Simon Beckett - The Chemistry of Death

Something in his face made me stop. I looked down at the clumsy stitches in his foot, and suddenly understood.

'He never did take you, did he? That's why you never had the dressing changed. You never went to hospital in the first place.'

Scott's anger had evaporated. He couldn't look at me. 'He said it would be all right.'

'So who put the stitches in? Him?'

'My cousin Dale.' He sounded embarrassed now that he'd been found out. 'He used to be in the army. He knows about stuff like that.'

That was the same cousin I'd seen with Brenner at the road block the day before. 'And did he bother to look at it again after he'd put them in?'

Scott shook his head, miserably. I felt sorry for him, but not sorry enough to stop.

'Does he help Carl with other things as well? Like the poaching?'

He gave a reluctant nod. I knew I was on the verge of something. Two men. Two hunters, one with an army background.

Two different knives.

'And what else?'

'Nothing,' he insisted, but his attempt at ignorance was feeble.

'They put you at risk. You know that, don't you?' I told him. 'What was so important they'd let you lose your foot over it?'

He was squirming now. I saw with dismay he was close to tears. But I couldn't afford to care about that.

'I don't want to get them into trouble,' he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

'They're in trouble already. And they weren't so worried about what happened to you.' I was about to push further, but instinct made me hold off. I waited, letting Scott wrestle with his decision.

'They've been trapping birds,' he said at last. 'Rare ones. Animals as well, like otters and things when they can get them. Carl thought there might be a market for live stuff as well as eggs. To sell to collectors. You know.'

'They're in it together?'

'Pretty much. But Carl does most of the trapping. He keeps them out on the marsh, in the old windmill.'

My mind was working so fast it seemed to be skidding. The windmill was completely derelict, isolated and long abandoned. Or apparently not.

I started rebandaging his foot again. 'That was where you stepped in the trap,' I said, remembering their story when they'd stumbled into the Lamb that night. And how Brenner had cut him off from saying too much.

He nodded. 'When the police started searching for those women Carl was frightened they'd look there. He doesn't let me go out with him normally. He says I should get my own business and keep out of his. But Dale was away that week, so I had to help him move everything.'

'Where to?'

'All over. Different places. We brought most of them here, in the outhouses. My mum wasn't happy but it was only for a couple of days, until the police had searched the windmill. But then I stepped in the trap, and he had to take them back by himself.' He looked downcast. 'He went mad. But it wasn't like I did it on purpose.'

'So was the trap his?'

He shook his head. 'He said afterwards it must have been that nutter's who's been killing those women.'

I kept my face averted, feigning preoccupation with his foot. 'Has he got anything out there now?'

'Yeah. He's got nowhere else to put them. Dale won't risk moving them with all the cops knocking about.'

'And does Carl still go out there?'

'Every day. He's got to keep them alive until they can sell them.' He shrugged. 'Don't know how much longer he'll bother, though. They haven't been able to get rid of many yet.'

It was an effort to act normally. I kept my voice as casual as I could.

'So did you cover for Carl with the police?'

He looked confused. 'What?'

My hands were trembling as I finished bandaging his foot. 'When they were asking about the missing women. He couldn't tell them his alibi was being out poaching, could he?'

Scott actually smiled. 'Naw. We just said he'd been here all the time.' His smile faltered. 'You won't tell him I've said, will you?'

'No,' I said. 'I won't tell him.'

I'd told him too much already. I remembered what I'd said to Brenner earlier. He keeps them alive for three days before he kills them. Now he knew the police were aware of his timetable. Thanks to me Jenny might not have even that small chance of survival.

God, what had I done?

I stood up, fumbling to pack away my things as Scott's mother returned carrying a mug of tea.

'Sorry, I've got to go.'

Her mouth thinned with displeasure. 'I thought you wanted a cup of tea?'

'I'm sorry.'

I was already hurrying from the room. Scott was looking at me uncertainly, as if he was starting to regret what he'd said. All at once I was desperate to get away, half-expecting Brenner to suddenly materialize and try and stop me. I threw my first-aid kit into the Land Rover and quickly switched on the ignition, aware of Mrs Brenner staring at me from the doorway as I bumped down the track.

I was reaching for my phone as soon as I was out of sight. But when I tried to call Mackenzie the signal wavered in and out before dying altogether.

'Come on, come on!'

I shot out onto the road and turned towards the old windmill, willing the signal to reappear. As soon as it did I redialled Mackenzie's number.

His voicemail service answered. Shit, shit! 'Carl Brenner's family lied about his alibi,' I said without preamble. 'He's been-'

Mackenzie abruptly picked up. 'Tell me you've not been out to see him.'

'Not Brenner, his brother, but-'

'I told you to keep away!'

'Just listen!' I shouted. 'Brenner's been trapping birds and animals to sell with his cousin. Name of Dale Brenner, he's ex-army. They've been keeping them out at a ruined windmill, about a mile south of the village. Where Scott Brenner stepped in the trap.'

'Wait.' Now I'd got his attention he was all business. I heard muffled voices in the background. 'OK, I know where you mean. But that was checked, there's nothing in it.'

'They moved them all when you were searching around there for Lyn Metcalf, then put them back again. That's when Brenner's brother was injured. Brenner was so keen not to involve the police he wouldn't even take him to hospital.'

'He's a poacher, we already know that,' Mackenzie said, stubbornly.

'You didn't know his family lied to protect him. Or that you've got a hunter and an ex-army man trapping animals and keeping them in an abandoned building, and at least one of them doesn't have an alibi. Do I have to spell it out for you?'

The obscenity I heard him mutter told him I didn't.

'Where are you now?'

'I've just left Brenner's.' I didn't tell him I was on my way to the windmill.

"Where is he?'

'No idea.'

'OK, look, I'm at the mobile incident room. Get out here as soon as you can.'

That was in the opposite direction.

'What for? I've told you all you need to know.'

'And I'd like to hear about it in more detail. I don't want anyone going off half-cocked, do you understand?'

I didn't answer. I drove with the phone pressed to my ear, the road whispering by under the car wheels, each second taking me closer to where I was certain Jenny was being kept.

'Did you hear me, Dr Hunter?'

Now there was steel in Mackenzie's voice. I eased my foot off the accelerator. It was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do.

'I heard you,' I grated.

And I turned round and went back.

The sky had developed an unhealthy sheen. A thin scab of clouds had formed over the sun, giving the light a jaundiced quality. For the first time in weeks, the breeze carried a hint of something other than overheated air. Somewhere, not too far off, was the threat of rain, but for the moment the increased humidity only made the heat seem worse.

Even with the windows down, I was sweating by the time I reached the police trailer that served as the incident room. There was more activity than usual around it. Mackenzie was standing at a table with a group of plain-clothed and uniformed police officers when I went in, poring over a map. The ones in uniform were wearing body armour. He broke off when he saw me.