Mark Pearson - Death Row

‘It’s okay, Shiv. I’ve got you now.’

Jack held his arm out and stretched it as far as he could go, his fingers reaching.

Siobhan shook her head.

‘Give me your hand.’

And again she shook her head. Her teeth chattering with fear as she screamed up at him. ‘No.’

Jack leaned further down, stretching his arm as far as he could towards her, wedging his feet against the side of the engine housing and straining every muscle in his body. He should never have brought her with him to the old mill house. He was supposed to be looking after her but he’d wanted to search it and knew it might not be safe so he had made her wait outside while he checked it out. He thought she’d be safe but he knew he should never have left her on her own.

He reached out further with his arm. Below him in the water Siobhan was turning blue now with the cold. Her tiny hands were frozen as they clung to the rotting wood of the barge. The water was swirling around her powerfully, tugging at her, hungry to pluck her loose and consume her. Her fingers gripped painfully as a swell raised her and swung her sideways. She looked up at her brother, the tears in her eyes freezing with the cold.

‘Help me, Jack.’

And his hands reached her fingers. ‘Take my hand, Siobhan.’

And she let go of the wood and grasped at his hand, but the swirl of the water was too much — their fingertips brushed and she was swept out into the river.

‘No!’ cried Jack as he watched his sister’s head bob below the surface of the water. ‘No!’

He jumped down from the barge and ran along the river’s edge, calling out desperately to his sister. He caught a flash of her faded blue dress as it sank beneath the rough eddies of the water and then she was gone. He could hear the sound of a siren in the distance, a shrill note sounding again and again.

Delaney’s eyes flew wide open and as he sat up in bed he looked at the mobile phone on the bedside cabinet. It vibrated again, rattling against the polished wood and making a buzzing sound. Delaney ran his hand over his forehead. It was drenched with sweat.

Beside him Kate stirred and looked up at him sleepily. ‘What’s up, Jack?’

‘Just a dream,’ he said hoarsely. He picked up the phone and looked at the caller’s ID, then answered it. ‘Hi, Diane. This is supposed to be a day of rest, you know.’ He listened, his forehead creasing as he did so, squinting at the clock to see the time. It was six forty-five. ‘Okay, boss,’ he said. ‘I’ll get there as soon as I can.’

He closed the phone and looked across at Kate.

‘What’s going on?’

Delaney ran his hand through his hair. ‘God knows, Kate. God only knows.’

‘Has something happened? Have they found the boy?’

‘No. Not that.’

‘What, then?’

‘The Catholic church two streets away from Carlton Row. Someone’s been killed.’

Kate sat up in the bed. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

Delaney grimaced apologetically. ‘Would you mind? They’ve phoned the coroner but he’s a few hours away. Might be good to have your opinion.’

‘I can’t process the body, you know that? We’ll have to wait for him to get there.’

‘Yeah, I know. I understand if you don’t want to do it. This isn’t a pleasant one, Kate.’

‘It’s okay. Give me five minutes.’

*

It was actually just ten minutes later when Kate walked into her kitchen to find Jack dressed and pouring some hot water from the kettle into a Thermos flask.

‘Only instant, I’m afraid — short on time.’

‘That’s okay. It’s good thinking.’

At that time of day on a Sunday morning it wasn’t busy on the roads and Delaney told Kate to ignore the speed limits. They made the trip in just over twenty minutes. As they turned the corner of Carlton Row it was still dark, although thankfully not raining, and the street was lit up with the blue lights still flashing on top of a number of police cars that had pulled up outside Saint Botolph’s. There was also an ambulance, which to Delaney’s way of thinking, given the circumstances, was as ridiculous a case of closing the stable door after the horse had bolted as he had ever seen.

He and Kate ducked under the yellow exclusion tape that had already been stretched across the street thirty yards either side of the church. He was pleased to note that the vultures had not yet gathered, but judging by the people looking out of their windows, some with phones held up to the glass, he figured it wouldn’t be long. Mobile footage was probably being sent even now over the internet and the real press cameras wouldn’t be much longer getting there, he had no doubt of that.

Diane Campbell was standing outside the church with a couple of uniforms beside her, talking to a man with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and drinking tea from a plastic beaker. Delaney assumed that he was the priest who had made the discovery, and reckoned the tea would be very sweet indeed.

‘Diane.’ He nodded at her briefly as they approached.

‘Jack. Hello, Kate. Thanks for coming.’

‘Not a problem.’

‘Do we know who she is yet?’ asked Delaney.

‘We have a shrewd idea but the vicar hasn’t been able to go back in and make a formal identification.’

‘Priest.’

‘What?’

‘He’s a priest, not a vicar.’

Father Carson Brown looked over at Delaney and Doctor Walker as if noticing them for the first time. He smiled, his face colourless, his lips thin. ‘Another true believer.’

‘I’m a true something,’ said Delaney, a little bit more of the soft brogue sliding into his voice. ‘I’m not sure what kind of believer I am any more.’

The priest looked back at him with haunted eyes. ‘Nor me.’

Delaney nodded, understanding, and turned to Diane. ‘Shall we go in?’

Diane held her arm out towards the door and Kate and Delaney followed her into the church. Delaney held back the urge to dip his hand in the holy water. He wasn’t totally sure, but he thought the water might not be classed as holy any more. Would the church need to be sanctified again? As they walked up the aisle to the altar Delaney thought it was entirely possible that that could be the case.

A woman’s head had been placed on the altar. Severed at the neck. Her eyes were open in a face that had no colour in it, apart from the eyes. Her eyes were a startling blue. Deep Arctic blue. Her head was as bald as an egg.

Kate stepped forward, putting on a pair of forensic gloves, and placed her hand on the woman’s cheek. It was cold. Extremely cold.

She turned back to Jack and Diane. ‘She’s been frozen.’

‘Where the hell is the rest of her?’ asked Diane and pointed at the woman’s forehead. ‘And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

Delaney looked closer. The letters H O R had been carved on the woman’s forehead. ‘I don’t know, Diane. When I was an altar boy we just had the chalice on the altar and maybe that little bell I had to ring at a certain time in the Mass. Decapitation was a bit too avant-garde for us back in Ballydehob.’

Diane was too used to gallows humour to comment. ‘Christ, I need a cigarette,’ she said instead.

‘Diane!’ Despite himself Delaney was a little taken aback.

‘What?’ she said.

Delaney gestured at the surroundings. ‘You know — we’re in a church.’

Diane flapped a dismissive hand and pointed at the severed head. ‘Exactly. Maybe this is connected to some kind of devil worship.’

Kate knelt down by the altar, examining the cut marks at the base of the decapitated woman’s head. ‘Maybe the murderer was spelling out the name Horus.’

‘Who?’

Kate turned round to look up at the chief inspector. ‘Horus was an Egyptian deity. Had something to do with the dead, I think. He was depicted as having a human body but a falcon’s head.’