Corn Dolls

by K. T. Galloway

  Miss Carter’s face gave her away as much as Katie’s mum’s had.

  “Is it him?” Tammy nodded at the photo, handing it back to Swift. “Is that who you think has my Jodie?”

  Swift nodded but it seemed Tammy Carter had other thoughts.

  “What on earth would a little scrote like Grey want with my daughter, and that other girl?” Her face sagged in on itself. “You don’t think he’s, you know, a nonce do you? He never gave that impression when he was here on the estate. He’d always try and get it on with me, not little Jodie. He was a gentleman too, despite the drugs. I quite fancied him. Was he only trying it on with me to get to my little girl?”

  With each question, Tammy became more animated. Her arms flew about so much that her cigarette ash scattered all over the sofa. She noticed, and brushed at it frantically with her free hand.

  “Shit, shit,” she said, before scurrying out of the room and back again with a wet cloth.

  “Tammy,” Annie said, taking the cloth from Tammy’s freezing cold hand and sitting her gently back down on the damp sofa. “Please, try to breathe. We don’t know Grey Donovan’s involvement yet, only that he is involved somehow. I know it’s hard, but please try not to think of all the different scenarios that could have happened. It’ll make you go insane, trust me, I’ve been there. Jodie needs you to be here and to be strong for her when she gets back, and we need you to remain focused on what we’re here to do. What can you tell us about Donovan? Also, when was the last time you ate something proper, or had a hot meal?”

  At that, Tammy turned green right in front of Annie’s eyes. Annie shifted ever so slightly away from the woman in case she was about to be showered in vomit.

  “Please don’t talk about food,’ Tammy said, swallowing hard. “It’s bad enough with the dread that’s sitting in my stomach now because of Jodie let alone the morning sickness.”

  “What?” Swift was over at the sofa in a nanosecond. “Morning sickness?”

  “Yeah,” Tammy said. “Coming up to sixteen weeks. I remember with Jodie it passed at twelve weeks, so I bet it’s a bloody boy.”

  Tammy rubbed her stomach. Annie caught Swift’s eye and he almost imperceptibly motioned towards the door.

  “Well, I think we could all use a hot drink. I’m going to put the kettle on,” Annie said, getting up. “Swift, some assistance please.”

  They left Tammy with her FLO, who reluctantly returned inside.

  “All three of them...pregnant,” Annie said, shaking her head.

  “And they all know Donovan—either they’ve bought drugs from him or have links to someone close who has—and they’re all pregnant.” Swift flicked the kettle on so they could talk above a whisper. “Donovan was known to the church; he rents their property. They’re all linked somehow to this cult. And I bet it’s all going to go down tonight at this anniversary. It’s too weird that none of the female congregation were invited, just the men who lead. We definitely need to get eyes on the barn. Watch it unfold, whatever it might be.”

  “DI Swift?” The FLO shouted through from the living room. “I think you need to get back in here.”

  Annie followed Swift as he weaved past her and through to where Tammy was now pacing up and down the room like a caged dog. They watched as she darted back and forth between the small coffee table and the dresser, pulling open the drawers and throwing pieces of paper behind her.

  “Tammy?” Annie made a move towards the frantic woman.

  “No!” Tammy cried. “Leave me be, I know it’s here somewhere. I kept it just in case.”

  “Kept what, Tammy?” Annie backed away as Tammy’s elbow narrowly missed her nose. It wasn’t deliberate, the woman had moved to the hallway and was now searching a stack of drawers.

  “This!” she hissed, holding a scrap of paper in front of Annie, too close for Annie’s eyes to focus on what was written on it. “This! Take it. Take it!”

  She shoved it into Annie’s hand and almost ran back to her pack of cigarettes laying on the sofa. With the first drag, Tammy bent over double and started crying inconsolably. The FLO gently coaxed her to sit.

  Annie turned the paper over in her hands. On it was written the name of a road Annie recognised in the less desirable city centre streets.

  “What is this, Tammy?” she asked, handing the paper to Swift, who started to scrutinise it too. “What’s the significance of that road?”

  “It’s where that little shit lives,” Tammy sobbed, and Annie saw Swift take out his phone. “I went there. It’s the flat above the hairdressers, that’s his. It was just the once I was there, he really had me fooled. I thought he liked me, I really thought he liked me. But once we’d, you know…he practically ignored me. He’d only come here to drop drugs off for the rest of the junkies on the estate. But I kept that, for some reason. I thought I’d forgotten him. I tried to. He might even be this little one’s father.”

  She rubbed her flat stomach, her face green.

  “Right,” Swift said, making for the front door. “Thanks for this, Miss Carter, this is a great help.”

  Annie went to say goodbye to the distraught mother; her therapist’s instincts to heal were too strong to ignore.

  “O’Malley!” Swift shouted, stopping her in her tracks. “Now!”

  She gave a little half-wave instead, and then felt like an idiot as she ran out the door behind him.

  Twenty-Three

  “Stay behind me,” Swift hissed at Annie.

  They’d arrived at the flat before the backup had, and Swift didn’t want to wait for them. Annie thought he had a point, but hadn’t Donovan been seen getting on a bus to the coast with Katie? Not bringing her home.

  “How long since Katie was taken?” Annie whispered, as they took the metal staircase at the side of the flat as quietly as they could. They’d checked the front and the back of the flat and the staircase looked like the only exit. It broke about a million fire regulations, but at least Donovan could only have one escape route and that was now blocked by Swift and Annie.

  “About four hours,” Swift whispered back.

  Annie’s stomach dropped. That was long enough to get out to the coast, do whatever he needed to with the girl, and make it back here, wasn’t it?

  “So they could both be back here now?” she whispered.

  “All of them could be here, that’s why we’re going in.”

  “But why take her out to the coast if he’s just going to bring her back?” she asked.

  “I dunno, get her an ice-cream and build a sandcastle? Have a jolly?” Swift replied, and something dislodged in Annie’s brain, dropping slowly like a marble at the beginning of a marble run. She still couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

  “Or maybe he needed to get the church’s consent, check this new one’s okay for whatever they’re going to be doing tonight.” Swift grimaced.

  Maybe, Annie thought.

  “Why do you think Donovan rented the church house when he has this place?” she asked, hoping that he’d moved out of this place and wasn’t going to be there waiting for them with a baseball bat, or worse.

  “Dunno,” Swift said, inching towards the top of the stairs. “But I guess it’s something to do with drugs. Maybe it’s easier to get to people when you’re in the middle of the city?”

  Yeah, that’s what she’d thought too.

  “And…” she started, but Swift held up a hand. The heckles rose on her scalp like little fingers scratching her hair.

  “O’Malley,” he whispered, crouching down and turning around. His head was level with hers now, his blue eyes ringed in black. “This is going to be the world’s worst raid if you announce our visit with a million and one questions.”

  Annie ran her fingers across her lips like a zip, and bit down on them for good measure. She couldn’t help the fact that her mouth worked nineteen to the dozen when she was nervous. And this may have been the most nervous she’d ever felt—after all, she’d left the force the first
time around before she’d actually done any real policing.

  Fuck, she thought as Swift stood upright and bashed at the door in one slick movement.

  “Donovan!” he shouted, making Annie jump. “It’s the police. Open up!”

  There was a moment’s silence, then a scuffle behind the closed door. Swift knocked again.

  “This is your last chance, Donovan!” he shouted. “I’m going to break down the bloody door.”

  Annie glanced down at the street below; people were slowing down, rubber necking at the two officers on the stairs. Then the door burst open and a flurry of grey tracksuit came flying down the staircase. Annie stood firm, her body rigid, and flung her arms out to stop the man trying to get past her. Bracing for impact, she grabbed the banister with one outstretched hand — at least that way she’d be less likely to fall to the alleyway below. But the impact never came. The man in the tracksuit circled around as though he was spinning a pirouette. His torso came crashing into the metal bannister and he grunted in pain. Annie saw the reason why. Swift had a handful of grey hoodie gripped in his fist, his knuckles white with the exertion.

  “Grey Donovan,” Swift wheezed, dragging the young man back up the stairs. “You are under arrest for the abduction of Katie Green. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”

  Donovan squirmed and grunted. He threw his head back and aimed a mouthful of gob in Swift’s direction. Swift dodged and the spit went flying into the open door of the flat, landing with a nauseating thud on the grubby floor. Annie felt the contents of her stomach turn over.

  “Fuck you, pig,” Donovan grunted.

  Swift’s fist flew out quicker than the speed of sound and clocked Donovan’s chin.

  “Whoops,” Swift said, shaking his hand out.

  Annie watched as the young man staggered backwards, precariously dangling from the top step. She took a step sideways, there was no way she was going to block his fall now. For a moment, Donovan teetered on the brink of fresh air, his safety on a knife edge.

  “Oh for God’s sake,’ Swift sighed, and grabbed out for the tracksuit again, dragging Donovan towards him.

  Annie heard the welcome sound of sirens getting closer; she took the stairs two at a time to go and flag down the cavalry. As she hit the alleyway floor, Annie heard another sound of fist hitting face, and cringed as she heard Swift saying, “One for the road.”

  They’d put Donovan in the smallest, stuffiest interview room in the station, but it still looked nicer than the flat they’d dragged him from. He looked a world away from the smart young man that Peter Johnson had talked about. His namesake-coloured tracksuit had dubious stains littered down the front, and his hair could have fried up their chip supper. A sodden red piece of paper towel was clutched tightly in his hand, stemming the flow of blood from a nose that could very well be broken.

  “You,” Swift said to Annie, as the team gathered around the table in the incident room. “With me. We’re going to go and squeeze that little turd for information. Tink, Page, you guys need to organise a search of his premises. Both of them. Get me as much DNA as you can. Let’s find these girls before it’s too late.”

  Annie bolted to her feet and chased Swift as he marched out the room and down to Donovan.

  “Donovan,” he said, banging the door open so hard that the young man flinched in his seat. “You need to talk. And you need to talk now.”

  Annie took her cue and pressed down the button on the tape recorder as Swift read out who was in the room and the charges brought against the young man. They sat opposite Donovan and watched him squirm.

  “Where did you take Katie Green?” Swift asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows sharp on the table. “Where is she?”

  “Please.” Donovan crumpled in on himself. “She’s okay. She’s okay. I was just trying to help.”

  “Don’t give me that bollocks,” Swift said, banging his hands down on the table. “Tell me where she is.”

  Donovan started crying. His nose dripped with pink-tinged liquid.

  “Tell us about the flat, Grey,” Annie asked, tucking her hair behind her ears so she could see past it.

  She wanted to bombard him with questions. Why do you have two houses? What’s so special about the flat? How can you afford to rent two places when I can barely afford to rent one, and that’s not even a proper flat? But she knew, from professional experience, that silence often brought more answers than questions. And she was right. Grey shifted awkwardly in his seat and chewed away at his bottom lip for all of about two minutes before he started talking.

  “The house isn’t mine,” he said. “It was never mine. I was using it on behalf of…”

  His brow creased. “Hey, can I have some kind of immunity here?” he asked.

  “Immunity for what?” Annie asked, getting in there quickly, as she could see Swift was about to boil over again. “Is this to do with the other missing girls?”

  Donovan shook his head. “No, well at least, I don’t think so. It’s drug related. I don’t want to go inside. I’m too young and I don’t even do drugs.”

  Annie considered the young man. It had been almost an hour since they’d dragged him to the station from his flat, and he wasn’t even clamouring for a cigarette. He had no sign of the tight sweaty sheen from withdrawal, or dark rings under his eyes from crack; no lesions associated with meth, or the mouth chewing and nose wiping from snorting coke. In fact, he looked a darn sight more awake and alive than both her and Swift did right at this moment. It was getting late, and Annie could count the number of hours she’d slept this week on her two hands, so it was no surprise. But it was a surprise that Grey Donovan didn’t partake in a little drug sampling himself.

  “You’re selling drugs on behalf of someone else, aren’t you?” she said, a picture slowly forming in her mind.

  “Why the hell are we talking about drugs, here?” Swift interrupted. “There are three missing girls out there whose lives are at stake.”

  “I can’t talk about the girls,” Donovan said. “I just can’t. I’ll get in trouble.”

  Annie gave Swift a look and he backed down. She turned her attention back to Donovan.

  “Tell me about the house,” she asked. “Who were you using it on behalf of?”

  “The Angels,” Donovan said, and his shoulders seemed to drop about a foot. “The Angels of the Water. The church who owns the house wanted me to stay there.”

  “Why?” Annie asked, though she had garnered a pretty good picture by now.

  “I wasn’t even looking for a place to stay,” he said, quietly. “I just had to prove I was worthwhile, you know? I needed to show I am useful. And when the offer of this house came up, it seemed perfect. Then the Angels approached me, some weird guy called Amacus or something. He said he’d pay my rent for me if I did him a favour.”

  “Amadeus,” Swift said. “Seems like you’re doing a lot of people a favour here, Donovan.”

  Donovan shrugged. “What can I say? I like to help people.”

  Annie couldn’t tell if he was being facetious or he actually thought that giving people drugs was a way of helping them.

  “I didn’t know when I moved in that the guy who owned the house was part of the church. He had no idea what I was doing there.”

  “And what were you doing there?” Annie probed.

  “I was selling drugs,” Donovan said pointedly, as though Annie should have worked it out by now.

  “Selling for the church?”

  Donovan nodded, his lip back in his mouth. “They recruited me because of my connections.”

  “They’re a front, aren’t they?” she asked, almost hearing the ping of Swift’s eyebrows as they hit the roof.

  Donovan nodded again. “I think so. The church thing, it’s not real, is it? It can’t be. It’s ridiculous. The women are all brainwash
ed but the church doesn’t actually do anything at all.”

  “Except sell drugs,” Annie said.

  “Yeah. But no churchy stuff. They just recruit people so they can put the money through the books. But the money rarely comes from their recruits.” He barked out a laugh. “You’ve seen them. Can you imagine people like that having a spare ten grand to join a cult?”

  “But what about the girls, Grey? Why did you need to take Katie? Have they moved on to trafficking?” Swift asked.

  “I was just trying to do the right thing. To stay out of trouble. Just watch the anniversary thing tonight. Go to the barn. You’ll see exactly what they’re doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A knock at the door had all three of them swinging their heads to see who entered. Tink poked her head in.

  “Guv,” she said. “There’s something you need to see.”

  “Now?” Swift asked.

  “Right now,” Tink said.

  Swift barked into the tape recorder that they were leaving the room and ordered the PC at the door to stay with Donovan.

  “What is it?” he said to Tink. “We’re on the brink of a confession of sorts.”

  “Sorry, guys,” Tink said. “But you’re going to want to see this.”

  She handed Swift an A4 piece of paper. Annie leaned over his shoulder to read it too. It was full of numbers and digits that she vaguely recognised from DNA101 class.

  “What’s this?” she asked Tink.

  “It’s Donovan’s DNA results,” Tink said, and Annie could tell she was like a bottle about to fizz over. “Turns out there is no-one called Grey Donovan.”

  “What?” Swift said, his face creased.

  “The man you have in there?” she continued. “His name is Gary Donald.”

  Annie watched Swift’s face as it fell, his skin sagging around his normally square jaw.

  “Gary Donald?” he said.

  “Who’s Gary Donald?” Annie asked, her eyes darting between Tink and Swift.

  “That’s not possible,” Swift whispered, turning to look through the window in the interview room door. “That’s insane.”