What you looking for?
A diary. Address book. Something like that.
Thump. A black leather journal landed on the duvet. It was held shut with a black ribbon.
Logan picked it up, weighed it in his hand. Where was it?
Chalmers pointed at the bookcase. Top shelf, next to the collected Roald Dahl.
Left in full view, where anyone could find it? Bizarre.
He undid the ribbon and flicked through the pages to the last entry. It was dated three weeks ago, the day before she disappeared. He held it out. Read.
OK. . Er. . Chalmers dug out her glasses and slipped them on. Today was a good day, I didnt cry once, and Mum made tuna casserole for tea. Jemma and Penny want to go see a band on Saturday night, but Ive got a history test to revise for, so I dont think I can go. . A sniff. She looked up from the pages. Nothing very dramatic. Nothing that says, Im running away to set up house with my boyfriend. Chalmers flipped back a few pages. Here shes talking about watching TV. . Back another two. They went to the shops and bought some new socks and she got a book. . Further back. She wants to have a couple of friends over for dinner, but her mum wont let her, says theyre a bad influence. And Agnes is actually OK with that. Chalmers curled her top lip. Kids got no spine.
Does she mention Anthony Chung at all?
Not so far. Mind you. . Chalmers nodded at the neatly ordered bookcase, then the tidy desk, then the chest of drawers with a single porcelain figurine of a dragon on top of it perfectly centred in a lace doily. Doesnt exactly come off as a wild child, does she? Even her books are alphabetically arranged by author. When I was her age I was getting blootered every weekend with Duncan Peters in his parents summerhouse, while they were out getting the weekly shop from Asda.
Logan stood. So she was keeping secrets from the diary?
With a nosy mum like that? Chalmers closed the book and tied the ribbon. Or maybe Agnes is just really, really boring. . Frown. You notice theres no photos in here? No birthday parties, or holiday snaps, or hanging out with friends? Just book and movie posters?
Parents seem genuinely worried about her. Maybe a bit too much?
Think theyve killed her and buried her in the basement?
Wouldnt be the first time someone did it.
Chalmers slid the diary back on the shelf. Is it just me, or is there something. . wrong with the room? You know, like. .
Silence.
Like what?
Dont know. Like someone doesnt really live here? Its too ordered, too tidy, there isnt any personal stuff. She picked a stuffed tiger from the group on the bed. Look at these: none of them are worn, or tatty, or threadbare. Theyve never been loved, theyre just things. She gave the tiger a hug. Maybe the thing thats missing is the childhood?
Logan looked down at the tidy little room. Or maybe her mum just tidies the hell out of everything any time Agnes goes out? Shes the type. And what sort of freak calls their kid Agnes for Gods sake? Should report them to child protection. He took the tiger from her and dumped it back on the bed. Five more minutes with the parents, then were out of here.
Yes, Guv. She followed him out of the bedroom.
Tomorrow you can get on to the bus stations and the airport and the ferry terminal have someone knock up Have you seen Agnes? posters. He started down the stairs. Then go round all her friends. I want to know if she and Anthony Chung talked about going anywhere.
10
Logan stopped at the foot of the stairs.
The voices coming from the lounge were muffled by the closed door, but it was easy enough to hear Agness mum and dad arguing about whose fault it was that shed run away. An eighteen-year-old girl whose mother poked her nose into everything, who wouldnt let her have friends over, who went through her things every time she was out. No wonder shed legged it the first chance she got.
There was a cupboard under the stairs, the door a blank slab of white. Itd been fitted with a bolt on the outside, held shut with a brass padlock. The kind that had tumblers instead of a key. He squinted at the architrave, the words AGNESS ROOM were just visible scratched into the wood, then rendered almost invisible by layer upon layer of gloss paint.
He gave the padlock a tug. Solid enough. But the trouble with these tumbler locks, especially the cheaper makes, was how easily you could crack the combination by levering the dials apart while you turned them, feeling for the click. . There. Then the next one. . Two more to go, and the hasp popped free of the lock.
Chalmers stared at him. How did you do that?
Gets easier when theyre used a lot. Loosens everything up. Logan drew the bolt, and swung the door open.
Inside, the little cupboard had been turned into a little room. A single mattress filled the available floor space, no sheets, just a sleeping bag and two stuffed toys: a teddy bear that looked as if one more go in the washing machine would finish it off, and a once-white rabbit turned Frankensteins monster with random-coloured patches and big clumsy stitching.
A bookshelf sat at the tall end of the wedge-shaped cupboard, with more paperbacks, and plastic action figures: wizards, witches, and vampires. Half a dozen grey and black roses were long dead in a vase, tied up with a black ribbon. Very cheery.
He beckoned Chalmers over. This look more like it?
She climbed inside, kneeling on the mattress as she poked through the books on the shelf. Harry Potters got a lot to answer for.
Shes eighteen.
Yeah. . Chalmers pulled a hardback from the collection and frowned at it. Shes got this same book upstairs. The front cover was some sort of dragon thing curled around a woman dressed like a gypsy. Chalmers opened it. Raised an eyebrow. Then turned it so the innards were facing Logan. Interesting.
The book had been hollowed out. She pulled out a spiral-bound notebook, flicked through a few pages. Oh dear. .
What?
Rowan looked at him lovingly. Im really glad you bit me Edward, she said enthusiastically, this way we can be together forever when we get to magic school! He smiled at her knowingly, and thought about how much he loved her, because she was perfect. I know, he said romantically, his eyes smouldering like a million suns falling into a million black holes, I cant think of anyone Id rather battle the Dark Lord of the Werewolves with than you! Youre so much cleverer than that little swot Hermione. And she knew he meant it, because she was the only one who could make his cold dead heart beat again. . Chalmers turned the next couple of pages, pursed her lips. Oh, look at that. Then they have sex on the carriage floor while Harry watches and plays with his wand. Then he sticks it up Edwards. . She shuddered, put the thing back in the book and slammed it shut. God, I hate slashfic.
Slashfic?
Think really bad fan fiction, only you have everyone shagging each other. Its kind of. . She looked over Logans shoulder. Mrs Garfield, did Agnes spend a lot of time in here?
Agness mum was standing by the open living-room door, arms folded across her chest. We keep that cupboard locked.
So Agnes wasnt allowed-
She was obsessed with those bloody wizard books when she was younger. Shed. . When she was little shed sneak in there and play. I know we shouldnt have indulged her, but we did. Keep meaning to clear it out, but every time I tried, shed burst into tears and scream till she was sick. Mrs Garfield narrowed her eyes, then looked away down the hall. What kind of grown woman wants to be a wee wizard boy in a stupid book?
Logan pulled on a smile. Dont suppose theres any chance of a cup of tea, is there? DS Chalmers will lend a hand, wont you, DS Chalmers?
She looked up at him from the cupboard. I-
Excellent. Milk and two for me, thanks. He stood back so she could climb out. I just need to make a couple of calls get the ball rolling then Ill be right through.
You want tea? Mrs Garfields mouth hung open. Youve not done anything yet!
Like I said, I need to make a few calls. And DS Chalmers needs to ask you some questions about Agness friends.
Chalmers blinked. I do?. . Oh, right, yes, thats right. Questions. Er, shall we?
As soon as theyd disappeared into the kitchen, Logan shut the lounge door again, then clambered into the cupboard under the stairs. There was just enough space to kneel at the tall end without banging his head on the sloping ceiling.
He frowned up at it. Now there was something you didnt see every day. A pentagram covered the plasterboard, scratched out in red ink. It sat within a couple of circles, with squiggles in various bits, and what looked like Latin around the outside.
Why were teenagers such a bunch of freaks?
A pair of wingnuts sat on the inside of the doorframe. Logan peered outside again. The bolt fitted into a metal bracket held in place by the wingnuts. So if you cracked the padlock, opened the door, unscrewed them, put the padlock back on the now unattached bolt mechanism, then climbed inside you could pull the door shut, do up the wingnuts again, and no one would know you were in there. From the outside itd look as if the cupboard was still locked.
He shifted the action figures to one side of the shelf and picked his way through the books. Three of them were hollowed out hardbacks, like the one with Harry and Edward getting intimate. One held a notebook, with curly leaves and squiggles inlaid into the red leather cover. It was full of cramped black handwriting, interspersed with sketches of magic circles and other occult thingies. The next held a little woollen dolly, no bigger than the palm of his hand, with button eyes and a lock of brown hair fastened to its chest with a safety pin; a wizened chickens foot wrapped in tartan ribbon like a really cheap kilt pin; a hairbrush; and a test-tube of something dark and viscous.
Book number three was a lot more interesting. Logan tipped the contents out on the mattress. One pack of cherry-scented pipe tobacco. One old-fashioned long-necked pipe. One blister-pack sheet of little orange pills. And one clear plastic Ziploc bag with what looked like catnip in it. He opened the bag and took a sniff: the sweet, sweaty smell of marijuana.