Steven Dunne - Deity

‘He comes at night, The Night Walker

When the house sleeps and sighs

I feel him in my bones

I see him with my eyes.

‘He comes at night, The Night Walker

When the dark is on the rise

I feel him on my bed

I feel him by my side.’

Brook looked over at Watson, who was maintaining his vacant expression.

His wife also fixed him with a gimlet eye. ‘What are her poems doing under the floor, Jim?’

Watson grunted. ‘Maybe she put them there. For safekeeping.’

‘This is Adele’s diary,’ said Noble, flicking through the other tome.

‘Save us some time and tell us where the laptop is, Mr Watson,’ said Brook softly.

‘The laptop?’ shouted Mrs Watson. ‘What’s going on, Jim?’

Watson was about to plead ignorance when something shifted in his mood. He turned to his wife then looked over to Brook, seeking understanding. ‘Behind the boiler, wrapped in towels. There’s a false backboard.’ Morton hurried back upstairs.

Brook nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘I don’t understand, Jim.’

He looked back at his wife without expression. It was over. He could be himself. ‘My life is over. Time to make it official.’

‘What do you mean? What have you done?’

Watson stared flatly back at her. ‘I could’ve had my pick.’

Brook and Noble dropped the two books into evidence bags and turned to go.

‘You’re not leaving me here,’ pleaded Watson suddenly. ‘With her .’

‘Jim?’ She stood now, her head darting around searching for answers.

Brook studied him. ‘Of course not. We’d like you to come to the station and assist with our enquiries.’

‘Gladly — just get me out of here,’ said Watson.

Brook looked over at Crainey who took out his handcuffs and bade Watson to stand. The man turned to allow Crainey to snap the cuffs into place.

‘What are you doing? Jim?’ said his wife, moving towards him. Brook held her away but the barrier merely increased the wiry little woman’s urgency and she reached past Brook to grab at her husband.

Watson ignored her and pulled against the impassive steel without success. He smiled. ‘Free at last.’

Mrs Watson seemed about to tip over into hysteria so Brook signalled Noble to move her husband outside quickly.

‘PC Crainey will give you a receipt for the exhibits and talk you through what’s going to happen,’ said Brook, moving away.

‘You’re taking him? You’re taking my husband?’

‘Speak to PC Crainey.’

‘But why have you handcuffed him? What will the neighbours say?’

‘It’s just a precaution. For his own safety,’ said Crainey as Noble and Brook guided Watson towards the front door.

PC Crainey stood between Mrs Watson and her departing husband. ‘How about a nice cup of tea?’

‘Jim?’ she shouted.

Outside, Watson heaved a sigh of relief as he reached the squad car. But as Noble eased Watson’s head safely into the vehicle, a camera flashed and Brook found himself face to face with Brian Burton.

‘Hello, Inspector. Would you care to inform our readers why you’ve arrested Adele Watson’s father? Have you found a body? Has Jim Watson killed her?’ At that moment, Morton emerged with the laptop. Burton spotted it. ‘Ho ho, it doesn’t take a genius to work out what Mr Watson’s been up to.’

‘Just as well they sent you then, Brian,’ said Brook over his shoulder.

‘Been browsing the kiddie sites, have you?’ shouted Burton, stooping to harangue Watson, inside the squad car. ‘Your daughter catch you at it and you topped her? That it?’

Brook turned back to the squad car and banged on the roof. The car sped away and Burton swung round to get in Brook’s face.

‘Well, Inspector.’

‘It’s just routine, Brian. Mr Watson is not under arrest, he’s helping us with our enquiries.’ Brook made for his car.

‘If he’s not under arrest, why is he wearing handcuffs?’

‘It’s just procedure.’

‘Well, here’s my procedure, Inspector. I’ve got a picture of a missing girl’s father being taken away in handcuffs and that’s what tomorrow’s front page will show,’ said Burton to his retreating back.

Brook turned round and marched up to Burton. ‘I’d ask you not to print that picture, Brian, but I know that would guarantee it. Instead, I’ll say this. If you indulge in wild speculation or say what you just saw as an arrest, your readers will switch off from the story thinking it’s done and dusted, and the search for four young people, who may be in danger, will become that much harder.’

‘What sort of danger?’ asked Burton, shoving his Dictaphone in Brook’s face.

Brook’s face darkened and he tried to slow his breathing. ‘I’m afraid I can’t comment further.’

‘What we see and what we seem Is but a dream, a dream within a dream.’

Brook switched off the tape.

‘That’s Adele,’ said Watson. ‘What is that?’

Brook pushed the cup of tea nearer Watson and looked across at Noble in the other chair. ‘It’s a message from Adele.’

‘What message? Where is she?’

‘We were hoping you could tell us,’ said Noble.

Watson put his hands flat on the table and his head on top of them. ‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘Really I don’t. I wish I did.’

‘But you don’t deny hiding the laptop and Adele’s books.’

Watson sat up again. ‘No. I did that. But that’s all I did.’

‘Why did you do that?’

Watson couldn’t find the words to acknowledge his innermost thoughts. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he finally said.

Brook wore latex gloves to open one of the books and began to read ‘The Night Walker’ again.

Watson scraped back his chair and stood. ‘Please stop.’ The uniformed officer on the back wall moved swiftly to reseat him. Watson sat down, defeated. ‘Please. I. . I didn’t do anything.’

Brook turned to the middle of the diary and opened up the tome to show Watson. He ran a gloved finger down it. ‘There are two pages missing here. They’ve been razored out.’

‘Not by me, Inspector. I’ve not opened either book. I swear. I couldn’t face it.’

‘You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?’ said Noble.

‘You think I’d have left “The Night Walker” in there if I’d been cutting pages out of her books?’ demanded Watson.

‘So that poem does refer to you?’

He hung his head. ‘I’ve been worried about her. Maybe I. .’

‘Maybe you’ve what?’

Watson looked up. ‘She’s grown up so fast. I was losing her.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve been possessive, I realise now. You can’t stop it — time. I wanted to spend time with her before it was too late, before she didn’t need me. That’s all.’

‘Then why hide the books?’ said Noble.

‘I was embarrassed because Adele thought. .’ He came to a halt.

‘But why didn’t you destroy them? The computer too.’ Watson was silent.

Brook answered for him. ‘Because they’re the last link to the daughter you love.’ Watson nodded his head in confirmation. ‘Adele’s bed was a mess and the phone and leaflet moved. You?’ Watson nodded again.

‘Did you masturbate?’ asked Noble.

Watson stood, his eyes blazing, and fists clenched. Noble and the uniformed Constable struggled to reseat him, Brook watching on, unmoved.

Eventually, when Watson was calm enough to hear the question again, he responded with a look of pure horror. ‘How can you think that? You’re sick, you are. Perverted. Worse than me. At least I’m her father — I have a right to be near her. You’re strangers. You shouldn’t think about other men’s daughters that way.’