Steven Dunne - Deity

‘How dare you!’

‘Don’t bother. You say she’s unstable but I say she knows exactly what she has to do to survive. That’s why you’re worried, isn’t it? You know something about her that’s keeping her in line but that knowledge also makes you a target. What is it?’

‘Inspector, you’re barking up the wrong tree,’ Poole told him.

‘Is it something to do with Yvette having no photographs of her son?’

Poole bristled, unable to look at Brook. ‘I wouldn’t know about that. She said they got lost in the move.’

‘So you asked her about that as well?’

Poole glared back at Brook and stood to leave. ‘Goodbye, Inspector.’

‘What do you think?’ asked Noble, back in the Incident Room.

‘I think Len is a very easy read,’ replied Brook, firing up his computer.

‘Think he’s lying about when he started having sex with Yvette?’

‘Wouldn’t you, if you exploited a fourteenor fifteen-yearold girl in your care?’

‘If only we could get a DNA comparison between Len and Russell.’

‘That’s what worries me, John. He was too confident on that score. I think he was telling the truth.’

‘About not being Russell’s father?’

‘About believing he’s not Russell’s father.’

‘Then why support Yvette financially all these years?’

Brook shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Guilt maybe. Can you cue up the last broadcast for me? There’s something I want to see.’

DC Cooper came in at that moment and dropped a large envelope on Brook’s desk. ‘One enlarged photograph of Russell Thomson in his bedroom.’

Brook thanked him and absentmindedly pulled it from the envelope. It showed Russell’s face in close-up but in no greater detail, but Brook wasn’t interested in that. He took out a magnifying glass and looked again, holding the lens against the background by Russell’s left ear.

‘What is it?’

‘This picture. Behind Russell’s head there’s a piece of a film poster. I think it’s the missing one. Can you read that?’

‘A-N-D something, something R-A-O-H-S,’ read Noble.

Brook wrote it out. ‘I need one of those crossword solvers.’

‘What about Google? Type the first word and see what it suggests.’

‘But what if AND is also the end of a word?’

‘Then guess. Hand, sand, land, band.’

Brook tried HAND and various permutations of smaller words like ‘in the’ and ‘of the’ but was offered nothing that created a match with the end word. He tried again with SAND but came up blank again.

Noble started the recording of that afternoon’s Deity broadcast. ‘Sir.’

Brook closed his laptop and looked up at the screen as the first newspaper flashed up its sombre headline — bullied girl takes overdose . A moment later, Brook pointed at the screen.

‘There. Pause it.’

‘ UNKNOWN BOY HANGS HIMSELF ,’ read Noble.

‘Right. The Denbigh Examiner ,’ said Brook, making a note. He skimmed what he could read of the story but it was just an expanded version of the headline.

‘Unknown,’ said Noble. ‘That’s pretty unusual in this day and age.’

‘For a teenager anyway,’ added Cooper. ‘No parents? No dental?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘An orphan then,’ said Noble. He looked up excitedly at Brook. ‘St Asaph’s.’

Brook smiled. ‘Just a few miles away. Okay, move it on. Stop.’

Noble halted the film at the picture of the youngster hanging, neck snapped.

‘Pretty gruesome for a local paper,’ said Cooper.

Brook nodded. ‘That’s what struck me. They normally show them alive and well.’

Noble chewed the inside of his lip. ‘To be fair, it’s not actually in the local rag. It’s just a random photograph on its own. I don’t see a caption, or any text.’

‘Good spot,’ said Brook. ‘It’s not from the Denbigh Examiner . But it’s been placed next to it so we unconsciously accept it as part of the package. It doesn’t belong.’

‘You think someone from Deity has shuffled this picture into the pack,’ said Cooper.

‘I do.’

‘Why?’

‘To tell us this boy’s death means something, maybe,’ said Noble.

‘I think so,’ said Brook. ‘I think we need to speak to the local police in Denbigh. This looks like a Scene of Crime photograph to me.’

‘The local paper wouldn’t have access to SOCO pictures,’ said Noble.

‘And they wouldn’t print them if they did,’ said Cooper.

‘Agreed. I only said it looked like a SOCO picture,’ said Brook. ‘But if it isn’t, somebody else has taken this at the scene.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning Wilson Woodrow may be the latest in a long line.’

‘What do you want? I’ve done nothing wrong.’

Brook smiled at Jake and sat down at the side of his bed, Noble on the other. I’ve not done nothing was the default response. Jake looked pale and washed-out; he scratched at the tube feeding saline solution into his arm.

‘How are you feeling?’

Jake looked sullenly at the crisp white cotton of his top sheet. ‘Where’s my mum?’

‘She’s taking a break. You gave her quite a shock.’

‘I suppose. Do they know what happened?’ Jake was unable to meet their eyes.

Brook and Noble exchanged a glance. ‘You took an overdose of your mum’s sleeping pills, Jake. They had to pump your stomach.’

Jake made a pathetic attempt to fly his version of events, shaking his head in mock disbelief. ‘I thought they were aspirins.’ He looked up at Brook. ‘I had a headache.’

‘Must have been some headache to take twenty tablets,’ he answered.

‘It’s a good job the squad car called or we wouldn’t be talking,’ chipped in Noble. Jake said nothing.

‘Why would you try to kill yourself, Jake?’

‘Kill myself? Are you tripping?’

‘Don’t waste our time,’ said Noble. ‘We can put you under arrest right here.’

‘I want my mum. Fetch my mum.’

‘You’re eighteen, Jake,’ said Noble. ‘We can speak to you without her permission.’

‘Actually, Sergeant, I don’t mind if Mrs McKenzie sits in while we talk to Jake about his relationship with Kyle.’ Brook rose to fetch her.

‘No!’ retorted Jake sharply, raising his unattached hand. ‘Don’t. It’s okay. I want to help.’

‘Good.’ Brook smiled and read from his notes. ‘ I hate you, Jake. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself. You betrayed me when I needed you most. ’ Jake looked steadfastly at the sheet. Brook placed the printout from T-mobile in his hands. ‘You received that text this morning. It’s from Kyle Kennedy’s mobile number.’

‘You’ve got my phone?’

‘Your computer too. We have a warrant.’

Jake was silent.

‘This is the first direct contact from one of our missing students since they disappeared eight days ago. And of all the people Kyle could have contacted, he contacted you, Jake. Why?’

‘Can I have a drink of water?’

Brook poured him a cupful from a nearby jug. ‘According to my information, Kyle Kennedy also rang you on his mobile, the night before his eighteenth-birthday party — the night before he disappeared.’

Jake took a sip of water. ‘Sounds right.’

‘What time was it?’

Jake became exasperated. ‘You’ve got my phone. Why don’t you tell me?’

‘Because we need you to get your memory of that night working,’ said Noble.

Jake cast around, thinking. ‘About nine o’clock, I think.’

Brook nodded. ‘Close enough.’

‘Well, then.’

‘Why did he ring you?’

Jake was silent for a moment. ‘He wanted to invite me to his party and to thank me.’