HE WILL FIND YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘No. Assuming Vince gets him in. I guess that’s me making the coffees then, seeing as you seem to have made yourself comfortable.’ Maddie scooped up the cups.

  ‘You’re right, okay? I should have talked to you about it.’

  ‘You should. Apology accepted.’

  Harry’s expression softened. ‘I swear you just hear what you want to hear most of the time!’

  ‘Or I hear what you mean to say.’ Maddie turned away to finish the drinks.

  ‘I went to see her this morning — my wife, I mean.’

  Maddie stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. He was looking down at his desk. All the stern edges to his face had gone. He was almost smiling.

  ‘She’s laid in our village. She’s got a good spot on the edge. I’ve got a row of Oriental Lilies right in front of her.’ Harry spoke softer now, almost as if he was talking to himself as much as to her. ‘I wanted to tell her — about Wootan’s release. I wanted to tell her why and also that it didn’t matter. But I couldn’t. I don’t really know why it does matter.’

  ‘Of course it does.’

  ‘I wanted to tell her not to worry and that I am fine with it. I couldn’t do that either.’

  ‘You don’t need to be fine with it. You need to be calm, professional maybe, but not fine. Sounds like this fella is determined to self-destruct anyway so he shouldn’t be a problem too much longer.’

  ‘He’s a nothing. A petty crook with a miserable life.’

  ‘There you are then. Now, can I go and make this coffee? Now I’ve turned the tap on I can’t cope with your outpouring!’

  ‘Get out of my office, DS Ives.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’

  * * *

  ‘So this is weird! I just got sent away from my till to find you! At first I thought Jamie was worried about you, but surely he’s just hacked off?’

  Jack looked over at Alyssa. He was in the locker room. He could barely remember how he’d got in there. It was as if he’d drifted to work on autopilot and now he had snapped awake to that familiar, musty smell. He was still in his coat. He unzipped it and sat down on the wooden bench that ran along the far wall with pegs above it.

  Alyssa’s expression morphed into one of concern. ‘You okay? You look like shit!’

  ‘I’ve been an idiot,’ he murmured. His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. He was tired, so tired. After getting in late, he hadn’t slept a wink. He had been terrified to even close his eyes. He had lain on his bed with his light on, the television too, trying to focus on the flickering pictures and not let the images from his evening foray take over. He had no idea what programmes had been on. He didn’t move for hours.

  ‘What have you done?’ She suddenly sounded serious.

  He tried to smile. He knew it had to look empty. He shook his head. ‘Nothing, really. I learned a lesson is all. I’ve been hanging out with the wrong people. I won’t be doing that again.’

  ‘What are you talking about? What people?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Of course it matters. Look at you!’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Alyssa. I’m being stupid. I should get to work.’

  ‘You should. But you should tell me what the hell is going on first. You were fine last night — full of it. And then you fucked like a train! I left you at what — ten? You wanted an early night. If this is what an early night does to you then you should hang out with me ’til later!’ She chuckled but it sounded hollow, fragile.

  ‘I went out.’ Jack regretted saying it the moment it dropped from his lips. He knew it could only prompt questions and they came instantly.

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘I had to meet someone.’

  ‘A girl?’ Her tone was as sharp as a pickaxe and with a subtlety to match.

  ‘No! Fuck, Alyssa. Of course not.’

  ‘Who then?’

  Jack stood up, suddenly aware of how hot he was, how heavy his coat felt. He brushed it off. It fell to the bench and dripped onto the floor. He turned away, unable to face her. He leant against the wall with his palm flat against the painted brick. ‘Some bloke. I don’t even know his name. I got talking to some people. Online.’

  ‘Online? Like what, some gay shit?’

  ‘No, Alyssa. Not gay shit. Are you going to listen?’ Jack fixed his eyes on the wall. He considered that Alyssa was not the right person to be talking to about this. She wasn’t mature enough. She wouldn’t understand. But he wanted to tell someone. He had to.

  ‘Yeah, fine. So no gay shit. I was just being silly. Sorry.’

  ‘Gaming. I was playing online. You know Fortnite?’

  ‘Everyone knows Fortnite.’

  ‘I used to play a lot. I had a headset and I was talking to other gamers. It was mainly banter, you know? Mugging people off when you wasted them. But I got talking to some fella and we used to team up, like me and him versus the rest. It was kinda cool. I got talking to him outside of the game on a message board. He was telling me how he was part of something, something far bigger than anyone knew and he was telling me I should get involved.’ Jack shook his head and shut his eyes tightly. ‘This sounds so stupid saying it out loud.’ He heard the bench creak behind him and turned his head a little. Alyssa had sat down, her legs crossed.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I’d just left school. It was before I started here. I didn’t really leave with anything — didn’t really know what I wanted to do. Still don’t. I don’t have many friends, Alyssa. I don’t fit in anywhere. I suppose he got me at a weak point, he made me think there was something out there for people like me. He made me think he was like me.’ Jack sniffed. There was so much to say, so much he couldn’t say.

  ‘Okay, so you’re a sad kid with no mates and this lad wants to be your friend. I get that. Then what? You finally meet up with him and what? He touches you where you wee?’ She chuckled. Jack knew she was trying to lighten things up but he couldn’t muster a smile.

  ‘I met with someone. I don’t even know if it was the same person. I think it was. This thing he is part of . . . they talk about how they follow the left-hand path . . .’ Jack ran out of words, talking out loud was making all this sound far more stupid than it had in his head.

  ‘Left-hand path?’

  ‘Yeah. Like everyone else takes the right, but this is the alternative. It’s about putting yourself first, above everyone else. It’s about freedom of expression, about being comfortable disliking people that are different to you and acting on that dislike. It’s about taking what you want from weaker people and having what you want and not feeling bad about it. I guess I had my head turned. There’s nothing out there for me. I live in a shitty little flat, I’ve got nothing left by the time I’ve paid my landlord at the end of the month — no hope of getting out of it, that’s for sure. I work on a till, serving people that wouldn’t piss on me if I burst into flames in front of them. I don’t feel part of this place or anywhere. This group, these people who take what they want, who don’t give a shit about political correctness or kissing the arse of their boss, they gave me hope.’

  ‘Are you drunk?’ Jack turned. Alyssa was leaning forward, her expression slightly humoured. She wasn’t taking him seriously. No one ever took him seriously.

  ‘They offered me a chance to join — to be a part of something. This organisation is bigger than you could know. They have members who run big business, a lot of the powerful people in companies are just that sort of person — they take what they want! And look how it’s worked out for them. And it was an adventure. I had to do stuff to show my loyalty, like I had to switch off from civilisation for two weeks. I went and lived in a tent. It was right where they said it would be and with rations for the two weeks. Tinned stuff. All I had to do was make a fire and sleep out. I was supposed to read some book about Satanism, but it was fucking weird. I couldn’t get into—’

  ‘Satanism? Like the devil? What is this shit you got into?’


  ‘I know. I know it sounds crazy, but it was an adventure. It was a dick-around, camping in the woods and a bit of fun. Then I had to do some tasks . . . shoplifting . . . then rob something off an old man . . . then make a hoax call to a school or something like that. Each task was more serious than the last. It was about causing chaos. It was about demonstrating that you wanted to live outside of the normal rules of society. I had to send pictures . . . evidence of what I had done. And it was all building towards something. Not just a better job but a better life. These people, they made me feel like I was part of something, you know?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Jack became animated with memories of bundling an old man to the ground, striking him while he was down and forcefully pushing hands into his pockets to take his wallet, and of making a call to his old school telling them there was a pipe bomb in the canteen and recording them from a distance as a panicked swarm of kids and teachers leaked out from every exit. He had done that. Just him on his own. For the first time in his life he had felt powerful — and not just because of what he could do on his own but because of what he considered he now had behind him. A whole underground organisation was intent on taking what they wanted and he was going along with them for the ride. He had almost forgotten where it had led him, he had almost forgotten the previous night. It didn’t last. The sights and sounds came rushing back. His mind replayed those sickening thuds as they turned corners and the rope extended out to the sturdy trees that lined the road, of waiting until the screaming stopped then leaning down so far that he could hear the roar of the tyres on the tarmac, loud enough to feel like it was inside his head. The rope had been coarse and tough, and he had needed to saw at it for what seemed like ages. He had tried to keep his focus on that rope, to not look anywhere else, at anything else. But he couldn’t help it. When it finally gave, he had lifted his eyes. He had seen the dark lump of what was left bouncing and rolling along the sodden road. It was a split second that would never leave him. He hadn’t looked when they had returned a little while later, when the door had opened with the truck still ticking over and he’d sensed a flash of light, then heard that now familiar sound of blowing into a bottle-top as something was sent.

  ‘Anyway. It’s all over now. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  ‘All over? What happened last night? Did you talk to these people?’

  ‘Yes. I met with them but only to tell them it was the last time. I’ve got rid of my computer, closed it all down for good. I just need to get my head straight, get back into the real world. That devil worship shit isn’t for me! It never was.’

  ‘Devil worship, eh? Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner? I might have come along with you!’

  Jack shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t bother. Just a bunch of weirdos, really. I intend to forget about it.’

  ‘And you can do that? Forget about it, I mean? With stuff like that, can you just leave?’

  ‘I don’t intend on asking permission. They don’t know anything about me really. I won’t be going along to meet with anyone again.’

  ‘So what now? You gonna throw yourself into your work?’ Alyssa laughed harder this time. It was enough to prompt a smile from Jack. He suddenly felt better, like saying it out loud had given his situation a better slant. These people didn’t know him, aside from his gamer login and his first name. They didn’t know where he lived. There was no way they could find him. He would stay offline, keep himself to himself and do his best to forget about what happened. It all sounded so silly out loud.

  ‘I suppose so. Best I start by actually getting out there and doing some work though.’

  ‘Yeah, you should. You got a shitty little flat to pay for don’t forget!’

  Chapter 8

  Maddie ducked under police tape that flapped in the chilly breeze. Harry was holding it up for her, his expression as stoic as ever.

  ‘I believe her,’ Maddie said. She referred to a short conversation they’d just had with the poor woman who’d made the 999 call that had brought them all here. She’d provided a breathy account of how she’d been driving along a quiet, country road, one she had driven a million times before, and turned into a hilly section with a slow turn around to the right when she’d come across a dark bundle in the road. She’d thought it was a coat at first and she was going too fast to stop. She did her best to swerve and slow but it was too close. Both wheels on her right side went over it. The jolt told her that it was a something more than just a coat, but she hadn’t counted on it being a near naked man with a length of cut rope wrapped around his torso.

  The woman was still in shock. Her account was mostly given in a low monotone and Maddie had struggled to hear her. It was as if she might have thought that saying it quietly would make it untrue. The woman was well into her fifties, dressed in a tartan suit jacket with patches on the arms over thick leggings and welly boots. She looked every bit like she belonged to the area. Though her story rang true, detectives were driving her to the nearest police station where they would get a full statement. Every word would be checked and corroborated, just to be sure.

  ‘I do too,’ Harry grumbled.

  ‘You sound disappointed!’ Maddie said.

  ‘Of course I am. I always prefer a body with the offender still on scene.’

  ‘It makes things a lot easier, I suppose.’

  The hill got steeper quickly. They rounded the corner and it was just like the woman had described: a dark bundle laid out in the middle of the road.

  ‘The poor woman has convinced herself she killed him,’ Maddie said.

  Harry shrugged. ‘She might have dealt the final blow. I’m not sure we’ll be able to tell her otherwise. The skipper wasn’t sure she was the first one to run him over either.’

  Maddie slowed, letting Harry take the lead in the walk up to the bundle. ‘Can’t say I’m looking forward to this one!’

  Maddie’s first impression was surprise at just how dark the body was. Now she was closer she could see that it was a bare-chested male. He had dark coloured jeans on his lower half and no shoes, but the skin that was visible looked like it had been smeared in a paste made out of charcoal. ‘He’s a strange colour? The skin goes that black after a week or more, not a few hours. We’re not considering he’s been here that long, are we?’

  Harry pulled on a pair of bright blue gloves and knelt over the body. It was on its side, the face covered by hair that was matted and slick with moisture. Harry rolled the head to the side. Shocked eyes turned to the sky. The skin around them was a washed out, almost wax-like white — more like what Maddie had been expecting. Harry ran his hands over the head, grabbing with his fingers like he was sizing up a melon for ripeness. He then moved down the body. He lingered on a length of rope then chased it to where it ended in a frayed mess near his feet. He stretched it out; it went on for another couple of metres. ‘I’m not sure she needs to worry about dealing the final blow after all,’ Harry said.

  Maddie stood over him. She was still fixed on the face that had a strong jawbone shaping prominent cheeks. His shoulders and chest looked muscular, too, and he had thick forearms. Her eyes ran down his arms and stopped at a point where the blackness was punctured by a shocking white lump that was ringed by a dark red. Maddie recognised it as a bone. Initially she assumed it was a compound fracture, where a bone breaks so bad it punctures the skin. The truth was to be much worse. ‘What makes you say that?’

  Harry straightened up, peeled off his gloves, and dropped them in a bag. He pulled a new pair out of his pocket. ‘This man was dragged by a vehicle of some sort. And for quite a distance.’

  ‘Dragged?’

  ‘Dragged. Long enough to remove most of the skin on his back and legs. You see there?’ He pointed at the shocking white lump that had grabbed Maddie’s attention. ‘That’s his elbow. The skin’s come right off around it. His head’s mush — it’s not so much a fractured skull as a collapsed one. Being dragged behind a car at speed, you’d suffer cata
strophic injuries pretty quickly.’

  ‘Being run over wouldn’t help.’ Maddie pondered the muddy tyre mark across his jeans.

  ‘Maybe not. What was the ETA for CSI?’

  Maddie was still trying to take in the man lying out on the damp tarmac. Dragging made sense. Now she could see that the blackening to his skin was actually a layer of loose tarmac, mud and grime mixed up with dried blood and clumps of peeled skin. The position of the rope matched Harry’s assessment, too. It was hooked under both his arms and ran along his back. He had been dragged feet first with his bare skin to the ground. Maddie couldn’t imagine what that might be like.

  ‘Maddie?’

  ‘Oh . . . CSI . . . I spoke to Charley — it’s Charley on shift. She’s early turn, but she said she would still come out. She might hand it over to the late turn.’ Maddie was mumbling. She’d only heard part of the question.

  ‘And her ETA?’

  Maddie looked up and met Harry’s eyes. He looked expectant. She glanced at her watch. For a moment, she struggled to recall what time had been given. ‘Any minute. She said half twelve. That’s now.’

  ‘You okay?’ Harry said.

  ‘Yeah. It’s not a good way to go is it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And then just being left in the middle of the road for other cars to come along and run you over. Like some roadkill . . .’

  ‘It’s not nice. Murder rarely is, Maddie. Use it. Be determined to find the animal that did this.’

  She needed to step away, just for a moment. She moved further back up the hill and took some gulps of air. When she turned around, she looked down at Harry. She could tell he was concerned about her. ‘I’m okay!’ she said. She smiled, too. It was meant to reassure him. She looked away from the body and at the scene as a whole. It was a tight country lane, just like any number of lanes they had taken to get there. It was quiet, too. She knew the road was blocked off at each end by police cars but reckoned that even if this was a normal day, they still might not see another car the whole time they were there. The road itself had a cracked surface with weeds and grass pushing up the middle, most of which was slicked down where it would brush the underside of the occasional car. She looked further up. The road was muddy in general; it would come off the high banks that were steeper on the left. There were two cleaner tracks running down the road that were the same width as a standard car. Her eyes rested on the bank. It was missing a large chunk, it looked fresh and thick clumps of it were scattered across the tarmac, as if something had hit it at speed. The mud on the road had marks on it where something might have been dragged across it. That made sense, of course, but it also made something else clear to Maddie.