let you work that one out.’

No one laughed.

‘But why there?’ Mickey again. ‘Why that place?’

‘I don’t know. It must have some significance to the person carrying out the ritual. I do think, though, that in finding the boy, we stopped a murder.’

Silence in the room.

‘Might he try again?’ asked Anni.

‘Very likely. As I said, there’s only a small window of opportunity in this equinox, if that’s what he’s working towards, and I strongly suspect he is.’

‘Will he try to get the boy back?’ asked Mickey.

‘He might. Or perhaps try to find another boy. We’ve got the rest of today and tomorrow. It’s my opinion that he’ll strike within that time.’

‘Where?’ Mickey again.

‘I don’t know. He operates from somewhere safe, somewhere that’s secure for him. Somewhere that means something to him. The cellar was laid out the way it was because of the ritual. And that’s important to him. He must have taken a long time preparing it, getting it just the way he wanted it. He’s going to be spending all his time between now and tomorrow night finding another place, getting it ready.’

‘And going after the boy?’ asked Mickey.

‘Or a boy.’

Silence round the room.

‘Something else,’ said Marina. Everyone listened. ‘He’s done this before. Solstices, equinoxes … four a year. And not just this year.’

Silence once more. Phil was thinking about comics. House of Mystery. House of Secrets. With a graveyard in between.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘We’ve got our work cut out for us. We’re up against the clock with this one. If Marina’s right, and from the look of the evidence we must assume she is, there’s going to be an abduction and murder before tomorrow night. We keep doing what we’re doing. Working on the boy, keeping him safe in hospital. Following the paper trail for the house’s ownership. And don’t forget about Adam Weaver. We’ve still got him to look into.’

He scanned them all once more. Had a sudden, intense flashback to his nightmare. That face, moving towards him, those dark, deep eyes, the blade coming down …

He jumped, shook himself out of it. Looked round. They were waiting for him to speak.

‘I want radar,’ he said. ‘On the space in between the two houses. Check for soundings. For bodies. That’s it. We can do this. Let’s go.’ Hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

Dismissed, they all rose, made for the door.

Phil saw Marina stand later than the rest. Pack her things slowly. She’s waiting for me, he thought. She wants to talk. Now. About what’s wrong.

She began to move towards him.

Phil waited. Steeling himself.

A tap on his shoulder. He turned. Glass. ‘Phil? Word in my office, please.’

The DCI didn’t look pleased. He turned, walked out.

Phil, giving Marina only the smallest of smiles, followed him.

46

D
onna opened her eyes. Tried to move her head. As she did so, a rod of pain pushed up through her spine. She gasped, cried out.

That was what she got, she thought, for sleeping inside a stolen car.

She turned over, groaning, rotating her shoulders as she did so, stretching her legs in the cramped space. Trying to coax her limbs into action, get the blood pumping again. Her body was now angled away from the window, into the car, looking towards the passenger seat. A pair of round blue eyes stared back at her.

Ben.

Scared, cold. Uncomprehending, but still trusting.

Donna didn’t know how that made her feel. She wasn’t the boy’s mother, so she shouldn’t have to feel responsible for him. But then she had dragged him away with her, so perhaps she should.

She sighed. All too fucking much.

He was still staring at her, shivering.

‘What’sa matter? You cold?’

He nodded, eyes unblinking, never leaving her face.

‘Told you to keep warm, didn’t I? Put more clothes on.’ She looked at him again. He seemed to be wearing all the clothes he had brought with him.

‘Auntie Donna … ’ His voice tremulous, wavering.

She cut him off. ‘I’ve told you before, Ben, I’m not your auntie.’ Another sigh. Irritation building with it. ‘I’m just Donna. Right?’

He nodded. ‘Donna … ’

‘What?’ The kid was becoming tedious.

‘When are we goin’ to see my mum?’

‘I’m … ’ She opened the car door. ‘I’m just goin’ for a smoke.’

She got out of the car, slowly unfolding herself out of her curled, cramped state. She shivered. Looked round. The September sun was rising high in the sky. Shining. She shivered again, pulled her jacket round her. Giving off light, but not heat.

She had no idea where she was. She had driven the car as fast and as far as she could from her house. But hadn’t known where to go. At first she had decided on a hotel; use the money she had taken from her attackers to pay for it. But that idea hadn’t lasted long. A hotel would be the first place they would look for her. Especially after she’d cut one of them. Her description would be out there, her face on all the news programmes, in the papers. The internet, even. So no. That was out.

But she had needed to go somewhere. Out of the town centre, through Stanway. She saw the sign for the turn-off to the zoo. Told Ben about it. He had asked if they could go there, and for a second she had thought seriously about it. Drive to the zoo. Catch the last hour before chucking-out time. Find somewhere to hide, spend the night there. Brilliant. Last place they would expect her to go. But that idea hadn’t lasted long either. Her mind had bombarded itself with all the things that could go wrong almost before she had thought of them.

So she had turned off at the new retail park roundabout, taken the road away from Colchester, down to the A12. To London and beyond. Resigned to putting as much distance between herself and the town as possible.

And on the way, going through Stanway, she had seen a turn-off. Between two tree-rich gardens in a row of nondescript houses. Wooded either side. On impulse, she had turned down it.

At first it was just a single-track country road. A few houses on one side, detached, exclusive-looking, she thought. The kind of thing she’d seen on
Grand Designs
. Big cars parked in front, 4x4s. Paula couldn’t understand that. All that money and they bought something hidden away, somewhere people couldn’t see. She wouldn’t do that, if she had the money. She’d buy the biggest, gaudiest house. Put lights on it. Round it. Make sure no one could miss the fucker. Make sure everyone knew she was minted. Wasn’t just some failure.

But anyway.

She had kept on down that road. Not looking back. Just seeing where it took her. The car swayed from side to side as the road became more uneven, as pockmarks turned to craters, tarmac ran out and became hard-packed dirt and stones. The trees thinned out too. Soon there were none. And the countryside opened up around them.

The road bisected two fields with a view of miles around. It was so pastoral and peaceful, so unlike Donna’s day-to-day life in Colchester, that she could have just parked up, stayed there. Looked out over the calm, serene landscape. Forever. But she didn’t. She kept going.

Trees began to multiply, and she was soon in a forest. The road stopped completely. And that was where she decided to spend the night.

Ben had complained he was hungry, so she had turned the car round, driven back to the retail park, ordered two McDonald’s. She knew she was taking a risk, but he was starting to complain and she knew he wouldn’t stop until he was fed, so it was a risk she had had to take.

Then back to the forest. And the night, with much pain and discomfort and hardly any sleep, became morning. Now she stood, smoking a fag, wondering just what the hell she had done.

Ben stared at her from inside the car, kneeling on the seat, face pressed against the window. She turned away from him. He opened the door, got out to join her.

‘Where’s my mum?’

Donna didn’t answer.

‘I want my mum. Where is she? You said we’d be meetin’ her.’

Had she? Had she said that? She wished she had brought something to drink. Or a bit of puff. Just to tide her over. Keep her going.

‘Where is she?’

God, that kid …

Donna had put up with him for the sake of Faith. She hadn’t thought of herself as gay. A lezzer. A dyke. A rugmuncher. She had done stuff, lezzie stuff before. Yeah, course she had. But that was for punters, for their enjoyment, their money. Not for fun. Faith had been her partner in all of that. Neither minded; they liked each other. Were good friends. Donna felt relaxed with Faith, open. Probably more so than with anyone else in her life. So when Daryl had been kicked to the kerb and Faith and Ben had nowhere to go, it had been the natural thing for them to move in with Donna. It was a small house. And Ben needed his own room. So it had been even more natural for Faith to move in with Donna. Share a room. Share a bed.

And do the kind of things they’d done for money, for the enjoyment of punters, for their own enjoyment. And if that made Donna a lezzer, a dyke, then so what? Whatever. Faith would never beat her up. Never take her money. Never force her out on the street to work while she sat at home or in the pub or spent the money she’d made trying to impress some slag.

And now Faith was gone. And Donna was all alone.

‘Where? Where is she?’

Donna turned, stared hard at the little boy. And something in her snapped. Some anger, long-dammed, needed sudden, sharp release. ‘She’s gone, right? Fuckin’ gone. She’s not comin’ back, ’cos she’s—’

She stopped. Looked at him. He was standing there like he had been hit. His mouth began to tremble, eyes began to tear over.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I … ’

The tears came. Huge, racking sobs came screaming out, totally unconscious and inconsolable, like only a child could do when faced with the biggest loss of his life. Donna realised that she felt exactly the same. And she could do nothing but join him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, gasping between sobs, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t … I didn’t mean to … ’

She hugged him. He let her. Reluctantly at first, then, realising he had nowhere else to go, collapsing into her.

‘I’m scared,’ he said eventually, once the tears had subsided.

‘So am I,’ Donna whispered. ‘So am I.’

He looked at her. ‘What are we goin’ to do now?’

It was almost too painful to return the look. But she had to. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I just don’t know … ’