The Runner

by P. R. Black

  ‘It was only when I started coming at it from more of an oblique angle that I got some more interesting results,’ Glenn said. ‘Instead of Two Ways, I looked for One Way Or Another, One Of Two. Six Of One, Half A Dozen Of The Other, that kind of thing. A fork in the road was an obvious starting point. The most interesting hit was One Of Two – and it referred to a fork in the canal network. A couple of miles away. One of the paths takes us down to a weir. It’s tough to get there on foot without getting wet, and there’s no road nearby. Perfect spot, in other words.’

  Freya shivered. ‘I wonder if we should have told the police what our thinking is. Tamm did warn us not to get cute.’

  ‘This could be a total wild goose chase. If we call Tamm and he rolls out the complete police experience, and it turns out we’ve hit a dead end, he’ll be angrier than he would be if two concerned citizens called in a body. Or whatever it is we’re going to find.’

  Freya shook her head. ‘I don’t get this, Glenn. And to be honest – I don’t get you.’

  ‘What do you mean now?’ He was exasperated, now, and weary. Did our relationship just jump forward a couple of years?

  ‘I mean this is a bit of an about-face. For some reason you don’t want anyone to know where we are. Now that there’s a maniac out there, I’m thinking we should play it more by the book. He could be out here with us, right now. Waiting for us. The game might be up. We shouldn’t be playing at it, any more.’

  And he could be right here on deck, with me. All along, Glenn had been a few jumps ahead of her. Putting together the clues, presenting them to her. Pleased with himself – and slightly resentful over Freya’s input, whenever she’d been more on the money.

  And don’t forget, a more feral part of her said, the guy’s a cheat and a liar. Didn’t think to mention his girlfriend. On the verge of splitting up? ‘Oh, she doesn’t understand me; my needs aren’t being met’? That’s what they all say. And you threw yourself at him.

  ‘I thought I was following your lead,’ Glenn replied, solemnly. ‘You’ve come to me with these clues, remember – left by some mystery person. Who knows who you are, where you live. Who leaves these amazing clues for you to discover. You must admit, that’s kinda convenient.’ He raised a hand to cut off her protest. ‘I’m telling you how it looks, and how any reasonable person would see it. Definitely how the police would see it. Maybe I’m the one who’s taking more of a risk, here. You’re the one with the direct link to a guy in jail for murder. And who maybe did several more. So before you start squeezing me into the frame, maybe take a look at how you’ve behaved, and how it looks.’

  ‘I just want to know what’s going on, Glenn.’

  ‘I can take you back any time. I’ll do it myself. Or maybe – you want this? For all your protests. Maybe you want to get the truth, and get there first. Given the corruption in this case – it stinks of it, somewhere – maybe we’re right to. Pass it on to Tamm, you could be throwing the evidence you need down the drain. Maybe there’s someone out there doesn’t want your dad out of prison. Maybe the person giving you the information isn’t the killer at all.’

  Freya didn’t address his point. She swallowed her indignation. ‘Maybe we’ll carry on as we are. But it might be time to come in, now. Maybe we’ve flirted with it enough.’

  ‘It’s up to you.’ He faced forward, grinding his teeth. Freya took a moment to calm down.

  ‘Only two left,’ Freya said at length. ‘Anne-Marie Kittrick and Danielle Pearson.’

  ‘Could be anyone, really. Could be a new body. Could be one of the peripheral disappearances that could be linked in the 1980s. Or it could be nothing.’ He sniffed.

  Freya zipped her waterproof jacket up to her neck, then noticed Glenn was wearing a battered suede jacket, jeans and boots.

  She pointed these out. ‘I thought you said we should wear waterproofs?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m driving the boat. You’re doing the action and adventure.’

  ‘What? Myself? You haven’t even told me where the fuck we’re going!’ Suddenly the overboard option seemed like less of a mad notion and more like good sense. The night was a threat, now, without a trace of adventure. ‘I’m not doing it alone!’

  ‘You’re not alone,’ said a new voice from the cabin behind her.

  41

  Cheryl Levison’s waterproof jacket wasn’t as loud as Freya’s, although luminous slashes up the sides and at the cuffs caught the light in brilliant bolts. She had her hood up, and if it hadn’t been for the voice, Freya wouldn’t have recognised the shadowy features, backlit by the cosy cabin behind her.

  She cursed herself for not checking the boat. Need to switch on a bit more.

  ‘Welcome aboard,’ Levison drawled. ‘I hope you don’t mind me tagging along?’

  ‘Bit late to ask for permission.’

  ‘I’ve got some explaining to do… come on in and I’ll brew up a tea for us. Glenn, you want one?’

  He shook his head, keeping his eyes out in front. Freya couldn’t tell if he was just being diligent, or whether he was ashamed. He looked confident enough on the tiller, with the engine drawling away behind him. The churning of the water was a gentle sound as they cruised along, and with the sound Freya was reminded of holidays.

  The cabin was gently lit, and fastidiously clean. A bed with white sheets could be seen, heading towards the bow of the boat, with a galley kitchen and two rows of benches. One of these had a table bolted to the inner hull, and Levison gestured towards this.

  ‘I contacted Glenn after our contretemps the other day,’ she said, as they both sat down on either side of the table. ‘Interesting lad. Clever, too. Don’t tell him I said that, will you? He could be of use to us, eventually. I’ve got some things brewing. And I hope you don’t mind. I made him an offer – well, I guess I’m making you both an offer. Access to Gareth, the first week he’s released. Then three more meetings, lasting a day or more.’

  Freya felt a burst of anger towards Levison’s insufferably bright tone. ‘I don’t need you to get access to my dad.’

  ‘True. Well, the offer’s for Glenn, mainly, so he can write his blogs and take his photos. Probably won’t make any money out of it. But you’ve got bigger fish to fry, Freya.’

  ‘It’s depressing how often people keep mentioning money. Truly depressing.’ Freya focused on gazing out of the green-ringed porthole, watching spectral tree limbs quivering at the barge’s passage. She wondered what it would be like to live on one of these. To effectively move house whenever you wished.

  ‘It’s depressing how many people just put their work out there for nothing,’ Levison countered. ‘You haven’t done that – you sold your stuff to the dailies. You know where it’s at. For all your moralising. You’re a hunter at heart. Don’t be ashamed of it.’

  ‘And what are you hunting?’

  ‘The best deal for my client. That’s the contract I’ve entered.’

  ‘And why are you here, tonight? The judgment is being delivered in a matter of days. Shouldn’t you be working?’

  ‘I know my brief inside out, and upside down and back to front, too. That’s not a problem. The problem is if something new and unexpected bobs up, and gets in the way. That’s why I asked Glenn to let me know if something crops up. He was very generous with the information… But held just enough back so that I’d have to come and meet him. In a lot of ways, I’m lucky he’s not some crazed copycat.’

  ‘Maybe you’re the crazed copycat, Cheryl? Maybe we should be worried about you.’

  The lawyer snorted. ‘Nah, don’t worry. There’s not enough clearance to swing an axe in here.’

  Despite Levison’s jocular tone, Freya shivered, disguising it by scratching the back of her neck. ‘I spoke to Dad a couple of days ago. Sometimes he seemed calm; other times he seemed angry. How’s he feeling ahead of the court case?’

  ‘Confident, same as me. As he should be.’ Levison sipped at her tea. ‘He’s quite taken with you, you know. This is rea
lly unlike him. If I had to attach qualities to Gareth Solomon, “fatherliness” wouldn’t be the first one I’d choose.’

  ‘Lucky for me.’

  ‘Yes… And incidentally, you are his daughter. DNA results came in today, in fact. It usually takes longer to get all these things matched up, but… people do me favours, here and there.’

  ‘Did you have a doubt?’

  ‘When it comes to Gareth Solomon, I doubt many things.’

  ‘But not that he’s innocent?’

  Levison blinked, as if outraged by the question. ‘Oh, he’s going to walk free. No question about that whatsoever.’

  Freya smiled. ‘That’s a lawyer’s answer, if ever I’ve heard one. I wonder if you get too used to lying. You forget that other people can sniff it out.’

  ‘That could be an insult,’ Levison said, facetiously. ‘But maybe not. I can never be sure with you.’

  Irritation quickened her pulse. She had to concentrate hard not to fold her arms, like a haughty teenager. ‘I’m going to be honest with you here,’ she said, calmly. ‘I don’t like you being here, and I don’t like it being sprung on me. I’ll have a word with Glenn about this later. But for now, no more secrets. Don’t spring any more surprises on me. This was a nightmare to start with, and I get the feeling it’s only going to get worse. I don’t like this extra random element.’

  Levison gazed at her for a moment. ‘Freya, I’m not here to muscle in on your little scheme, if that’s what you’re bothered about.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me.’

  The lawyer raised a hand. ‘Just a minute. I’m here at Glenn’s suggestion. And also at your father’s. He’s growing concerned that you’re in danger on his account – immediate danger, at any time. He asked me to make sure I kept an eye on you. Now before you fly off the handle, I know you’re a big girl and can handle yourself. But a little extra help is no bad thing, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Freya turned away for a moment. That familiar, hopeless longing had returned for a second. The treacherous sense of a burden being laid aside; that her father liked and cared for her. A stranger for all that time.

  And still a stranger. Even if he hadn’t killed anyone, he had still done unspeakable things.

  Freya nodded. ‘Fair enough. I guess you’re here now. Have we got to go far?’

  Levison glanced at her watch. ‘According to Captain Flint up there, we’re just minutes away.’

  ‘Never seen a fork in a canal before,’ Freya said. ‘I thought they were just long stretches, like motorways.’

  ‘You can get one or two,’ Levison replied. ‘Depends on the network. The canal’s quite broad, here. Very leafy. Not seen too many boats moored this far out.’

  ‘I’m glad. I don’t really want to bump into anyone tonight.’

  ‘Want to head out into the front?’ Levison set down her cup.

  ‘Sure.’

  Up a short flight of steps to the right of the bed, a hatchway opened out into a tiny area set at the bow. Freya and Levison were a pair of wraiths cast in the strong blue light, and they both turned away from the beam. Glenn was a startled, indistinct shadow through the curtain of light. His head bobbed as he spotted them, then he raised a hand.

  Freya returned the gesture, then ducked behind the beam of light. At least I know it really is Glenn, she thought. She pictured Glenn’s body bobbing somewhere in the subsiding wake of the boat; and his hand replaced at the tiller by that of their nemesis.

  Freya peered ahead, where the strong headlight picked out broad, flat dark water. The moon had yet to rise, and even though the headlight was strong, Freya wanted to hold on to whatever daylight was left for a little longer. The towpath was quite overgrown here, with willows dipping their heads into the water, obscuring the narrow paths on either side. Even the sounds of the road had disappeared, this far out, to be replaced by a definite sound of rushing water.

  ‘The way Glenn spoke… It seems you had a falling-out,’ Levison whispered.

  ‘True enough,’ Freya admitted. ‘I haven’t spoken to him for a little bit. Think he has a few problems back home that he can’t get out of.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Girlfriend leave him, or something?’

  ‘In a nutshell. Though he says it’s complicated,’ she added, dryly.

  ‘Strange one. First glance, I’d never have put him down as a ladykiller. You never can tell, though. What do you think?’

  Freya shut this down, straight away. ‘What are you going to do if we do find a body out at the weir?’

  ‘First person I’ll call is Tamm,’ Levison said. ‘I’ll relish telling him, I can tell you. I think he’s a fraud, and not that good a copper. Type of guy who puts on a smiley face and thinks he’s clever. It might work if he was a spiritualist. Less of a good look for the police.’

  ‘He seemed sincere.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I meant.’

  Suddenly, a new beam stabbed out into the night, out to port. Glenn had switched on a torch. A powerful, bluish ray swept either side of the bank, finding only fencing, green leaves, and the odd black roil of tarmac or pitted concrete as the paths came into view.

  ‘What’s up?’ Freya asked, tempted to duck down. ‘See someone?’

  ‘Nah, checking our situation either side,’ Glenn called out. ‘We’re almost there. Got to admit, I’d rather have tried to force our way through on foot rather than do this. We’re piggy in the middle, here. Too easy, if someone took a shot.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s his style.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure,’ Levison interrupted. ‘When the Woodcutter snatches people, he’s pretty persuasive. The only way he’d have gotten Max Dilworth to comply with whatever he wanted was to threaten to shoot him. And he’ll be good with firearms, too. Good enough to get a fighty, beery, strapping squaddie to play whatever game turns him on.’

  ‘Strange that the Woodcutter got a result, every time.’

  Levison frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You would think at some point, someone would have called his bluff. Especially Max Dilworth. But if he was the skeleton in the field, it looks as if he took his chances and ran. That’s something that doesn’t quite add up. Unless we find the last two bodies, and they had gunshot wounds, they all ran, it seems.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Levison said. ‘Maybe Max Dilworth makes the most sense. I got access to restricted papers on him, when I was preparing the case. Stuff that Glenn over there didn’t even get to see, thanks to his contacts. Dilworth’s bleep test was about the best I’ve ever seen. It was like happy hardcore before he tapped out. He was a stringy guy, like a featherweight boxer, you know that way? All gristle rather than muscle. And he was fucking hard. I read his reports. One of these people you wouldn’t want to either race or fight. Brave, too. Clever enough, as far as those boys go. So, whatever it is our man does to get them into the situation, then to go through with it, then actually chop them up… We’ve got to be so careful. Hey. This is it. Glenn? You see it?’

  ‘I see it,’ Glenn said.

  The sound of the engine grew deeper, and the leisurely pace slowed to a crawl. A new sound cut over the top – running water, loud, but with no obvious source. It was almost full dark, with a fine smattering of stars starting to appear in the indigo skies above. It would be a fine night with a fire pit and a few beers, Freya thought wistfully.

  The fork came up. ‘More of an island than a fork, I’d say,’ Freya said to Levison. ‘Is that just trees growing out the waterline, or is there any land?’

  ‘Land, for sure. Or a mudbank, most likely. Look. I can see an old traffic cone there… And a couple of tyres.’ She grinned.

  With the boat now slow enough for them to confidently step off onto dry land, if they wished, Glenn trained his torch onto the bank, spilling the light over the trees on the mudbank, as he guided the long boat to port.

  The boat continued its momentum, but frustratingly slowly. Freya again felt the need to crouch as t
he vegetation closed in – once or twice, seemingly close enough for the branches to reach out and clasp her by the neck, if they wanted to – and the canal narrowed.

  Freya didn’t want to speak.

  Then Glenn said: ‘There it is. Just up ahead. You see it?’

  Looking to port, Freya could see the canal was in quite an elevated position; the lights of a town sparkled in a valley below. Then the bank to the left disappeared behind a concrete buttress, with peeled white-painted fences standing like a row of drunk men. Water rushed through this fencing.

  ‘That’ll be the weir,’ Freya said. There was something about the peeling paintwork, the naked railings and the latticework of moving shadows that discomfited her. The liminal feeling of a playpark or a schoolyard in the dead of night, cleared of people. There was only dread here.

  42

  Freya slid her mobile phone into a zip-lock plastic bag, and slipped it into her jacket pocket.

  ‘What if he’s waiting there for us?’ she mused. ‘He was waiting for me and Glenn at the slate mine.’

  ‘It’s possible, but unlikely,’ Levison said. ‘He wasn’t waiting for you when you found the first body, in the farmer’s field. He wasn’t waiting for you in the ghost town… unless Tamm is the killer. So if the Woodcutter shows up, it’ll be just to scare us. If Glenn is right, there’s something here he wants us to find. Something unpleasant.’

  ‘A body,’ Freya whispered. ‘Almost certainly a body. Danielle Pearson or Anne-Marie Kittrick.’ She saw their faces, the analogue photographs from the 1990s. Flashbulb images. Honest smiles rendered ghastly, grotesque. Given a tone. They had ended their time on earth in terror. They had run, they had panicked, they had pleaded. And they had found no mercy. Only glee, or rage, or unimaginable lust.

  ‘Hard to say which one it might be,’ Glenn said, as he tied up the boat at some cleats fastened to the concrete edge of the bank. ‘They were both abducted within about a fifty-mile radius of here. That’s what drew me to the canal. The other two locations were triangulated with where they went missing, as well as the possible location. The thing that threw me a little bit is that it crosses into a different county, so whenever you read about the disappearances, you mentally process it as two very different locations, in their case. But in terms of physical distance it’s not too far at all. You ready?’