Simon Beckett - Whispers of the Dead

The headache had developed into a full-blown throb. I massaged my temple, wishing I’d brought some aspirin from my room.

‘Why are you telling me this? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but you haven’t exactly been quick to share information before. So why the sudden change?’

Jacobsen glanced at Gardner. He’d seemed content to let her do most of the talking so far, but now he drew himself up almost imperceptibly.

‘Under the circumstances it was felt that you’d a right to know.’ He regarded me coolly, as though still assessing me even now. ‘You’ve presented us with a problem, Dr Hunter. York was sending us a message by leaving the skin on your car. We can’t ignore that. He’s already abducted and in all likelihood murdered Alex Irving, and if not for the heart attack he’d probably have got Tom as well. I’m not about to let anyone else connected with the investigation be added to the tally.’

I looked down at my cold coffee, trying to keep my voice level. ‘You can throw me off the investigation if you’d like.’ Again. ‘But I’m not going back to the UK, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

It wasn’t bravado. At the very least I wanted to stay for Tom’s funeral. No matter what, I wasn’t leaving without saying goodbye to my friend.

Gardner’s chin jutted. ‘That’s not how it works. If we say you go, then you go. Even if it means having you escorted on to the plane.’

‘Then that’s what you’ll have to do,’ I retorted, my face growing hot.

The look he gave me said he’d like nothing better than to drag me to the airport himself. But then he let out a long breath.

‘Frankly, it might be better for everyone if you were to go home,’ he said sourly. ‘But that wasn’t what I had in mind. There could be certain… advantages if you stayed. At least then we’d know where to focus our attention.’

It took a moment for me to realize what he meant. I was too surprised to say anything.

‘You’d be kept under constant surveillance,’ Gardner went on, his manner businesslike now. ‘You wouldn’t be placed at any risk. We wouldn’t ask you to do anything you were unhappy about.’

‘And if I’m unhappy about the whole thing?’

‘Then we’ll thank you for your help and see you on to your plane.’

I felt an absurd urge to laugh. ‘So that’s my choice? I can stay, but only if I agree to be a stalking horse to draw out York?’

‘That’s your choice,’ he said with finality. ‘If you stay you’ll need round-the-clock security. We can’t justify that kind of expense when we could get you out of harm’s way just by sending you home. Not without a good reason. But it’s your decision. No one’s twisting your arm.’

The brief relief I’d felt had dried up. Gardner was wrong; it was no decision at all. If I left then York would simply transfer his attentions to another victim.

I couldn’t let that happen.

‘What do I have to do?’

It was as though a bubble of tension had been pricked. A look of satisfaction flashed across Gardner’s face, but Jacobsen was harder to read. For a second I thought I saw something like guilt cloud her eyes, but it had gone so quickly I could have been mistaken.

‘For now, nothing. Just carry on as normal,’ Gardner said. ‘If York’s watching I don’t want him to realize anything’s wrong. He’ll expect us to take some precautions, so we won’t disappoint him. We’ll have a team parked outside the morgue and your hotel that he’ll spot. But there’ll be covert surveillance that he won’t. You won’t either.’

I nodded, as though all this was perfectly ordinary. ‘What about my car?’

‘We’re done with it. Someone’s bringing it to the hotel. They’ll leave the keys at reception. We’re still working on the details, but from tomorrow we’ll have you drive out to places by yourself. You’re going to be a tourist, taking walks by the riverside or on trails where you’ll make an attractive target. We want to present York with an opportunity he can’t ignore.’

‘Won’t he guess it’s a trap if I start wandering off on my own?’

He gave me a flat look. ‘You mean like you did last night?’

It took me a second to understand. I hadn’t noticed anyone watching me when I’d left the hotel against his instructions, but I supposed I should have expected it. So much for your grand gesture.

‘York might be suspicious at first, but we can be patient,’ Gardner continued, having made his point. ‘All he has to do is come out and sniff the air, and when he does we’ll be there to take him.’

He made it sound easy. I’d been unconsciously rubbing my thumb across the scar on my palm. Realizing Jacobsen was watching me, I stopped and put my hands flat on the table.

‘We’re going to need you to work with us on this, Dr Hunter,’ Gardner said. ‘But if you’d rather you can be on a flight back home this afternoon. You can still change your mind.’

No, I can’t. Conscious of Jacobsen’s eyes on me I pushed back my chair and stood up.

‘If that’s all, I’d like to get to the morgue.’

I felt in a strange, unsettled mood all the rest of that day. There was too much to take in. Tom’s death, finding myself next on York’s list, and the prospect of being tethered out like a sacrificial goat the next day, all jostled for place in my mind. Each time I acclimatized myself to one I’d remember another, and be emotionally sandbagged all over again.

It was just as well that I didn’t have anything demanding to do at the morgue. The more exacting tasks were finished, and all that remained was to sort and reassemble what little of Willis Dexter’s skeleton had been recovered from the woods. That was purely routine, and wouldn’t take long. Scavengers had made off with most of the bones, and the few that had been found were so badly gnawed that the hardest part was identifying what some of them were.

So there was nothing to distract my thoughts from following their vicious cycle. Nor was there anyone there I could talk to. Summer hadn’t shown up that morning, although after Tom’s death I hadn’t really expected her to. There was little left for her to do anyway. But while I would have welcomed some company, I felt a coward’s relief when one of the other morgue assistants told me that it was Kyle’s day off. He’d still to learn about Noah Harper’s positive Hepatitis C result, and just then I was glad I didn’t have to face him.

Paul, too, was absent for most of the morning, tied up in the usual run of meetings. It was almost lunchtime before I saw him. He still looked tired, though not so much as the day before.

‘How’s Sam?’ I asked, when he called into the autopsy suite.

‘She’s fine. No more false alarms, anyway. She’s planning on seeing Mary this morning. Oh, and if you’re not busy tonight you’re invited for dinner.’

Under any other circumstances I would have been glad to accept. My social calendar wasn’t exactly full, and the prospect of another night alone in my hotel was depressing. But if York was watching me the last thing I wanted was to involve Paul and Sam.

‘Thanks, but tonight’s not a good time.’

‘Uh-huh.’ He picked up a badly chewed thoracic vertebra and turned it in his fingers. ‘I talked to Dan Gardner. He told me about the skin left on your car last night. And that you’d volunteered to help catch York.’

I wouldn’t have described it as volunteered, but I was glad Paul knew, all the same. I’d been wondering how much to tell him.

‘It was either that or catch the next plane home.’

I was trying to make light of it. It didn’t work. He set the vertebra back down on the examination table.

‘You sure you know what you’re getting into? You don’t have to do this.’