That afternoon, someone had come into the woods. It was a figure wrapped in a coat and scarf against the wind, hands thrust into pockets, a canvas bag over one shoulder. The visitor had followed the path from the bottom of Alder Hall Quarry, crossed the stream and climbed the slope through the trees. At the edge of the clearing, the figure stopped for a few moments before moving into the open, then forced a way through the tall swathes of willowherb, oblivious to fragments of stem that caught on sleeves and clung to jeans.
Reaching the plinth, the visitor opened the canvas bag, took out a spray of flowers and placed them at the feet of the statue, then stood back to admire the arrangement. The sight brought a smile of satisfaction. The flowers were white chrysanthemums, suitable for a death.
MY JOURNAL OF THE DEAD, PHASE ONE
No one told me that the worst nightmares would comewhile I was still awake. No one ever warned me thatId lie in my bed in the darkness, eyes wide open, prayingfor sleep. Those were the hours I spent counting faces inthe wallpaper, seeing the shape of a monster where myclothes lay strewn on a chair. Those were the times Ilistened to the noises outside the house, listened as hardas I could, hoping I might make the noises inside goaway. Finally, as the hours went by, there would benothing left but the sounds of the night the slither ofthe darkness as it crept across my roof.
Something lives in that darkness. Its our greatest fear, and its called the unknown. Everyone knows this fear, but few of us dare to think about it. Wed never be ableto go on living our lives if we really saw the grinningpresence that waits behind our shoulder. Its far betterto pretend we dont see the beast. We turn away our eyesand convince ourselves its just a shadow cast by the sun.Its only a draught from an open window, a rustle ofdead leaves on the other side of the door.
Its the same fear for the child whose bedroom doorhas to stand open at night for a glimpse of light and forthe old woman whose hand trembles as she draws backthe bolts. In the end, were all destined to fall into theclaws of that darkness we glimpse in our dreams.The great snatcher of souls, the unseen lurker on thethreshold. What threshold would he lurk on, if not onthe threshold of death?
Do you see that shadow now? Do you feel the chill,and hear the rustling?
These days, my dreams are different. Sometimes, inmy nightmares, I see bodies moving inside their coffins.Their mouths twist, their limbs writhe, their hands openand close like claws as they reach towards the light. Itry to make them settle down, to lie still so they can beburied. But it never does any good. In my dreams, thedead just wont stop squirming.
9
Next morning, Diane Fry found two middle-aged DCs occupying desks in the CID room. They wore almost identical navy blue suits, and they were both a bit too meaty around the shoulders, so they hardly seemed to have any necks. One had a tie with blue stripes, and the other black-and-white checks. They could have been visiting sales executives from a pharmaceutical company.
Who are those two? asked Gavin Murfin.
CID support, said Fry.
What?
They retired from D Division last year. But theyve come back to help out for a bit, while were short-staffed. Mr Hitchens says theyre very experienced. They both put in their full thirty.
Yes, I can tell.
At the morning briefing on the Sandra Birley enquiry, Ben Cooper was the first to raise a hand. Keen to get noticed, no doubt.
Sir, do you think Mrs Birleys attacker might have watched her for some days beforehand and worked out her habits?
What habits? said DI Hitchens.
For a start, the location she chose to park her car. And her practice of not using the lift when it smelled.
What, and pissed in the lift to discourage her from using it?
It was just a thought.
It would be too good to be true, wouldnt it? A suspect who covered the floor of the lift with his DNA for us to find? The DI considered it. No, it wont work, Ben. He couldnt possibly have known Sandra Birley would work late that night.
No? Well, not unless
Unless?
Unless he worked in the same office.
We have to look at all her colleagues, then, said Hitchens. How many are there?
About forty people work at Peak Mutual, said Fry. Male and female.
Male and female? Good point, DS Fry. We mustnt assume were looking for a male offender at this stage.
The phone call, sir? said somebody.
The phone call may turn out to have nothing to do with the abduction.
DCI Kessen was present at the briefing, but sitting to one side and letting DI Hitchens take the floor. Fry wasnt surprised to see the acting head of CID. If the Birley case became a murder enquiry, Kessen would be appointed Senior Investigating Officer. But for now, they had no body, no evidence that there had been a serious crime. The possibility that Sandra Birley had been abducted from the Clappergate car park was just that a possibility.
Are we going to get the husband to make an appeal, sir? asked Cooper, raising his hand. Fry nodded reluctantly to herself. At least that was one tactic they could use without committing themselves to anything.
We think its too early yet, said Hitchens. Besides, he isnt in any condition at the moment. I spoke to the family liaison officer first thing this morning, and it seems Mr Birleys emotional state has deteriorated considerably since yesterday.
Then it turned out that the two retired DCs had been working an early shift, too. Theyd already been through the CCTV footage from the Clappergate multi-storey. That wasnt anybodys favourite job. Feelings in the room began to warm towards them.
First of all, weve eliminated the owners of the other two vehicles that were left in the car park overnight, said the one with the black-and-white tie. The first bloke had drunk too much in the pub and sensibly decided to get a taxi. He turned up to get his car next morning, so we got a statement from him. He didnt see anything. But how would he, when he was in the pub at the time?
OK, said Hitchens. And the other one?
Even more innocent. He works in the IT department of a company with offices in Buxton Road. That afternoon, he dropped a computer monitor on his foot and broke two toes. He was in A amp; E at the relevant time. His girlfriend turned up to collect the car.
They never really looked like contenders anyway. Why would Sandra Birleys attacker leave his own vehicle in the car park as well as hers?
Exactly, sir. But we had to eliminate them. Weve also been through every bit of tape from the functioning cameras, and weve managed to trace all the vehicles that left the car park later that night in other words, after Mrs Birley was abducted. There were only four of them, because the place was practically empty. In fact, weve matched all but one of those vehicles to CCTV footage of the owners returning to their cars. Two were lone males, and there was one couple but older, in their early sixties. Its clear from the tape that the woman isnt Sandra Birley. Shes the wrong age, wrong height, wrong clothes, everything. All of these people have been spoken to, and they seem to be genuine.
And none of them saw anything suspicious? asked Fry.
Thats right, Sergeant.
Fry sighed. That was the trouble with law-abiding members of the public they never saw anything. Shed lost count of the number of times shed attended a serious incident, only to be met by members of the public with helpful smiles and short-term memories.
If my maths are correct, there was one more vehicle.
Unfortunately, the fourth vehicle seems to have been parked on Level 2.
If my maths are correct, there was one more vehicle.
Unfortunately, the fourth vehicle seems to have been parked on Level 2.
Where theres a non-functioning camera?
Youve got it, Sarge. We do have footage of the vehicle exiting the car park at the barrier. Its a blue Saab. There appears to be a male driving, no one visible in the passenger seat.
And has the owner been interviewed?
He lives in Sheffield. Theres a team on the way there now to talk to him.
So if the Sheffield driver is eliminated, said Fry, the only other possibility is that our man didnt have a vehicle of his own in the car park.
Well, he had to have a vehicle somewhere close by, put in the DC with the striped tie. He must have been parked on the street.
More CCTV footage, then. The town centre cameras?
Right.
Fry turned back to the DI. And what are we doing about the phone messages, sir? The clues he left ?
Hitchens had his map pinned up on the board or at least, an adaptation of it, showing the whole six-mile circle around Wardlow, with labels marking a scatter of locations.
Weve passed on a list of potential locations for the uniforms to check out when practicable, he said. By that, I mean any locations that might possibly be referred to as the dead place. Otherwise, unless his clues get any clearer, theres nothing concrete for us to act on. Meanwhile, if youve got any reasonable theories, lets hear them. If you havent heard the tapes and you want to listen to them, speak to DS Fry.
When practicable? That could mean never, said Cooper.
Hitchens shrugged. As you said yourself, DC Cooper, the possibilities are endless. We need something more substantial.
Were hoping hell phone again?
Well, it would help, wouldnt it?
DCI Kessen had been listening quietly to the discussion. When the meeting had finished, he stood up and put his hand on Hitchens arm.
Keep me in the loop, wont you, Paul? he said. Regular updates.
Ben Cooper was about to leave the briefing with everyone else, when the DI called him over. He thought at first hed misheard, and Hitchens had to speak to him again a bit louder this time, as if Cooper was daydreaming at the back of the class.
Oh, Ben. Have you got a minute?
Yes, sir?
Cooper left his jacket over the back of his chair and walked to the front of the room, moving against the flow of bodies and conscious of the glances he was getting. But perhaps he was being over-sensitive. He still felt ashamed of his outburst at the hospital last night, and this morning he couldnt seem to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. His thoughts kept drifting back to the image of his mothers pale, helpless body lying in that side room off the ward, amid the smells of disinfectant and the constant slapping of heels in the corridor outside the door, back and forth, back and forth, until he thought it would drive him mad. When hed phoned the ward first thing this morning, hed been told that Mrs Cooper was satisfactory.