Savage Moon

by Chris Simms

'Yeah.' He shook his head. To think it occurred to him that she and Holly could have been in danger. He glanced at Rick, wondering whether to ask if his sister had ever considered harming herself, but it wasn't the right time or place. And besides, asking the question implied he was concerned Alice might – and that was ridiculous. 'She's been out with Holly in town. You could hear the energy in her voice.'

  Rick looked relieved. 'Fingers crossed then.'

  For the next hour and a half they typed up reports for the indexer, their bursts of conversation eventually broken as the doors opened. A couple of officers entered the room with the first items recovered from the scene of Trevor Kerrigan's death. A large plastic evidence sack with his golf bag and clubs inside was propped in the corner, followed by the files from the boot of his car. Another handed the indexer a bag containing his keys, mobile phone and wallet. Jon turned back to his computer, thinking of the team that would be in Kerrigan's house questioning the wife about his enemies.

  A couple of officers had sauntered over, eager to see what had been left behind at the scene of the latest murder. Jon heard plastic cracking as one lifted the golf bag up for closer inspection.

  'Callaway, Terra Firma. Very posh. What did this guy do for a living?'

  'Moneylender apparently,' someone else replied. 'Could it have any more pockets?'

  The other officer laughed. 'This is top notch. Look, an insulated pocket for your drinks.'

  'Nice touch. What's that scratched in the leather?'

  'Where? Oh yes. Kuri... kuriri . . . what does it say?'

  In his mind's eye, Jon suddenly saw the word. It was scrawled on a notice board, nestled amongst other signatures. There were trees behind it and through them, the shine of water. Was it Crime Lake? The car park where Derek Peterson was found? He stood up and said loudly, 'Kuririkana.'

  Rick's hands were frozen above his keyboard. 'The word on the bottom of Danny Gordon's suicide note.'

  Everyone turned to look at them. Jon pointed to the officers with the golf bag. 'Is that what it says?'

  One leaned down. 'It does.'

  He began to click his fingers. 'That's not the only place I've seen it. Crime Lake. I think I spotted it there.'

  'Crime Lake? Whereabouts?' Rick asked.

  'I'm not absolutely sure. It's just an image that flashed in my head, but it could have been on the notice board in the car park where Peterson was found.'

  'It's the killer. It has to be. Why leave evidence like that at each crime scene?'

  'He's making a point, telling us something. And it's so important to him, he doesn't care if it gets him caught.' As he grabbed his jacket he saw Rick getting up too. 'Don't worry mate, I may be wrong. There could be fuck-all there. You finish up your report, it's best you're here when Summerby comes downstairs to hold the briefing.'

  'You sure?'

  'Yeah, I'll ring you if I find anything.'

  Rush hour traffic was beginning to build on the M60 and Jon resorted to the siren a couple of times to shift cars out of the way. By the time he reached Crime Lake, dusk was beginning to fall. Jon found his eyes dragged towards the distant moors, mere shadows in the rapidly gathering gloom.

  As he pulled into the car park, he looked around. He always found it slightly unsettling to return to a murder scene and find everything normal once again. It seemed like the violent death of a person should have some permanent effect on the surrounding area. But what? A withering of the undergrowth, a gnarling of the trees, a crumbling of the earth itself ? He knew it was absurd. By that logic, the whole country would be dotted with barren patches. Once in France, he and Alice had made a detour to the Somme. The pleasant rolling fields were almost disappointing. Only the silence let you imagine the carnage that had once occurred.

  He put the headlights on full and the notice board at the top of the car park shone bright in the beams.

  Crime Lake. No Motorbikes.

  Already certain the word would be there, he opened the car door and got out, leaving the engine running. The edges of the notice board were covered by a mass of signatures. Wozza. Ruhul. Amie and Jade. Ashif. He worked his way through them quickly, and spotted the word he was looking for in the top left hand corner: Kuririkana.

  What did it mean, he asked himself, stepping out of the headlight's glare. Remember. Remember what? The word had now been found at the site of a suicide and two murders. His head turned and he looked towards where he knew the moors lay. What was the betting it was somewhere up there, in the vicinity of where Rose Sutton's body had been found?

  He pictured the murder scene, the bare peat earth, stunted gorse and scattering of giant rocks. The rocks. If it was anywhere, it would be scratched or written on them.

  His mobile rang, causing him to jump. Nikki's name on the screen. 'Hi there. Still in court?'

  'No, you're in luck. The defence had something new, so the judge adjourned it until tomorrow. I'm back at the office. These hairs you sent over aren't human.'

  'No, I swiped them from the panther enclosure at Buxton

  Zoo.'

  'And you want me to compare their DNA with the samples on the system.'

  'Yes please. But – and you're going to kill me for this – can you put the test on hold? Something else has cropped up.'

  'What?'

  'Any chance of you coming over here with that special light you use for picking out stains and other stuff?'

  'The Portascope. Why?'

  'I need to recheck where Rose Sutton was killed. I think we missed some evidence. A word, written somewhere near where her body was found.'

  'You want me to go tramping round on those moors now? Jon, I can't see out of my window any more. You know why that is? It's dark.'

  'Right. Which is the best time to use that light.'

  'You're serious, aren't you?'

  'You don't have to come with me. I just want to borrow it.'

  'Good. Because aside from that animal, who knows how many madmen with rifles are prowling around up there.'

  'So you can bring it over?'

  She sighed. 'Give me the directions.'

  Thirty-One

  When her BMW Mini pulled into the car park Jon was sitting in his vehicle, the ordnance survey map for the Dark Peak spread out across the steering wheel and dashboard. The interior light of his car was weak, causing him to squint as he studied the faint lines on the paper.

  Holding a hand out of the open door, he waved a greeting to Nikki and sat back. She parked alongside him and climbed out, pausing at the boot to remove an aluminium carry case. 'I can't believe you dragged me out here,' she announced, placing the case on the tarmac.

  At just over five feet tall, Jon didn't need to look up much to meet her eyes. She was still wearing her outfit for court, a tailored black trouser suit over a crisp white shirt, collar overlapping the jacket's lapels. Her dark brown hair had grown longer since he'd last seen her, and the style had evolved from tousled to wavy. She pushed some strands away from her face and smiled. 'What?'

  Jon's eyes flickered momentarily to the side. Shit, I was staring. 'Thanks for coming out so fast.'

  'Yeah well, you're lucky I didn't get lost. I'm not used to leaving the city centre.'

  He wondered if she still had the little loft apartment in the Northern Quarter. He remembered her description. Exposed brick walls, steel girders and floor to ceiling windows with views out over the city. It sounded a nice pad. And with her determination never to have kids, why sacrifice it for some cramped semi in the suburbs?

  She pointed to the map. 'Are you really going up there alone?'

  He nodded. 'Everyone else is back at Longsight in a briefing.'

  'Do you know the way?'

  'Kind of. There's a track branching off the A6024 near the top of the moor. It leads towards Black Hill. Rose Sutton's body was found in a gully just a short walk from there.'

  'What's wrong with getting an officer from Mossley Brow to show you the way? Surely they'll be familiar with the area?' />
  Jon thought about how Clegg was hiding something. 'I don't trust the officer in charge.'

  Nikki arched an eyebrow. 'So why not Rose Sutton's husband? He must know the moor like the back of his hand.'

  'Same reason.' Jon looked at the carry case. 'So, how does this work?'

  Nikki crouched down and popped the clips. Inside was a layer of high density foam. Securely nestled in precision-cut cavities was a collection of items. She placed a finger on the largest, a black box with an empty bulb socket at the front. 'This is the Portscope, a handheld forensic light source.' She touched a smaller black box alongside. 'Twelve-volt battery, fully charged. Here's the bulb, it screws into the front. These are your filter covers. Different things show up under different wavelengths of light. UV light, which is less than four hundred nanometres is good for certain powders, inks and dyes, though not gunshot residue. Violet light illuminates blood stains, blue light shows up most other bodily fluids, blue green and green are best for fingerprints.'

  'OK, where's the switch for the wavelengths?'

  'It's not that simple. You need to tune in the lamp to the different colour bands, then fine tune it with the filters. You're scanning grass and earth right?'

  'And rocks. Grit-stone boulders.'

  'OK. There's a good chance the rocks will create background interference. They may glow or darken under certain wave- lengths, so you'll need to eliminate that... ' She paused. 'I'm going to have to come, aren't I?'

  'No,' Jon said, folding the map over. 'Just talk me through how to do it.'

  'Pissing hell!' She stood up. 'Why did I ever think I could explain how to use this in five minutes? It takes an entire training course to learn how to use it properly.' She walked back to the boot of her car, opened it and removed an industrial sized torch, Wellington boots and a big red quilted ski jacket. 'We go in your car though. I'm not driving Mojo down any farm track.'

  'Mojo?' Jon replied with a grin.

  'What's wrong with that?' She smiled back, flicking a black shoe off.

  As they followed the road to Hollingworth, Nikki produced a purple hair band and started tying her hair back. Jon watched her from the corner of his eye, always impressed at how she never shied away from a challenge.

  'How's home life?' she asked, face obscured by her raised forearms.

  Jon stared at the road in front. 'Not bad. Holly's three months old now. She's doing fine, feeding really well. Actually, she can be a bit awkward at night.'

  Nikki grimaced. 'The thought of feeding a baby every two or three hours round the clock. I don't know how you do it.'

  'Well, I get the easy deal. Alice is breastfeeding. I normally just give Holly a bottle of formula last thing before bed. Maybe the odd night feed if Alice is really knackered.'

  'All credit to her, that must take some willpower.'

  She looked out of her side window and Jon could see the tension in her neck. The silence began to grow heavy and he searched for something to say. 'So, are you seeing anyone at the moment?'

  Still looking away, she shook her head; Jon noticed the stubby ponytail shake. 'Nah. Spending too much time doing this bloody job.'

  The comment was meant to be light-hearted, but she didn't quite pull it off.

  He tapped the edge of the steering wheel with his forefingers.

  'No sexy lawyers caught your eye recently?'

  She quickly turned her head, eyes searching out his, checking the comment was meant in jest. 'Oh yeah, some smooth-talking guy in an even smoother suit. Just my style.'

  'What about judges or magistrates then? Let one be your

  Sugar Daddy.'

  She was looking back out the window. 'Just drop it, Jon. You're safely wrapped up in your idyllic family life. It's easy for you to take the piss.'

  Yeah right, he thought. Idyllic is one way of describing it. 'I wasn't taking the piss.' He stopped, aware the conversation had dwelled too long on their relationships. They drove on in silence, the subdued light of Tintwhistle's cottages fading away behind them. Soon they were surrounded by darkness, his car advancing into the ever-receding tunnel of light cast by its headlamps.

  Nikki pressed her nose to the glass and cupped her hands to the sides of her face. 'There's nothing out there.'

  'Wait until we get to the top.'

  The turn-off for the A6024 soon appeared on their left and the sound of the engine dropped as he slowed down to take it. Moving into second gear, he eased his foot off the clutch and the engine's noise returned, now revving much higher as they started climbing the steep road.

  He saw Nikki's shoulders shudder as she crossed her arms.

  'You still happy to do this?'

  'Of course. What's that light up ahead?'

  Hanging in the darkness above was a red glow. 'It's the top of a radio mast. We'll use it to guide us back to the car.'

  As they completed the ascent, the light seemed to float in the air like a crimson will-o'-the-wisp. Resisting the temptation to stare at it too long, Jon kept his eyes on the road. When its glow was almost above them he slowed to a crawl. There was the mouth of the track, base of the mast just visible as they turned down it.

  The vehicle began to bump and lurch as they rolled slowly along. After thirty metres a large pothole appeared in front of them and he brought the car to a halt. 'I'm not risking that.'

  'Right,' said Nikki in a businesslike voice. 'Let's get this done.'

  Jon killed the engine and blackness flooded the vehicle. He quickly reached up a hand, flicked on the interior light, then spread the map out. 'OK, so we're here.' He slid his forefinger over the paper, aware of the eddies of wind nudging the car.

  'There's Black Hill.' He nodded at the windscreen and then looked back down. 'A kilometre that way, maximum. At the top is a cairn of rocks, so we'll know once we reach it. The gully Rose Sutton was killed in is just nearby.' Squinting, he focused on a series of V-shaped kinks in the contour lines. 'Must be one of these. Grouse Clough I should think. Are you ready?'

  'Ready.'

  Their doors opened simultaneously and a rush of cold air whisked through the vehicle, almost flipping the map from his hand.

  'Bloody hell,' Nikki said, climbing out and shutting the door. The turbulence instantly vanished and Jon folded the map so the section they were on was uppermost. Outside he looked about, the wind moaning as it passed through struts of the radio mast. Thanks to a faint glow where the moon was trying to shine through a thin layer of cloud, he was able to make out the dark terrain stretching out all around them. He peered ahead, just able to make out a lump that stood fractionally higher than its neighbours. 'Black Hill, straight in front.'

  'Good,' Nikki replied. 'You can carry the Portascope and lead the way.'

  She turned her torch on and shone it downwards, creating a circle of light around her feet. Its brightness only seemed to emphasise the darkness surrounding them. Leaning down, Jon curled his fingers round the case's handle, surprised at how heavy it was. No problem, he thought. Ten minutes to the gully, half an hour to search the rocks, ten minutes back. Less than an hour. Piece of piss. He skirted to the side of the pot hole, glad he hadn't tried to drive over it.

  After another hundred metres the track ended at a shallow ditch. He stepped over it, feet sinking into the soft turf beyond. Turning round, he held a hand out to Nikki. Small fingers that were colder than his gripped his hand and she jumped across. As she landed on the other side her momentum carried her forwards into Jon. Their bodies were up against each other as she gripped his elbow with her other hand to stop from falling backwards.

  Jon felt her stomach as it pressed against his groin. The blood surged in his chest. Do not go there, he said to himself, stepping back. 'Close one. You nearly went in there.'

  'Yes,' she replied in a voice charged with emotion.

  The torch picked out a narrow path through the clumps of thick grass. 'Sheep trail,' said Jon. 'We'll follow that.'

  With Nikki walking behind him, they followed the rou
te carved by the animals. Every now and again Nikki directed the beam off to the side to reveal shimmering ponds of black water, their surfaces silently rippling in the stiff breeze. Other times the beam of the torch picked out bushes of gorse, each branch and twig brought into sharp relief against the infinite darkness behind. They resembled exotic plants glimpsed on the seabed, twisted and bowed by the weight of water pressing down from above.

  Jon pushed on, pausing every now and again when an alternative path branched off. By keeping the red light of the radio mast directly behind them, they made their way slowly across the moor. After twenty minutes Jon became aware that there was higher ground before them. 'Shine the torch ahead will you? I think this is Black Hill.'

  'I bloody hope so.'

  The beam lifted up and there, at the top of the slope in front, was a pile of stones.

  'That's the cairn!' Jon said.

  He felt her hand slap him on the back. 'Good going.'

  'The gully is just on the other side.'

  They passed the stones and tramped down the opposite slope, high stepping over branches of heather before finding a sheep trail that led in the right direction. Jon could feel they were descending and, when he looked back, he saw the red light was now only just visible above the curve of the land. A few dozen steps later and it had disappeared completely. He hesitated. This is bloody stupid, he thought, uneasy now there was nothing to keep his bearings by.

  'What's up?' Nikki asked behind him.

  Come on Jon, you're nearly there. 'Nothing. It's somewhere here on our left. Have a look down there.'

  Nikki shone the torch in the direction he was pointing. A narrow gully was revealed. Jon stared down into the gloom. It didn't seem right. 'Must be the next one.'

  'How can you tell?'

  'I'm not sure, it just doesn't feel familiar.' He heard her sigh. 'Go on then.'

  Uncertain now, he carried on until he heard the sound of running water. Another gully had to be on their left. 'Try shining it again.'

  The beam swept down, immediately picking out the cluster of rocks. Thank God for that, he thought. 'This is it.'

  The little stream had died to a trickle and they were able to pick their way down the slope with relative ease. Within twenty metres of the rocks, Nikki shone the torch forwards again. Four ghost-like forms suddenly broke away from the boulders. She quickly cut off her cry of alarm. 'Jesus, they made me jump,' she giggled as the sprinting sheep disappeared beyond the range of the beam.