Simon Beckett - The Restless Dead

Lundy went through the photographs again, then tapped them into a neat stack and put them back in the folder. ‘Can I take these? We’ll return them when we’ve made copies.’

‘I suppose so, but they aren’t mine...’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll look after them.’

Rachel nodded, but still looked unhappy. ‘What should I say to Andrew?’

‘Nothing just yet. Best let us look into it first. No point him jumping to conclusions if there’s no need.’

Especially not when he might be a suspect, I thought. I hated keeping the truth from Rachel, and her next words made me feel even worse.

‘So are you going to talk to Mark Chapel?’

I was glad she’d asked Lundy and not me. He tucked the folder under his arm. ‘That sort of thing’s up to DCI Clarke. Before I go, can I have a quick look downstairs?’

‘In the dock, you mean?’ Rachel shrugged, surprised. ‘If you like. Why, what are you looking for?’

‘Oh, nothing in particular. I’d just like a shufti while I’m here.’

‘It was checked when Emma went missing. There’s nothing down there but junk.’

‘I’d still like a look, even so.’

I could see Rachel wasn’t convinced. We waited while Lundy put the photographs in his car, then went outside to the creaking timber steps that led down the side of the boathouse to the creek. A boat was moored at the end of the jetty, and when I saw it I realized why neither of the Land Rovers had been parked outside. Rachel hadn’t come by road. It was the same fibreglass dinghy that Trask and I had taken to search for his daughter, its line pulled tight as it pitched about in the current.

Rachel stopped on the wooden landing next to the hatchway in the boathouse wall and unhooked the rope holding the hatch cover in place.

‘Is that the only way in?’ Lundy said doubtfully. The hatchway opening was no more than four feet high and two wide, and promised to be a tight fit for the DI.

‘The gates at the front are padlocked,’ Rachel told him. ‘I don’t have a key.’

There was an edge to her voice. As Lundy pushed open the hatch cover, hinges squeaking as it swung inwards, she turned and looked at me. Her expression said she knew she wasn’t being told something, but then there was a clatter and a curse as Lundy climbed through into the dock. The DI’s voice echoed hollowly from inside the boathouse.

‘Ow. Bloody thing drops down inside.’

‘Sorry, I should have warned you,’ Rachel said, not sounding it. Turning away from me, she ducked her head and stepped nimbly through the hatchway after him. I followed her through, pausing in the dank atmosphere to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. The gloomy interior had the same musty odour of damp earth and salt water I remembered from before. The dock was partially flooded, and light from the slopping waves danced on the walls. The wooden walkway ran along the back wall and both sides, cluttered with old nets, cork buoys and other boating paraphernalia. I stayed by the hatch with Rachel as Lundy picked his way towards the shuttered gates, having to step over the holed fibreglass canoe.

‘I wouldn’t go too far,’ she told him. ‘The decking’s pretty rotten.’

He stopped, taking her at her word. Framed by the strips of light coming through the gate’s slats, Lundy looked down at the water below us.

‘Does it all drain out at low tide?’

I could see from the stiff angle of Rachel’s neck and shoulders that she was growing angry. Her voice confirmed it.

‘Why wouldn’t it?’

I knew Lundy was thinking about Mark Chapel’s submerged body, wondering if something might be hidden under the water inside the boathouse as well. But it had been low tide when I’d been in here for the oar, and there had been nothing more sinister on the muddy creek bottom than rocks and dirty strands of weeds.

‘No reason,’ Lundy said. He looked up at the timbered ceiling. There was nothing to see up there, the rough beams barely visible in the shadows. ‘Shall we go back outside?’

I stepped through the hatch on to the small landing, relieved to be back in fresh air. I started up the steps as Rachel emerged, but paused when I realized she wasn’t following. She stayed on the landing, her face set and angry as she waited for Lundy to come out. The DI stepped through the hatchway with a grunt.

‘I’m not built for this,’ he grumbled, looping the rope over the hook to hold the hatch cover shut. Straightening, he turned to leave then stopped when Rachel didn’t move.

‘What’s going on?’ she demanded.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean there’s something you’re not telling me.’

‘I can’t go into details about an investigation, you know that. Now, why don’t we—’

‘I’m not asking for details, I’m just sick of not being told anything. You wanted to look in there for a reason. And you ducked the question when I asked if you’re going to talk to Mark Chapel. I’m not stupid. It’s obvious something’s going on.’

Lundy sighed. ‘You’re just going to have to trust me.’

‘ Trust you? I’m the one who’s stuck my neck out and gone behind Andrew’s back, and now you won’t even say why ?’ She shot me a brief glare, including me in the accusation before confronting Lundy again. ‘Why are you being so cagey about Mark Chapel? Do you think he had something to do with what happened to Emma?’

‘No, it’s nothing like that.’

‘Then what , for God’s sake? And if you haven’t even questioned him yet how do you know...’ She trailed off, her eyes widening. ‘Something’s happened to him, hasn’t it?’

Lundy looked cornered. ‘Like I said, I can’t go into details.’

The colour had drained from Rachel’s face. She raised a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, God, the body on the barbed wire with Fay. Was that him? That was Mark ?’

‘Nothing’s been confirmed,’ Lundy ploughed on, but Rachel was staring at me.

‘You knew, didn’t you?’

Oh, Christ . ‘I couldn’t say anything, I’m sorry.’

‘I told him not to,’ Lundy cut in. ‘This is an ongoing inquiry, we can’t—’

‘I can’t believe this!’ Rachel looked stunned. ‘What happened to him? Did Villiers kill them both ?’

Lundy seemed to struggle for a moment, then sighed. ‘We don’t know.’

‘Well, if he didn’t, who...’ I saw the realization hit her. ‘Oh, no, you can’t think Andrew ...?’

‘We don’t think anything at the moment,’ Lundy said doggedly. ‘But until we know more this has to stay strictly confidential. You can’t tell anybody. Do you understand?’

But Rachel wasn’t listening. She looked pale. ‘I feel sick.’

‘Do you want to sit down?’ I asked.

‘No, I don’t want to bloody sit down!’ she snapped, then turned to Lundy. ‘What about the sea fort? What are you going to do about that? Or is that confidential as well?’

‘The marine unit will probably go out and take a look,’ Lundy said, with the air of a man under siege.

‘When? Today?’

‘No, I don’t know when it’ll be. But even if your sister did go out there—’

‘ If? You’ve seen the photographs!’

‘—then I can’t see that it’s relevant. They took away the main access ladders from the towers years ago, so she can’t have got inside. And if she made those prints afterwards then she obviously came back, so it’s not as if there’s any need to rush out there.’

I thought Rachel was going to argue. She stood facing Lundy with her arms crossed, an angry flush on her cheeks.

‘Fine.’

She turned and went down the last few steps to the jetty, heading for the boat. Giving Lundy a glance I went after her.