Driftnet

by Lin Anderson

  Edward answered. If it had been Fiona’s voice she would have put the phone down.

  ‘Rhona! What the hell are you doing? It’s one o’clock in the morning.’

  ‘I had to ring you.’

  ‘Rhona. If you’re still on about…’

  ‘Shut up, Edward. I’m phoning about Jonathan.’

  ‘Jonathan?’

  He was taken aback.

  ‘I think he’s in trouble. Has he ever mentioned someone called Simon?’

  ‘What?’ Now Edward was giving her his full attention.

  ‘Please answer me. Does Jonathan know anyone called Simon?’

  His numb wordlessness told Rhona what she didn’t want to know.

  Rhona drove straight to the hospital. If Edward left home right away, he would get there ten minutes after her. With the engine turned off, silence settled heavily round her. It was funny. Here she was, seventeen years later, waiting for Edward to come and meet her at the same hospital. Only it was the middle of the night. And this time, it wasn’t her child.

  When they discharged her, Edward had come to collect her. She had spent all morning pacing up and down the ward like a demented hen without a chick. Edward had never come to visit, not the whole week she was there. He sent cards and flowers that made it feel as if she had been ill, rather than having their baby.

  On the evening she had been admitted, Edward took her to Accident and Emergency and handed her over to a nurse, then cleared off. Rhona had tried to make a joke of it. Her boyfriend, she told anyone who would listen, was allergic to hospitals. Allergic to babies would have been nearer the mark.

  The silence was split by the sound of a siren. It sent a shiver down Rhona’s back. She watched as the ambulance drew up, and the latest emergency was rolled in through the front doors. At least in her job she wasn’t expected to save lives.

  Edward heard out her garbled story about paedophiles using the Internet to locate vulnerable kids. She’d told him about the email she’d found and the man in the park meeting his son. For once, Edward didn’t interrupt. Instead, he had asked her to meet him. He had something to tell her face to face.

  Rhona felt dog tired. She would tell Edward everything she knew, then it was up to him. She would be able to forget about it and go home. She’d tell Sean she was coming to Paris.

  A figure that might be Edward was approaching. She could see the outline of his face and his blonde hair in the car park lamp as he walked towards her. Then he tapped on the car window and she leaned over and flipped the passenger lock and he slipped into the seat beside her.

  ‘Hello Rhona.’

  ‘Gavin!’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when I spotted your car,’ he said. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  Rhona couldn’t find her voice.

  ‘A friend was involved in an accident,’ she managed. ‘They’ve decided to keep her in overnight for observation.’

  Gavin was looking at her strangely.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Rhona tried.

  ‘My nephew has suspected appendicitis and since I’m in charge this week, while my sister and her husband have a week’s holiday…’ Gavin paused. ‘Are you sure your friend’s alright? You look very worried.’

  ‘She’s fine. I’m going to head home now.’

  Gavin opened the door. ‘Okay. I’d better get back inside and find out what happening,’ he paused, meeting her eyes. ‘Can I give you a call tomorrow?’

  Rhona nodded.

  ‘Good.’ He smiled back at her.

  Rhona watched him walk back to A&E. Only then did she admit to herself how scared she was.

  It took ten more minutes for Edward to appear and during that time Rhona careered wildly between suspecting Gavin and feeling like a complete idiot for doing so.

  ‘Edward. Thank God.’

  ‘Rhona. Why didn’t you wait inside?’

  ‘You told me the car park.’

  ‘Did I? Sorry.’

  ‘Look. While I was waiting for you, that man was here.’

  ‘What man?’

  ‘The man I told you about. The one that works for the police.’

  ‘He’s here? Why?’

  ‘He said his nephew has been admitted with appendicitis.’

  ‘And you don’t believe him.’

  ‘I’m not sure…’

  ‘This is the same guy you saw Jonathan with?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The guy with the printout?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right. Let’s go and find if he’s telling the truth.’

  The A&E entrance was lined with trolleys as if there had been an earlier catastrophe that had filled the hospital. Inside, the reception area was as Rhona remembered, apart from a lick of paint and a Trust Hospital sign on the wall. The nurse in charge wore her name above her left breast on a similar label, but she looked just as tired and overworked as the one that had admitted Rhona all those years ago.

  Edward explained that he was there to look in on his son and he pushed his card across the desk. The nurse gave it a quick glance, recognised the name and said that would be fine. Mr Stewart could go up quietly, please.

  Edward gave one of his charming smiles and the nurse’s face lit up. He asked her if they had recently admitted a boy with suspected appendicitis.

  ‘I think it might be the nephew of a friend of mine.’

  The nurse nodded.

  Yes, there was a boy with appendicitis on the ward now. ‘He’s been sedated,’ she said, ‘They’re planning to remove the appendix in the morning.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Edward looked at Rhona. Wrong again, his expression rebuked. Before they left, he delivered a few off-the-shelf pleasantries about the dedication of the NHS. The nurse was completely charmed.

  Chapter 37

  Someone had brushed Jonathan’s hair back from his face. For the first time Rhona could see it clearly. He looked like his father, she thought, but his delicate nose was Fiona’s.

  The charge nurse smiled at them as they passed, obviously recognising at least one of the late-night visitors.

  ‘One of the advantages of private health care,’ Edward said as he swung open the door.

  There was an enormous bunch of flowers on the table at the window and the trolley beside the bed held a personal stereo and a pile of CDs.

  ‘We shouldn’t wake him,’ Rhona said, her heart aching at the thought of standing in that room, looking at Edward’s son. A son they didn’t share.

  ‘He won’t wake. They’ve sedated him,’ Edward said, the strain coming through in his voice.

  He led her into a side room with a coffee machine, a television and a phone.

  ‘What luxury,’ Rhona commented.

  ‘I need to work while I’m here.’ Edward explained. ‘The hospital is very understanding. Coffee?’ he suggested. ‘Although, it might be a little overdone.’

  It would help her stay awake.

  They sat down, each waiting for the other to begin. Rhona felt she had told Edward everything she could.

  ‘The papers don’t know… ’ Edward began finally. ‘Jonathan apparently tried to kill himself.’

  He looked at Rhona’s concerned face. ‘I’m sure it’s all a mistake,’ he insisted. ‘Jonathan had been drinking. We found an empty vodka bottle and a bottle of paracetemol.’

  Rhona said nothing. Edward placed the cup carefully on the table.

  ‘I believe he overdosed by mistake.’

  It didn’t sound like the truth to Rhona. ‘Where does this Simon come into this?’ she asked quietly.

  Edward crossed to the door and closed it.

  ‘There was an email on Jonathan’s computer from someone called Simon,’ he said. ‘It made me think Jonathan was in trouble.’

  ‘Oh, Edward.’ Rhona stood up and went towards him, suddenly overwhelmingly sorry for this man, who she had hated for so long. ‘What did the police say ?’

  He turned a frozen stare on her.
<
br />   ‘I haven’t told them,’ he said firmly.

  ‘But you have to. If Jonathan is in danger, you have to tell the police.’ Rhona was remembering another young face on a dirty pillow.

  Edward’s voice grew agonised and confessional. ‘I can’t, Rhona. Don’t you see that?’ He looked despairingly at her. ‘It would ruin everything.’

  He wanted her approval.

  ‘Does Fiona know about this email?’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re the only one who knows.’

  She was supposed to be pleased by being taken into his confidence in this way.

  ‘You can’t do this to me, Edward!’ She was furious. All he cared about was his reputation. She was even more furious at herself. If only she had told Bill Wilson what she suspected, instead of phoning Edward.

  ‘You can’t blame me for protecting my son,’ his voice was moving from defensiveness to defiance.

  ‘You’re not protecting Jonathan,’ she said scornfully. ‘You’re protecting your own career.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Then Edward said, ‘You once made that choice yourself. Remember?’

  ‘Bastard,’ she spat. But his words had got to her. Edward was only speaking the truth.

  Jonathan knew his father was in the room. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see him or speak to him.

  He wanted to drop back into oblivion, but his father’s voice was getting in the way. And there was another voice, a woman’s voice. It wasn’t his mother and it wasn’t Nurse Jenkins. It sounded angry. Even in the state he was in, Jonathan was pleased that someone was angry at his father.

  One thing was certain, they wouldn’t be discussing what he had done. He knew that officially this had never happened. He was in hospital for a minor operation, that was all. Edward Stewart’s son would never have tried to croak himself. That would be too embarrassing. The nurses had been warned to say nothing to him, he was sure of it. Only Nurse Jenkins showed that she knew. He hadn’t had a visit from the psychiatrist. Even his mother didn’t go beyond standard bedside chat, you’ll be home soon and not to worry. Amy was the only one he wanted to see and she wasn’t allowed to visit.

  ‘You’ll see Amy when you get home,’ his father had said, as though Amy was a household pet.

  Jonathan waited until the voices had faded and the door shut behind them before he opened his eyes. The room was in semi-darkness, with the small light above his bed angled away from his eyes. He thought about listening to another CD. He settled the earplugs in place and lay back down and closed his eyes against the world. When Edward and Rhona left, he was fast asleep.

  If Jonathan had not put the earplugs back in, he would have heard the door open. As it was, he heard nothing until the hand was over his mouth.

  ‘Don’t scream Jonathan,’ a voice was whispering in his ear. There’s nothing to be frightened of. It’s me, Simon. I’ve come to get you out of here.’

  Jonathan turned toward the voice. The light from the small bed lamp touched the blonde head above the bright blue eyes. Simon smiled at him, the same wide smile.

  ‘You do want out of here, don’t you?’

  Jonathan didn’t know what to do, but something told him to agree. If he agreed to whatever Simon said, maybe Simon wouldn’t harm him.

  ‘I’m going to take my hand away now Jonathan. Then we can talk. Okay?’

  Jonathan nodded again.

  ‘There. Sorry about that,’ Simon stood up. ‘I didn’t want the night nurse coming in here, spoiling everything. Now where did they put your clothes?’ Simon looked about him.

  ‘In the cupboard. I can’t go away with you,’ Jonathan blurted. ‘They’ll call the police.’

  Simon looked thoughtful.

  ‘You can leave a note. Tell them you’ve left home. You’re almost sixteen. An adult. You can leave home when you like.’

  ‘But I can’t.’

  The smell of Simon was bringing everything back.

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  Simon’s blue eyes clouded.

  ‘I haven’t any money.’ Jonathan was clutching at straws.

  ‘Oh,’ said Simon, his face growing pleasant again. ‘That’s not a problem. I’ve got money. Come on, get dressed. Quick. I have something else to sort out before we leave.’

  He threw the clothes at Jonathan and went over to the window.

  ‘Who was in the room with you earlier?’ he asked as Jonathan got dressed.

  ‘You mean my father?’

  ‘No, the woman?’

  Simon’s eyes were cruel. How could he have liked those eyes?

  ‘I didn’t see her.’

  Simon was at the door now, looking down the corridor. What if Nurse Jenkins came to check on him. What would Simon do to her?

  Simon shut the door.

  ‘Right Jonathan. You like playing games. Let’s play games.’

  Simon took out a roll of twine and a knife.

  ‘Simon…’

  ‘Turn round.’

  Jonathan was so terrified and ashamed he did as he was told. The smell was circling him, as the twine dug deep into his wrists.

  ‘And let’s make it even better…’

  A piece of cloth forced his lips apart.

  Outside the air was cool. Simon had resumed his caring voice, telling Jonathan not to worry, there was a blanket in the back of the car in case he got cold. Jonathan stumbled down the metal steps of the fire escape, praying that Nurse Jenkins would look in on his room now and raise the alarm. But the window above him stayed dark. His room was three storeys up. Twice Simon stopped him, thrusting him down on the cold metal steps, until he was sure there was no movement behind the fire doors on each landing. Simon held the knife that he had cut the twine with. On the first floor landing, he held it close to Jonathan’s face and in the faint light of the emergency bulb, Jonathan recognised it. It was a knife from the set that sat on the kitchen surface beside the range in his kitchen. How had Simon got hold of it? It couldn’t be the same one. If it was, Simon had been in his kitchen. Jonathan felt sick. What had Simon been doing in his house?

  At the bottom of the fire escape steps, Simon made him sit down while he checked the car park was clear. Jonathan frantically scanned the darkened windows above him, willing someone to look out.

  ‘Right. Come on.’

  He was bundled round the side of the building towards the shadow of a car. The gag was so tight and it was hard to get his breath. They were at the car now. Simon forced Jonathan low, looked round, opened the back door and pushed him in.

  Jonathan collapsed onto the seat.

  ‘There,’ said Simon triumphantly as he climbed in and locked all the doors. ‘And just to prove how much I’ve been thinking about you…’ Simon lifted something white from the front passenger seat, buried his face in it, then threw it over the back, ‘recognise this?’

  Jonathan’s stomach turned over. This time the smell was his. It was his tee-shirt. Simon had his tee-shirt, and the only place he could have got it from was his own room.

  ‘How do you like our new game, then?’ Simon smiled down at him for a moment before the blanket covered his eyes.

  When Rhona got home, the hall light was on and there was a message on the pad from Chrissy. Detective Wilson wanted to speak to her. It was four o’clock in the morning. Surely Bill wouldn’t to hear from her at this hour? Chrissy had fallen asleep on the couch. Neil hadn’t come back yet.

  Rhona decided to speak to Bill first thing in the morning. She would sleep on it first. Probably Bill would blow her suspicions about Gavin sky high.

  She set the alarm for half past eight and rolled gratefully into bed.

  Chapter 38

  Bill Wilson had slept through thirty-six murders in his time as a policeman. That made an average of three a year for the past twelve years.

  During all those investigations, he had never once discussed his thoughts with his wife. He didn’t want her to feel disgust at what was rattling rou
nd his head.

  For the last four days he had been waiting for the next death. That thought lay behind every move he made., He was willing to put his job on the line to prevent it.

  Searching Sir James Dalrymple’s cottage on the say of a male prostitute had done just that. He argued to the Super that everything was justified by finding the curtain tie-back that matched the one round the dead boy’s neck. The Super did not agree. There are thousands of tie-backs like that one, he had growled. And although they had gone over the cottage with a fine tooth comb, that was all they had got.

  Connelly was adamant about his story. The rent boy had had sex there with a guy who called himself Caligula. He reckoned Caligula and Simon were one and the same man. Why didn’t Bill phone Rhona MacLeod and see what she had to say about it. Which he’d tried. Her mobile was switched off.

  What he had to go on amounted to next to nothing, and he knew it.

  ‘Come back when your rent boy agrees to give us a proper statement,’ the Super said dismissively. ‘Then we’ll talk to Sir James.’

  Back in his own office, the first call he took was from a Rachel Jenkins. Jonathan Stewart was missing. He had left a note in his room, but she was sure he would never have left it of his own accord. Bill asked if she had informed the family. She sounded contemptuous, as she described how unwilling Edward Stewart had been to inform the police.

  A woman after my own heart, decided Bill.

  ‘Better safe than sorry. Don’t move anything, and don’t let anyone else in there.’

  When Bill arrived at the hospital ten minutes later, Edward Stewart was waiting. It took him a full hour to begin to get the truth.

  ‘After you told Dr MacLeod about Jonathan, where did she go?’

  ‘She said she was going home.’

  Bill pulled out his mobile and stabbed in Rhona’s number. Chrissy answered. The station had sent a police car to pick up Rhona.

  When Bill finally got through to Janice, she confirmed that no one at the Station had contacted Rhona MacLeod that morning.

  ‘By the way, Sir. There’s no answer from Gavin MacLean. Neither last night nor this morning. The beat Constable went there first thing. A neighbour said he’d gone to look after his nephews while his sister is on holiday.’