Alex Barclay - Darkhouse

‘I’ll get you some ointment in a minute,’ said Duke. ‘Now, take a hold of this and get movin’.’

‘In the pickup?’ said Donnie, backing down the front steps.

‘Yup,’ said Duke.

They heaved it up and walked back towards the house.

‘That’s it, except for the bed,’ said Donnie.

‘I’ll take care of that,’ said Duke.

‘Not on your own, you won’t.’

‘Go have a cigarette,’ said Duke, taking the steps two at a time.

Donnie shrugged, pulled a pack of Marlboro from his jeans and walked into a shaded corner of the yard. He could see Duke silhouetted in the window, struggling to keep the mattress upright.

‘I can come in, help you, when I finish this,’ he shouted.

‘I got it,’ said Duke, letting the mattress spring back onto the bed. He disappeared, then showed up minutes later with a saw.

‘Probably right,’ said Donnie when he walked back into the room. He looked around at the chunks of wood and mattress. ‘I don’t think the whole thing would have fitted through the door.’

Duke threw down the saw.

‘Ointment,’ said Donnie.

‘Oh yeah. In the bathroom.’

Duke opened the cabinet and pulled out a flattened tube curled up almost to the top. He squeezed some ointment onto his finger tip and turned Donnie by the shoulders towards the light. Donnie caught sight of himself in a mirror on the door and sucked in his gut.

‘Have you done it yet?’ he asked, trying to crane his neck around.

‘I’m doin’ it right now,’ said Duke, smoothing the ointment in gentle strokes across the broken skin. He picked the tube up again and squeezed out more. Donnie shifted slightly on his feet.

Duke stepped back. His hand hovered, trembling, over the base of Donnie’s spine.

Joe stepped out of the shower, focused, reeling from the fright he had given himself with the pills, shocked by the control he had felt slowly slip away from him. He wrapped a towel around his waist and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, but his eyes were clear. He was shaken by his recklessness — leaving the house, leaving Shaun alone, driving with his head spinning. He barely remembered getting to Waterford. He went into the bedroom and grabbed a lime green LV8 from the dresser. He used it to knock back four hits of Fuel It. Then his mobile rang. Anna’s number flashed across the screen. His knees buckled.

‘Thank—’

‘Rise and shine.’

Joe went rigid at the sound of the Texan drawl.

‘Hello?’ said Duke. ‘Hello?’

‘Do you have Anna... my wife?’

‘I know who she is. And what do you think?’

Joe’s heart thumped. Shards of pain exploded inside him.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please don’t hurt my wife.’

Duke laughed. ‘Only if you promise not to shoot my partner dead.’

Joe hesitated.

‘Let’s talk about that some other time,’ said Duke.

Joe jumped in. ‘You need to know...’ He thought of those two words from the Gray file and the battle began — should he tell Duke Rawlins what he knew or was it better to hold back? ‘...uh, that my wife...’

‘What?’ snapped Duke. ‘Is a diabetic? Needs sugar, doesn’t need sugar? Needs medication or she’ll die? You know, like the movies?’

‘No,’ said Joe slowly. ‘This is a very real situation. I know that. This is important for both of us. We both need something here and what I need is Anna, my wife, home safe.’ A slight tremor shook his voice. ‘What do you need... Mr Rawlins?’ He stared up at the ceiling and waited.

He heard a rattle as Duke put the phone down and started to clap. After several seconds, he picked it back up.

‘You know your shit. Mr Rawlins — I like that. But I wouldn’t have taken your wife if I was just gonna bring her right back. Where’s the sense in that?’

‘Is Anna OK?’ said Joe. ‘Have you hurt her in any way? Let me talk to my wife. Please.’

‘She said to say hi,’ said Duke. ‘Except no, she didn’t.’

‘Please tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,’ said Joe. ‘I can promise you that.’

‘What I need? That’s my business. What you need? Now that’s a lot more interesting. That’s my priority here, with all this.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Joe.

‘When it’s all over, it won’t matter a good goddamn what you understand or don’t understand, detective. It’ll be over. A dead end. It doesn’t matter how the hell you find yourself there when it’s the end of the road.’

‘Let me talk to my wife.’

‘No.’

‘Can I see her?’

Duke snorted. ‘Come to the parkin’ lot at that big high cliff by the harbour in five minutes. What are those things again? Oh yeah, lemmin’s.’

The phone, slick with sweat, slid through Joe’s palm and clattered onto the floor.

Frank Deegan was halfway down the path when Nora shouted after him.

‘What I was trying to tell you the other night... I may have done something stupid.’ She walked out to him. ‘I let Anna Lucchesi see that picture that Joe gave you. The mugshot.’

‘How did you manage that?’

‘I’m sorry. It was an accident. It had slipped in among my papers. She seemed a bit shaken by the whole thing. I thought maybe she was angry that Joe hadn’t let her in on it, whatever it was.’ She paused. ‘But now that I think about it, she actually seemed quite nervous.’

‘How do you mean nervous?’

‘Well, I thought I saw the page shake when she took it. Then she put her hand to her mouth. She was sort of looking around, a bit panicky.’

Frank was familiar with that reaction. It usually ended with, ‘That’s him. That’s the man.’

Joe ran for the Jeep and pulled out of Shore’s Rock. He drove towards the village, his mind racing, the caffeine high kicking in. He had taken in the equivalent of eighteen spoons of coffee.

He thought about Hayley Gray. He remembered her parents waiting, powerless, because they’d called the police. Gordon Gray had sat on the sofa, reading the newspaper. Joe thought he was cold and detached. But then the man had bolted upright, shouting, ‘What do I do here? What am I supposed to do? Do I watch TV, do I work, what the hell do I do when this is going on? Someone has taken my child!’

This powerful businessman had collapsed against a police officer, sobbing, ‘This is torture, this is torture — why is this happening?’ Then he stopped suddenly. In the silence that followed, his quiet words sounded roared.

‘I did this.’ His eyes were wide and blinking, his mouth open. ‘Oh God, this is my fault. All of it.’

Joe stared ahead. He knew now exactly how Gordon Gray felt. This was his fault. This was payback for Donald Riggs. He might have been wrong about Katie, about the women in Texas, but he was right about one thing: a man called Duke Rawlins had him in his crosshairs.

He wondered what to do with the information from the file. The thought of making a call on it made the panic surge again. He clenched the steering wheel and floored the accelerator. He thought about calling Frank Deegan. He even reached out for his mobile. Then he was jolted back to the last seconds of Hayley Gray’s life... and realised that Duke Rawlins could be safe in the knowledge that he was never going to call the police.

‘Who do you love most, your husband or your son? If you had to choose,’ Duke said suddenly.

‘My son,’ said Anna calmly.

Duke laughed. ‘Just like that?’ he said.

‘Yes. I’m leaving my husband.’

‘You bullshittin’ me?’ said Duke.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s over.’ Her heart thumped. Duke studied her face.