by Steve Mosby
Voices.
Tori pulled herself together and listened. It was definitely people. Or one person, anyway. Half a conversation. It was a moment before she realised it was the man who was driving the car, talking on a mobile phone, but the sound was muffled by the seats behind her. She tried to hear what he was saying, but couldn’t quite make it out. The words kept drifting past, the way the fresh air from the drill-holes did - forming blurry impressions of language inside her head that she couldn’t decipher.
And then she heard it and thought:
What happened to your hands?
Oh God, she remembered what it meant now.
Tori began to scream silently, not caring about the dry metal and dust in her throat, until the pain bloomed and the darkness took her away again.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Saturday 3rd September
There’s one good principle to use when analysing a magic trick. You start with the final effect - the thing you can’t explain - and then you move backwards, working through the things you know for sure and looking for clues in the spaces between. That’s the way you find the secret. Set the parameters of the trick in stone and then work out how it could be achieved within them.
If a ring appears in a flowerpot by the door then someone must have put it there. If only one person has been near that door, then it must have been him. If there’s only one time he could have got hold of that ring, it must have been then. By going over the facts you can see, you work out the ones you can’t.
That principle holds true for everything else, as well. If I could figure out how the killer had achieved what he had, I’d learn things about him.
It was obvious he knew a great deal about me, and he hadn’t conjured that information out of thin air. So how? He knew three of my ex-girlfriends. It was possible that either Julie or Emma could have told him about Tori, because my relationship with her had come first, and both of them had met her. But they didn’t know each other. He couldn’t have abducted Julie and learned about Emma, or vice versa. And so he must have learned about them by some other means. The most likely explanation was that I was his starting point, and for some reason he was targeting me. If I’d gone out with different people, he would have taken them instead.
He knew about my ex-girlfriends, going back at least two years. He knew where my parents’ house was. And he’d bribed Thom Stanley to give me a message in the theatre on Thursday night, so he’d known I was going to be there.
From the effect to the secret. As much as I didn’t want it to be true, I could think of only one person in the world who could possibly have known all that.
On a Saturday lunchtime, the university campus was almost deserted. I was sitting on a concrete wall a little way up from the main building, watching the entrance. The road swelled out in front, forming an eye with a circular patch of flowers for an iris; the Union building was the brow, while the road thinned out and split to either side, like laughter lines.
A few students meandered past every so often, checking their mobiles, or adjusting their headphones, but there was hardly anyone around. The tarmac and grass were both strewn with fliers: fallout from the various events last night. Sheets of sodden paper had been rain-pressed to the ground, then dried tight to it like stickers. One storey above the main door, an arched window was open. A couple of large speakers were balanced on the sill, entirely silent.
When I’d called Rob from Thom Stanley’s flat, I hadn’t told him where to meet me. I was hoping he’d still be thinking about what I’d said last night in Carpe Diem. Do you remember when we met? If the police were listening, they would have seen someone calling from Thom Stanley’s number and heard nothing more than an innocuous conversation about a pre-arranged business meeting over lunch.
If they arrived here now, it meant they’d either followed Rob, or else he’d turned me in. If I was right, there was no way he would do that. And despite the fact I hadn’t recognised the man’s voice last night, I couldn’t think of any other explanation. Because nobody apart from Rob knew all those things about me.
He arrived about five minutes later. I watched him approach down the long road to the left, moving in that familiar stalking shuffle he had, as though he was expecting somebody to laugh at him and intended to be above and beyond it when they did. Nobody else, as far as I could tell.
I hopped down off the wall as he reached the Union.
‘Rob.’
He glanced about, confused, then saw me.
I nodded at him. ‘Over here.’
As he walked across, I stared at his face and wondered if what I was thinking could possibly be true. I didn’t want it to be, and could barely imagine it. He’d been my best friend for nearly ten years: always there for me, watching my back. It seemed absurd to believe he had any connection to this, but the facts stood as they were.
I tried to keep my expression blank.
‘Dave,’ he said. ‘Christ, how are you doing?’
I shook my head.
‘Not here.’
‘Where, then?’
‘Follow me.’
St John’s Field was a large area of grassland nestled between the university campus and the main road. It was peaceful and quiet on a weekday. Right now, as far as I could tell, we were the only people in sight.
It was also a remarkably eerie place, even in daylight. In the centre, there was the Garratty Extension, an ominous stone building surrounded by benches and old, judgemental statues. From there, a spider web of paths spread out, some leading to the various passages down to the university, others into small groves of trees that took you out to the streets. The paths themselves were made of arched gravestones. When the oldest part of the city cemetery had been renovated, the stones had been brought here and laid flat, interlaced like teeth.
Fifteen names and dates were chiselled into each, many of them barely legible anymore, and most of them infants and children. In the space of the exposed, windswept journey from one end of the field to the other, you walked across an entire community of forgotten people
‘You must have been planning this last night,’ Rob said. ‘The thing about remembering where we met.’
We were moving slowly, like we had nowhere in particular to go. It was what we’d done before, back when we were students. I narrowed my eyes against the insistent breeze; it was so open here. Instead of looking ahead, I watched the stones beneath my feet.
‘Not exactly,’ I told him. ‘But I was thinking ahead.’
‘Do I need to tell you how much trouble you’re in?’
‘I don’t know for sure. So why don’t you tell me?’
The animosity slipped into my voice, but Rob didn’t seem to notice. He sounded unhappy, though.
‘They’ve been in the office.’
‘I guessed that.’
‘They were there when you called. They’ve taken a lot of stuff away with them. I’d say it’s pretty serious.’
I nodded. ‘They think I killed those girls.’
‘And kidnapped Tori, as well. I saw her on the news last night. She’s missing.’
‘I know. I didn’t do it.’
‘Yeah, I figured that. So what’s going on, Dave?’
‘Here.’
I took a piece of paper out of my pocket, unfolded it and passed it over. We kept walking as he read it, but I watched his face. Everything about his expression said that he hadn’t seen it before. I wanted to believe that was true, but how could it be?
‘Jesus Christ, Dave. What the fuck is this?’
‘Exactly what it looks like,’ I said. ‘The man who abducted Tori left this at her house for me to find. He’s playing games with me; I don’t know why. He also sent that email you brought to Carpe Diem for me.’
Rob was reading it again. ‘Christ.’
He looked shocked, but was it by the contents of the note? If he really had been the man in the car last night, or if he’d known anything about his plans, then surely he would have been more
surprised that I still had a copy of it? He’d been very careful about getting it back off me, after all. Just not before I’d had the chance to run it through my father’s old fax machine a couple of times.
‘He killed Julie,’ I said. ‘Kidnapped Tori.’
The slut, I thought. The mad one.
We were approaching the far edge of the field now. Ahead of us, the path wound its way between two thick bunches of trees. There were more elaborate graves in here, standing by the side of the path like silent, weather-worn sentries. It grew dark as we entered.
Rob gave me the note back.
‘Why, though? Why is he doing this to you?’
I stopped. ‘I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.’
‘But - what?’ He stared at me. Suddenly nervous.
I didn’t say anything.
‘You’re looking at me funny, Dave. What’s going on?’
‘Like I said, Rob. You tell me.’
‘What … you think this is something to do with me?’ He shook his head. ‘Fuck you. After I’ve just lied to the police, and come out here to meet you? What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘Thom Stanley,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘I’ve spoken to him.’
‘And what?’
‘Someone called him on Thursday morning,’ I said. ‘A man. He gave him money - bribed him to use Tori’s name in his show.’
‘Well, it wasn’t fucking me.’
‘Who was it, then? Who else knew about Julie and Emma, or how I felt about Tori? And that I was going to be there in the theatre that night?’
‘I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.’ The indignation seemed to fall away from him. He looked wounded. Betrayed. ‘Why would I do that?’
I didn’t reply. I was searching his expression for any sign that this was an act, and I couldn’t see a single one.
He shook his head: ‘We’ve been best friends for ten fucking years. We’ve always looked out for each other. Why would I do … this to you?’
‘I don’t know.’
It wasn’t Rob.
How could I ever have believed it was?
Despair bloomed inside. Suddenly, everything caught up with me, and it was all too much. Without thinking about it, I found myself crouching, then leaning back and sitting down on the ground. I put my face in my hands and couldn’t look at him.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t think of any other explanation. ’
He didn’t say anything.
‘I just want all this to go away.’
The silence panned out for a moment. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see that he’d crouched down beside me. His voice was gentle.
‘You have to go to the police.’
‘I can’t, can I?’
‘Because of the note? Jesus Christ. Don’t you think he’s going to kill her anyway? Whatever you do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You’ve got to, Dave.’
‘No.’ I was adamant, needing him to understand. ‘It doesn’t matter what he does. It only matters what I do.’
‘But—’
‘I couldn’t handle it if I could have saved her.’
Rob was silent for a moment, studying me, then he sighed and sat back a little. After a few more seconds, he opened his mouth, about to say something.
And then a mobile started ringing.
It was the one the killer had given me last night. The noise seemed to bring me together again - it slapped me out of my self-pity. I looked at Rob and held my finger up to my lips, then got to my feet and picked the phone out of my pocket.
‘Yeah?’ I said.
‘Do you want to save her?’ the man said.
‘Yes.’
‘Then you just have to do what I tell you.’
‘Which is?’
I could hear him breathing: a heavy sound, as though he could barely contain the anger he felt towards me. When he spoke next, his voice was full of the same contempt as last night.
‘What you’re used to doing,’ he said. ‘Nothing. I’ve made it easy for you, you see? All you have to do is nothing, and she’ll live. Say thank you.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Say thank you,’ he shouted.
‘Thank you.’
There was a second or two of silence as he contained himself. Then, speaking very deliberately, he said: ‘In a few minutes, I’ll be visiting Sarah’s house. To save Tori, all you have to do is nothing at all.’
A flash of panic. ‘Sarah?’ I said. ‘Wait—’
And then he hung up.
I took off so quickly - without a word - that there was no chance of Rob keeping up with me. My teeth clenched hard enough to make my jaw ache, and stars were gathering in my vision. Everything was going. My brain felt like it was about to crash and shut down.
And when I got to my car, I let it all go. I started pounding my fists against the steering wheel. Over and over. It was like I was pushed out of my body by the force of the emotions. This was what it must feel like to be possessed. The noise I could hear sounded like someone trying to scream through gritted teeth, and even though I knew it was me I had no control over it whatsoever.
Calm down.
Think rationally.
Rationally? What was the fucking use in that?
But I stopped punching the steering wheel, at least - I rested my elbows on it instead, and tried to think of a way through this. I had no idea what I was going to do. If I didn’t stop it happening, this man was going after Sarah; if I did - even if I stopped him - he might not tell anyone where Tori was until it was too late.
He might not anyway.
I paused for a moment. If I did nothing, they both might die. If I went to Sarah’s, I had a chance of saving her. Maybe I could stop this man. And maybe he would tell the police where Tori was. But whatever the result, I couldn’t let Sarah, or anyone, get hurt. Leaving Emma lying there was one thing, but this was something I could actually prevent.
Do it.
I pulled out the phone again. My first instinct was to call her - but then I realised I didn’t know her number. It was stored in my mobile, and God only knew where that was by now.
With the police, hopefully.
So call them instead. Then head over there.
But before I could do anything else, a shadow fell over me. I looked up and around, and then suddenly the driver’s door was being pulled open. My mind had time to think police - before I was dragged out of the car, two huge fists gripping my coat. My arm was rammed into the doorframe and the mobile tumbled out of my hand and fell into the gutter.
For a second, I was face to face with someone, then I was whirled around and a thick arm caught me in a chokehold.
‘We’ve got some talking to do, Dave.’
Shit.
The world tilted and I felt myself being marched back down the street in a headlock so tight I could hardly breathe. I saw the mobile in the road, disappearing away behind me … and everything was properly starring over now, not just with anger this time. I stumbled, got dragged—
‘Choc, wait—’
‘Too late for that.’
I managed to wrench myself out of the grip, and threw a wild punch that landed and did nothing. Whoever had been holding me was the size of a small mountain; my fist glanced off, and then the side of my face exploded like a flashbulb. A second later my thigh muscle exploded too, and I realised my face was against the pavement. How had that happened?
‘Much too fucking late.’
And then they were on me properly.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Saturday 3rd September
‘Where are we going?’ I said.
‘Shut up.’
I was sandwiched in the back of a car between the two burliest members of Choc’s crew. They were taking me somewhere; I had no idea where. The scenery outside was flashing past: a tree, a building. All I knew was that with each secon
d, any choice or decision I’d been able to make was disappearing behind me. I seemed to have left half my head back there, too. It was only slowly catching up and reattaching itself.
‘Need to go back.’
‘Shut the fuck up.’
We’d been in the car and driving for a minute before I’d recovered enough to realise what was happening. Even now, I couldn’t remember everything; there were the punches and kicks at the roadside - fists and feet coming in at me from all angles - and then I was just … here. I’d genuinely thought they were going to kill me right there on the street, but they’d only been softening me up: knocking the argument out of me.
The pain had begun to settle in properly now. Aches in my arms and ribs. My mouth was swollen and bleeding. The side of my face was numb.
‘You’ve got to listen—’
‘I’m warning you: shut your fucking mouth now.’
I thought about it for a second, then lashed out, whipping my elbow up and back into the face of the guy to my right.
It hit, but I was obviously a lot slower than the guys he was used to handling, and he managed to deflect the blow a little. The next thing I knew, my face was pressed straight in my knees, and a hand like a steel pincer was holding the back of my neck. Then a huge, heavy fist slammed into my side, so hard I couldn’t breathe properly, never mind argue or fight back. The flash of agony burned bright and intense, and then ripples of pain spread out through my body, as though the punch had been a rock dropped into water. I couldn’t even move to curl up. Every time I tried, his fingers closed around the back of my neck and pinned me even harder.
Someone must have seen them dragging you into the car.
Whatever happened, they couldn’t kill me.
But then, Eddie Berries had probably told himself that.
I deliberately tried not to think of anything, and just listened to the car instead: the whirr and hum of the tyres moving quickly over smooth tarmac; the occasional jolt of the suspension. And then the whine and squeak as the driver turned the windscreen wipers on. It had started to rain again.
‘Choc, please—’
‘Shut up. You can talk in a minute. And you will.’
We drove a little bit further, and then I felt the car slowing down, and then a bump as we went up some kind of ramp. The car swung around and came to a halt, and then I heard the crick of a handbrake.