Michael Robotham - Shatter

She nods.

I put a large square of tape across her mouth. Her eyes are brimming now. She slides sideways down the wall until she’s lying curled up on the mattress. I cannot see her face any more.

The handset rattles on the desk. I glance through the glass partition at Oliver Rabb and William Greene. Oliver nods.

‘Hello.’

‘Good morning, Joe, did you sleep well?’

Gideon is calling from a car. I can hear the road drumming beneath the tyres and the sound of the engine.

‘Where’s Julianne?’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve lost her. How careless- losing a wife and a daughter in less than twenty-four hours. It must be some sort of record.’

‘It’s not so unusual,’ I tell him. ‘You lost yours.’

He falls silent. I don’t think he appreciates the comparison.

‘Let me talk to Julianne.’

‘No. She’s sleeping. What a great fuck she is, Joe. I think she really appreciated getting banged by a real man instead of a retard like you. She went off like a string of firecrackers, especially when I shoved my thumb up her arse. I’m going to do her again later. Maybe I’ll do them both together, mother and daughter.

‘Charlie has been a very good girl. Obedient. Subservient. You’d be proud of her. Every time I look at her I go all warm and fuzzy inside. Do you know she whimpers the way a lover does when she sleeps? Have you found my wife and daughter?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where are they?’

‘On their way.’

‘Wrong answer.’

‘I talked to Chloe this morning. She’s a bright girl. She had a question for you.’

He hesitates. Oliver and William Greene are crouched over their laptops. Dozens of police units are in place across Bristol and two helicopters are in the air. I look at my watch. We’ve been talking for three minutes.

‘What question?’ asks Gideon.

‘She wants to know about her cat, Tinkle. I think she said it was short for Tinkerbell. She asked if Tinkle was OK. She hopes you left her with the Hahns to look after. She said the Hahns had a farm next door.’

Gideon’s breathing has altered slightly. I have his full attention. Through an earpiece, I listen to Oliver Rabb’s progress.

[‘We got a powerful level of seven dBm. The signal strength is eighteen decibels higher than the next nearest tower. The handset is less than a hundred and fifty metres away from the base station…’]

‘Are you still there, Gideon? What will I tell Chloe?’

He hesitates. ‘Tell her I gave Tinkle to the Hahns.’

‘She’ll be pleased.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Like I said, she’s on her way.’

‘This is some sort of trick.’

‘She told me about a postcard that she wrote to you from Turkey.’

‘I didn’t get a postcard.’

‘Her mother wouldn’t let her send it. Remember how you taught her to snorkel? She went snorkelling off a boat and saw underwater ruins. She thought it might be Atlantis, the lost city, but she wanted to ask you.’

‘Let me talk to her?’

‘You’ll talk to her when I talk to Charlie.’

‘Don’t fuck with me, Joe. Put Chloe on the line. I want to speak to her now.’

‘I told you, she’s not here.’

Oliver’s voice is in my ear again:

[‘We have BMS signals from three towers. I can estimate DOA but he keeps moving, leaving the range of one tower and getting picked up by another. You have to make him stop.’]

‘They were living in Greece. But they came home a few days ago. They’re being protected.’

‘I knew they were alive.’

‘Your voice keeps breaking up, Gideon. You might want to stop somewhere.’

‘I’d prefer to keep moving.’

I’ve exhausted everything I can remember from Chloe’s journal. I don’t know how long I can keep up the charade. On the far side of the incident room, Ruiz appears, half-running and out of breath. Behind him, Helen Chambers clutches her daughter’s hand and struggles to keep up. Chloe looks goggle-eyed at the speed with which she’s been woken, dressed and brought from the warmth of her bed to this place.

Gideon is still on the line.

‘Your daughter is here.’

‘Prove it.’

‘Not until I talk to Charlie and Julianne.’

‘You think I’m an idiot. You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.’

‘She has blonde hair. Brown eyes. She’s wearing skinny-leg jeans and a green cardigan. She’s with her mother. They’re talking to Detective Inspector Cray.’

‘Let me talk to Chloe.’

‘No.’

‘Prove she’s there.’

‘Let me speak to Charlie or Julianne.’

He grinds his teeth. ‘I want you to understand something, Joe. Not everyone you love is going to live. I was going to let you choose which one, but you’re pissing me off.’

‘Let me speak to my wife and daughter.’

His cold composed unyielding tone has changed. He’s enraged. Ranting. He screams down the line.

‘LISTEN, YOU COCKSUCKER, PUT MY DAUGHTER ON THE PHONE OR I’LL BURY YOUR PRECIOUS WIFE SO DEEP YOU'LL NEVER FIND HER BODY,'

I can imagine his mouth twisting and flecks of spit flying. Brakes squeal and a car horn sounds in the background. He’s losing concentration.

Oliver Rabb is also talking to me.

[‘He’s just been handed on to a new tower. Signal strength five dBm and falling. Radius three hundred yards. You have to make him stop moving.’]

I nod through the glass partition.

‘Calm down, Gideon.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do. Put Chloe on the line!’

‘What do I get in return?’

‘You get to choose if your wife or your daughter survive.’

‘I want both of them back.’

I hear a tight-lipped laugh. ‘I’m sending you a souvenir. You can have it framed.’

‘What sort of souvenir?’

The mobile vibrates against my ear. I hold the handset at arm’s length, as though it might explode. An image appears in the small backlit square. Julianne, naked and bound, her body as pale as candle wax, lies in a box with her mouth and eyes taped shut and clods of earth crumbling over her stomach and thighs.

A thin rancid stink of fear fills my nostrils and something small and dark scuttles inside my chest, burrowing into the chambers of my heart. I can hear it now: the sound Gideon talked about. A tiny creature crying softly into an endless night. The sound of a mind breaking.

‘Stay with me, Joe,’ he says, in a soft insinuating tone. ‘She was still alive when I last saw her. I’ll still let you choose.’

‘What have you done?’

‘I gave her what she wanted.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘She wanted to take her daughter’s place.’

The grotesque image is beyond words. My imagination paints pictures instead. And in my mind’s eye I see Julianne’s breathing body, sipping the darkness, unable to move, her hair spread out beneath her head.

‘Please, please, don’t do this,’ I beg, my voice breaking.

‘Put my daughter on the phone.’

‘Wait.’

Ruiz is standing in front of me. Chloe and Helen are with him. He pulls two chairs to the desk and motions for them to sit. Helen is dressed in jeans and a striped top. Clutching Chloe’s hand, she sits with her head drawn down between her shoulders, her face a crumpled mask. Worn down. Defeated.

I cover the phone. ‘Thank you.’

She nods.

Chloe’s blonde fringe has fallen across her eyes. She doesn’t push it back. It is a physical barrier she can hide behind.

‘He wants to talk to Chloe.’

‘What’s she going to say?’ asks Helen.

‘She just has to say hello.’

‘Is that it?’

‘Yes.’

Chloe rocks her legs beneath the chair, chewing at a fingernail. A baggy green cardigan hangs down to her thighs and narrow jeans make her legs look like sticks in denim.