Tom Weaver - The Dead Tracks

'Every day, when you look in the mirror, you will remember me.'

And then she hauled herself out — and she ran.

PART FOUR

Chapter Fifty-one

By six o'clock it was getting dark and we were sitting in the shadows of an alley opposite the warehouse. In the office, framed in the glass panel of the door, we could see Luke Drayton still behind the counter, writing something. The warehouse itself was closed up now, the huge delivery doors pulled shut and padlocked.

'How big was the trapdoor?' Healy asked.

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on Drayton. 'Difficult to tell. Most of it was covered by boxes. It looked like a circular manhole cover. No bigger than two and a half feet across.'

We fell into silence again. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Thirty. At six-forty, Drayton was still at the counter, writing. He had a calculator on one side of him now.

'Maybe he lives down the hole,' Healy said.

I smiled. Occasionally I'd look at Healy and see a brief glimpse of the man he once was. A different person, not built on revenge and regret, but on better qualities; on compassion and humour. I liked that Healy, and I wondered how long it would take him to reclaim that side of himself — and if he ever would.

A couple of minutes later, Healy's phone started ringing, buzzing across the dashboard towards him. He picked it up and looked at the display.

'Bollocks.'

'What?'

He didn't answer and flipped it open. 'Healy.'

Even with the rain, I could immediately hear the voice on the other end. 'Healy, it's Phillips. Where are you?'

'I've got the day off.'

'It's not marked on the board.'

'I told Moira.'

'It's not marked on the board,' Phillips said again.

'So I'll mark it up tomorrow.'

A pause. Healy glanced at me.

'You got any idea where David Raker is?' Phillips asked.

'Who?'

'David Raker.'

Healy paused again, looked out through the windscreen to where Drayton was still in the same position at the counter.

'Raker?' he said. 'He's the guy you brought in, right?' 'Right.'

'Why would I know where he is?'

'Davidson says he found you and Raker alone yesterday.'

'So?'

'So why were you alone with him?'

'Because Davidson had left him, and I didn't think it would look good if one of our best leads in the Carver case wandered out of the station, never to be seen again.'

You don't have any cases of your own?' Phillips asked.

'Listen—'

'No, you listen,' Phillips fired back. 'I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but whatever it is it's against the law, understand?'

Healy didn't respond.

'You know, there's a reason you're not part of this task force, or any other task force for that matter. And it's because you can't be trusted. You're a liar, Healy.'

'What did you say?'

'You heard what I said. We tried getting hold of Raker and his mobile's off. Been off all day. We went round to his house, and it looks like a mausoleum. So we go round to your place because, you know, it's supposed to be your day off - and guess what?'

'I'm out with my wife.'

'Bullshit, Healy. I know you're with Raker.'

'I'm out with my wife.'

'Raker's playing you. He's playing everyone. He sent us on a wild goose chase down to that youth club today, and guess what we found?'

Healy didn't reply.

'Fuck all. Nothing. Just like the last time.'

Healy glanced at me again and slowly shook his head. We're in trouble. His eyes moved to Drayton for a second time.

'I don't know where Raker is,' he said finally.

Phillips blew air down the phone, the line distorting. 'You just finished your career — you do understand that, right?'

Healy didn't reply.

'Right? Phillips said a second time. He got no response. 'You trust Raker above the people in this station? Above the people you've closed cases with, who stood by you and worked for free, when Leanne went missing?'

I watched him wince at the mention of his daughter's name. His cheeks started to flush, filling up like blood soaking through cotton.

'You didn't do anything for me. She's not even on your radar.'

'We tried to help you find -'

'Don't tell me you tried to help me find her!' Healy erupted, eyes burning now. 'The people who helped me, most of them weren't yours. You and Hart — you didn't give a shit about her. You didn't give me anyone. No one.'

'Leanne can't officially be linked —'

'Don't tell me that she can't be linked to this, you fucking prick!' he screamed down the line. That piece of shit Glass took my daughter. And you know what I'm going to do now? I'm going to find him — and I'm going to kill him.'

'Healy,' Phillips said slowly. You will go to jail.'

'I don't give a shit.'

Healy glanced at me. Then his eyes moved across the road to Drayton again, and he nodded to the office door. We're going in now.

I placed a hand on the door, opened it.

'You're in deep shit, Healy,' Phillips said. ' Deep shit. And so is your partner-in-crime there next to you, wherever the hell it is you're hiding. But let me tell you this now, so we're all crystal clear: we're on to you. You get me? We've picked up your trail.' Phillips paused. 'And when we get to you, you're both going down.'

Chapter Fifty-two

We marched across the road towards the office, Healy in front. His face was flushed and burning with anger, his fists opening and closing, ready to push aside, pull apart and tear into pieces. 'Healy,' I said to him, trying to keep my voice level, trying to clear the fog that was forming inside his head. 'Wait a second.'

But he didn't. He stepped up to the office door and shoved it open. It swung back so hard it hit the adjacent wall, the pane of glass clattering inside its panel. From the counter, Drayton looked up, eyes widening. He backed away from the desk.

'What are you doing —'

Healy grabbed the back of Drayton's head and yanked him forward, smashing him down on to the counter. The side of his face made a slapping sound as his cheek hit the vinyl. He cried out in pain. Healy leaned into his ear. 'What's under the trapdoor?'

'What?' Drayton said, his words muffled by Healy's hand.

'You better tell me what's in there.'

Drayton's eyes darted between us.

'Healy,' I said again.

He glanced at me. ' What?'

'Calm down.'

'Shut the fuck up,' he spat, and pulled Drayton towards him, dragging his small frame up and over the counter. Drayton hit the floor face-first, crying out, and then rolled up into a heap on the carpet as if expecting punches to rain down on him. When they didn't, he looked up at us, blood running down one of his cheeks.

Healy reached down, yanked him to his feet and pulled him in so they were nose to nose. 'Open the trapdoor.'

'What are you talk—'

'Open the trapdoor now.'

Drayton glanced between us. I backed up towards the office door and looked out. The road was dark and quiet; only the sound of rain on the metal roof. When I turned back, Healy had swivelled Drayton around and had a hand locked in place at the back of his neck. He guided him out of the office and along the front of the warehouse to the delivery doors. They were padlocked.

'Unlock them.'

'There's nothing —'

Healy pushed forward and Drayton's face hit the metal door. The noise passed across the building like a ripple.

'I'm telling you,' Drayton said, his voice wavering. 'Please. I'm telling you - there's nothing in there.'

'Open it, and we'll see.'

Drayton fumbled in his pockets and brought out a ring of keys. He selected a brass one with a red mark on the side and slid it into the padlock. It clicked. Healy reached around him, pulled the padlock out from the metal plate and tossed it into the street. Then he yanked open one of the doors and pushed Drayton inside. The warehouse was completely dark except for one faint rectangle of orange street light filtering in from a window above us.