The Runner

by P. R. Black

  ‘That’s time up,’ said the guard, quietly.

  Solomon raised a finger. ‘Oh, you’ve got to come back. Come back soon. The appeal’s going to be heard… I didn’t tell you about me. That’s next. All about me. Come back, all right? Please?’ There was a pathetic tone to his voice she hadn’t heard before; without thinking about it, she nodded, and stood up.

  ‘Sure. See you next time. Dad.’

  34

  They both spoke at the same time: ‘Look, I…’

  ‘Listen, Freya…’

  She paused to let Glenn speak. They were in a quiet compartment of an early train. It was a horrible day outside, the worst of all conditions – summer heavy and muggy, and raining all day. Their shoes had squeaked on the platform before they’d got on the train.

  ‘Look, I just… I didn’t mean for things to get weird.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call things weird, Glenn. Disastrous, maybe. Shameful, well… Embarrassing, definitely.’

  ‘I’m… sorry.’

  When he spoke, she noticed a cut at the corner of his mouth. You had to look closely to be able to see it; it wasn’t obvious but it was right at the corner, in an awkward spot. His tongue kept creeping towards it.

  ‘Did she hit you?’ Freya asked.

  ‘No,’ he said quickly. But he didn’t look in her eyes. ‘Just kind of shoved me, a bit. I was shouting; things got a bit heated.’

  ‘She shouldn’t be lifting her hands to you. I’m a bit less sorry now.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t blame her either. God’s sake, Glenn! I didn’t know about her. You never said. Never even hinted at it. I am disgusted with you. I never meant to cause any harm. I never meant to have any upset. I thought you were single.’

  There was an awkward silence. ‘I think she’s gone. It’d been finished for a while – I know that’s not an excuse. It’s like she knew, you know? I didn’t say anything. I thought I was calm when I got home. But she knew what I’d done. In that way they know. I couldn’t rule out she was following me. She’s that type. She put two and two together, and…’

  ‘Got four. How long were you together?’

  ‘Two and a half years.’

  ‘First girlfriend.’

  ‘Well, no, I had girlfriends before, just not a live-in girlfriend.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s what I said. First girlfriend.’

  ‘OK.’ He relaxed a little. ‘I suppose that’s fair.’

  ‘I’m not going to beat you up about it. But you did a terrible thing. I am not a cheat, Glenn.’

  ‘So… how do we move on? We’ve got work to do. We’ve got a deal. Don’t we?’

  Freya didn’t answer. She drummed her hands on the tabletop. ‘I’ve got an idea. We’ll do a cup of tea and a flapjack, when the guy comes along with the trolley. You look like you’ve been ill or something. Once we take in those oaty-sugary calories, I promise you we’ll feel a whole lot better. Then we’re going to talk tactics and carry on with what we were doing.’

  Glenn closed his eyes. Perhaps he was wishing this situation away, she thought. Then he opened his eyes. ‘I’ve been thinking about Harvie and Galvin…’

  ‘Harvie was naïve,’ Freya said. ‘He thought he could get the drop on a guy who’d been with the police his whole life. The guy probably invented surveillance techniques we can’t even imagine.’

  ‘The papers are onto me, now. I got door-stepped. Just as I was carrying out my stuff from the flat. Perfect tabloid situation, I suppose. They were asking about the Woodcutter.’

  Freya frowned. ‘Wait, she threw you out?’

  ‘It seemed the right thing to do.’

  ‘Where you staying?’

  ‘A friend’s.’

  Freya took a deep breath. ‘God. What a mess. Never mind. Which paper was it?’

  ‘Not sure… maybe the Salvo. I said I had no comment. Pushed through. It was weird to be in one of those situations you see on the telly. You never think it’ll be you. I just pushed past the guy. I think there was a photographer.’

  ‘Suppose we have to get used to it. We’re news, now. You looked at the hit count on Red Ink lately?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He smiled for the first time that day. ‘I have to say business is good. What’s next, though?’

  ‘I guess you won’t have had time to think much about “Two Ways”?’

  ‘A few candidates. Struggling to whittle it down. Mainly pubs, like I said. Live ones, that is.’

  ‘Tamm might be having the same ideas,’ Freya mused.

  ‘He been in touch with you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  Freya brightened up. ‘Listen… You hear that rattle? Here’s the guy with the teas and coffees.’

  ‘Yeah, I think I’m in the mood now. You reckon the police will be following us?’

  ‘Tamm was keen to tell me that they don’t have the time or resources to follow us. Which makes me almost certain that he was lying, and we’re being tailed. Anyway. It’s not the police I’m worried about, now.’

  ‘The new case?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Whoever this guy is, Woodcutter or no, someone wants us to find the bodies. I don’t think that person wants to kill us.’

  ‘He’s going to a hell of a lot of trouble. Anyway. Let’s focus on the now.’ Freya turned to the man pushing the trolley through the empty carriage, and beamed at him. ‘A nice cup of tea, a great big mocha, and two of your most absolutely sinful flapjacks, please, when you’re ready.’

  *

  It looked like the type of country house that should have a body in the library. Neo-gothic, red brick, worth tens of millions, but left to the NHS by a millionaire with either no heirs or extremely disappointed ones. It was only when they got closer that they saw the secured windows, and the reception desk through the glass doors at the front.

  ‘Some pile,’ Glenn said. ‘I’m just a little bit nervous about this, I have to tell you.’

  ‘It does look like a haunted house,’ Freya said, ‘I’ll give you that.’

  ‘No, not that. I mean – is this fraud?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Freya spoke out of the side of her mouth.

  ‘I can’t help it. If we get caught with this, we could be going to jail. Pretending to be a relative? It’s a crime.’

  ‘Stop talking, Glenn. We’re going to talk to the woman, not rob her. It’s something I have to know. We have to know, for sure.’

  ‘Why won’t you tell me who got you the ID?’

  ‘It’s tricky. After the care home, I worked in data capture, too. There’s an awful lot of things you can do with certain connections. Tell you what – if I don’t tell you any details, then there’s nothing for you to tell the police about. So far as you know, this is legit. You don’t have to pretend to be anybody. Except my boyfriend.’

  ‘That’s been problematic, up til now.’

  ‘Just smile, then. And hold my hand.’ Freya took his hand. Inside, though, she was squirming. Heading into lies, deceit… It sickened her, much as the situation frightened her. She saw herself simply dissolving upon questioning, racked with sobs. She even wondered, at the last moment, whether or not it was too late to turn back. There was just one thing driving her on; one single goal.

  To know whether Gareth Solomon was the Woodcutter or not.

  The receptionist greeted them warily.

  ‘Hi there,’ Freya said. ‘I’m Stacey Broward. I’m here to see Carol Ramirez. We have a visit booked.’

  *

  The common room looked out onto the back lawn. Glenn stared out at people playing tennis on a back court. Others – of all ages and all genders – were playing pétanque.

  ‘Not what I expected,’ Glenn said, resting his hand on his chin. ‘I was thinking… people in gowns. Attendants.’

  ‘Women chained up in the attic?’

  ‘I’m guessing I’m prejudiced. It’s a nice place.’

  One of the nursing staff came in, a severe-looking woman with sh
ort, stiff, white hair. ‘Hi… Is it Stacey?’

  Freya got up to shake hands. For a second it looked as if the nurse wouldn’t respond; she took Freya’s hand reluctantly.

  She turned to Glenn. ‘And you are…?’

  ‘I’m Glenn. Her fiancé.’

  The nurse ignored him, turning back to Freya. ‘I don’t know your face. How long is it since you last saw your…?’

  ‘Seven and a half years.’

  ‘Her condition has deteriorated since then.’

  ‘She’s not dangerous, is she?’ Freya tried to sound appropriately querulous; not a difficult stretch. ‘I mean, if she is…’

  ‘If she was dangerous you wouldn’t be seeing her. No, she has a complex condition, and it’s well-managed. She’s not even dangerous to herself. But she can be erratic.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine,’ Freya said. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing her.’

  ‘It’ll be good for her – Carol doesn’t get many visitors. But let’s not be doing anything that upsets her.’

  Glenn cleared his throat. ‘We’ll try not to. Maybe in return, you could treat us like we’re not six years old?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Now the nurse noticed him.

  ‘What’s wrong with her, exactly?’ Glenn asked. ‘If it’s complex, explain it to us.’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to tell you that.’

  ‘Paranoid schizophrenia? Psychosis? What? Is it something we should know about?’

  ‘I am not at liberty to disclose a patient’s medical details to you.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Freya said, raising a hand to stop him. ‘We’re absolutely fine. It’s all good.’

  ‘As I said,’ the nurse continued, ‘try not to do or say anything that upsets her. We’ll be monitoring her, but there’s nothing for you to worry about.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Freya said.

  ‘Take a seat, we’ll be with you shortly.’ The nurse took an extra few seconds to glower at Glenn, before heading back out the door.

  ‘I’m not reassured,’ Glenn said. ‘Are you reassured?’

  Freya lowered herself into her seat, and tried to compose herself. She said, under her breath: ‘That wasn’t smart. When we’re trying to ingratiate ourselves with people, you don’t piss them off, Glenn. Smile. Act natural. Or your nearest equivalent, if you don’t quite get “natural”.’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t like the tone. It felt like she was giving us a security briefing. I don’t want Norman Bates’ ma charging in here with a lawnmower, or something.’

  Freya glanced at him sharply. ‘Murder website? Crime scenes? Criminal profiles? Christ’s sake, Glenn. You should know that you don’t get people with a split personality like that. Things aren’t that simple.’

  ‘A joke.’ He raised a hand, genuinely chastened. ‘To lighten the atmosphere. To make you smile.’

  ‘Plus – if we’re here visiting a relative, then it might be safe to assume that we already know what her condition is. You’ve just given her a hint that we don’t know – so we might not be relatives. Let’s hope that Nurse Ratched is an authoritarian on the not-very-clever end of the spectrum.’

  ‘A relative, you say.’ He blinked. ‘You’re pretending she is your relative?’

  ‘Maybe it’s best if you let me handle the talking.’ She folded her arms, furious.

  The door opened, and the nurse returned. The latter’s demeanour had completely changed; her mouth had been a compressed line of disdain before, and her eyes polished glass; but now Freya and Glenn could see her teeth, either very new or dentures, in a broad, friendly smile, her eyes crinkled in mirth at a comment they hadn’t heard. ‘In you come, Carol.’

  The woman who came in was extremely tall and slim – Freya would have said she had the body of a teenager, lithe and long-limbed. Black leggings accentuated her thin bones, while the white T-shirt over the top reminded Freya of disinterested PE kits from her own schooldays. However, the face at the top of a long, elegant neck was not that of a teenager.

  Freya knew that Carol Ramirez was fifty-four, and while this age seemed horrifically advanced, Freya was old enough to appreciate that it wasn’t old… or old old, anyway. Even so, Carol Ramirez’s face was a shock; she could have been at least twenty years older. The texture of her skin was odd, as if someone had smoothed out the foil wrapper of a sweetie, and she was gaunt, with it. Her grey hair was still long, but scraped back into a ponytail, and it was hard to guess when it had last been washed. She still had the cheekbones, but everything else was sunken and hollowed. Freya was reminded of an old soul she’d passed on the street a few times as she’d biked into work. The old dear had been singing utterly ancient music hall songs, shuffling her feet at a patch between two trees on a broad shopping thoroughfare. She was selling plastic roses. The old lady hadn’t stayed there long.

  Carol Ramirez’s eyes were pin-sharp, though. Not big, but dark, black blotted ink on white sheeting. In just one look, Freya could discern the striking young woman in uniform, familiar from the mugshot on Red Ink.

  This was the most dangerous moment. Carol Ramirez stopped, and her eyes narrowed.

  Then she said: ‘Oh. Stacey. God, you’ve changed.’

  35

  ‘I know,’ Freya said, pointing to her blonde hair, ‘I can’t settle. I went coal black for a while.’

  ‘Coal black suits you. You’ll get roots, going that blonde. Takes effort.’

  Freya came forward. Carol looked discomfited, but Freya was undaunted. She wrapped the taller, older woman in a hug. There was little warmth in it, but Carol’s hands came around to Freya’s shoulders.

  ‘You’re skinnier than I remember, too,’ Carol said. Her eyes were watering, twin points of light in the dark. ‘Eating all right, I hope?’

  ‘Eating plenty. I’ve been training a lot. Running, mostly. Been doing a fair bit of country walking, haven’t we?’ Freya turned to Glenn, and he nodded, earnestly.

  ‘I don’t know you,’ Carol remarked.

  ‘I’m Glenn.’ He came forward, proffering a hand.

  Carol Ramirez took it, as awkwardly as it was possible to shake someone’s hand. Its equivalent would have been trying to high-five someone and missing, or handling something unpleasant snarled in a drain, even with rubber gloves on.

  ‘Glenn what?’

  ‘Glenn’s my fiancé.’ Freya took to his side, slithering an arm around his shoulder and drawing him close. Glenn’s hand rested in the curve of her hip. This tingled, treacherously. ‘That’s why we came to see you.’

  Carol’s eyes narrowed. ‘Can I see the ring?’

  ‘Well, we…’ Glenn began, but Freya came forward, tilting her left hand.

  Carol took it, and scrutinised the simple ring Freya wore. There was no stone; only a hint of silver.

  ‘Hmm. I’m guessing Glenn isn’t a big spender?’ At the thunderstruck silence that followed, Carol cackled, a grin splitting her face.

  ‘Well, umm, that’s just a placeholder,’ Glenn said. ‘The actual ring will have a rock so big you could escape from here with it.’

  Carol laughed harder, delighted. ‘He’s cheeky – he’ll do for me! Where’d you find him, love? Did you order him online?’

  The nurse drew back, seemingly relieved. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it. You need anything, just holler.’

  ‘There’ll be no need to holler,’ Carol said. ‘Nurse Patterson here will be watching on the video cameras, along with a couple of strapping young men who took me over to this wing. When I spring into the attack, they’ll be in here before I can do too much damage.’ She smiled sweetly at the nurse.

  ‘Take care, Carol,’ Nurse Patterson said, dryly, then withdrew.

  ‘Sit yourselves down,’ Carol said. She nodded towards one of the empty tables and chairs. ‘I’d say, “Help yourselves to water and the tea machine,” but the last time I tried the tea it took the enamel off my teeth.’

  They declined the offer, and sat down with Carol at the table.

  �
��So – how’s it been?’ Freya asked.

  ‘Oh, so-so.’ Carol shrugged her shoulders theatrically. ‘You know the drill. Take the pills. Wander through the day in cotton wool. A couple of times I made friends. I had a boyfriend, you know.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. He died.’ Carol sighed, and leaned back in her chair. ‘It happens. He was old, and mad. He had money and property, you know. I could have robbed him blind, but, well, he was a lunatic, and there was no chance of me getting him to change his will.’

  Freya took this in her stride. ‘That’s the way it goes.’

  Carol turned to Glenn. ‘Do you have money and property?’

  ‘I’ve got a decent collection of 2000AD comics. Only one or two gaps.’

  ‘Big fire risk, those. You’ll come out like an overdone chicken when they find you, boy. Even down to the joints. I’ve seen it, you know. Seen it all. When I was in the police. Whatever they find clutched in your blackened hands, it won’t be fucking comics. That’s what they got me for, you know. I set fire to some old flats. I saw the boarded-up windows, thought they were empty. Turned out there were people still in there. Whoops!’

  Glenn cleared his throat. Freya shot him a look, and he stayed silent.

  ‘Nobody died, mind. I didn’t get charged. They fix that for you, the cops. Still got sectioned, but never went before the courts. Doesn’t look good to have a serving member of the constabulary go off her head. Never knew that, did you?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Freya said.