‘Here we go,’ she said.
Deans stood up and went across to the desk. He was looking at a familiar scene; a corner-sighted camera looking down at Jackson seated on the thin blue mattress of his cell. Jackson stood up and came to the corner of the wall. His face appeared large in the screen, distorted by the wide-angled lens. He was smiling, almost joyous.
You probably think you had me, he said. You almost did. He began to laugh. You’ve been good value, Deans. I’ve enjoyed jousting with you. You will probably come to conclusions about me, but they’ll be wrong. I gave you the chance to walk away, but you wouldn’t. You did this to yourself. Think of it like Newton’s law: For every action, there is an equal and opposing reaction. His eye grew large on the screen. For every good, there has to be a bad. Jackson turned his head away from the camera, elongating his nose. He turned quickly back. I’ve got a message for you, Deans. His face got closer to the camera and he whispered. You know what I am, and I know what you are. This… is just an inconvenience. It’s not over… for you. A large smile beamed from his face. He winked and made a click click noise inside his mouth. Jackson went back to the mattress, picked at a ring on his finger and emptied something small into his hand. He looked up at the camera, smiled one last time and stuffed it into his mouth.
Less than a minute later, Jackson was lying in his own vomit, convulsing on the floor.
Deans and the DCI watched silently as a further minute went by before officers rushed into the cell.
‘What was that?’ the DCI asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What did he mean?’
Deans didn’t answer.
The rear door to the truck swung open and the replacement crime scene manager climbed inside. He handed an exhibit bag to the DCI.
‘What is this?’ she asked.
‘A mask. One of five we found in the second bedroom.’
‘Let me see,’ Deans said.
The DCI handed Deans the clear plastic bag. It was a black mask – like a bird, long hooked beak and all. Just as Sarah described.
‘Does this mean anything?’ the CSM asked.
The DCI looked at Deans who nodded.
‘How many, you say?’ Deans asked.
‘Five, so far.’
Deans counted them in his head Jackson, Babbage, Ranford and Annie Rowland. That left one over. Parsons? No. He didn’t believe so.
‘We need to speak to Ranford again,’ Deans said.
The DCI agreed. ‘I’ll come with you.’
CHAPTER 53
Ranford was already seated in the interview room when Deans and the DCI entered.
‘Jackson is dead,’ Deans said remaining on his feet.
Ranford laughed, ‘You’re going to have to find a different tactic to that one, Andy.’ He grinned. ‘Give me some credit.’
‘Sergeant Jackson is dead,’ the DCI repeated.
Ranford’s smile waned.
‘He was arrested,’ the DCI continued. ‘We raided his properties and he poisoned himself in custody.’
Ranford looked at Deans who tossed the facemask onto the table.
‘Five masks,’ Deans said. ‘Three dead and you – who’s the fifth?’
Ranford peered down at the mask.
‘The fifth,’ Deans repeated.
Ranford scratched the side of his nose. ‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly.
Deans went over and grabbed Ranford by the neck of his sweatshirt and twisted it tightly. ‘The fifth.’
Ranford leaned back and wildly shook his head. ‘I don’t know of a fifth. Really. I don’t.’
Deans let go of the material and shoved Ranford backwards. The DCI didn’t attempt to stop him.
Deans paced and took long juddering breaths. He glared at Ranford who was slowly resting his weight onto his forearms. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘Is he really dead?’ Ranford asked the DCI.
‘He’s left you,’ Deans replied. ‘Whatever promises he made to you, they’re gone.’
‘Then it’s just me,’ Ranford muttered.
Deans continued to track back and forth in front of his prisoner. ‘Why did you follow him?’ he asked.
Ranford clutched his head in his hands. Deans could see he was crying.
‘He can’t die,’ Ranford sobbed.
Deans sat down and jerked Ranford’s arm away from his face. ‘He’s dead.’
Ranford looked at Deans. He was a pathetic sight.
‘Look around you,’ Deans said. ‘Nobody cares about you now.’
‘How did he—’
‘He killed himself,’ the DCI said taking the seat next to Deans.
‘No,’ Ranford breathed.
‘Why did you kill those people?’ the DCI asked.
Ranford’s lips moved as he said something quietly to himself.
‘Who did Jackson say he was?’ Deans asked.
Ranford’s eyes flickered and he peered at Deans. ‘He was a God.’
Deans leaned back in the chair. ‘Figuratively… or in reality?’
‘You already know the answer to that to be asking me.’
‘How many did you sacrifice?’
Ranford tugged at his ear shook his head. ‘Don’t know.’
‘Who else was with you?’
Ranford dropped his eyes to the table.
‘Scotty Parsons?’
A frown told Deans the answer. ‘Riley?’
Ranford flicked Deans a look, but then shook his head.
‘Okay,’ Deans said. ‘Who killed my wife? I know you were protecting Jackson by admitting to the murder before.’
Ranford looked at the DCI. ‘He’s really dead?’
‘He’s really dead,’ she repeated.
‘I um… I only killed Babbage. He was going to break. I was following—’ He stopped talking and looked to the ceiling.
‘Maria,’ Deans said.
Ranford rubbed beneath his nose and looked Deans in the eye. ‘I wasn’t there. I took her from Bath, but I wasn’t with her when… she was taken to Annie.’ He looked down to the side. ‘You angered the Gods and had to pay.’
‘When did you find your God?’ the DCI asked.
‘Jackson found me. I didn’t find him.’
‘How?’ Deans said.
Ranford tilted his head and gazed into space. He was having a cognitive moment. Neither Deans nor the DCI interrupted.
Deans suddenly saw visions in his mind: children and laughter – clambering through fences. A train track.
‘You met Jackson when you were fostered.’
Ranford looked up at Deans.
‘He was older. You looked up to him and he stood up to Babbage.’
Ranford broke eye contact for a second before restoring his gaze.
‘How did you both end up in the police?’
‘He interviewed me,’ Ranford whispered. ‘Made things happen.’
‘Jackson took vulnerable people and made them strong,’ Deans said. ‘But what about Annie Rowland?’
Ranford shook his head. ‘She was pure evil. Would do anything Jackson told her. She loved death.’
‘And she was in the perfect job,’ the DCI said. ‘Who killed her father?’
Ranford shrugged. ‘Jackson? Annie? She hated him. She was never good enough, but Jackson made her feel like a Goddess.’
‘Who killed Annie?’ Deans asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why are there five masks?’ the DCI asked.
‘I don’t know. Jackson told us what to do and when to do it.’ Ranford stopped talking.
‘What about the old cases, the missing girls from the fifties and sixties?’
Ranford smiled. ‘He’s only gone in this life. He’ll be back.’
‘Jackson?’ Deans asked.
Ranford nodded. ‘He doesn’t die. He evolves.’
Deans squinted.
‘You’re not safe. He will come back for you, but you won’t know it until it’s too late.’
> Deans covered his mouth with the back of his hand. How could Ranford know about Jackson’s message from the cell?
‘I’m dead too,’ Ranford said blankly. ‘He’ll come for me; as a prisoner, as a cell guard or even the dinner lady.’ He smiled and whispered. ‘I’m already dead.’
‘Okay,’ the DCI said. ‘I need to talk to Deans, so you’re going back to your cell.’
Ranford nodded and slowly rose from his seat. The DCI called out for a detention officer and Ranford was taken away.
‘What do you think?’ the DCI asked.
Deans pouted. ‘He believes it. All of it.’
‘What about you?’
Deans rocked his head. ‘There’s nothing to prove otherwise. He may be right.’
The DCI scratched behind her head and blew a long slow breath. ‘I think I need a drink.’
CHAPTER 54
The DCI watched Deans hugging his coffee mug. ‘You look tired,’ she said.
‘I am.’
‘When did you last get a full night?’
Deans twitched his eyebrows and shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Not for a long time.’
‘When are they expecting you back at the office in Bath?’
Deans glazed over for a moment and then took a sip from his drink.
‘Have you ever considered transferring?’
He flicked his eyes to the DCI and shook his head.
‘I want you on my team.’
Deans sucked a lung full of air and scratched his ear.
‘You would be an incredible asset. Do they know back in Bath, what you have?’
‘No.’
‘You haven’t told anyone?’
Deans pulled a face. ‘Not exactly.’
‘I suppose that was until the media got hold of your story. I can’t imagine there’s a police force in the world who hasn’t heard of you by now.’
Deans blinked and coughed behind closed lips.
‘Do you think we’ve missed anyone?’
‘No.’
‘Ranford was being truthful?’
Deans nodded. ‘I don’t think there’s a fifth person. This ends with Ranford.’
‘He’s going to stand trial for all of the murders. He has to. If the jury believe what he says about Jackson, Babbage and Annie Rowland, then he may get away with only one of the murders. He certainly wasn’t responsible for the older ones, that’s for sure.’
The DCI watched Deans for a quiet minute. ‘He’s going to come back for you, isn’t he?’
Deans ran a hand over his head.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Jackson didn’t want me around because of my abilities, but he had ample opportunity to kill me if he really wanted. I think he was testing me. Seeing just how far I could go.’
‘And how far can you go?’
‘I don’t know. New things are happening to me every day.’
‘What will you do, just go back to a normal CID life in Bath?’
Deans looked away. ‘Life can never be normal again.’
‘Will you stay in the job?’
He heaved in deeply. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t been thinking about a future without Maria.’ He rubbed his face and looked at the boss. ‘Maybe I’ll take the opportunity to go to Australia, or the States.’
‘They’d have you like a flash. I can see you cracking complex cases and having your own TV show.’
Deans allowed himself a partial smile. His eyes tracked to the door. ‘Do you know what? I think I want to go home.’
‘To Denise?’
‘To Bath. I’m ready to go back.’
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t want to lose you.’
He bit his top lip. ‘I’m already lost.’
‘And that is what gives you your quality… okay… you can go. We’ve got everything covered here, thanks to you.’
‘I don’t want thanks. I wanted justice…’ He shook his head. ‘And Jackson made sure I couldn’t have it. That was all he wanted – to make sure I was punished. Well, he succeeded.’
‘Someone here is going to miss you.’
Deans nodded. ‘Where is she?’
‘Back at the station. You want a lift over?’
Deans rolled his wedding ring around his finger. He waited for the scent to come to his nose. It didn’t.
‘Okay.’
Sarah finished speaking with the DCI and came over to Deans who was gathering up his belongings.
‘Is it true – you’re going home?’ she said.
He looked into her welling eyes. ‘Yes. It’s the right time.’
Sarah glanced away. Her mouth was open and she appeared lost for words.
Deans took her hand. ‘I don’t want to come over as presumptuous, but…’
‘Yes,’ she said quickly.
‘If you like me…’
‘Yes.’ She squeezed his hand.
‘I’ll need time.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever…’
‘Don’t say anything else,’ she said touching a finger on his lips. ‘Leave me with something.’
He dropped his head and squeezed her hand back. Sarah pulled him towards her and they embraced.
CHAPTER 55
Denise pulled up outside of Deans’ house. It was almost eleven a.m. She turned off the engine and faced him. Deans stared ahead.
‘Do you want me to come in with you?’
‘No,’ Deans muttered. ‘I need to do this myself.’ He tugged at the door handle and cool air whipped into the footwell.
‘This is just the beginning, for you,’ Denise said.
Deans hesitated. ‘I don’t want to say goodbye to you, so I won’t. I hope you understand.’
Denise smiled. ‘I’ll look forward to the next time you phone me then.’
Deans looked back at her and he smiled for the first time that day. He grabbed his bag of damaged clothes from the back seat and closed the front passenger door. The window came down and Deans leaned in.
‘Don’t forget who you really are,’ Denise said. ‘And call me whenever you like.’
‘Thank you,’ Deans said and turned towards his home. He walked down the pathway, aware that Denise was still watching him and let himself into the front door. He gave one last look up to the road and saw Denise wave. He dropped his bags onto the floor and closed the door.
The hallway was cold and the air was damp. He sucked in the mood and made his way slowly upstairs. He entered the bedroom and found Maria’s favourite teddy bear, Bob waiting for him on the pillow.
‘Hey, Bob. Dad’s home.’ Deans sat down on the edge of the bed, whisked Bob into his arms and broke down.
A noise at the front door woke him. He unravelled his body and placed Bob back onto Maria’s pillow. He rubbed and blinked the starchiness from his puffy eyes and stepped slowly down the stairs. He had only been home for a matter of hours and already the well-wishers were pissing him off. He shuffled through to the front hallway, checked his dishevelled appearance in the mirror, prepared a smile and opened the door.
Nobody was there.
He rubbed his eyes again and turned back into the hall, and then he heard snivelling coming from outside.
He stopped, drew a slow breath, leaned out through the opening of the door and peered along the front of the house. Hunkered down, with her back to the wall, he saw a woman with her knees around her ears and her head in her hands. She stopped sobbing and looked directly at him. Mascara streaked around her eyes and down her cheeks.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘You’re… Detective Deans,’ she garbled between sniffles.
Deans looked away and groaned beneath his breath. He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. ‘No,’ he said and moved to go back inside.
‘I need you to help me,’ the woman said with more urgency.
Deans grunted, interlocked his hands at the back of his head and looked up to the skies.
‘Please,’ the woman said. ‘I’m de
sperate. I really need your help.’
Deans closed his eyes and sucked air in through his nostrils. He turned around and re-entered the house.
‘It’s you,’ the woman shouted. ‘I know it is.’
Deans was aware that she was now standing at the entrance to the door. He turned back and saw her waving a tabloid newspaper cutting in her hands.
Oh God, he thought, and walked back towards the kitchen.
‘I’m desperate,’ she said stepping into the hallway as he walked out of sight.
‘Close the door as you leave, please,’ Deans said opening the wall cupboard and removing his trusted bottle of Jameson’s, which he plonked down on the work top with a determined thud. He listened for the slam of the door; it didn’t come. He unscrewed the top from the whiskey and dragged a thick glass towards the bottle.
‘Look, I’m tired and need to rest. Whatever your problem is – take it up with the cops where you live.’
‘But you’re the one,’ the voice came.
Deans dipped his head, closed his eyes and brought the opened neck of the bottle beneath his nose. The smell of the strong liquor was inviting him to jump right in.
‘You are The Angel Detective.’
Deans opened his eyes and stared at the bottle.
‘I need you. Nobody else can help me. Only The Angel Detective.’
Maria’s perfume wafted in front of his face. His eyes searched left and right and he slowly screwed the cap back onto the bottle without pouring a drop.
Maria’s smell enticed him back to the hallway. He stood at the entrance to the kitchen. The woman was now just a silhouette in the doorway to the outside. He slowly stepped towards her. She lifted the paper cutting and tapped the full-length picture.
‘It is you,’ she said.
As Deans closed the gap between them, Maria’s smell grew stronger. He inhaled and held her deep inside. He stood motionless for a moment and then gave the woman a quick once over. Apart from her streaking makeup, she appeared perfectly presentable. Deans reached up and grabbed the edge of the front door. The woman instinctively stepped back outside – nobody wants a door slammed in his or her face.
He hesitated with the door half-closed, and lowered his head. The woman stepped closer.
The Bone Hill Page 23