Left You Dead

55

Roy Grace lay awake for a long while, unable to sleep. Partly because of the uncomfortable camp beds they had been given, but also the nightmare unfolding in the hospital. Bruno was almost certainly brain dead.

His thoughts went back to the last conversation he’d had with his son as he’d dropped him off at school in the morning.

Did you know that the ancient Egyptians, when they died and were mummified, had their favourite pets killed and mummified, to go in the tomb with them?

Do you think they did that because they wanted company in their tombs or because they worried their pets would miss them too much — or that no one would take the same care of the animals they did?

It was 3 a.m. Somewhere out in the darkness of the city he heard a pitiful squealing sound. A creature in utter terror. It went on and on. An urban fox taking its prey. He’d heard that sound several times before and it always distressed him, but tonight he thought bitterly, Well, at least there’s two of our hens you won’t be taking.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had earlier, with Inspector James Biggs of the Road Policing Unit, and the statement he’d related from the witness who saw Bruno’s accident.

What if he had done it deliberately to end all this? Did he kill the hens? Because in his confused mind he was worried they would miss him too much?

Trying to turn his thoughts back to the Paternosters, he eventually lapsed into sleep, awaking sometime later from a nightmare in which Cassian Pewe was holding two dead hens up from lengths of string and shouting at Grace that it was all his fault.

Finally, shortly before 5.30 a.m., after lying for ages, tossing from side to side, wide awake, he crept out of the bed and along to the bathroom where he was able to shower and clean his teeth. When he returned, Cleo was still asleep.

He kept thinking about Bruno’s obsession, ever since he’d come to live with them, with serial killers. But what the hell did strangling his two favourite hens have to do with anything? Anticipating his death? Or what? Was it definitely Bruno or was it someone else who had killed the hens?

A dark thought struck him. Was that just practice, before something on a larger scale? Something human?

Just before 6 a.m., Cleo stirred and reached for her phone.

‘I’m messaging Darren,’ she said. ‘Telling him I won’t be in today. I’ll stay with you here.’

‘Are you sure?’

She kissed him. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I think we’re going to need each other.’