The Fourth Friend

by Joy Ellis

  Carter started the Land Rover and pulled out of the car park. The task was complete. Would Ray be with the others when they next appeared?

  * * *

  Danny Hurley lay on his bed and thought about his girl.

  There was very little he didn’t already know about her, but he loved to lie quietly and try to think of small things that might have escaped his attention. Today he could think of nothing at all, and that made him feel good. He thought of the police running around chasing their tails and smiled contentedly. Knowledge really was power.

  He turned his head to look at the wall, and the dozen photographs he had taken of her. He was proud of them. His camera was his most treasured possession — after his girl of course. He had acquired the Nikon D3 digital SLR for his previous job. It was top of the range, shot up to eleven frames per second and would probably have set him back a few grand if he’d had to pay for it. He reached up and stroked a stunning close-up of her face, imagining the touch of her skin.

  What a girl!

  Danny stretched and stood up. No time for thoughts like that right now. There were plans to be made. Poor little Leah had been grounded by her granite-faced aunt. He knew her quarantine wouldn’t last long. She was a teenager, and teenagers got bored quickly. He gave her two days, max. Then the game would start in earnest.

  Carefully locking the door behind him, he strolled out of his room and along the narrow corridor to the kitchen. He ran his hands along the walls either side of him, as if trying to push them out, widen the cramped space. He wouldn’t mind leaving here soon. He had never thought of it as a home, just somewhere to hide. There was more to life than this so-called “bijou flat.” If his plans worked out, there would be.

  In the cramped galley kitchen he took a bottle of Newcastle Brown from the fridge and flipped off the top. He drank very little, but he did enjoy a cold bottled beer in the late afternoon.

  What had he done today? He had ditched his runner and taken on two new ones. It wasn’t difficult, they were two a penny, and he wasn’t known for being mean. He swigged back the beer. He had a day or so to rest and get his next strategy organised, and then he would be able to spend some quality time with his girl. He closed his eyes and sighed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Carter was depressed, angry with himself for handling the meeting with Joanne so badly. Marie had told him so, but he knew it anyway. Why had he spoken about Ray in the present tense, and upset Joanne that way?

  ‘I’m off now, Carter.’ Marie leaned against his office door frame and smiled. ‘I need to get to the supermarket and stock up. Do you need anything?’

  He shook his head. He hadn’t cooked a proper meal in a long while. Mrs Mitchell, his daily, always bought the cleaning materials and gave him the bill, and when he was hungry, he ate out. He even ate breakfast at his desk. ‘Can’t think of anything, but thanks all the same.’

  Marie stepped inside. ‘Cheer up, Carter, and don’t beat yourself up over Joanne. She’s okay with everything now.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’ Carter yawned. ‘God, I just wish I could get a night’s sleep.’

  ‘Have you tried a little helper? Nothing strong, maybe something herbal.’

  ‘In the first few months I took enough drugs to keep a pharmaceutical company solvent for a decade! I cannot face another pill, herbal or otherwise.’

  ‘Mmm. I’d probably feel the same, but you have to sleep.’

  ‘Hopefully I will, as soon as I know about Ray. If he’s moved on, then I’ll know I can do the same with the other two. Then we can all rest.’

  Marie opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Finally she nodded and said, ‘Yes, let’s hope so.’

  Carter sat on, completing a few outstanding reports and answering emails. When he could no longer focus, he pulled his jacket from the back of his chair and stood up to go. Would he have visitors tonight, or would they keep him in suspense? Half of him was desperate to know if his good deed had paid off, and the other half dreaded finding out that it hadn’t.

  He flopped back down in his chair, floored by deep sadness. He thought of Marie, so eager to get home, even though her husband was no longer there to share it. It was a home she loved, full of things she and Bill had saved for and chosen together. She had happy memories, a classy powerful motorcycle, a cat, and now a friendly companion to chat to about the ups and downs of the day, someone to share a meal with, and a glass of wine. She was a very attractive woman. When the time was right, he was sure that Marie Evans would fall in love again.

  All that was closed to him. He would never have a relationship now. Who would put up with all his freaky symptoms, all his fears and phobias, not to mention his obsessive tidiness? No one. And what if he never managed to get rid of his old mates? How would he explain that?

  He remembered Laura Archer’s words: “You have to be prepared to face the fact that relationships will be difficult. You may find, in the early stages, that they are impossible. Just remember, all things change. Let nature take its course, let the healing begin, and who knows what the future may bring.”

  At the time he hadn’t given much thought to relationships, he just wanted to hold onto his sanity. Now he wasn’t so sure. All at once, and for the first time in his adult life, Carter felt terribly lonely.

  * * *

  Robbie Melton leaned forward and peered at the pile of printouts on his desk. He was the duty CID officer on night shift, and he revelled in it. During the day, the main office was clamorous with noise, resounding with ringing phones, clattering printers, mobile phone ringtones, and officers laughing, cursing and shouting across the room. At night the room belonged to him. The only sounds were the low hum of the air conditioning unit, and muffled voices drifting in from other parts of the building.

  Unlike some of his colleagues, Robbie didn’t use the quiet time to doss down in a corner, or watch a film on his phone. Robbie worked. Tonight, the streets and back alleys of Saltern were peaceful, and there were no calls to go out. He was able to give his full attention to Suzanne Holland.

  Trouble was, he wasn’t getting very far. All he knew for certain was that this woman had secrets.

  He had discovered quite a lot about her sexual preferences, but nothing about the woman herself.

  He looked again at her photo and whispered, ‘There’s got to be more to you than this.’

  He skimmed his notes. It appeared that the only people willing to talk about her were some of her many casual lovers from before her marriage to Tom. Everyone else — relatives, neighbours, workmates — either refused to talk about her or simply declared ignorance.

  Robbie sighed. The sarge had wanted to know about Suzanne’s relationship with Tom Holland, but once again, he had hit a brick wall. There was only one person left that might know something about their life together, and be prepared to discuss it — Carter McLean. The one person he could not ask.

  He considered the facts. Suzanne’s first marriage to the Spanish holiday rep, Harvey Cash, had failed. Their marriage seemed to have been short and not very sweet, ending in a divorce and a court case over some missing money. And that was all.

  Why would no one talk to him?

  Robbie pulled out a few sheets of paper dealing with Harvey Cash. If he couldn’t talk to Tom Holland, he’d have to make do with the first husband. If he was awake, or more to the point, sober.

  He picked up the phone, having decided that maybe Cash would be more inclined to talk if he was drunk. Last time he had caught him in a stupor. If he could catch him in the early stage, when he was on a high, he might be chatty.

  Harvey Cash told Robbie in no uncertain terms what he thought of being disturbed at four in the morning. Robbie apologised profusely and launched into his semi-prepared speech. He really didn’t know who to turn to, he said. Only Cash could help them. Slowly, Cash began to respond.

  ‘Yeah, well, you’re right, of course, I did know her better than anyone, but I don’t want to talk about the bitch.�
�� He paused. Robbie heard a glass clink. ‘I’ll just say that when you find her, dead or alive, I won’t be sending any flowers.’

  ‘Most people seem to think that she was just a fun-loving, sexy, good time girl,’ said Robbie.

  ‘Hah! She was certainly that to some people all right! But you want to speak to the ones who got close. They’ll tell you a different story.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because . . .’

  Robbie was certain he heard a strangled sob.

  ‘Just go to hell!’

  The line went dead.

  Robbie stared at the picture of Harvey Cash. ‘It’s about time I took a short holiday,’ he mused. ‘Spain might be pleasant at this time of year. And you, pal, can be my guide.’

  * * *

  Carter had brought home a Chinese takeaway and a bottle of the best Merlot that his local convenience store stocked. It was pretty bad, but the bottle was now almost empty. The sweet and sour pork, the spring rolls and the egg fried rice were unopened in the waste bin.

  He sat on the terrace and stared out across the gardens. The view never bored him, but now he wished there was someone to share it with. He wondered where all this had come from. Maybe it was thinking about Joanne and Ray, or remembering Marie and Bill. The world seemed to be all couples suddenly, except for him. He sat watching the sky put on its nightly display, until only the darkest indigo and deepest grey were left. Time to turn in.

  His bedroom contained a king-size bed, built-in wardrobes and matching furniture, all of it polished, all the surfaces clear.

  He showered, and switched on the wall-mounted flatscreen television. He’d be decadent, lounge in bed with the last of the wine and watch TV until he fell asleep.

  The wine finished, Carter turned onto his stomach and closed his eyes. Maybe tonight he would get a few hours of peaceful sleep. He drifted off.

  An ice-cold, bony hand fastened itself around his ankle like a vice.

  ‘Hey! Got you, Carter, old boy!’

  The room filled with the familiar stench of burning.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’

  ‘Couldn’t resist it! Sorry.’ Jack’s laugh echoed hollowly around the room. ‘Remember the game, Carter? “Do You Dare?” The kids loved it, didn’t they?’

  Jack was reminiscing about the old days when they had supervised a group of deprived kids at an adventure camp. ‘Yeah, and then you’d organise a campfire, sit down with them and tell them scary ghost stories until their eyes were wide. Then you’d send them to bed, daring them to leave one exposed foot hanging out of the bed for the bogey man to grab! It’s a wonder they didn’t wet themselves!’ He laughed again.

  Carter’s ankle still felt as if it was packed around with dry ice. He stared at it. ‘That wasn’t funny,’ he muttered.

  ‘Yes it was,’ said Jack. ‘Like it was with the kids. You scared the shit out of them and they loved you for it. Every night they came back for more stories and more dares.’

  It was true. They had, and Jack was also right about those times being good. Carter sat back on the bed and looked around him.

  Jack was perched at the bottom of the bed. Where was Tom? Finally he made out his friend’s outline slouched against the wall close to the door. So far he had said nothing. He certainly had not joined in with Jack’s jolly jape.

  ‘You okay, mate?’ Carter asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  Tom seemed to nod, but remained silent. Then Carter realised that Ray had gone. He gasped, and peered into every shadowy corner.

  ‘You can put the light on if you want,’ said Tom sullenly, ‘But you won’t find him. He’s gone.’

  Tom moved forward out of the shadows. ‘The question is, which one of the two of us is next?’

  Carter flicked the switch on his bedside lamp, and then recoiled in horror and dismay. His friend looked like something that belonged on a butcher’s block. Carter gagged and fought back the rising bile. He couldn’t be sick! He just couldn’t. He swallowed hard, jumped up, and ran to the kitchen, where he splashed water over his face and neck.

  It was another legacy from the accident. Weird, but there it was. Carter had a morbid fear of vomiting. Laura said it even had a name. Emetophobia or something like that.

  He leant back against the kitchen sink and breathed deeply. It was passing, thank God. He just needed to try not to think about Tom. What the hell had happened? They had been so much better. If he half closed his eyes, they looked as they always had. But now! He shuddered and concentrated on his breathing.

  He had to get himself back into the bedroom. Tom had asked him a question, and he needed to answer it. When he reached the door, he hesitated.

  ‘Come on in, mate.’ It was Tom. ‘Sit down, and look at me.’

  Carter reluctantly did as he was told. There was Tom, smiling apologetically at him.

  His face was not perfect, but it was recognisable now.

  Let’s get this over with, thought Carter. ‘You asked who should be next. I thought perhaps it should be Jack. Whatever I can do, I’ll try to do it.’

  ‘I thought you’d say that, and that’s cool by me.’ Tom nodded slowly. ‘In fact it’s probably better that way, because my own dilemma is not exactly straightforward. Is it?’

  Carter’s heart sank. This didn’t sound good. But first, Jack. He turned to his other friend, preparing himself for what he was about to ask.

  The room was empty. Carter sat on the bed and put his head in his hands.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Carter was about to start his car and go to work. He reached out to switch on the ignition and saw a figure sitting next to him in the passenger seat. Jack. Tom was sitting in the back, humming a sad tune. In the confined space inside the car the smell of burning was almost unbearable.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, mate.’ Jack sounded almost apologetic. ‘I know Ray said throwing money at things wasn’t always the answer . . .’ He stopped, as if he were too embarrassed to go on.

  ‘Just ask. If I can do something to make you feel better, anything at all, I’ll do it, I promise.’ That was no longer quite true. Now he would do whatever it took to make them go away.

  ‘There’s something that’s worrying me, mate. I know I’ve never told you this, but I’ve got a kid.’

  Tom broke off his humming for a moment, as if in mild surprise. Then he continued.

  ‘A little girl. Her name is Phoebe. Her mum, well, it was complicated. I guess I wasn’t quite what her parents wanted for their daughter. We came from very different backgrounds, so . . .’

  Carter shook his head. ‘No, Jack, you didn’t tell me. Does the mother know you’re . . .’ He stopped.

  ‘Dead? Yeah, she knows.’ Jack sounded utterly miserable. ‘But Kim, that’s her name, has fallen out with her parents, and I don’t know how she’s going to look after Phoebe. She loves her to bits, but she’s struggling. I was going to help her, but . . .’

  ‘I’ll help her. Just tell me where I can find her.’

  Jack gave him a surname and an address. ‘Don’t just hand over money, Carter. I think there’s some bad people around her right now. Find another way, will you?’

  Carter nodded. He knew a lot about financial arrangements. This was one task he could achieve without help and he could sort it quickly and efficiently. ‘Don’t worry, Jack. Leave it to me. Your little girl will have everything she needs, and a good education, rest assured.’

  Carter turned to smile at his friend, but the passenger seat was empty, and apart from the faint echo of a melancholy song, he was alone again.

  The stench of burning flesh abated, and Carter leant back against the headrest. He could do this with his eyes closed! Which just left his fourth friend, Tom. Carter’s relief gave way to concern. Tom had said that his request was complicated.

  * * *

  In the CID room, Jackman stared from one to the other of his detectives. ‘Anyone got anything more on Suzanne Holland?’

  The
only response he got was a low murmur of dissent.

  ‘Max? Any luck with tracing her movements in the week before she disappeared?’

  Max shook his head. ‘Apart from a couple of nocturnal assignations after her husband walked out, absolutely nothing. It’s like she was some kind of vampire that slept all day and went on the hunt at night.’

  ‘Surely she had to show up at work?’

  Charlie raised a hand. ‘I spoke to her boss at the tanning salon where she worked. He confirmed that Suzanne called in sick a couple of weeks before she vanished, and never went back.’

  ‘Not too sick to go on the pull though,’ Max grumbled.

  Robbie Melton stood up. ‘I’ve had a thought, sir. Well, it’s just a hunch really.’

  ‘Out with it. Whatever it is, it’s more than the rest of us have come up with.’

  Robbie explained his theory that Harvey Cash, her first husband, knew a lot more than he was admitting. There was possibly a very dark side to Suzanne Holland, one that maybe got her killed or abducted. ‘We can’t force him to talk, especially over the phone. He’d just do what he did last night and hang up. So I thought I might go and see him.’

  A chorus of catcalls and jeers echoed around the room.

  Jackman smiled, and held up his hand to silence them. ‘They have a point, Robbie. I have to account for every single forensic test carried out and decide whether we can even afford to do a bloody £1.10 credit search or not. I don’t think you spending a few days under the Spanish sun will fit in too well with the super’s budget.’

  Robbie laughed too. ‘I wasn’t expecting it to come out of the force budget, sir. I’m due a few days’ leave, so I thought I might go and top up my tan in Sanxenxo.’

  ‘Right!’ Max grinned at Robbie’s night-shift pallor. ‘I think it would take more than a couple of days to turn you into a bronzed Apollo.’

  ‘Then maybe I’ll just check out the sangria, with a man who knows the area.’

  ‘Or we could get the Spanish police to talk to him,’ Max threw in.