Birthdays for the dead

Chapter 44

The harsh crack reverberated around the room, deafeningly loud.

Nothing no pain. The bastards were winding me up, using blanks. It was all a big FUCK.

Fire ripped up my leg, radiating out from my right foot like an earthquake of molten metal. AAARGH, fucking FUCK I jerked in the chair, trying to get away, but the pain was still there, following me. Screaming into Ed s huge callused hand.

Eugene took the gun from me and dropped it back in its zip-lock bag.

Fuckers

Ed let go and I grabbed the seat, my whole body rigid. FUCKING SHIT! AAAAAAAARGH! BASTARD. I slumped forwards, clutching my right foot. AAAAAAGH, BASTARDING FUCK! The hole in the top of the shoe was tiny ringed around with flecks of grey, like a dark sunburst. JESUS! The underside was wet, covered in grit from the floor. Bright red dripped through my fingers, pattering onto the dirt.

AAAAAAAAAARGH

All right, that s enough self-pity.

Self-pity? You fucking bastards! You fucking shit-eating wankers!

Now, now, Detective Constable. Terri held up my wallet again, gave me a dazzling smile. You ve got more than enough money here; would you like to buy another bullet?

NO!

I shook my head, clenched my teeth, hissed the breath in and out, in and out.

Oh dear Jesus that hurt

Would you like something for the pain?

Yes. Forcing the word out like a gallstone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

Ed, would you be so kind as to fix Constable Henderson up?

Pleasure. He grabbed my arm, held it out and twisted clockwise, so the elbow was locked, palm up. Ed dug his thumb into my skin, making a vein stand out, then pulled the safety cap off a syringe with his teeth.

I don t want

Shhh, it ll make everything all better.

No, it

The needle slid in. A small sting as he pressed the plunger.

There we go. Terri counted more money from my wallet onto the table. That should be enough to cover our heroin starter kit. Don t worry it s rat-poison free. She smiled. Now, why don t we give you a lift out of town?

Warmth sizzled through my body, radiating out from my heart. Making the walls pulse. As if the room was breathing

Terri s mouth was moving, but the words didn t make any sense, making far-off muzzy noises in the gloom.

Foot didn t hurt any more.

Right, Haggis, you got everythin? Eugene stuck his hands under my armpits and levered me out of the Range Rover. Got me upright. Let go then grabbed me again as the ground wobbled beneath my feet. Whoa there, still not got your sea legs, eh? He leaned me back against the side of a wheelie bin.

It was a lay-by, somewhere in the darkness outside Bath. Not even on the main road traffic thundered somewhere off in the distance, just audible over the hissing in my ears.

Mmm OK. Mouth wasn t working properly. Numb, like the rest of me.

Right, I m lettin go

This time I stayed upright.

Good stuff. Open your hand.

I squinted at him, but he wouldn t stay in focus. Nnnn Gnn shoot me gen.

Don t be daft. Eugene dragged my hand up then tipped two little shiny things into my palm. Bullets. He squeezed my fingers around the gleaming brass casings, then took the bullets back and dropped them into a clear plastic freezer bag. Zip-locked it shut. There you go. we get these, and you get this. He slid a plastic pencil case into my jacket pocket, then slapped me gently on the cheek. Catch you later, Haggis.

Eugene peeled off his blue nitrile gloves, disappeared behind the car and climbed back in behind the wheel.

Terri buzzed the passenger window down. She d changed out of the dress into a yellow shirt, black denim jacket, and baseball cap. Well, it s been fun, but in case you re thinking of hopping off to the nearest police station to file a grievance: please remember, yours are the only fingerprints on the gun.

I stared at her. Blinked in slow motion.

We have a dead slut with your bullet in her. And who knows where the gun will turn up next: armed robbery, dead cop, series of murdered prostitutes? A wink. You take care of that foot.

The Range Rover growled away from the lay-by, taillights glowing like the eyes of an evil cat. Shrinking. Then gone.

All alone.

All alone in the dark.

Got to get back to Bath: find the car. Go home

My right foot dragged across the tarmac. Pins-and-needles wrapped in silver duct tape, wrapped in a towel, wrapped in more duct tape, wrapped in a heavy-duty bin-bag. Step, scuff Step, scuff Step, scuff, stumble. The ground rushed up to catch me.

THUMP.

Fuck.

I lay on the road, in the dark and the cold, panting. Swearing.

Katie

Crying.

A thin frigid drizzle settled onto my face.

BASTARDS!

Deep in my pocket, my mobile rang. Took me three goes to drag it out. DR MCFRUITLOOP flickered on the screen, then disappeared. Gone to voicemail.

My legs wouldn t work.

I fumbled with the buttons for a while, and finally her recorded message crackled out of the speaker. Ash? Hello, it s Alice, Alice McDonald? OK: so Henry was right about everything the Scenes Examination Branch have dug up all the spots he marked on the map and they ve found the other bodies. All of them. A pause. Somewhere in the distance, a fox shrieked.

We ve got eleven sets of remains in total so there really was another victim five years ago. I wanted I thought you d like to know. Call me back when you get this Please?

End of message. To delete this message, press three.

They d found Rebecca.

I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. All these years, and my little girl was finally dead. Rain soaked through my hair, into my clothes, cold and damp on my numb skin.

Katie and Rebecca

No.

Get up: still got till five o clock tomorrow.

Get up.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

Up. NOW.

I hauled myself onto my knees, then up onto my jittery feet. Step, scuff Step, scuff Step, scuff

Find him and kill him Step, scuff Step, scuff Wrap my aching fingers around his throat and squeeze Step, scuff Step, scuff Tie him to a chair in the basement Step, scuff Step, scuff Carve shapes into his skin, listen to him scream Step, scuff Step, scuff

Headlights glittered in the darkness, getting closer.

Step, scuff Step, scuff

The car slowed, then rolled to a halt, right in front of me.

Step, scuff Step, scuff

The driver s door opened, and a light came on inside.

Are you all right?

I blinked, rubbed a hand across my eyes.

It was a kid: skinny, blond floppy hair, big gap between his front teeth. Dawson Whitaker, Terri s son.

I screwed up my face till the car came into focus too. A shitty Renault with dents down the side. My car. That s my car.

I m sorry. He opened the passenger door, hurried over and took hold of my elbow.

Step, scuff Step, scuff

Watch your head.

I collapsed into the seat. Want to go home

Dawson licked his lips, fidgeted for a moment. Then got back in the car.

It wasn t my fault. The kid changed down, drifting into the outside lane to overtake a motor home. I knew something was up Mum won t let me go to rugby practice without protection, not after what happened to Dad But it s usually just Eugene, or Ed, or Derek, never all three

A motorway sign loomed out of the darkness: South Wales M4; Bristol (West), South West, Midlands (M5); Bristol M32.

Dawson drove past the junction. Can t take you into Bristol Mum does all her business there, if we show up at A amp;E she ll know in fifteen minutes. We re going to Gloucester.

I sagged further back into my seat. No hospitals

You should settle down. Try to sleep or something.

Fat chance. How did you find me?

He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. What happened to your foot?

An act of atonement. I made a gun from my fingers and pointed it at him. Bang.

Mum always dumps them on the way to work. I thought Well, if you were still alive Streetlights sparkled in the distance. We overtook a scabby Transit van. Did the Birthday Boy really take your daughter?

You drive pretty good for a wee boy.

I m thirteen. I m not a child.

Right.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, twisting his hands as if he was trying to wring its neck. All he needed was arthritis, a dead daughter, and a hole in his foot.

The steering column s plastic casing was cracked open like a big grey pistachio nut. Wires stuck out, their shiny copper ends twisted together. You hotwired my car

Dawson took a deep breath. Then the words came out in a rush, like a shaken can of Coke. The Birthday Boy didn t kill Brenda.

I sighed. Let my head fall against the cool glass of the passenger window. It was your mum, wasn t it? She didn t approve.

Thought she was a gold-digger, but Mum s wrong.

So she killed Brenda.

Silence.

No. Because I got there first.

The street was quiet and dark as Dawson pulled the Renault off the road and onto the square of gravel behind a bland concrete building: three storeys tall, lights glowing in the windows.

I blinked. Arms were like lead, legs too. Probably lost a fair bit of blood.

He half helped, half dragged me out of the car. Can you walk?

Isn t Yeah. Step, scuff Step, scuff

He lifted my arm and hooked it over his shoulder. Not much further.

The back door opened with a Yale key and we hobbled along a narrow corridor to a flight of stairs, going down. Bloody hell, why did it have to be stairs?

Step, thunk Step, thunk Using my heel to take the weight.

A blue door lay at the bottom with a letterbox in it. Dawson took out his keys again, fiddled with the locks, and we were through into a little basement flat filled with the sticky warm smell of baking.

He closed the door and locked it again three heavy deadbolts, and a metal rod that hooked into a big steel plate on the door and an eyelet in the floorboards.

We had cannabis farms back home with weaker security.

Dawson took off his coat and hung it on a hook. Bren? Bren, it s me.

A voice from down the hall. How was practice?

He led me through into a little kitchen, painted a cheery shade of yellow. A young girl stood in front of an electric cooker, stirring something in a pot. Fish fingers and apple crumble, if you re She turned long blonde hair, with a razor-sharp fringe like her mum.

The smile on Brenda Chadwick s face disappeared. She dropped her wooden spoon and cupped her swollen belly with both hands.

Who s this?

Dawson held up his hands. It s OK, I can explain.

You d better!

A cup of hot milky tea and a plate of fish fingers, mash potato, and spaghetti hoops sat on the table in front of me. Congealing while Dawson and Brenda wolfed down their dinner.

Brenda scooped up the last of her hoops, then sat back stroking the top of her bulge. So you see, we couldn t stay. If Dawson s mum found out I was pregnant she d kill our baby. And me.

Could ve run away.

Dawson shook his head, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

You don t know Mum. She d find us, wherever we went.

Brilliant. I pushed my plate away. But not if she thought Brenda was already dead.

That s why I said I saw Bren getting grabbed. He stared down at his hands. Mum didn t used to be like this, it s only since they crippled Dad

Just a working mother looking after the family business.

Brenda stared at me. It was my idea. They printed that Inverness girl s card in the papers, and we made our photo look like that.

You faked the abduction, you faked the card, and you got a flat in Gloucester to hide in.

Dawson nodded. A man takes care of his family.

A pair of thirteen-year-olds playing house. Yeah, that was going to last.

Brenda smiled up at him. I know it s not much, but it s ours. Dawson skims a little from his mum every week: enough to pay the rent and buy things for the baby.

I m saving up for a deposit. We ll have a real home soon.

My phone rang. Dawson and Brenda flinched. I let it go through to voicemail. What about your mum and dad?

She lowered her head. This way, she won t hurt them either.

After dinner, Dawson helped me through into the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the toilet while Brenda cut away the scuffed black-plastic bag, then the duct tape underneath. The towel was stained dark red it splatched down into the yellow bathtub, sending little droplets of blood up the sides.

Oh dear She licked her lips, rubbed the fingertips of her Marigold gloves together. Stared at the dripping mass of duct tape and leather. Do you want me to pull the shoe off, or should I, you know: cut it?

Now the bathroom smelled of fireworks and black pudding.

Cut it. It s ruined anyway.

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. Bits of shoe clattered into the tub.

A clunk. A hiss. Then warmth spread across my foot.

I peeked.

Brenda played the shower head back and forth, washing off thick slugs of congealed blood. She puffed out her cheeks, brows creased.

Come on, Bren, you can do this

Pink appeared through the red and black, then pale flesh. The whole thing was swollen and distended, like a massive wasp sting, centred around a dark circle not much bigger than a garden pea an inch from where the foot became toes. The starburst of black that had marked the shoe was there around the bullet hole too. Little black flecks of powder tattooed into the skin. Tiny slivers of cream poked out of the swollen mess. Bone.

Pink oozed out, staining the water.

She looked up at me. My sewing s not very good, but I ve got disinfectant?

Clean it up and bandage it. It ll be fine. I tried for a smile while I bled into her bathtub.

You re doing good. You ll make a great mother.

Gangrene wasn t fatal any more, right?

Rain drifted down, shimmering in the streetlights. Dawson shuffled from foot to foot. I m sorry, I really am. You came here because of us, and I m sorry we can t help save your daughter. He dug into his pocket, and produced a clear plastic bag with a dozen little round pills in the bottom. Amphetamines: they ll help keep you awake. And I ve put a full tank of petrol in the car.

I took the pills, slipped them into my jacket. You can t keep skimming product from your mum, someone s going to notice.

His chin came up. A man s got to provide for his family.

Parents fuck you up. I climbed in behind the Renault s wheel. You re a good kid, Dawson: don t turn out like your mum.

He grinned at me. Don t worry I look shit in tights.

Headlights streaked past on the other side of the motorway, leaving glowing trails behind them that crackled and pulsed in time with my throbbing foot. Wasn t easy working the accelerator and brake with my left, but it was do-able. Just.

Bloody heroin was wearing off. My jackhammer heart wouldn t slow down, no matter how much I ground my teeth. Bloody amphetamines. And the high blood pressure wasn t exactly helping the hole in my foot either. But at least I was still going

The windscreen wipers groaned and squealed back and forth in the drizzle, sounding like angry crows waiting to tear out my eyes.

Have to stop soon and get petrol. Take some of the Naproxen, Diclofenac, and Tramadol I d rescued from the house. Keep the pain down far enough to drive.

According to the dashboard clock it was a little after half ten. An hour and a half till midnight. Seventeen hours from then till five o clock Monday evening. One and a half plus seventeen was I ground the heel of my hand into my eye. Why did the headlights have to be so sodding bright? Eighteen and a half.

Eighteen and a half hours until the Birthday Boy started cutting chunks off my little girl.

I shifted my left foot slightly, keeping the Renault at a steady seventy up the M6. Flashing my warrant card might have worked on the way down, but that was before I had pupils like huge black buttons and a bullet hole in my foot.

Preston went by on the left-hand side, nothing more than lights in the darkness and a name on a sign that glistened with rain.

Eighteen and a half hours.

My phone blared in my pocket. I dug it out: Henry. I pressed the button.

Is isn t working any more The words were all slurred, running into one another.

You found Rebecca.

I ve been I ve been trying to think But it s so difficult I m so sorry, Ash, so so sorry. Unbelievable: I d seen him down a whole bottle of Bells in one sitting and still look completely sober. I want to want to save her, but it I can t get I don t know what he wants

Henry, how much have you had to drink?

I can t do it any any more. I m Should have stayed in Shetland. Ash, why why did you make me come? A little sob. She s dead It isn t I can t.

Fuck s sake, Henry I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. You re not the only one having a shite day, OK? Grow up.

Something roared past me in the outside lane, making the crappy little Renault lurch.

I should should ve caught him years ago. Is all my fault. Is no. Slurping, gulping, then a hissing breath. I didn t mean to I m sorry, Ash, I m sorry. Is all my fault

Put the bloody bottle down, you useless drunken old bastard: I need your help! Katie s still out there. There s still time. We have to find him.

Stupid, uselesssssss ol man Should ve should ve died years ago.

Henry!

Everyone I know everyone s dead.

A clunk, and then muffled crying.

Thanks, Henry. Thanks a fucking heap.

Monday 21st November