Chris Simms - Savage Moon

He looked up. 'Why assault someone like that?'

'I think Adrian was right. Punishment surely,' Rick replied. Jon took another sip. The answer was lacking somehow. Punishment beatings involved smashed kneecaps or shattered faces. This was more like rape. 'It wasn't just punishment. I think it was sexual humiliation. The lad had the audacity to attack him, Peterson was showing him who was boss. And to me that suggests, at some point, Peterson was in a position of authority over the lad.'

'You mean this Silverdale facility? The lad was in there when

Peterson was on the staff?'

'That's my guess. Peterson was into young boys. The DVDs in his house are proof of that. I think this lad was abused by Peterson. He was trying to settle scores. Only it all goes horribly wrong, and Peterson bitches him again.'

'So the next time he catches Peterson up in Daisy Nook Country Park he comes armed with something a lot more serious.'

'Looks like it. What I can't figure out is what Rose Sutton did to piss him off so badly. Don't forget, she was slashed to ribbons before the iron bar attack on Peterson. And why was he fucking around with an iron bar at all? Why not just go for Peterson with the same weapon he used on Rose Sutton? It was pretty effective first time after all.'

'Maybe he ditched that one and had to get hold of another.'

'Or go back and retrieve the first one.'

Rick shrugged. 'I guess we'll find out when we nail him. I tell you one thing. He'll have had some serious injuries from the bar. Internal ones.'

Jon pulled out his mobile. Seeing there was no signal, he drained his coffee and led the way up the stairs. Once outside under the library's portico he looked out at the needles of rain slicing through the air. As he waited for the crime scene manager to answer his phone he watched a magpie as it hopped along the edge of the tram platform, totally unperturbed by the passengers waiting there. Its head dipped to the side and it dropped from view on to the rails, reappearing a couple of seconds later. Then, emitting a sharp clacking sound, it flew to the top of a black metal pole and alighted on the CCTV camera mounted there, long tail raising and lowering as it balanced itself in the light breeze. Weren't those things rare once, Jon wondered, trying to remember a childhood rhyme about good luck if you spotted more than one. Now they were common as pigeons.

'Richard Matthews here.'

'Richard, DI Spicer. Are you still at Crime Lake?'

'Yes.'

'Can I ask a favour?'

'Go ahead.'

'Has Peterson's Volvo been towed yet?'

'No, a flat-bed truck is on its way.'

'Just check for me and see if the driver's door is open.'

'OK. I'm in the caravan at the moment. Two seconds while I put some gloves on.' Jon listened to the movement at the other end of the line. 'Right, I'm by his vehicle. I'm trying the door. Yes, it's open.'

'Good. Now, take a look under the driver's seat. Anything there?'

'There is. It looks like a crow bar.'

'OK, careful to avoid touching the ends of it, can you lift it out and tell me what you see?'

'I've got it. Yes, there's something here. Appears to be blood, possibly faecal matter too.'

Jon closed his eyes, imagining the years of misery the lad must have endured. Was it any wonder he ended up so desperate for revenge? 'I'll need you to take swabs and test for DNA. We need a result as soon as.'

'It's top of my list.'

'Cheers, Richard.'

Jon hung up and looked at Rick. 'If the lad was in the Silverdale facility, he's a young offender. If he's a young offender, he's got a record.'

'And if he's got a record, his DNA is on the national database,' Rick finished the sentence.

Jon held up a hand and they slapped palms together. 'Don't you just love it when a plan comes together?'

Rick gave him a cheesy grin. 'I'd better get back to Chester

House.'

'You still working on that complaints thing you mentioned?' Rick threw a glance upwards. 'Just finishing it, thank God.'

'So what's next?'

'I'm starting a stint with the Drugs Squad next week.'

'Fancy joining this investigation in the meantime? I could do with the help.'

Rick looked him in the eyes. 'Some mad bastard ripping people's throats out? To be honest mate, I thought you'd never ask.'

Jon smiled. 'Nice one. Why don't you get it cleared with your boss then come over to the incident room. I'll bring you up to speed.'

Rick glanced at his watch. 'He's in a meeting until lunch. Why don't I come over now and just clear it with him later?'

'Fair enough.'

As they reached Jon's car Rick ducked his head for a better view through the rear window. 'What's Punch doing in there?'

'Spot of bother with Alice. She's decided he's a danger to Holly. Won't have him in the house.' As he opened the door Punch's face lit up with delight. 'Hello there stupid, you OK?' The dog stared back tongue protruding from the side of its mouth as they got in.

'He didn't try to bite her, did he?' Rick asked, clipping in his seatbelt.

Jon started the engine and reversed the car out of its space.

'No.'

'Scratched her?'

Jon shook his head.

'Am I missing something here?'

'Not really.' Suddenly he had the urge to describe out loud the bizarre turn of events. Perhaps it would make everything clearer in his head. 'She saw him lick Holly on the head. And because he licks his bones before chewing them, she concluded he was getting ready to do the same to Holly. To be honest, she's not been herself since the birth. She gets wound up very easily, worries about things too much.'

'Wound up about what?'

'I don't know. Stuff that's out of her control. Iraq, for instance. She was crying the other night because she reckons our forces are killing their babies. She goes on and on about it.'

'Any other things like that?'

Jon glanced suspiciously at him, sensing something behind the question. 'Things like what?'

'Morbid thoughts. About death, people being injured. That sort of stuff.'

Jon dug his fingernails into the leather of the steering wheel.

'She worries about Holly being OK. She gets up to check she's still breathing during the night. Reckons the baby monitor might not be working.'

Rick remained silent for a few seconds. 'What about in the mornings? Is she getting up all right?'

'Rick, we've got a three-month-old baby. She's frigging knackered.'

'Yeah, but you're getting up aren't you?'

'What's your point here?'

'I've got an older sister. She's got two kids. Both times she suffered from post-natal depression. Feeling that she couldn't cope, that she was failing as a mother, lethargy, dark thoughts. Fretting about her baby. She wouldn't leave any windows open in case a fox got into the house and carried it off.'

Jon looked at him. 'A fox?' Even as he heard the incredulous note in his voice, he knew Alice's fears about Punch were just as groundless. 'You reckon she's depressed then?'

'I'm no doctor, mate, but it sounds very similar.'

Jon felt a sense of dread. My God, he thought. 'I should have spotted it myself.'

'No. It's quite subtle at first. She obviously hasn't seen it either.'

'So what happened to your sister? Did the kids go into care?'

'What?' Rick smiled. 'Course not. Her GP prescribed anti- depressants. They took a few weeks to kick in, but she's fine now.'

He was taken aback by Rick's almost flippant tone. 'But addicted to pills for the rest of her life?'

'For fuck's sake, Jon, it's not like that nowadays. They take them for about six months, then gradually get weaned off them. It's no big deal. You make it sound like her brain was turned to mush. It's not One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest . Medicines have come a long way since then.'

Jon pinched his lower lip between a finger and thumb. 'So I need to get her to a doctor's.'