“You saw him?” Eddy interrupted.
Rebecca hesitated then shook her head. “He spoke to the girls. Who else could it have been?”
“So your daughters recognised the intruder?” Siobhan said.
“Of course.” Rebecca looked irritated. “I told you, it was Mugisa.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but we’ll have to ask them.”
“After what they’ve gone through, surely you don’t—”
“Not immediately.” Siobhan’s mind raced, trying to understand why Mugisa would do this. She remembered his fierce expression from the morning and didn’t doubt he was capable of it.
“Did they say why he did it?” she asked Rebecca.
“He wanted to know where Philip was.”
“Did they tell him?”
Rebecca glared at her. “We. Do. Not. Know. Where. He. Is. How many times do I have to tell you?”
Siobhan held her gaze for a few seconds. “Okay, I believe you.”
Although Mugisa had subjected the girls and their grandmother to an unpleasant ordeal, at least he’d hurt nobody, and with any luck the machete he’d used here would be the same one used to attack Liam. In which case, she needed to refocus the investigation. Her insides shrank as she realised once the press heard of this attack they’d crawl all over it. Madmen with machetes, dead pets and pretty girls held hostage. Just the story ingredients they loved.
Mugisa observed the two police officers leave the house next to the old woman’s. He still felt angry with himself for leaving the machete but hearing the man’s voice had startled him. He should have anticipated at least one of the men who’d freed Philip would have been there. It was another sign he had become weak and soft.
The police would be looking for him. He had enough money to start again somewhere else, but he’d made a big mistake trusting these people, letting them get close. He wouldn’t do so again.
After the policewoman drove off, he studied the house. The other police car remained and the man who’d startled him hadn’t left. Dismissing his fear, he walked towards his car, forcing himself not to hurry. Heart hammering, he started the engine but stalled as he tried to pull out. He closed his eyes and inhaled; he needed to stay calm.
By the time he reached his den he’d decided on his next move. He would collect the few items he kept at the house and leave. He felt guilty about leaving the Walcotts like this — they’d been good to him — but he couldn’t afford the luxury of sentimentality. After loading the car, he drove to the house, but he saw the policewoman and her assistant waiting on the doorstep. He recalled the policewoman’s attempt to trick him and was angry that he’d almost trusted her. He drove on, leaving behind another home which he could never return to.
A slight middle-aged man with short grey hair answered the door after Siobhan knocked.
“Mr Joseph Walcott?” she asked.
“Yes, can I help you?”
She made her introductions and he led them into a neat living room smelling of furniture polish. The three-piece-suite looked in showroom condition and the carpet, a patterned Axminster, bore no signs of wear. A dark-wood sideboard contained a full, 32-volume leather-bound Encyclopaedia Britannica. She remembered the day her father returned home with the set he’d rescued from a skip. Missing volumes 24 and 26, thereby undermining her knowledge of Metaphysics and Pre-Columbian Saints, it had formed the backbone of their home education.
Miriam Walcott looked pleased to see Siobhan again and produced a plate of home-made cakes to accompany tea in bone china cups. Eddy couldn’t get his oversized fingers through the handle and gave up, picking the vessel up in both hands before lifting it to his lips like a chalice.
“I’m sorry Chief Inspector but Matthew isn’t here,” Miriam said, smiling. “You keep missing each other.”
“I didn’t expect to find him here.” Siobhan regarded the couple with sympathy. “We have reason to believe he threatened an elderly lady and her grandchildren with a machete.”
In the ensuing silence, Joseph stared, open-mouthed, but Miriam seemed uneasy and she recovered first. “There must be some mistake. Matthew has never been violent.”
“He’s never been in any trouble,” Joseph confirmed.
“There’s no mistake,” Siobhan said. “The two girls know him well. They’re Philip Mason’s sisters.” She studied them as she continued. “It’s vital we find him before anyone gets hurt. Can you tell me where he might be?”
Tears formed in Miriam’s eyes and Joseph shook his head. “He doesn’t have many friends.” He mentioned the three lads who’d been with him on Sunday night. “And of course, Philip Mason…” His voice tailed off.
“Is there somewhere else he might go?”
They named the places Mugisa mentioned in his alibi. Siobhan had already arranged for patrols to search there.
“Matthew told us he isn’t your biological son,” Eddy stated. “What can you tell us about his background?”
Joseph opened a locked drawer in the cabinet and produced a legal envelope. He withdrew papers from it and handed them to Siobhan. She read them and the couple regarded her, their wariness suggesting they feared what else she might have to say.
“I don’t know this organisation.” She read out an acronym.
“They rescue child soldiers,” Joseph said, his voice above a whisper. “They rehabilitate them and find them homes.”
“So Matthew is — was — a child soldier?” She shared a look with Eddy as she absorbed this information.
The Walcotts both nodded. “He spent nearly a year in a transit camp being rehabilitated before we met him,” Joseph said. “He still sees a counsellor every month, but he doesn’t have any problems.”
“Do you have a recent photo of Matthew?” Siobhan asked, realising they’d have to organise a manhunt.
Joseph rummaged in the drawer for a few seconds. “Miriam, I can’t find the album?”
Miriam left the room and returned with a small leather-bound photo album. “I showed it to the welfare officer from the college.”
Siobhan raised her eyebrows. “When did she visit?”
“It was a he; a lovely young man — Chinese,” Miriam said.
Siobhan made a note to check with the college. They studied the pictures. The images of the small boy moved and disturbed Siobhan in equal measure. She pointed to the most recent picture. “Can we have this? We’ll return it.”
“It’s okay, we’ve got a copy,” Miriam said.
“Would you mind if we searched Matthew’s room?”
Joseph started to object but his wife silenced him and led them upstairs. The immaculate room contained none of the usual paraphernalia teenage boys accumulate. They retrieved two pairs of trainers and the clothes he’d worn on Sunday night.
“Does he have any heavy boots or shoes?” Siobhan asked.
“I keep telling him he needs good waterproof shoes but he always wears trainers,” Miriam said.
Siobhan thanked her and left the devastated couple in peace.
In the car, Eddy examined the copy of the most recent photo of Mugisa. “Where does it leave us with Philip Mason?” he asked.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing since we found out about the attack on the grandmother. We know it would have taken at least two to carry the bin across the yard and into the house. I think they’re in this together. We’ve heard how close they are.”
“Were,” he corrected her. “They’ve obviously fallen out?”
“Yes, big time, and I think it’s got to do with whatever happened on the night Liam died.”
“You could be right.” Eddy looked pensive. “Think he’ll come back?”
“Here?” She jerked her thumb behind her. “No, I doubt it, but he seems determined to get to Philip.”
“So all we need to do is find Philip.”
“Exactly. Can you speak to someone at the college? Find out if they have a Chinese welfare officer.”
She couldn’t imagine w
hy anyone would visit Mugisa’s parents pretending to be from the college, unless they already suspected his involvement in Liam’s death. Maybe she needed to speak to McLaughlin again.
Byron reversed the lorry into the courtyard, shut off the engine and sat in the cab. The sudden silence echoed in his ears. The euphoria of their close escape from the warehouse had worn off and he questioned the wisdom of his actions.
By the time Byron joined him Adam had secured the gates with a padlock. “Are you sure it will be okay here?” Byron asked.
“It’s been empty for years and nobody comes here.” Adam indicated the padlock. “Unless someone tries to open it, they can’t tell I’ve changed the lock and, even if they do, they’ll probably think it’s just rusted up.”
“Great.”
“Let’s go. I know Mal’s with Philip but I don’t want to take advantage.”
Byron nodded. He couldn’t read his friend’s expression but suspected what he’d done troubled him. Adam didn’t have his ability to compartmentalise. “Thanks, mate. I owe you.” Byron gripped Adam’s shoulder.
“Yeah, whatever,” Adam said in a gruff voice and started for the car.
As they neared Adam’s house Byron’s phone rang. Rebecca said, “Is Philip with you?”
Byron hesitated. “No, but he’s safe.”
The silence stretched until she asked, “What do you mean?” Her tone was icy.
“He’s safe,” Byron repeated. “What’s happened?”
“Why isn’t he with you?” Her anger reached across the airways.
“Has something happened?”
“Mugisa showed up at my mum’s. He threatened her and the girls with a knife.”
“Stay there, I’m on my way.”
“No!” Rebecca hesitated and Byron heard her breathing. “No, you stay with Philip — he’s who Mugisa wants. Call me when you’re with him, and Byron … if anything’s happened to him…”
Byron passed on this news and the car surged forward as Adam put his foot down. Despite that, the journey to Adam’s took an age and Byron leapt out of the car when they arrived. He opened the front door, calling to his nephew. Loud voices came from the lounge and he charged into the room. Philip jumped out of the sofa in alarm. The sound came from a music video playing on the television.
The tension in Byron’s chest released. “You okay, Philip? Where’s Mal?”
“Hi, Byron,” A quiet voice from behind him replied.
The door swung closed and Mal faced him, a hefty steel poker in his hand. “Hi, Mal.” Byron gazed at the implement.
“I recognised the car but you can’t be too sure.” Mal returned the poker to the fireplace.
“Has something happened?” Philip asked.
“Nothing. I just had a bad feeling.” Byron hesitated. “Have any visitors been round?”
“Nope,” Mal said.
The front door opened and Adam walked into the room. “Cheers, Mal, thanks for stepping in.”
“Anytime, mate.” Mal offered Philip his hand. “I’ll see you again, young man. And next time, we’ll play my music.” He shook Byron’s hand and left the room.
“I’ll get going now Byron,” Adam said. “You know where everything is.” He waved towards the kitchen. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Byron followed him out into the hallway and locked the door behind him. He wasn’t sure they should split their forces, but he didn’t want to leave the rest of his brother’s family unprotected.
CHAPTER 18
The Boy planned to travel as far as possible before daybreak and the discovery of his escape. A thin crescent moon and bright stars shone above him. He concentrated on the constellations. At first, the profusion of distant suns confused him, but gradually he recognised the patterns his father had shown him. Once he identified the star he sought, he wondered how he’d missed it. Taking care not to walk into any hazards, he pressed on, away from his captors and towards home.
At the camp, the girl cowered in the corner of the officer’s hut. He’d been drinking and, as sometimes happened, could not perform. He lashed out, angry at her failure to arouse him. The blows rained on the girl, knocking her to the floor. He stood over her, kicking her. Terrified, she curled up into a ball.
He grabbed her by her neck, lifting her to her feet and held her against the wall as she struggled to free herself. She’d never seen him this angry and fearing for her life, she told him of The Boy’s planned escape. The officer threw her to the ground and rushed out to investigate. The shame of her betrayal tempered her relief.
Adam replayed the incident at the warehouse as he drove to Byron’s brother’s house. Would the two men recognise him if they saw him again? He didn’t think they’d report him to the police, but Manchester wasn’t such a big city and he’d likely bump into them. He’d have to make sure he stayed alert. He parked on the road outside the Masons’ house. Rebecca answered the door, looking surprised.
“Where’s Philip?” she demanded.
“He’s fine. Byron’s with him. Can I come in?” The lines round Rebecca’s mouth had deepened since Adam had last seen her.
“Sorry.” She stepped back.
“We thought I should stay with you, in case Mugisa returns.”
A shadow passed behind her eyes. “That’s very kind of you, but the police are sending someone.”
“Shall I wait until they get here?”
She gave him a strained smile. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m being rude. Shall we start again?”
“No need. I understand.”
“Shall we wait in the lounge? Samuel’s finishing a report for a patient but I’ll tell him you’re here. He’s looking forward to seeing you again.”
“I’d better have a look round.”
Her lips trembled and she opened her mouth.
“I’m sure there’s nothing wrong, but it’s best to be certain.”
She showed him the back door and lent him a torch. Adam inspected the perimeter, then checked the ground floor openings and, reassured, he returned to the house and bolted the back door. He entered the lounge and Rebecca reacted like a startled deer.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
“Sure. I told you it was just a precaution.” Adam smiled, trying to reassure her.
“Adam.” Samuel’s voice boomed from the doorway. “Good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”
Adam started, but recovered to respond, “Hello, Sam … Samuel. How are you?”
Samuel shook his hand then patted the wheelchair. “I wasn’t in this last time, was I? I’ve been in it seven years. Didn’t Byron tell you?”
“Yes, of course. It’s just slipped my mind.” He recalled something had happened when Byron returned home on leave but didn’t remember the details.
“Unfortunately it can’t slip our minds.” Rebecca’s bitter tone and Samuel’s expression made it clear the subject still caused them both a lot of pain.
The uncomfortable silence stretched until the front door bell rang.
“That will be the police. I’ll get it.” Rebecca’s relief reflected Adam’s.
Once the police patrol took over Adam returned home.
“It’s only me,” he announced as he opened the door.
“Through here,” Byron said from the lounge. The sound of the television died as Byron muted it.
“Has Philip gone to bed?”
“Yeah, he’s still shattered.”
Adam indicated the bottle of lager in Byron’s hand. “Shall I get you another?”
“Better not, I’ve drunk two and Rebecca will kill me if she finds out I had too many.”
Adam took off his coat and fetched a beer from the kitchen. He sat in the armchair and drank half the bottle in one swig.
“Looks like you were ready for that.” Byron laughed.
“No mistake.” Adam studied the bottle.
“Something on your mind?” Byron asked.
“I saw Samuel. I’d
forgotten about the wheelchair.”
Byron’s frowned. “Yeah, I should have reminded you. Sorry, mate.”
Adam pulled at a corner of the label. “Remind me what happened.”
Byron cleared his throat. “I’d returned home on leave and he took me out on his new bike, a Honda Goldwing. I was twenty-two, full of myself and he was a responsible family man. He took it over the Snake Pass, showing off.” Byron stared at a spot on the far wall. “I think he wanted to show me he wasn’t past it. He’d been such a hero to me when I was growing up.” He paused. “I think I’ll have that beer.”
Byron returned with two bottles. He handed one to Adam and, sitting down, took a drink. “Anyway, he overtook a lorry, going uphill and a caravan came the other way. He’d have made it but the lorry had a trailer and we couldn’t see it until we drew alongside. The bike left the road and Samuel broke his spine.” Byron touched his lower back. “Spent two weeks in a coma, but yours truly got away with just a few cuts and bruises.”
“Shit, Byron. How awful for you.”
Byron had his eyes shut.
“So why the problem with Rebecca?”
“Rebecca.” Byron snorted. “And Mum. She didn’t speak to me for three years. If it wasn’t for my sisters, I’d have been an outcast.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Adam protested.
“I was driving when we set off, so everyone assumed it was ‘the young tearaway’.” He laughed bitterly. “We changed over about ten minutes before the accident, but I was the one who got done for reckless driving.”
“Surely you told them?”
Byron studied his bottle. “I couldn’t. By the time Samuel came out of his coma it had become the accepted version. I was back with the unit and we were on our way to Kuwait. I hoped he’d tell them the truth but he must have found it too difficult.” Byron gave a bitter smile.
“I’m so sorry, mate.” Adam’s chest tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“No point. You couldn’t have done anything.” Byron flicked a hand towards the television. “Anyway, second half’s started. Turn up the volume.”
Brotherhood Page 17