by Shaun Baines
The man was waiting for Daniel in the hallway, a blue and white vase in his hands, poised to hurl at Daniel's head.
"What's your name?" Daniel asked.
"Get out of my house."
"I said, what's your name?" he asked louder.
The man jumped and dropped the vase. The thick carpet saved it from shattering.
Daniel stamped on it, cracking it like an egg.
"Jordan," the man said. "My name is Jordan."
Daniel cleared his throat, hoping to reign in his temper. "I'm looking for a woman called Sophia," he said. "She lives here."
"I live here," Jordan said.
Daniel needed another vase to stamp on. "I came here the other night. With Sophia. She let herself in and gave me a painting."
The atmosphere changed. Jordan's shoulders dropped and he pointed at the phone in the hallway. "That was my painting she stole. I called the police, you know?"
"What are you talking about, man?"
"Sophia? Is that what you call her?" Jordan paced the hallway, leaving footprints in the carpet. "I didn't know that. I like to keep it professional. I called her Ms King and Ms King was my cleaner."
"She works here?" Daniel asked, his chest lurching.
Jordan kicked the remnants of the broken vase into a pile. "Not anymore. I went away for the weekend and I came back to find my Marco Pisterri had been stolen. She was the only other person to have keys to my house."
Daniel could almost feel the painting in his grip. It was still warm where Sophia had handed it over. He hadn't suspected a thing. He'd fallen for the whole routine and so had Bronson.
He crushed the imaginary frame between his fingers. "Do you know where she lives?"
"Didn't need to know, did I?" Jordan twisted his pointed beard into a curl. "Why did she give the painting to you?"
Because she was desperate, thought Daniel. Not only for the safety of her child, but for all the others. Did it justify her deception? Daniel didn't think so and he began to wonder what other lies she'd spun him.
Daniel stared at Jordan, his square spectacles irritating the hell out of him.
"Forget about the painting," Daniel said, laying a hand on Jordan's shoulder. "It won't be coming back."
But Jordan shrugged off his hand. "People like that shouldn't be allowed to get away with a crime. You or the bloody cleaning woman."
Daniel's muscles twitched with a familiar energy. It was incapacitating. The back of his neck tensed. He bit into his cheek, drawing blood, but his heart beat was a constant. It beat slow and steady, like the march of footsteps behind a slow-moving hearse.
"People like that?" he said.
"And people like you," Jordan said. "Forcing your way into my home. Smashing up my vase."
"You should be more understanding," Daniel said. "There are unhinged people out there."
Jordan ran to the phone, pressing the handset to his ear. "I don't need to be understanding," he said. "I have the law on my side."
Jordan was right and Daniel slapped the receiver from his grasp. It swung from the cord, bouncing off the wall.
Booting Jordan in the knee, Daniel grabbed him as he fell. He snatched the cord and wrapped it around Jordan's neck.
Daniel put the phone to his ear. "Hello? Hello? Is this the dick police? Yeah, I've found one."
The veins on Jordan's forehead were raised like acne. The blood vessels in his eyes burst. There'd be no breath in his lungs and Daniel imagined he was counting down the seconds to his death.
"Let him go, Daniel," said a female's voice from the landing.
He jolted at the sound of his name.
Daniel peered up the stairs, seeing feet first, dressed in red high heeled shoes as they came down to meet him. The legs were stockinged and the dress didn't begin until her thighs. The woman had a narrow waist and a deadly sway to her hips.
Daniel shoved Jordan into a wall, leaving a bloody outline of his face on the velour wallpaper.
The figure swept slowly down the stairs.
Daniel's heart raced and he grew dizzy.
Because he had never expected to see her again.
"Sorry you had to find out this way," his mother said.
Chapter Eighteen
It may have been renamed the Great North Museum, but to Daniel it would always be the Hancock. Situated near the Barras Bridge in Newcastle, he had never visited as a child. There were other things, worse things, to occupy his time, but it had always held a fascination for him. It was a place of learning and intrigue; a place he could show to his daughter.
Ducking under a doorway, Daniel found a dinosaur skeleton towering over him. The bones were black and varnished. He read the display plaque, but the reptile's name seemed to have too many letters. He could barely pronounce it and quickly discarded it as information he didn't need.
"It's big like you," Eisha said, wearing a cardboard cap in the shape of dinosaur head. She stared up at the skeleton, her mouth open. "I'm glad it's dead."
"Why's that?"
"Big things like that eat little things like me."
"Maybe I'll gobble you up," Daniel said, grinning.
Eisha stuck out her tongue. "You're mean."
Daniel drew her closer, his muscled arms wrapping around her waist.
Her body stiffened and Eisha pulled the dinosaur cap over her eyes so that her face was hidden behind its teeth. "I heard Uncle Bronson when he came home," she said. "He was taking a girl into the Room. I'm not allowed in there, am I?"
At Five Oaks, the Room was a place no decent human being should enter. If Daniel was being kind, he'd say it was a place to find information. Almost like a library, he thought, should a library house a blood stained gurney and several trays of knives.
"No, pet. You're not," he said.
The Room was hidden away and yet his daughter had once used it as her own private sanctuary. It was beyond troubling and Daniel had hoped those days were behind her.
"I thought you were feeling better since starting school," he said. "You don't have as many tantrums. You don't talk about your accident with the gun. You know? Better."
Eisha wriggled from his grasp and played with the rope barrier around the dinosaur. "Things aren't always what they seem," she said quietly.
"Do you still have nightmares?" Daniel asked. "Bad thoughts?"
Eisha twisted the rope in her hands. "Do you?"
Dropping to his knee, Daniel took Eisha by the shoulders. "The girl in the basement? She's safe."
"What is she doing there?" Eisha asked, looking at her shoes.
"Uncle Bronson is asking her some questions."
"What kind of questions?"
"It doesn't matter," Daniel said. "Listen, we've talked about this. You're not allowed down there. So the next time you want to go to the Room," Daniel said, "or you think you might be doing something naughty, talk to me first, okay?"
"But you're always at work or pretending to be fishing," Eisha said.
Her words landed like a body blow and Daniel looked away from her accusing eyes.
"And why is it okay for Uncle Bronson, but not me?" Eisha asked.
"It's not okay, pet."
"Is it because he's older?"
"Yes," Daniel said. "I mean, no. I don't know."
"And why is it – "
"Enough," Daniel shouted.
A young mother at the tail end of the dinosaur tutted and herded her children behind her legs. "You shouldn't speak to your child like that," she said. "It's a reductive attitude."
Liz ducked under the dinosaur's tail and straightened in front of the young mother. "And he got that attitude from me, so unless you want to end up like that bag of bones up there, you better take a long walk."
Daniel smirked, watching the young mother march her children to the exit.
"Granny," Eisha squealed, running into her arms.
Liz staggered under the onslaught, but smiled, bending over to kiss the top of Eisha's head.
"Thanks f
or coming," Daniel said.
"Where have you been?" Eisha asked Liz.
They walked around the exhibits, pausing by a glass frame filled with Egyptian jewellery. The gold reflected in Liz's face, but her eyes were dulled by Eisha's machine gun questioning. His daughter flitted around her like a moth attracted to his mother's darkness.
"Let's pick up some souvenirs," Daniel said.
Stepping through a crowded entrance, they went into the gift shop. There were dinosaur models, more cardboard hats and bags of sweets. Eisha disappeared into the throng. Liz made to follow, but Daniel held her back with a hand.
"What were you doing at that house in Whitley Bay?" he asked.
His mother peered into the reflective surface of a pick n mix display and adjusted her fringe. "Can't you let me have this?" she asked. "I haven't seen her in so long."
Families milled around the shop, sometimes pausing in front of Daniel and deciding to find another route to the pencil case stand.
"She's missed you," he said.
Liz flattened herself against the display as the crowds swelled. "I knew I couldn't come back."
"You were hiding in that house?" Daniel asked.
"Jordan is my therapist," Liz said. "I've been sober for sixty-three days."
Daniel didn't drink much. He didn't like how it insinuated itself into people's lives. His mother had been a casual drinker, but as their lives had hardened, so had Liz's addiction.
"I see Jordan every few days," she said. "He's been helping me with my recovery."
"You came down the stairs. As if you belonged there."
Liz snorted through her nose. "Don't read too much into that. You'll be pleased to know I live on my own in a grotty flat in Chopwell. Jordan's office is upstairs. That's all."
She hopped on her foot as if someone had stepped on her toes.
Daniel led her to a quieter area.
"What do you know about Sophia?" he asked.
"Nothing," Liz said. "She's a cleaner who uses too much bleach."
Daniel recalled the stringent aroma on his first visit to the house and couldn't disagree. "I need to find her."
"Is she in trouble?"
"She lied to me so what do you think?" Daniel asked, arching an eyebrow.
Liz laughed. "Everybody lies to you. People get hurt when they tell you the truth."
"Is that why you made me believe I was your son?"
The mirth dropped from Liz's face and she raised a hand to her cheek, as if she'd been struck. "How did you know that?"
It was Daniel's turn to laugh, but his throat ran dry. He'd fantasised about this moment. He'd rehearsed the hurtful comments and the witty one-liners. Now that the moment had arrived, it was like an out-of-body experience.
"Dad told me," he said, the words heavy in his mouth, "and someone gave me a memory stick with a lot of research. Everything I need to know is on there."
She picked up a replica of an Egyptian necklace, scraping off the golden foil with a fingernail. "What do you want with this Sophia anyway?"
"That's all you have to say?" Daniel asked.
Flecks of foil drifted to the floor, disappearing into the fibres of the carpet.
"The past should stay in the past," Liz said.
"Not when it comes to my daughter." Daniel snatched the fake necklace from Liz's hand and cast it aside. "Eisha deserves to know the truth. So does my brother. Don't you think my brother should know his precious Dayton heritage is a lie?"
"You haven't read the file, have you?" Liz asked, looking down her nose. "I didn't think so otherwise why would you be asking me about it."
Daniel wished he'd looked. He wished he'd had the courage. He had seen his family torn down and Daniel had rebuilt it, remodelled it to something better. Everything would collapse the moment he asked questions of it.
"I keep it close by," he said. "I can check anytime I like."
"And will that make you happy?"
Daniel swallowed and coughed into the back of his hand. "At least, I'd know the truth," he said between gasps.
"The truth only hurts."
"Not as much as lies," Daniel said.
"There are some things only a mother can explain," Liz said, offering him a handkerchief. "If you think this is the time to talk about it, then let's get it done, but there's no going back. You can't unlearn what I know."
Daniel wiped his mouth, watching Eisha shoplift a dinosaur notebook. He'd been a fool to believe she was changing.
His daughter was simply getting better at hiding her behaviour.
But would the truth set his daughter free or send her down the same road as her father?
"This isn't over," Daniel said to Liz.
"Why don't I tell you about the cleaner instead?" she asked in return.
Daniel nodded stiffly.
"I spoke to Sophia a few times," Liz said. "She's a nice lady. I'm not going to say anything that might get her in trouble."
Daniel crushed the handkerchief between his fingers. "Her daughter is missing. I'm trying to find her before something bad happens. If you know anything, you'd be helping her. Not me."
Sophia may have vanished. She may have lied about being rich, but she couldn't hide the fact she was a mother. It had been written all over her face when they'd spoken at the sweet shop. Whatever else was going on, Sophia's daughter had still been abducted.
Liz scrutinised the crowd of shoppers. Daniel followed her gaze to find Eisha stuffing more notebooks into her pockets. He made a mental note to frisk her before they left.
"I want to spend more time with Eisha," Liz said. "I want to see her at Five Oaks."
"Do you know anything about Sophia or not?" he asked.
Liz picked at the foil under her fingernails.
Daniel cursed under his breath. "Yes, you can come to Five Oaks to see Eisha. Now tell me about Sophia."
Batting her eyelids, Liz gave him a smile.
"Well, I know she doesn't have any children, for starters," she said.
Chapter Nineteen
The job was over. The meat was packaged and ready to move.
Karin sat in the back of a lorry behind a wall of bloody boxes, her hands stained pink. Beneath her, the tyres rumbled on tarmac, sending shivers through her body. Above them was a skeletal framework of metal. A mottled canvas was pulled tight across its bones.
Karin was pressed against Adrian with no room to escape. Crash was folded into a corner with Rachel.
"Where are we going?" Karin asked, her mouth dry.
Adrian touched the bandages around his head. "It's what happens."
The lorry took a corner and the boxes slid toward them, threatening to topple over. A waft of blood filled the air.
"We get moved around a lot," Rachel said. "We finish a job and we go."
"When we get to the next place, sometimes there are others like us," Adrian said.
"Sometimes we get split up," Rachel said, pushing at the boxes.
"They're released," Adrian said. "They go back to their homes."
Crash snorted and turned away.
"Is that what they told you?" Karin asked Adrian. "Be a good boy and we'll let you go?"
"We're never getting out," Rachel whispered. "Once they've finished with us as slave labour, we'll be disposed of."
"It's what I believe," Adrian said, fiddling with his bandage.
"How long have you been here?" Karin asked.
"Too long."
Karin kicked him in the ankle. "How long?"
Adrian sat straight. "I came in with some others, but they're all gone now. I was on my own for ages. I thought they were going to kill me."
"It must have been awful," Rachel said.
"But then you guys came," Adrian said. "Crash arrived first. You can probably tell how the conversation flowed, but then there were others. You guys might have saved my life."
"What were you doing?" Karin asked.
The skin around Adrian's eyes tightened. "I don't understand."
<
br /> "When it was just you, on your own," she said, "what did they make you do?"
"Anything they needed." Adrian stared at the group, but failed to meet their gaze. "I prayed every night I'd be released, but every morning, I was back at work. I prayed to be rescued and like I say, you guys arrived."
"In the meantime, you learned how to survive." Karin shoved Adrian with her shoulder. "Like pretending you've cut yourself to get out of work."
"I was hurt. A cut can get infected and they don't like us being ill. It slows down production."
"Show me your hand then," Karin said.
Adrian shook his head. "I don't follow your orders."
"But you follow theirs, don't you?" Karin shoved him again, this time knocking him to the floor. "Maybe snitch a little? Maybe tell them what we've been talking about?"
"I wouldn't do that," Adrian said, his lips trembling.
"Of course, you would," she said. "Anything to make your life easier."
Karin's hand reached for Adrian's throat when the lorry broke hard. They were slammed into the canvas. The Styrofoam boxes tumbled, collapsing on top of them. A lid broke open. The contents spilled out, showering Rachel in cow hearts. Screaming, she slapped them from her face, scrambling from their wet touch.
"What's happening?" she shouted.
Karin placed a finger to her lips. "Quiet," she whispered.
The engine was cut and the lorry lingered in the silence.
They heard voices from the cabin.
"That's him," one of the guards said.
"Are you sure?" Choo asked, his question tinged with panic.
"I'm sure of it. He still hasn't paid us for shifting the rest of his infected pig meat."
Crash climbed to his feet, but Karin pulled him to the ground. "Just listen," she said.
"He's seen us," Choo said. "He's running."
Lorry doors opened and slammed shut. Karin heard rapid footsteps fading to nothing.
"Have they gone?" Rachel asked.
Karin released her hold on Crash, nudging a tower of bloody boxes out of her way. She crawled over more boxes. Her knees broke through the lids, sinking into wet meat as she progressed to the rear door.