Lee Weeks - Cold as Ice

‘Could say.’

‘But you have a child together.’

‘Havin’ a kid was the worst thing we ever did.’

‘Jackson’s not easy?’

‘Oh he’s easy all right but then you’re never going to get much back from him. He’s never gonna to be playin’ football for England, is he?’

Carter didn’t answer this.

‘You still feel something for Danielle, Niall?’

He shrugged. ‘Sure. But most of it is hate. She looks at me like I’m shit on her shoe. I ain’t good enough for her any more.’ Manson sniffed and turned away and pretended to be looking at the décor in the small interview room. There was nothing for him to look at except the sheen of the grey paint.

‘You think she got ideas above her station? She wants to be a teacher now, doesn’t she? She’s going to classes, isn’t she? And it feels like she doesn’t want to know you any more. I sympathize. I have a kid, Niall. I understand how tough it is.’

Niall turned back and sneered. ‘Yeah well, she’s got a new set of friends. Go and talk to them. What you botherin’ me for?’

‘Who are they?’

‘All those single women she meets in the school. Bunch of dykes. Plus – she denies it but I know she’s seeing someone else.’

‘That’s tough.’ Carter sat back in his chair, nodded sympathetically.

Manson watched Carter closely. Then he mirrored Carter’s actions. He relaxed, sat back.

‘How do you know?’ Carter continued.

Manson shook his head slowly, screwed up his face. ‘I can tell. You can, can’t you? When they’re cheating on you?’

‘You been together long then?’

‘Long enough.’

‘A few years?’

‘Since we was teenagers. You’d think she’d feel some fucking loyalty – bitch.’

‘You ever feel the need to put her in her place? You ever slap her, Niall?’

‘Once or twice. Nuthin’ bad. Nuthin’ she didn’t deserve.’

‘Where were you yesterday evening?’

‘Round my mate’s house.’

‘Address?’

‘Concord Square, Lewisham.’

‘Can you prove it?’

‘Yeah. We had a visit from friends of yours. Thought there was some chance of finding a cannabis farm; turned out to be next door. No apology – nuthin’. Just smash the fucking door down and leave.’

‘Make a complaint.’

‘Tsss.’ He turned away, disgusted. ‘Fucking filth. What about my son? What about Jackson? Who’s got him?’

‘He’s being looked after by family.’

‘I hope it ain’t Danielle’s dad?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because he’s a weird fucker. Never liked me. Never wanted nothing for Danielle. Kicked her out when she got pregnant. Who’s got my son?’

‘He’s with Danielle’s mother.’

He shook his head, confused. ‘She’s dead.’

‘Her birth mother.’

‘What? What is that shit? Where did she crawl out from? She never tried to find Danielle before. Why did she bother now?’

‘Apparently it was Danielle who made the contact. Does that seem strange to you?’

‘Yeah. The way she talked about her real mum I’m surprised but… Danielle was full of surprises lately.’

‘I know that things didn’t work out for you and Danielle but this is the mother of your child and she’s disappeared. You think of anything she may have said to you?’

‘The last thing she said was that she hopes I die slowly. Oh yeah, and if I didn’t want her contacting the filth I better sort out my affairs fast. I want to see Jackson.’

‘You’re not allowed, are you? The court order says you are refused permission to see your son ever since you put him in danger with your drug dealing ways. You can reapply to the courts to have the injunction lifted. If you help us we’ll certainly put in a word for you.’

Niall’s face took on an indifferent expression.

Tracy watched Jackson waddling out of the bedroom, his eyes full of tears.

‘What? Pardon? Sorry?’ Tracy still hadn’t really understood what the person on the other end of the phone was saying.

Jackson came to stand in the kitchen doorway. ‘Mummy… Mummy?’ He stood rubbing his eyes, still half asleep.

The voice, deeply distorted, now became loud in her ear. ‘Tracy? You listening? I have your daughter here.’

Tracy turned away from Jackson and the phone became part of her head, clamped to her ear. The clock stopped. Her eyes saw nothing. Every sense was tuned into her ear, listening.

‘What do you mean? Where is she?’

‘Right now? She’s somewhere dark.’

‘Who are you?’ Tracy struggled to understand what the man was saying. His voice was so deep and each word rolled into the next. ‘Let me talk to her. Danielle?’ Tracy listened hard as she pinched her free ear shut with her forefinger and Jackson gripped her leg, whimpering. Tracy called into the phone. She strained to hear. There was a background noise, persistent but erratic.

‘You hear that noise, Tracy?’ He breathed down the phone. Beneath the knocking Tracy could hear another noise: it was the sound of scraping. He started laughing and then Tracy heard muffled sounds of someone screaming. ‘That’s the sound of your daughter trying to get out of her coffin.’

The line went dead.

Tracy stared at the phone in her hand and looked at Jackson. He was looking up at her with Scruffy behind him. All three of them were frozen. Tracy looked back at the phone; her hand was shaking so much that she thought she was about to drop it but it was stuck to her hand like tar. It was burning in her hand. She gasped, clasping her hand over her mouth to try and halt the scream that was about to escape. The image of Danielle buried alive made her want to vomit. She turned and ran for the bathroom and clung to the cold porcelain of the toilet seat as she retched. Jackson came to stand in the bathroom. She washed her face and rinsed her mouth and stooped to see if Jackson was okay. When the doorbell rang Tracy squealed in fright. Jackson started crying.

‘Sorry. Sorry. It’s okay, Jackson. Nanny’s sorry.’

She went to look out of her lounge window and saw Jeanie’s white Renault. Tracy rushed towards the door with a sense of relief, picking up Jackson on the way. She opened the door to Jeanie, who took one look at Tracy’s face – white as a sheet.

‘What is it?’

Tracy shook her head as if to say she couldn’t tell her in front of Jackson. Jackson was watching her. Tracy stepped back to allow Jeanie in.

‘Come on, Jackson, show me how you can build a house out of your bricks. Jeanie led the way across the lounge with the box of toys she’d brought over from her house, borrowed from Christa. She ushered Tracy into the kitchen.

‘What is it?’

Tracy held the phone up and looked at it as if it were alive.

‘Someone rang me.’

‘Who?’

She stood there shaking her head, looking like she was still trying to work out what happened. She looked at Jeanie, panic in her eyes.

‘He knew my name. He says he has Danielle. I could hear her…’

‘What did he say to you? Try and remember the exact words.

‘At first I couldn’t understand what the person was saying. It was muffled, didn’t sound right.’

‘So it was a man?’

‘It sounded like a man. He had a really deep voice but it was slowed down, distorted like one of those kids’ toys that makes voices sound strange.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He asked if I could hear a noise.’ Tracy’s face paled again. She had started to shake. Her eyes lost their focus. Jeanie was beginning to think she’d have to get ready to catch her if she fainted. ‘It was a knocking sound.’ Tracy took some deep breaths. ‘He said it was the sound of Danielle trying to get out of her coffin.’