Her Cold Eyes

by Tony Black

  ‘You can trust Sylvia, she knows as much as I do.’

  ‘Okay. If you’re sure, Bob.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  McCormack spoke up. ‘I’ve not been suspended, I’m still on the force, but we’re all on the same page.’

  ‘I see. I think you must know by now that both Davis and myself never stopped investigating the original Abbie McGarvie case.’

  ‘I was coming to that conclusion,’ said Valentine. ‘It must have seemed like a stroke of luck when you were dropped into my team, Ian.’

  Davis nodded, a weak grin forcing up the tip of his moustache.

  ‘I’ve been in contact with some sources today,’ said Rickards, ‘and I’ve received some interesting information about the imminent arrival of a high-flier.’

  ‘You’re talking about Prestwick Airport?’

  He nodded. ‘I don’t have a name, but it’s top-tier; they’re laying on the full diplomatic security detail.’

  ‘If this has been on the cards then I can see why my case has been shut down so abruptly.’

  ‘That would have happened anyway, but yes, some serious organisation has gone into this, and Sutherland’s fun park is the main attraction.’

  Valentine turned to McCormack. She was holding herself in a tense manner, clearly as confused by the emerging information as the detective was.

  ‘I’m not sure I see where you’re going with all of this, Kevin,’ said Valentine.

  Davis sparked up, getting out of his seat. ‘You don’t? Christ, don’t you get it yet?’

  ‘Calm down, Ian.’ Rickards patted Davis on the arm, then gripped his fingers round his shoulder, forcing him to sit down again. ‘Bob, there’s only one way we’re going to get a result here, you must see that.’

  ‘We can’t just walk in and scoop them up. I’ve done that already today and Sutherland was promptly released.’

  ‘But I will have to make arrests if I see anything that breaks the law,’ said McCormack. ‘I won’t just turn a blind eye because you’ve both been stonewalled already.’

  ‘I’m not talking about taking them in.’ Rickards’ strong features sat rigid.

  ‘Well, what are you talking about?’ said Valentine.

  ‘Catching them in the act. If we can turn the tables on them, get them on film, then we can blow this whole operation wide open in the media.’

  ‘You must be mad,’ Valentine bridled. ‘If Sutherland’s people are as strong as we think, then what makes you think the press would even touch it?’

  ‘They won’t have a choice!’ snapped Davis. ‘The print media’s on its last legs, there’s an alternative media online that will lap this up.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Rickards. ‘The dam’s breaking online. If the old media won’t run with the story, the new lot will. I know just where to take this. Trust me, people are ready to hear the truth.’

  Valentine sat facing the two men, letting the new thought turn over in his mind. There was a time when he would have dismissed the proposal out of hand. It was dangerously close to vigilante action, to putting his head on the block – and everyone else’s – but he had nothing to lose now.

  He wanted justice for Abbie, and for all the other damaged girls she had brought to him. He closed his eyes and weighed up the dwindling list of options.

  Six Days Ago

  All the way into the country I wonder why Dad has sent this man for me. He says his name is Malky and I don’t like it because it sounds like a rough person’s name. I’m not supposed to talk to people like that, Mum says so, but so does Dad. The man yabbers the whole time about silly stuff, he sings along to songs on the radio and he squeezes my knee whenever I take my eyes off him. I think he’s a little bit mad. I don’t like him one bit.

  ‘Your lot think you’re something,’ he says.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know, your lot, bloody snobs.’

  I don’t think I’m a snob. ‘I’m not like that.’

  ‘Your old man is, thinks he’s the dog’s bollocks because he has a few bloody letters after his name and a few quid in the bank.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh, you say. Oh, right. You know what I mean.’

  I don’t say anything to that and he lights another cigarette. I think he doesn’t like me after all, but it doesn’t really matter because since Paige went I don’t think anyone likes me anyway. Anyone except my mum and my brother, but I hardly get to see them now.

  I think about my family, about Papa even, and I start to wonder if I’ll ever see any of them again. I don’t know why I think like this but the thought comes into my head and I start to feel a tingle deep inside my chest that makes me want to cry.

  I love them, but nobody else. Not anyone.

  ‘I hear you’re a bit of a wild one,’ he says. He flicks his cigarette in a little tray in the dashboard and white ash goes all over my knees.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘All the wild ones end up at the party, that’s why Paige was taken.’

  ‘Taken?’ The word sounds wrong, scary.

  ‘Oh, yes. She was a wild one, so they said. But not any more.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean she went running.’

  ‘Running?’ He starts to laugh and his voice breaks into a hacking cough. He’s almost choking himself but he can’t stop laughing. It’s all a great big joke to him.

  ‘Tell me about Paige.’

  ‘No!’ He snarls now, and he looks angry again. ‘Shut up about her.’

  We’re outside a big gate, a metal one that’s painted black with no other marks at all. He has a little controller, like we have for the telly, and he points it at the gate – it starts to open up, very slowly, and we drive through.

  ‘Bloody big shots,’ he says, looking all around us. ‘What do you think, is it a palace?’

  ‘It’s very palatial, yes.’

  He sneers and parrots me, ‘It’s very palatial.’ I can tell I’ve annoyed him. He’s starting to frighten me. I wonder what all this is about – the party and the running. I wonder what he means when he goes on about Paige. I start to see her face in my mind, her lovely soft hair and her pale blue eyes. I can even hear her voice; it always makes me feel calm and happy, but not today.

  ‘These posh bastards think they’re something,’ he says, ‘but I know what they really are.’

  ‘What?’

  He grins, and taps the side of his nose. ‘Bloody scum of the earth. The worst there is.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They look down at me, they think I’m filth, but I’m not anything like as bad as them. I know there’s a line.’

  ‘Why are you saying these things?’

  His face is very red now, little white lines at the side of his mouth and eyes are standing out on the dark flesh. He looks like an imp from a picture book, a fairy tale or one of those folk stories about little goblins that live underground.

  He stops the car and grabs my arm, his fingernails dig into my flesh. ‘Ouch, you’re hurting me.’

  ‘Shut up, just listen for a minute, will you?’ He jerks me closer to him, his face is right next to mine. ‘These people are freaks. They think they have me over a barrel, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.’

  ‘That hurts.’

  ‘Will you just listen?’ He throws my arm down.

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘They’re going to take you to the old cow shed later, down there.’ He points to a shabby old building on the edge of the long lawn. I can only see one side and a part of the roof. ‘They’ll make you run, they’ll say if you can run far and fast enough they’ll set you free, but they won’t ever let you go.’

  I’m scared now. ‘No, don’t tell me this.’

  ‘Listen, we don’t have much time. Behind the building there’s a path – you have to run right to the bottom of the path and head for the biggest tree. I’ve put a rope ladder there, if you can reach it you can go over the wa
ll. There’s no other way out.’

  ‘Why? Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because they’ll kill you if you don’t! Are you so bloody stupid? These people are freaks, it’s what they get off on. Christ, listen to what I’m telling you.’ He punches his fists into the rim of the steering wheel.

  ‘But why would you help me?’ I don’t trust him, and I don’t want to believe that any of this is happening.

  ‘Because if you get out, I get out. I’ll have something on them too, not just the other way around.’

  I start to tremble. I feel the tears on my cheeks. ‘Is this what happened to Paige?’

  ‘Paige was unbreakable, just like you. They make sport of the girls they can’t control.’

  ‘What happened to Paige?’

  ‘They hunted her down and killed her.’

  I cry. My head droops and tears fall onto my school skirt, little dark drops on the grey cloth.

  ‘Oh, Paige.’

  ‘It’s too late for her, but not for you, or me. Just do what I tell you and we can get away. Trust me.’

  ‘Okay. I will.’

  ‘You’ll run for the big tree, and the ladder?’

  ‘Yes, I will.’

  ‘Good. I’ll wait for you on the other side of the wall. If everything goes to plan, we’ll have an interesting story to tell, and one or two pictures as well.’

  ‘Pictures?’

  ‘Never mind, that’s something for me to worry about. You just worry about getting over that wall.’

  30

  Valentine and McCormack walked over to the Odeon car park in Burns Statue Square. It was still early evening but there were fewer cars about, most being merely a blur of tail-lights on the road out of town. The solid block of the cinema building, sitting in the full sweep of the road, was an ugly blemish on the skyline that pitched the officers into shade as they walked. Ahead of them, a shabby drunk yawed from side to side on the pavement, making an unwelcome obstacle for them to avoid. As they stepped out, McCormack’s quick footsteps made a stabbing noise on the tarmac and then came a gasp as she momentarily lost balance.

  ‘Are you all right?’ said Valentine, grabbing her arm and holding her up.

  ‘Just lost my footing.’

  He watched the drunk stagger on, unawares. When he returned his gaze to the DI he noticed the loose folds of skin sitting beneath her eyes. A whorl of hair unfurled itself from her head and was forced back into place.

  ‘You look a little rattled. Are you sure you’re okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded briskly.

  Valentine released her arm and she stumbled again. ‘Okay, let’s get you into the car.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

  When they were seated inside the Audi, Valentine put the heater on and turned to face the DI. ‘Something’s up. You can’t kid a kidder.’

  ‘It’s just . . . I was never one of the cool kids at school.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean, I worked bloody hard to get where I am.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I promoted you.’

  She made a weak smile. ‘I was always the kid with the homework handed in first. I never forgot my PE kit once. I was one of the swotty ones, not the cool kids, like I said. So all this meeting behind the bike sheds makes me nervous.’

  Valentine smirked. ‘I understand, and it’s natural. But I wouldn’t ask you to risk your career doing anything you didn’t want to do.’

  ‘It’s not that. Not at all. I know I have to do this because the other way has already failed.’

  ‘You see that, do you?’

  McCormack paused, her drowsy eyes flickered. ‘This investigation has changed me, awoken something in me that I didn’t know was there.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Do you remember when we opened Malky’s locker and found that bible?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That shocked me. It was like he’d felt the same thing, like there was a battle going on between good and evil. I must sound ridiculous, but it’s what this case has made me feel – that there’s more out there than us versus them. There’s a real, palpable evil among us.’

  Valentine looked away. ‘I know what you’re getting at.’

  ‘You feel it too?’

  ‘We all do. Can’t you see it in Kevin and Ian’s faces?’

  She sat in silence for a few seconds and then replied. ‘Yes, I do see it. It’s everywhere. Don’t you think it’s strange, though?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, at any other time we’d all be happy with collaring a nonce like Malcolm Frizzle, and here we are going after his enemies in exactly the same manner.’

  ‘We can’t know what Malky’s motives were.’

  ‘No. Of course, but I certainly don’t think they were pure.’

  ‘He never had a pure thought in his life. Look, don’t go equating us with that dirtbag – we’re not descending to his level – we’re merely baiting the hook to catch the fish.’

  ‘That’s agreed, but my point is, sir, that it didn’t work out for Malky, so why should it work out for us?’

  The inky twilight came down around them on the small copse. Davis, crouched over and perching on a large tree-stump, cupped a lit cigarette in his hand. As the others sheltered behind him his skin appeared waxy and pale, his face jutting like a solid cleft of rock. Valentine watched as Davis pressed the cigarette to his lips, time and again, patting the filter like a child’s comforter. He was ill at ease, jumpy.

  ‘Why don’t you come back here, Ian?’ said Valentine. ‘No one can get into the outbuilding unless they come through the front door. We’ll see them in good time.’

  ‘I’d sooner stay here and watch.’

  ‘But there’s nothing to be gained, Ian,’ said Rickards.

  ‘I said, I’ll wait!’ he bit.

  ‘Okay, Ian. Stay calm.’

  He spun round. ‘I am bloody calm!’

  Valentine gazed into Rickards’ eyes. A mutual understanding was passed between them. There was no point in riling Davis any more than he already was. They had a simple enough task to do, and it was in no one’s benefit to isolate one of the small group’s members and single them out for censure.

  The others kept clear of the gathering gales and watched the property. Sutherland’s house had a row of six Georgian-style windows running along the top floor. On the ground level were four windows, two either side of the stately entrance that was flanked by Doric pillars. It was an impressive property, but the large windows afforded very little view of the interior. The lower windows were occluded by wooden shutters and the upper, though exposed to the outside, showed no more than a well-lit, but empty, interior.

  Occasionally, a small, bunched-up woman with timid movements would appear on the front steps and throw out what looked like handfuls of salt. She appeared to be part of the wider group, a participant of some description, but it was unclear what she was actually doing.

  The airport party had arrived in a motorcade of three black saloons, and were met by a thin, angular man with outsized hands who ushered them in. None of the important new arrivals had appeared again since. All was quiet inside Sutherland’s mansion, almost painfully so to those observing the goings-on.

  Valentine turned to Sylvia. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Fine. How about you?’

  ‘Cold, it’s brass monkeys out here.’

  ‘What about the . . . ?’ She ran a finger up and down her sternum.

  ‘I wish people would stop asking about my heart.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  The conversation had been picked up by Rickards. ‘I heard about that at the time. A stabbing in the heart, vicious.’

  ‘It wasn’t one of my better days.’

  ‘It can’t have been an easy recovery.’

  ‘I take so many pills I rattle now.’

  ‘You’re better off out the force with that hanging over you – less stress
– with any luck they’ll just pension you off.’

  ‘I’m not ready for the knacker’s yard.’

  Davis picked up the gist of the conversation. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Sorry?’ said Valentine.

  ‘The knacker’s yard. It sounds okay to me.’

  ‘You’re only a young man, Ian. Aren’t you being a bit nihilistic?’

  He tutted. ‘Is that what you think?’

  Valentine noticed Rickards drawing his attention, making a cut-off gesture with his hand and shaking his head. The DCI conceded to someone who knew Davis better than him and kept quiet.

  ‘Hold up, here she is again,’ said Davis. ‘Salt lady . . . and she’s not alone this time.’

  The others gathered behind Davis at his vantage point and watched as the thin man came out first, carrying a burning torch.

  ‘This is it.’

  A group of men in dark, hooded robes started to trail from the mansion house in a slow procession. The single-file trail gave way to a group of four, carrying a girl, naked and splayed, on their shoulders. A further group of torch-bearers came up behind them and the entire collective made its way towards the now darkened woodlands.

  ‘Okay, let’s get into position,’ said Valentine.

  ‘Yes, let’s get going,’ said Rickards. ‘Everybody know their stations?’

  A chorus of replies came from everyone but Davis.

  ‘Ian, did you hear me?’

  He didn’t answer again, instead slipping down from the tree stump and disappearing into the dark of the wood.

  ‘Jesus, what’s wrong with him?’ said Valentine.

  ‘Leave him,’ said Rickards, checking the battery pack on the camera was still charged. ‘He’ll be fine. Just remember if anything goes off, and McCormack has to intervene, the rest of us have to regroup.’

  ‘Are you okay with that, Sylvia?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, fine.’

  ‘We won’t leave you stranded, or in danger.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then, okay. Let’s do this.’

  Valentine and McCormack made for the stone outbuilding and positioned themselves below the line of the window ledge on the back wall. The ground was moist, squelching underfoot, and the entire area was in complete blackness. Valentine heard Rickards making his way to the other side of the building, pressing through the undergrowth, old, fallen twigs snapping as he went. The detective tried to discern Davis’s whereabouts, but he couldn’t hear any more movement or see further than a few feet in front of him.