A Body Displaced (Lansin Island 2)

by Andrew Butcher

  Detective Roughton’s eyebrows squeezed together. ‘There are plenty on the case already. If you’re okay to stand up, you need to walk with us to the front of the premises, please. Before we take you to the station we’d like to check the contents of your car.’ Nick’s face turned unintentionally indignant. The detective must have noticed, because she added, ‘We’re checking everybody’s vehicle before allowing them to leave.’

  Her last sentence reassured him somewhat, knowing they were trying to find Kerra. But if they were checking cars, then what were they looking for? A weapon? A body? His heart pulled in tight. Thinking of the blood nightmares, hating himself for doubting their significance, he stood up. His stomach gave a queasy lurch. When it calmed, he walked up the hallway alongside Roughton and Callard.

  The evening was cold, hardening Nick’s face as he stepped outside. He imagined Kerra injured and alone, out in this temperature. Through the dark he could see the ambulance in the drive. He was glad it still waited.

  An officer stood about, receiving the people who’d queued and had presumably given their statements and details before leaving the building. He spoke with them, and with their apparent permission, he used a torch to check their vehicles, bags, and other belongings.

  Nick led Roughton and Callard to his Vauxhall Corsa. He unlocked it, and then gestured to show the officers they were free to search as they liked. Callard rummaged around the front and examined the contents of the glove compartment, while Roughton inspected the boot and the backseats. If Nick hadn’t been preoccupied with worry, dread, fear, stress, and myriad other emotions, then he would have been embarrassed by the amount of rubbish in his car: McDonald’s paper bags, empty bottles, wrappers, sweets, receipts. He waited, shivering with his arms folded, until the search was done.

  He wondered which officer was of highest rank, so he could talk to them to learn exactly what was being done to find Kerra, but he’d probably already caused enough of a scene. At this rate he’d end up in a cell. Still, he glanced at Callard’s uniform, trying to identify a difference; all he noticed was a badge-like thing on Callard’s shoulder, but it had numbers and letters of no meaning to him.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Crystan,’ said Roughton with a nod. ‘Wait here with PC Callard, please. We’ll take you to the station soon.’ She crunched across the gravel and headed inside West Edge Country House. Nick waited; many people were given permission to leave, until there were only a few cars left.

  Roughton reappeared with Mr Hayworth, Callum, and Callum’s wife, whose face looked puffy and red. Nick had a dark moment where he stared at the hotel owner and the two guests, and deeply considered if they were capable of harming Kerra. All three of them were taken to a police car by another officer. Being questioned, like me.

  The detective approached Nick and then directed him to a different car. Nick got in the back, Roughton in the passenger’s seat, and Callard in the driver’s seat. For the entire journey, a tension twisted inside of him, as if his body knew they were going in the wrong direction. How can they drive away like this, while Kerra is still missing? Refraining himself from talking had never been so hard. He bit his tongue, and tried to trust the efforts of the police.

  Blood and Kerra’s face flashed through his mind.

  At the station he was left in a waiting area with Mr Hayworth and the couple. Roughton watched them for a while before leaving, like she was hoping for a reaction, but no one caused a scene. Nick observed the sorry looks. He hated their pity.

  Other unrelated people sat about too, most appearing unhappy. Nick wondered what he looked like to them, with blood crusted on his face. He rubbed his cheek in hope of erasing the red mess.

  The police made him wait until last. Roughton took away and brought back the other three from the hotel, then sent them on their way. ‘Mr Crystan,’ the detective called. Nick stood up too swiftly; blood rushed to his head, making his injury burn. The detective took him to a desk where another officer signed him in.

  Led by Roughton, he ended up in a small interview room. The walls were painted white, with clear outlines of the brickwork. Against one was a wooden desk with two chairs on either side of it, and the floor was black rubber, like a gym floor. It had a claustrophobic feel, as if the room itself were watching from every angle.

  Roughton reminded Nick that he was being voluntarily interviewed, he had a right to leave at any point, he wasn’t obliged to answer questions, and he was entitled to seek legal advice. She cautioned him again for the sake of the recorder.

  ‘I don’t want a lawyer; I just want you to find Kerra.’ Arranging legal aid would take time. He assumed the sooner they eliminated him as a suspect, the sooner they’d stop wasting resources on him. But he also had a stubborn and naïve belief that his innocence was all the protection he needed.

  So the interview began.

  Most questions led to answers he’d already covered in his statement. But Roughton did ask what Callard had wanted to know at the hotel: ‘Why were you running away from the room when you fell?’

  ‘I wasn’t running away from anything. I was running towards the front of the hotel … I saw a man with curly hair. He was acting suspiciously, and I saw him hurrying away from the hotel when I got back from the shop. When he saw me pull in, he slowed down and walked instead, then he was gone by the time I parked up.’

  Roughton developed a frown on her face. ‘At West Edge Country House, you told me you ran because you wanted to find Miss Evans, your girlfriend.’

  She’s trying to trip me up. ‘That is why. I thought the man might have had something to do with it, so I wanted to look for him … search out the front and around the outside of the hotel.’

  ‘Did you recognise the man?’

  ‘Only from earlier on when I checked in with Kerra.’ The use of his girlfriend’s name so casually, as if she wasn’t missing, made his heart jump. He paused, then continued. ‘He was in the hall where the band was, and I caught his eye, but then he avoided looking at me.’

  ‘So you’ve never seen him before today?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Do you think you could describe him?’ Roughton’s naturally loud voice made the room feel smaller.

  ‘I could try. But he turned away the first time I saw him, and the second time was at a distance, and it was dark.’

  ‘I’ll have an artist interview you after this, if we have one in tonight, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Nick had no idea of the time. It must have been late.

  She asked him a lot of practical questions then, and Nick bitterly wondered why his interview was left until last; his answers could have been vital to locating Kerra. The questions were about his girlfriend’s appearance, what she was wearing, what relatives and friends she had, and where she worked. Another officer was present during the questioning, but he was silent, as if only invited in to observe … or to intimidate.

  Roughton surprised Nick by leaving the room suddenly. For the sake of the recording, she stated she was exiting as she walked out. Is she playing mind games with me? He awkwardly smiled at the silent officer still in the room. He didn’t smile back.

  When Roughton returned, she explained that Nick would have to come in for more questioning within the next few days, most likely tomorrow. Someone would be in contact with him to arrange it.

  Another officer had entered the room and swapped with the silent one, sitting down across from Nick. Roughton informed the blind tape recorder of who was present and why, then Nick was asked specific details about the curly-haired man. The officer who’d just entered sketched away.

  It took ages. With every question asked, Nick became more doubtful about the accuracy of his recall. When the artist was done, he revealed the sketch. It looked more like Sideshow Bob from The Simpsons than the guy Nick had seen. But he’d described him as best he could, so it would have to do. At least they’re finally doing something …

  After that, Roughton asked for eliminating fingerprints and DNA, which Nick provi
ded without protest.

  ‘Thanks for being so cooperative this evening, Mr Crystan,’ Roughton said, and she even lowered her voice.

  ‘Is that it?’ Nick spat out. ‘What are you doing to find Kerra? Shouldn’t you be out there looking for her right now?’

  ‘We are doing the best we can,’ the detective said sternly, then she led him back to the waiting room. ‘We’ll be in contact when we know more. You can return to West Edge Country House to collect your vehicle, but please, Mr Crystan, don’t give my colleagues any hassle. Just go home for the night … and don’t try looking for Miss Evans yourself.’

  Roughton turned and left. For a minute or so, Nick stood still and closed his eyes in a rage so fierce he didn’t trust his own actions. He breathed and breathed until his anger lessened.

  When he pulled out his mobile, he was unprepared for the image saved to the background: a picture of Kerra smiling on Christmas day after she’d opened presents from him. The red tint of her hair resonated with the crumpled wrapping paper beside her. But everything that colour reminded him of blood; in a sad hurry he searched his contacts for ‘Tom’ and dialled.

  ‘Tom? I’m at the police station … Erm, Glaith Lane, yeah. No, just come get me. You need to take me to my car. Just pick me up. Please.’ He hung up, and bit his lip, regretting how curt he’d been. He would have called his dad, but he didn’t want to disturb his rest, even at a moment like this. Plus, a missing person was a sensitive subject for John Crystan.

  As Nick exited the building, his body itched to do something. He briefly contemplated running all the way to the hotel and scouring the surrounding area on foot. I’ll search the entire island if I have to! Then he felt guilt, because he hadn’t been this energised to act back when his mother vanished. I was younger then … I’d thought she’d left us … I’d thought she’d wanted a better life.

  Tom arrived while Nick stood mulling, shivering, and tense. The moment Tom stepped out of his car, Nick lost his strength and went to his brother. He hugged him, hiding his face. Tears fought to get through. Don’t cry! His eyes became hot. Don’t! Not now!

  ‘Nick … what’s happened?’ Tom asked softly, holding his older brother.

  ‘It’s Kerra. I … I don’t know where she is.’ He struggled to talk through panting and a tight throat. ‘She’s been taken, I think. There … there … was so much blood.’

  Nick was taller than his brother, but he pushed his face down to Tom’s shoulder to hide his pain. When he’d been depressed, he had never spoken to his family about it, never opened up to anyone but his counsellor. Now he was less afraid to show his emotions.

  Tom said nothing for a while, then, ‘Let’s get in the car. We can’t talk here.’

  They walked to Tom’s dark green Mini Cooper with a black roof, a car financed by their dad (unlike the Vauxhall Corsa Nick had struggled to buy off his own back), and Nick pulled himself together on the way. This wasn’t the time to have a mental break down.

  As soon as they sat in the car, Tom asked, ‘Do you think this has anything to do with Aldrich?’ He muffled the name.

  Nick turned to his brother, wide-eyed. ‘We shouldn’t discuss this here.’ He looked over at the entrance to Glaith Lane Police Station. The idea that it was a targeted attack, that Kerra was paying the price for something she wasn’t involved in, was too awful. ‘But I don’t see how it could be related. Anyway, let’s talk about it while you drive me to the hotel.’ He explained the directions.

  ‘What did the police say?’ Tom asked as they drove.

  ‘Hardly anything. I don’t think they have a clue what they’re doing. They told me to collect my car and go home for the night. To do nothing.’ He shook his head emphatically; his cut throbbed. ‘They can’t think I’m just going to sit about at home while she’s out there somewhere.’

  ‘But you have to,’ said Tom in a reasonable tone.

  ‘No, I don’t. As soon as you drop me off, I’m going to search the area. I’ll get in my car and drive around, figure out where Kerra could have been taken.’

  ‘That’s a bad idea.’

  ‘Would you go home and do nothing if Michael were missing?’ An edge appeared in his voice.

  ‘Nick. It’s not about that.’ Tom maintained a steady focus on his driving while he spoke; he was good at keeping calm in tough situations. ‘If you draw attention to yourself, then the police might somehow link us to Aldrich’s death.’

  ‘How? Ryan destroyed the evidence. It’s been months now.’

  ‘I think you’re underestimating the police; they don’t just put anyone in a uniform, or make any randomer a detective. They are trained to read body language, mannerisms, your facial expressions; if they think you’re hiding something, they might dig further. Six of us know what happened to Aldrich: me, you, Tommy, Dad, Juliet, and Ryan. And as Juliet hasn’t spoken to us since it happened, we don’t know who else she might have told. Same for Ryan. If any of us end up under suspicion, it only takes one of us to slip up … or give in.’

  Nick understood his brother’s logic, but something inside him wanted to protest. I have to do something. Then the guilt hit him—guilt that he’d brushed his bloody nightmares aside. If he’d attempted to decipher their meaning, Kerra might still be safe.

  ‘Fine. So I should just go home for the night?’

  ‘I think it’s sensible. Let the police do their job.’

  ‘Yeah … because they were so successful in finding Mum.’

  Tom ignored the cynical comment. Nick had never felt so useless, so powerless. Even in his depression, he’d known somewhere in the back of his mind he could do something to improve his life, if only he could find the motivation. But right now, there was nothing he could do to help Kerra.

  His brother’s worry about Aldrich’s murder got him thinking. Tom didn’t know half of what had transpired at Grendel Manor, yet he was being more cautious than Nick.

  He doesn’t know about the children or the gloopy pool of light, and neither does Tommy … Back when Nick had questioned Aldrich about his mother, the murderer admitted to being responsible for the disappearances of many children on Lansin Island across the years—Aldrich had sent them through a portal, believing them to be sacrifices to Moloch.

  On the manor’s land, Juliet had located this supernatural doorway and led Nick to it, leaving Tom and Tommy to watch over Aldrich. Something on the other side, or maybe even the portal itself, communicated telepathically with Nick, referring to him as ‘Oracle’ and claiming the Otherworld was through the lustrous gateway. Before Nick could find out more, though, he heard a shout, and the portal exploded as he and Juliet ran towards the yelling.

  Nicolas had made a promise to himself that night: If he ever found another way to the Otherworld, he would try to discover the fate of the missing children.

  ‘Nick.’ Tom got his attention. ‘It’s this way, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah.’ In distress, he gave a shake of his head, unsure of what he’d just been thinking about.

  They arrived at West Edge Country House and saw from a distance that an area of the front garden had been sectioned off, a gravel parking space that led around the side of the hotel. Tom pulled over and explained to an officer out the front that Nick was collecting his car. Tom was asked to stay parked off the property while Nick got out and collected his vehicle.

  Nick said goodbye to his brother as he got out, but Tom said he’d wait and follow him back to Amiton. He doesn’t trust me to go home.

  The officer watched Nick. The front door to the hotel was closed now, but lights were still on inside. Nick imagined a forensic team at work, looking for fingerprints, shoe prints, DNA, and examining blood spatter. He cringed. As he walked to his car, he fought an urge to go and peer through a window of the hotel, or look down the gravelled side path to see where Kerra might have been taken, assuming whoever took her escaped through the window.

  I need to know more! But the policeman still eyed him suspiciously. He reluctantly
got in his car and drove back to Amiton. His brother followed him all the way to number sixteen Maw Street, and before Nick knew it, they were both inside his home.

  Hungry, he forced himself to eat a Morrisons own brand chocolate bar. The idea of sleep was ludicrous. Tom comforted his older brother a while, then went to his bedroom, but Nick paced around the house for a long time.

  It was odd how he noticed the absence of things that wouldn’t usually be present at this time of night anyway. He missed Kerra’s singing, her humming. He missed the sound of her footsteps. He missed her complaining about the food he kept in the house. Nicky … how can I keep good vocal health with all these dairy products staring at me? And fizzy drinks!

  He moped to his bedroom. Crumpled on the floor was a bright pink hoody belonging to Kerra. He picked it up and held it to his face, taking in her familiar fragrance. Sleep just wasn’t going to happen yet, so he dragged himself to the snug and sat down on the beanbag. He repeatedly checked his mobile, ensuring the volume was up in case the police called. His eyes lingered on the picture of Kerra each time. Until he thought of the blood.

  Should I tell anybody what’s happened yet? He decided against informing others until after he’d spoken with the authorities again. Hopefully Kerra would be found before he needed to tell anyone. But his mind went ahead and imagined Kerra’s family being disturbed tonight by the news. The thought of it drained his energy.

  In a daze, he stared out the window to his front garden. The dark called to him, creeping him out. He got up and grabbed the curtains, but as he did, he sensed he was being watched. Looking into blackness, he waited. It was tough to see anything at all, but as far as he could tell there was no movement. Shaking his head, he pulled the curtains together and relaxed a little.

  At one point in the night, he came over determined to go out and search for Kerra. After dressing warmly and forcing on his shoes, he made a move to exit the house, but Tom emerged from his room and stopped him with the same persuasive points as before.