Stuart MacBride - A Dark So Deadly

‘Yeah, because I’m COMPLETELY PSYCHIC! Jesus.’ Honestly, how thick could you get?

Ashlee twisted the snib on the Yale lock and pulled the door open till the chain jerked tight. Crammed as much scorn into her welcome as she could: ‘ What ?’

She’s wonderfully thin. Magnificently thin. Glaring up at him, her whole skull visible through the pale thin skin.

He blinks at her, making his bottom lip tremble. His eyes are all red and puffy, like he’s been crying — amazing what you can do with a dab of vinegar on a fingertip. He clears his throat. Puts on his best fake Dundee accent, because that makes it a bit more interesting, doesn’t it? Being someone else. Someone who doesn’t burn inside. ‘I’m... I’m sorry, but I’m trying to find my son.’

‘And?’

He pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket, printed out at home. ‘MISSING! HAVE YOU SEEN SAMUEL (4)?’ Underneath the headline is a photo of a wee boy — dark hair and freckled cheeks, a dimple in his chin. ‘Please: his name’s Sam. He’s only four.’

A chunky woman walks up the hallway behind the angry young girl, a tea towel draped over one shoulder. Blonde. Curvy. Maybe a bit curvier than Father would have liked, but still pretty with it. ‘Ashlee, don’t be rude to the nice man.’ She reached past her and unclipped the chain. ‘Is he missing?’

‘Some woman picked him up from playschool. They said she had dark hair and glasses?’

‘Oh, you poor man.’

The girl, Ashlee, folds her arms and rolls her eyes. ‘Oh very classy, Mother, completely get your hormones on.’

‘Don’t listen to her; please, come in.’

‘Honestly, ever since “Uncle Eddy” left you’ve been completely horny. Disgusting in a woman your age. Old people shouldn’t be allowed to have sex, ever.’

The mother’s cheeks darken, but she forces a big smile anyway. Brave little soul that she is. ‘You said his name’s Sam?’

‘Sam. Yes.’ Justin steps into the house.

Father never did get it. All that lying and play acting, dressing up like a priest to make people trust him, using Justin as bait. Silly, when you think about it. Unnecessary.

You don’t need a little boy pretending to be lost if you wanted to meet women, you just need an imaginary boy and a photo printed off the internet.

Much easier.

Justin smiles.

Strange, it’s been years since he’s used that name, but all this thinking of Father has brought it back. Comfortable and warm as an old jumper, or a pair of cosy socks.

So Justin takes his smile and follows the girl and her mother into a kitchen warm with the vanilla smells of baking. Reaches into his pocket and pulls out the knife.

EMERGENCY CALL — 09 Sept at 19 hours 52 minutes and 13 seconds

OPERATOR:Police Scotland, what’s your emergency?

CALLER:Oh God, oh God, oh God. [Sobbing]

OPERATOR:Hello, can you tell me what’s happened?

CALLER:He’s killing them, he’s... They’re screaming!

OPERATOR:OK. I need you to give me the address.

CALLER:Please come... He’s killing them.

OPERATOR:Where are they? I need an address. Give me the address.

CALLER:[Screaming] HE’S KILLING THEM! YOU NEED TO COME NOW!

OPERATOR:I need you to calm down. Listen to me. Listen, we can’t come if you don’t tell me where you are.

CALLER:I’m at home. I was on the phone to Ashlee and she was answering the door and the man came in and he said he was looking for his missing kid—

OPERATOR:There’s a child missing?

CALLER:No, you’re not listening! He said he was looking for it, but he... he... [Sobbing] and they let him in and now they’re screaming!

OPERATOR:OK. Where are they? I need an address. Where does Ashlee live?

CALLER:With her mum. Two Twenty-Three Johnson Crescent, in Shortstaine. Please, he’s got a knife...

OPERATOR:Hold on. [Keyboard noises] Cars are on their way. When did it—

CALLER:Hurry! You’ve got to hurry, they’re screaming!

OPERATOR:It’ll be OK. There’s police and an ambulance—

CALLER:No, listen. They’re on my mobile...

[Crackling]

YOUNG WOMAN:[Sound is distorted] [Screaming] GET OFF HER! GET OFF HER! GET OFF HER!

WOMAN:[Sobbing] Don’t hurt my baby! I’ll do anything you [Screams]

YOUNG WOMAN:NO!

[Grunting] [Banging] [Sound of glass shattering]

CALLER:Please, you have to get there!

OPERATOR:They’re on their way. Can you tell me your name?

CALLER:Marline. Marline McFadden. You have to hurry up!

WOMAN:I didn’t... I didn’t...

MAN:[Shushing noise] It’s OK. It’s OK.

YOUNG WOMAN:Mummy?

MAN:I’ll take good care of you [Too quiet to make out] forever. Won’t that be nice? Forever and ever.

YOUNG WOMAN:Oh God, she’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

OPERATOR:Marline, I want you to record the call for me, will your phone let you do that?

CALLER:I... Yeah, completely! I’ve got, like, this app that’ll—

YOUNG WOMAN:Get away from me!

MAN:They’ll worship you. You’ll be a god and they’ll worship you.

YOUNG WOMAN:[Screaming]

Mother stood with her back to the room, facing the murder board with its growing lines of actions and outcomes. ‘You know what I think? I think they need to let us speak to Brett Millar.’

The blinds were open, letting in the darkness from outside. What little streetlight that managed to make its way around to the back of the billboard tainting the shadows with orange and brown.

Watt curled his lip, upsetting the bum-fluff line of ginger pretending to be a beard. ‘I talked to a Professor Bartlett over there, he said, and I quote, “Mr Millar is too volatile to remain un-sedated while in this establishment. I will not put my staff, or other patients, at risk.”’

McAdams shook his head. ‘A doped-up Millar? What use is that to us all? We seek a killer!’

‘Then we’ll just have to go round there tomorrow and give this professor the opportunity to change his mind, won’t we?’ Mother turned to face them. ‘Right: home time. You can all go get yourselves a good night’s sleep and come back bushy-tailed and bright tomorrow morning. Briefing will be seven o’clock sharp.’

Callum stuck his hand up. ‘What about the flash drive?’

‘The IT Lab have got it, so we should find out what’s on the thing by...’ she checked her watch, ‘about the dawn of the next Millennium.’ Then Mother stared at them all. ‘Well, come on then: off you go. Home. Shoo.’

Dotty whizzed her wheelchair around in a tight circle. ‘Pub?’

‘No.’ Watt marched out of the room, pulling his jacket on.

McAdams cupped his hands into a loudhailer: ‘And remember to sign out this time!’ Then a shake of the head and a sigh. Finally a smile pulled at his stubbly-grey Vandyke. ‘Come, fair maiden Dot. Let us go from here to a bar. There to drink much beer.’ He took hold of the handles on the back of her chair and steered her out into the corridor, throwing a parting shot over his shoulder, ‘Dumbarton Arms. Last one there buys the crisps.’

‘Boss?’ Callum powered down his computer. ‘If it’s all the same, I’m going to stay and see what’s on the drive.’