Rachel dismissed his mutterings with a humouring grin. “I think we might actually stand a chance of catching something on film this time.” Rachel looked about them as they got closer to the entrance. “Apparently they had two unusual activities yesterday, one just after I left, and another in the evening. A door slamming in an empty room and then later, a flash of green light in the lounge. Claire rang me last night, terrified.”
“Even if we do catch anything on camera, will anyone ever believe it?” David replied cynically. David flicked the remainder of his cigarette sparking onto the path and he hefted the boxes back up into his arms and they resumed the short journey to the main entrance.
Rachel operated the intercom to Claire’s flat. She looked through the glass door and her eyes settled upon Catherine’s letter box. On her previous visit Rachel had managed to resist the strong urge to hunt Cat down. She hoped that her visits would result in a chance meeting, she fantasised of it leading to a reunion. “You weren’t a believer. You haven’t seen or heard anything that couldn’t be explained rationally, yet you have done a lot of these stakeouts now.” She smiled smugly. “Now look at you, you’re a spook junky! Maybe all it needs is a willingness to believe, and then if we do find something you will accept it.”
Claire’s voice crackled out of the intercom over David’s chuckle. “I’ll buzz you up, Rachel.”
Perhaps no word from Cat meant she really didn’t need Rachel after all, just like Cat had told her so spitefully the last time they had spoken. The rejection didn’t alleviate the overbearing weight of her unfulfilled responsibility. She didn’t dwell on that, it was too painful. The door buzzed loudly and Rachel took the cue and pushed it. It rattled in its place but remained firmly closed. She tried again before the buzzer cut out, but it refused. Rachel sagged and rolled her eyes and she languidly stabbed the intercom once more. “Claire, it’s not working again…”
Maggie Riley headed toward the lift from her flat on the fifth floor. Squeezing past the pram she prodded the buttons to summon the lift then bobbed her head down into the hood of the pram. “Hullo, baby boy!” she cooed. She looked above the lift doors to see where the lifts were. One was on the twelfth floor while the other was on the fourteenth. Neither of them seemed to be moving. Maggie looked back to the baby. “Nana’s gonna take you shopping!” She pressed the call buttons again but frowned as she noticed they didn’t light up. She stabbed them repeatedly just to make sure. She smiled broadly down at her grandson but spoke through gritted teeth. “Nanna’s got to take you down the bloody stairs. Won’t that be fun?” she cooed sarcastically. “This is where Nanna gets her hip replacement…”
She pushed the pram down the corridor, leaned on the heavy fire door to open it onto the stairs and stepped backwards onto the concrete landing. There were no lights within the stairwell in the day as the large windows that ran the height of the building were meant to provide all the required light. However, the morning sun was the other side of the building, which left the stairs overcast and the corners of the landings blanketed with hazy webs of cloying grey shadow. Stepping back further to pull the pram through the door, she met the banister with her back and caught a view of the sheer vertical drop over the side into the echoing depths. Her instinctual fear of heights made demands on her danger sense, but she quickly and strictly dismissed them.
Her bones and weak muscles groaned and stretched inside her as she struggled awkwardly with the weight of the fire door with one hand, sacrificing her balance to keep a steadying grip on the pram as she dragged it through the gap.
A blaze of light streamed screaming past her, leaving a green stain on her retina. Something rushed through the light and the pram was slammed from her grip. The force of it yanked her from her feet and she smashed into the floor. Her jaw impacted on the concrete sending hot blood spurting from between her lips as the blow jarred her teeth loose. The arm that had trailed after the pram failed to break her fall and the cartilage in her socket made a sickening grinding sound. Maggie’s fear overrode the physical pain at the sound of the heart-stopping clatter of the pram crashing down the flight of stairs ahead of her. She screamed for God’s help and dragged her head up in time to see the pram upturn scattering the blankets and stuffed toys on the landing below.
With her numb arm Maggie pushed herself upright and dragged her legs round onto the stairs, then pulled painfully on the banister until she stood on her shaking withered pin legs. She hobbled down the steps as quickly as she could, leaning heavily on the banister rail, more sliding and stumbling than actually running. She dropped awkwardly to the floor, diving into the bundle of covers, praying she wouldn’t find the warmth and wet of spilt blood.
“Jamie… Oh, my God; Jamie!” she sobbed as she searched. Blood from her broken nose ran from her face, patting onto the concrete and the pram, blotting into the fibres of the soft pastel blankets. She pulled at the covers frantically but found nothing. She stopped her search abruptly; fear washed over her like an icy plunge, the hairs bristled on the back of her neck in a tingling wave of realisation that chased up onto her scalp. She twisted on her seat to the banisters beside her and the killer drop beyond. Her body gave up on her.
The fire door closed gently on her plight, carried home by the automatic hydraulic arm. Before it closed, the sound of the lift arriving echoed tauntingly down the corridor into the stairwell.
Chapter Nine
Claire pressed the door buzzer and pulled the door open for Rachel and David. Claire appeared beyond pale with the lack of sleep and worry, looking almost translucent with faint blue veins below the surface of her skin giving her the appearance of fragile marble. A strained smile chiselled and cracked her face into lines she shouldn’t have.
“I’m starting to think this door doesn’t like you.”
Rachel stepped through, closely followed by David struggling up the steps with his load. Rachel noticed Claire studying David; the new addition. Rachel knew that his unshaven appearance with his unkempt locks, scruffy black jeans and tee-shirt with its gaudy zombie thrashing at a Stratocaster, presented him more like a middle-aged heavy metal fan than the professional boffin he was. He added the final touch to his first impression by setting his load down and roughly thumbing his faded jeans up over his partly bared underwear and beer belly. Rachel smiled as encouragingly as she could manage in Claire’s direction whilst making a mental note to buy David a belt.
The second lift at the back of the lobby opened and Craig strolled out. “Not late, am I?”
“Just in time!” Rachel hurried through the introductions then addressed Craig. “Just in time to take these boxes up for David, Dave can start dragging the rest of his equipment up while Claire and I get the kettle on.”
Dave dumped the boxes into Craig’s arms in a deadpan gesture of “welcome to my world”. Rachel stood, her attention once again caught by the mosaic on the lobby wall. She ignored the twisting maze of colours, and the sweeping curls and spirals that lured her away from its secret image and tried to search for the shape again. Her eyes strained to blink free of the stare, but she focussed all her willpower into ignoring the uncomfortable tingling of her eyes drying so that she could continue to try and unlock its visual encryption. She locked onto a subtle change of shade and followed it. The picture suddenly opened itself up under her study and she quickly allowed herself to blink and lubricate her eyes. The shape she had found was immediately lost again, but she already recognised the large trident-like symbol. It was a Runic letter. The rune of “Algiz”.
Now she knew what she was looking for it was easy to find the symbol again. Rachel discretely caught David’s arm before he could leave to collect more equipment and pointed out her discovery. “Look, that’s odd, seems the person who did this mural had a bit of the spiritual about them. That’s a runic symbol. Thought to be a symbol of protection.”
“If you say so,” he shrugged and waited for Craig to waddle past with his inherited load, then leaned in close to Rachel. “Not really working
so well though, is it?”
Rachel took four mugs from the mug tree and dragged the tea caddy towards her while Claire filled the kettle. Rachel stopped herself, suddenly conscious of making herself comfortable in someone else’s home, she said, “I hope you don’t mind… It’s just I’m used to playing mum.”
“Don’t worry; it’s just what Jen does. We treat each other’s places as home from home. You’re very easy to warm to,” Claire said as she clicked the kettle on. “I want to thank you for not thinking I was some kind of nut, you know – me thinking that I have ghosts and stuff?”
“I’m hardly one to criticise you for seeing spooks, am I.”
“No. Not just that, but you made a good impression on Brian, and that isn’t easy considering. What you said last night on the phone – when I called you. You really comforted me. Very… motherly!”
While Rachel had talked to Claire on the phone Claire’s mother had appeared to her again, and somehow with her there the right words had come easily. Rachel sugared the teas as far as she could, unsure of what Craig took in his, if he liked tea at all. “Don’t worry. I like to listen and help if I can, so you just call when you need an ear.”
Claire smiled weakly. “You know it’s odd. For three weeks all I could think and worry about was Emily. Now I worry about whether a door is going to slam or something is going to terrify Amy again. I just wish Amy would speak to me.”
“Still not talking? Poor child. It’s the one thing that would help her come to terms with Emily not being here.”
“She just looks so scared and beaten down. Defeated.” Claire stared off into the rushing steam of the boiling kettle. “She looks how me and Brian are feeling inside.”
“Children can’t hide their feelings very well and I think that’s a good thing really. At least you know there is something wrong and you can try and help them. You or I can keep our feelings hidden, which probably does us more harm.” Rachel hesitated as she considered the hypocrisy of her philosophy, its barb digging deep within her. “She might not be talking about it but she is expressing her feelings. The love I’m sure she gets from you and Brian will only help.” Rachel took the kettle from its cradle and poured the hot water into the mugs.
“Do you have children?”
The question caught Rachel like a sharp slap to her senses. She hadn’t been asked that in years, and it burned into her composure. “Er, no. No, I don’t.” She didn’t want to talk about it, not with Claire; Rachel needed to remain the rock Claire obviously needed.
“Well, I am surprised; you sound like a perfect mum.” Claire pulled the fridge door open to get the milk. “A child would have been very lucky to come to you.”
Before Rachel’s mind could dwell on the painful memories Claire’s words raised, she saw Claire’s mum standing next to her. She eyed Rachel and pointed to a drawer in the kitchen unit.
Claire closed the fridge door and started as she watched Rachel squeezing the life out of the tea bags. “Oh, you found the spoons then.”
“The mothering side with its kitchen compass…”
Craig knocked on Kelly’s door unsure how she would greet him after her change of mood with him in the lobby earlier that day. After a moment she answered, and he was grateful that she was out of uniform, not only because she looked good in the fitted top and tight black Levi’s, but he hoped it would mean she would be more relaxed.
She greeted him lightly enough and with a smile that spoke of being glad to see him, but her face was pale and set. Despite her hair being free and the masking glasses gone, her casual state was betrayed by a look of distraction.
“Come in.” She winced a smile at him.
He was surprised to get an invite, he had only come to say “hi” and invite her down to join Rachel and David in his flat. He didn’t have her phone number. He had been working up to getting it just before she had turned cold on him in the lobby and he had decided against asking. Her flat had an identical layout to his, and although he had recently gone through the flat giving it a paint, hers seemed fresher and cleaner than his. It was the neutral colours she had chosen that gave the place its light and airy feel, even the hall which tended to be shadowy from the lack of windows seemed brighter. The muted colours continued in the lounge but were accompanied by simple pieces of maple furniture. The plainness of the lounge was softened by colourful modern art prints and soft furnishings.
Her flat was quite a contrast to his. He liked all his stuff, but he had picked it up at boot sales and second-hand shops and his place had more of a lived in look. With a brother three years older than him he was used to hand-me-downs. He had resented it as a kid, but had come to accept it now; Darren had good taste and he went through clothes like a girl or a gay so it saved Craig some cash. There were worst aspects of living in your big bro’s shadow, like him having a better job, a mortgage, a car, a girlfriend… Darren’s place was more like Kelly’s, but then Darren had a steady job and could afford nicer things. Maybe when Darren bought a place with his fiancé he would get some of Darren’s gear. Living in Darren’s shadow might pay off after all.
There were two plump terracotta sofas with plush furry brown and beige cushions and throws, it looked cosy. Kelly didn’t take a seat or offer him one though, she paced a little, seemingly lost at what to say or do.
“What’s wrong, Kelly?”
She looked away momentarily, apparently caught off guard by his observation. She pulled herself together. “Sorry.” She smiled, but he saw through it.
“No need to be, but what’s wrong?” he persisted.
Kelly sighed, grimaced and shrugged to herself. “Sorry. Craig, can we talk off the record?”
“Hey, I am not gonna use every chat we have… I’m not that dedicated to being a journalist,” Craig joked, he hoped disarmingly.
Kelly hugged herself, looking awkward. “It could be story related, but it can’t go any further than this room.”
Just his luck to get a lead only to be sworn to secrecy, but he knew he wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardise a trust in any relationship he had. Although Kelly was new to him, and she had been a bit off with him, he liked her. He didn’t ever imagine feeling comfortable with a copper, but he felt relaxed enough to tease her professionalism and could imagine some good laughs winding her up and messing with her, like he did with Vicki. He could imagine Vicki groaning at him putting someone’s feelings over a story. “Don’t even worry about that, Kelly. Just tell me whatever it is that’s eating you up.”
“I mean it though. If what I say gets in print I’ll throttle you.” She pointed at him under a fixed glare. She could be quite scary when she wanted to be. He liked that too – although now was probably not the time to joke about that.
Craig gave a half-smile. “Threats of physical violence… You know how to treat a boy.” Sometimes he couldn’t help himself, but he was rewarded by Kelly’s resolve relaxing into a brief laugh. Maybe she wasn’t as sensitive as he had thought.
“Just before you got here I got a call from a friend from work. She wondered what was going on over here. She told me that the investigation into the Chamber’s case might be taking a new twist: Sarah Muller, a fifteen-year-old girl, went missing last night. Her mum sent her off to meet friends on the estate and told her to be home by ten. Her friends were waiting outside for her. She never made it out of the building, Craig.” She let the fact sink in. He didn’t know the girl but the story was sinister enough to have effect. “Yesterday, another resident was five months pregnant, she miscarried and she is hysterical, saying the baby has been ‘taken’; they had to sedate her. Obviously they don’t believe her, but the thing is they don’t know what she did with the baby. She lives here – in this block.” Kelly’s flat tone was rising with what he imagined was her own incredulity. “And then about two hours ago in the stairwell down the hall on the fifth floor, Maggie Riley had a fall in the stairwell and the pram fell down a flight. She’s in hospital with injuries and shock. Little Jamie, t
he baby, was nowhere to be found.”
Craig swore and gave up waiting to be offered a seat and planted himself next to her on the comforting looking sofa as he tried to process the information. The Chambers’ situation was no longer an isolated case. “What’s going on?”
Kelly sat down beside him. “That’s what I’m trying to understand. You can’t tell anyone you heard this from me,” she urged. “The stories are going to get in print, they will come out and you can do what you like with your angle after that. I just don’t want it coming back to me.”
Craig waved her down. “Don’t worry about it,” he offered distantly. Strangely the news story, his motive for befriending Kelly and offering out his flat to Rachel, had almost been forgotten against the new information and disappearances; people he would probably recognise if he saw pictures of them. He could hear Vicki tutting at him in his head. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t know what to do with these stories anyway,” he reassured her flippantly, and instantly regretted his tone. Sometimes he wished he could say exactly what he was thinking and not joke about it. “Is this becoming a serial snatcher or something? One of those psychotic ‘collectors’? Satanists? – I dunno!” He gave up on his movie psychology and ruffled a hand through his scruffy hair as if it would somehow make his thoughts clearer. “Can’t all be unrelated. The miscarriage one might be just… Well, you know, natural. But surely she would have a body – or something at least.”
“Don’t, Craig. It’s only what has been going through my head since I got the call. My friend told me that they’re all joking about it down the station, calling the estate ‘The Camden Town Triangle’ and are saying it’s ‘Zone Two of the Twilight Zone ’. Can you believe it? Always count on sick bastards, can’t you.” She grimaced in distaste. “I never understand the sick camaraderie down the station when things like this happen.”
“It’s how people so close to these things cope, I guess. Look, what you just told me stays with me. It’s just nice to know that you trust me.” He smiled reassuringly, trying not to let his gaze linger on her. It felt good to know she trusted him but he didn’t want his statement to seem like a pathetic pass, he had tried that earlier and it hadn’t panned out.
Harvest Page 9