The Restless Dead

21

I ran and tore open the door. Rain beat against me, plastering my shirt to my skin as I rushed outside. In the spill of light that came from the doorway I could make out the pale shape of the white Land Rover. The driver’s door was open, but no lights were on.

‘Rachel?’ I called, straining to see into the darkness.

‘I’m here, it’s—’

There was a scuffle and a gasp from the direction of the road. My eyes had started to adjust, and as I ran towards the sound I could make out two figures struggling in the shadows. Before I reached them the larger of the two broke away. I made a grab for it as it lurched past, but my fingers closed on oily, wet cloth. I caught a glimpse of wild eyes in a cadaverous face and then the figure pulled free. I slipped and went down on one knee on the mud as slapping footsteps disappeared into the rain.

‘David?’

I climbed to my feet as Rachel hurried over. ‘I’m here. Are you hurt?’

‘No, I’m… I’m fine, just…’ Her voice was unsteady. ‘That was Edgar.’

‘I know,’ I said, wiping mud off my hands. I’d recognized the gangling man even in the dark, and been close enough to smell his rank, animal odour. So much for him being harmless. ‘What happened?’

‘He just appeared when I was getting into the car. I yelled, so perhaps that startled him, because he grabbed hold of me and started gabbling nonsense. I tried to pull away, and that was when you came out.’

She sounded almost normal now. ‘You sure you’re OK?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, I’m fine, just a bit shaken. I don’t think he was trying to hurt me. He seemed more scared than anything.’

He wasn’t the only one, I thought, as my heart-rate began to slow. There was no sign of Edgar, but it was so dark he could have been standing ten feet away and I wouldn’t have known it. The rain drowned out any sound he might have made.

‘I’ve never seen him like that before. Do you think he’s all right?’ Rachel asked.

Edgar’s well-being hadn’t been my main concern until then, but she had a point. Whether he’d meant to hurt her or not, he wasn’t fit to be wandering around on a night like this. There had been enough tragedy already. I stared off into the darkness where he’d disappeared.

‘Have you any idea where he was heading?’

‘No, but it’s the wrong way for his house. And it’s high tide, so if he blunders off into the marshes it could be really bad.’

That settled it. It was hard enough trying to negotiate the Backwaters in daylight, and with the tide out. At night, with the creeks and ditches swollen and full, it didn’t bear thinking about. I sighed. ‘OK, I’ll go and look for him.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘There’s no need, I’ll find him.’

‘And then what? Drive into the creek again? You don’t know your way around here.’ She gave my chest a little push, but she was smiling. ‘You’re soaking. Go and get your coat while I start the car.’

I didn’t argue. Hurrying back into the boathouse, I took off my wet shirt and pulled on a sweater, then grabbed my jacket and went back outside. Rachel was already backing up the Land Rover, the beam of its headlights turning the rain into fine silver wire.

‘Does he often wander around at night?’ I asked as we pulled away.

Rachel slowed as she came to a bend, only accelerating when she saw there was no one in the road ahead. ‘Not as far as I know. I’ve come across him once or twice at dusk, but not this late. I don’t think even Edgar would go into the Backwaters in the dark.’

Yet here he was. And now an idea had started to form, something that should have occurred to me before if I hadn’t been so distracted by everything else that had been going on.

‘People around here know about Edgar, don’t they?’ I asked. ‘That he wanders around on the roads?’

‘Everyone around here knows everything about everybody,’ she said drily. ‘Edgar’s practically part of the scenery, nobody really notices him any more. But people generally know to watch out for him if they come over here. Unless they’re strangers like you, or…’

She trailed off as she made the connection. It had taken me long enough, and it was only a few days since I’d had to swerve to avoid knocking down Edgar myself.

If I’d been going faster I might not have been so lucky.

Rachel eased off the accelerator. ‘God, you don’t think that’s what happened to Stacey, do you? That she nearly hit Edgar?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.

But now it had occurred to me the idea was hard to shake. Lundy had said tyre marks showed the car had swerved on a bend, so the assumption was that Coker’s daughter been going too fast and lost control. Which was entirely possible. Or she could have taken the bend and suddenly found Edgar in front of her. At the speed she had been going when I’d seen her, there would have been no time to think, only react. The instinct to swerve would be automatic.

‘You said he was gabbling something. Could you tell what it was?’

‘Not really. It sounded like something about lights on the water. Or in the water. I couldn’t make much sense of it.’

I knew Edgar’s words might not mean anything. They were probably just the ramblings of a disturbed mind, and it would be a mistake to read too much into them. Except that something else had occurred to me by now. I thought back to the previous evening, when the little white car had buffeted me with its slipstream as it tore past. As it disappeared into the dusk, I’d seen a yellow glow lighting up the overhanging hawthorn tunnel ahead of it.

The car’s headlights had been on.

There was no more time to worry about that now, though. Up ahead of us, Edgar’s shambling figure was caught in the Land Rover’s full beam.

He was in the middle of the road, scurrying along with his head down. He must have noticed the headlights but his only concession was to hunch his head deeper into his shoulders. The Land Rover grumbled as Rachel slowed, winding down her window as she eased up behind him.

‘Edgar? Edgar, can you stop, please?’ There was no response; if anything he seemed to hurry his pace. Rachel breathed out. ‘Bloody hell. Now what?’

‘Let me out.’

She stopped but left the engine running. I got out of the car, blinking in the cold wind and rain as I hurried after the retreating figure picked out in the headlights.

‘Hello, Edgar.’ I kept my tone easy and conversational as I caught up with him. ‘Are you OK?’

Nothing. He kept his eyes averted as he carried on walking, his breath steaming in the headlights’ cold glare. The lank hair was plastered over his skull and water streamed down his face. Despite the rain, his long coat was unbuttoned, the greasy oilskin flapping like a loose sail in the wind.

I moved in front of him until I was walking backwards. Now I was facing into the headlights as Rachel crawled along behind us in the Land Rover. Squinting against the glare, I spread out my hands in a gesture I hoped was calming as I blocked his path.

‘It’s late to be out. Where are you going?’

The frightened eyes flicked to me then darted away again. He’d slowed but tried to move around me. I backed up, trying to keep the same distance between us without seeming threatening.

‘Rachel’s in the car,’ I said. ‘You remember talking to her earlier? She’d like to talk to you some more. About the lights you saw.’

That got a response. He slowed to a halt, and now I could see what Rachel meant about him being agitated. I didn’t feel any threat from him but he looked like a skittish animal, on the verge of bolting.

‘What lights were they, Edgar?’

His mouth worked noiselessly. He seemed calmer but still avoided eye contact, looking around as though searching for a way out. Behind him, I saw Rachel get out of the car. She came over, leaving the engine running.

‘Hi, Edgar,’ she said easily. ‘Can you tell us where you saw the lights?’

His eyes darted to the side. ‘In the water.’

‘In the water? Do you mean they were on the water, like a boat?’

‘In the water.’

Rachel glanced at me, and again I knew we were thinking the same thing. ‘Were they car headlights, Edgar? Was it a car you saw?’

The pallid head bobbled in a nod.

‘When did you see them?’ I asked. Headlights wouldn’t last long underwater without shorting out. If he’d seen Stacey Coker’s car, he must have been there when it went into the creek, or very soon after.

Edgar didn’t answer. His eyes darted around again. Rachel briefly touched my arm, indicating that I should let her question him.

‘It’s all right, Edgar. Nobody’s cross, we just want to hear about the lights. Who was in the car?’

He pressed his bony hands together, clasping them flat between his legs as though in inverted prayer. ‘I saw her hair.’

Rachel hesitated, confused. ‘Whose hair?’

‘Like sunshine.’

I looked to see if Rachel was making any sense of this. She gave a helpless shrug. ‘Was there a girl in the car, Edgar? A blond girl, is that what you mean?’

‘It wasn’t her.’ His agitation was growing. He started shuffling forward. ‘Got to go.’

Rachel gently reached out her hand. ‘Please, Edgar, it’s important. There was a girl in the car, wasn’t there? Tell us what happened to her.’

‘No, I didn’t…’

He stumbled forward again but Rachel didn’t move. ‘Was she hurt?’

Edgar was rocking from foot to foot, misery and tension written all over him. ‘She’s asleep. I’ve got to go…’

‘Asleep where? Where is she, Edgar? At your house? Did you take her to your house?’

But Edgar had done talking. Rain dripped from the end of his nose as he stood with his head bowed. He was soaked through, and Rachel and I weren’t much better.

‘Come on, let’s get him home,’ I said.

I thought we might have difficulty getting him into the car, but after a moment’s resistance he came along meekly enough. The inside of the Land Rover filled with Edgar’s smell as he huddled in the back seat, dripping wet and hunched over like a living question mark.

‘I don’t know what to think,’ Rachel said, putting the car into gear. She switched on the radio, letting incongruous beat-heavy music mask our voices from the man behind. She turned a knob on the dashboard until it was replaced by a calming piano. ‘When he said “It wasn’t her.” It didn’t sound like he was talking about Stacey.’

I glanced into the back seat, trying to decipher some meaning from Edgar’s words. ‘Was his daughter blond as well?’

‘You mean what he said about hair like sunshine? I’ve no idea, I just know she’s supposed to have gone missing. But that was years ago, and she’d have been a little girl. He can’t have thought Stacey was her, could he?’

I was at a loss, but something about this made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I’d seen enough of Edgar to know he was acting strangely, even by his standards. He wasn’t just upset, he was frightened. Frightened enough to be heading away from his house on a filthy night like this.

Whatever had happened, it was bad.

The windscreen wipers beat across the glass with a metronomic squeak as I took out my phone. Rachel looked across as I dialled.

‘Who are you calling?’

‘Lundy.’

Or trying to, at least. The signal fluttered teasingly and then died. I kept trying as Rachel drove through the dark Backwaters, slowing to bump over a timbered bridge, then accelerating through muddy puddles that filled the road. I was glad Rachel had insisted on coming with me. The Land Rover was built for these sorts of conditions, and I’d never have found my way around here on my own.

I still hadn’t managed to get through to Lundy by the time Rachel turned off the lane. We drove down a rutted track flanked by overgrown brambles. It ended at a ramshackle old house, and when I saw it the sense of foreboding I’d been feeling intensified. It was in darkness, a tall but ill-proportioned brick cottage with cracked and boarded-up windows. Large old trees surrounded it, hemming it in behind gnarled trunks and dead branches.

Rachel turned off the engine. For a few moments only the sound of rain on the car roof broke the silence, then she turned round in her seat to face Edgar. He hadn’t moved during the journey, and showed no sign of wanting to do so now.

‘Here we are, Edgar. Home.’ There was no response. ‘Come on, don’t you want to go inside?’

He shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself. Rachel gave me a worried glance before turning back to him.

‘Why not? What’s wrong?’

Edgar hugged himself tighter, burrowing his chin on to his neck to avoid looking at the darkened house.

‘I think he should stay here,’ I said quietly, looking at the dark house. ‘Do you have a torch?’

There was one on my phone but it wasn’t very bright, and I’d feel happier keeping my phone free anyway. Rachel rummaged in the cluttered storage compartment and produced a heavy rubberized flashlight. I didn’t say anything when she got out of the car with me. I knew I’d be wasting my breath, and I didn’t want to leave her alone with Edgar anyway. I was going to suggest locking the Land Rover while we went inside, but she didn’t need to be told. If Edgar noticed the clunk of the doors locking, or realized what it meant, he gave no sign.

Without the car headlights, it was pitch black outside. The rain had almost stopped but the wind still gusted petulantly, making the unseen leaves and grasses whisper all around. When I turned on the torch, its beam threw a shaft of light across a tangle of briars and weeds. Rachel shivered as I shone it on to the dark house.

‘God, I really don’t want to go in there. Do you think we should?’

I didn’t want to either, but I didn’t see that there was any choice. Something had scared Edgar out of his house, and if there was even a small chance that Stacey Coker was inside I couldn’t ignore it. Or wait until the police arrived. If he’d brought her back here she must be seriously hurt, or she’d have contacted someone by now. And Edgar’s words still rang in my head.

She’s asleep.

‘Wait here. I’m going to take a look inside,’ I told Rachel. There was probably no need to speak quietly, but I did anyway.

She gave a nervous laugh, keeping her voice low as well. ‘Yeah, I’m really going to stand out here by myself.’

I shone the torch around the overgrown garden as we made our way to the front door. The beam picked out a series of objects in the grass. Shells, rocks and pieces of driftwood stuck up from the ground at irregular intervals. I thought they’d been left randomly until I saw an oyster shell protruding from a new-looking mound of soil, and realized what it was.

‘Edgar’s patients,’ Rachel said.

The ones that didn’t get better, at least. As I moved the torch a pair of gleaming eyes shone back at me from the darkness. An owl blinked at us from inside what looked like an old rabbit hutch. The bird and animal cemetery disappeared into the darkness as I shone the torch back towards the house.

The front door had long since lost any paint that might have once covered it. Warped and decrepit, it hung skewed in its frame. The handle rattled loosely in my hand when I turned it. The door wasn’t locked. It juddered open on rusted hinges, and an ammoniac stink of animal faeces spilled out.

‘God,’ Rachel muttered, wrinkling her nose.

A dark hallway confronted us. I played the torch over the peeling and mildewed wallpaper and bare floorboards. There was no furniture, only a single, broken chair. The floor was covered with old newspapers and mounds of what looked like faecal matter I hoped was animal.

‘Stacey?’ I called.

There was no answer, but now I could hear faint bumps and fluttering coming from further inside.

‘Here, let me try the lights,’ Rachel said, moving past me to reach for a switch on the wall. She flicked it a few times, but nothing happened. ‘OK, so much for that idea.’

Careful of where I walked, I stepped across the threshold. Rachel followed close behind as I went down the hallway. The smell was even worse inside, and I felt ashamed and angry that Edgar had been left to live alone in those conditions. Glad of the torch’s heft, I went to the nearest door and pushed it open.

The quiet was shattered by an ear-splitting shriek.

Rachel grabbed my arm, making the torch beam jerk crazily. Caught in the light, a seagull glared haughtily from inside a makeshift wooden cage.

‘Jesus…’ Rachel let go of me but stayed close.

I shone the torch around the bizarre scene in the room. Now the source of the noises I’d heard was explained. It was a kitchen, or at least had been. The encrusted sink was almost buried under filthy dishes and empty food cans, and the walls were stacked high with cages. Glowing eyes stared back at us from ancient bird and hamster cages, rabbit hutches and even an old fish tank. Most were occupied by seabirds, but there were small animals as well: rodents, rabbits, a hedgehog and even a young badger, all of them injured, some with splinted wings or legs. Inside the grimy oven, which was missing its door, a young fox watched us from behind a screen of chicken wire.

‘How can he have lived like this?’ Rachel asked in a hushed voice. ‘Wouldn’t somebody have known?’

Apparently not. Leaving Edgar’s menagerie to the shadows, we went back into the hallway. I shone the torch along its length, wondering if I should check the bedrooms upstairs next. I didn’t relish the prospect.

‘Wait, shine the torch back,’ Rachel said, pointing. ‘There, on the floor.’

Picked out like a theatrical prop in the beam of light, an object was lying by a half-open door.

A woman’s shoe.

It lay on its side, the ankle strap broken and the white leather mud-stained. I could hear Rachel breathing beside me, fast and tense. I shone the torch back on the doorway, trying to see through the gap into the room.

‘Stacey?’

There was no answer. Rachel stayed close behind me as I went down the hall. I thought about telling her to stay where she was, but I knew she wouldn’t take any notice. I put my hand on the door.

‘Stacey?’ I said again, gently pushing it open.

There were more cages in here, though not so many, and most of these were empty. A grubby tapestry hung on one wall, embroidered with the first verse of ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. A large chesterfield stood with its back to the doorway, stuffing sprouting like fungus from the cracked leather.

A bare foot hung over the end. In the torchlight its toenails looked black, but I knew from seeing them in daylight they were varnished bright red.

‘Stay here,’ I told Rachel.

She didn’t argue, but I wasn’t trying to spare her. I knew from the unnatural stillness of the foot what I was going to find, and the fewer people who disturbed this place now the better.

I didn’t want to go inside myself, but I had to make sure. I took a few more careful paces into the room, until I could see what was on the sofa.

In the light of the torch, Coker’s daughter lay splayed and unmoving on the cushions. Her blond hair framed a face that was unnaturally swollen and dark. The open eyes bulged as though in surprise, the sclera shot through with broken blood vessels.

I shone the torch away, sickened. As the darkness hid her again, I took a few steadying breaths, shaken by what I’d seen. I’d known when I’d gone into the house that there was a good chance she’d be dead. I’d been prepared for that.

What I hadn’t been prepared for was that Stacey Coker was naked from the waist down.