Tom Weaver - The Dead Tracks

Slowly, Sykes started to move: his fingers slid back along his thighs, his legs loosened up and his body seemed to expand, as if filling with air. Suddenly, every inch of his six-foot frame was visible, shoulders broadening, chest filling out, the curve of the stoop fading away. Markham sat back in his seat, aware — without even really understanding why — that Sykes was transforming into someone else. The nervousness was gone. The lack of confidence. The sense of expectation and uncertainty. Finally, Sykes's face tilted upwards, eyes fixed on Markham, a smile worming its way across his face. And, in that moment, Markham realized something: it had all been an act.

'You want to know who I can see, Dr Markham?' he asked, even his voice different now. You want to know who I can see every day looking up at me, terrified, from a hole in my floor?' He paused. His eyes flashed; as dark as the entrance to a tomb. 'I can see your wife.'

Chapter Fifty-seven

There was no noise inside the house. On-screen, Markham had stopped talking and was wiping an eye. He'd just gone over the moment he'd first come into contact with Glass.

Healy turned to me. 'Glass kidnapped Markham's wife?'

'Now we know why no one can find her.'

We both looked back at Markham. His image was fuzzy, the age of the TV draining colour from his skin. He shifted in his seat as if he couldn't get comfortable.

'So Markham was just a pawn,' Healy said.

'Looks that way.'

'Why? Why would Glass start using Markham?'

I shook my head. 'Maybe we're about to find out.'

We both looked back at the screen again. Markham was still composing himself. 'Glass,' said Healy quietly, as if he'd thought of something. He reached forward and pushed Pause. 'He had a medical history. You heard Markham. Broken arm, anxiety attacks, chest pains. We can trace him.'

'It won't be his.'

'What are you talking about?'

'If Markham had medical records in front of him, they won't have belonged to Glass. He's too careful for that. He doesn’t make mistakes.'

We both went quiet and I pressed Play again.

'Everything after that was a lie,' Markham said on-screen. 'But I did it to protect Sue. I couldn't bear the thought of him hurting her. He kept calling me, saying he'd do all these unspeakable things to her — slice her, and stab her, and cut her. In the days after he first came to my office, I tried to fight back. I tried to find him. But he knew what I was doing; he was watching me the whole time. And I couldn't find a trace of him. Nothing. His medical records were a sham. His mobile phone number was untraceable.' He looked around him. 'He doesn’t even seem to own this shitty house he makes me live in. And about three or four days after he came to see me that first time, just to prove he was really in charge, he called me and made me listen to her begging for her life.'

A long pause. We waited for Markham to continue.

'I was scared of him, and he knew it. He'd play on it. I'd come back to this house and he would have made tiny adjustments to it, swapped my things around, just to show me he'd been inside. He'd leave new toys on the windowsill, or adjust the position of the mannequins, or leave rubber masks attached to their faces. One time, he left Sue's blouse in the middle of the living room, with blood all over it. That was when I really got scared.'

He sniffed. Shifted in his seat. I glanced at Healy and saw him slowly rubbing his fingers and thumb together again. This time it wasn't his craving for nicotine; it was the air of inevitability settling around us. The dread and anticipation that the worst was yet to come. Healy was about to have his heart ripped out.

'So I took three of them,' Markham said, looking up into the camera. Beside me, I felt Healy bristle. 'He told me who he wanted me to take, and I took them. Because the alternative was him killing Sue. I was… I just didn't

Another pause. I turned to look at Healy again. He saw the movement. I could see his eyes flick in my direction and then back to the screen.

'You don't have to watch this,' I said.

'I do.'

'I can watch it and tell you what you need to know.'

'I'm watching it,' he said, teeth gritted.

On-screen, Markham repositioned himself. He wasn't a man used to this kind of thing. Even as his eyes filled with tears there was a strange kind of reticence to him, as if he was frightened by everything he was feeling.

Then he started again: 'I had a lot of guilt left over after Sue and I divorced. The way she went downhill so fast.' A pause. 'I mean, I had her committed. Who commits their own wife ?' He stopped for a second time. 'And then, when she got out, I didn't even contact her. I didn't know what I was supposed to say. I couldn't face her. Couldn't deal with her. And I guess he used that. He played on that. He used all the guilt, and made me think I'd never get the chance to say sorry.'

Healy shook his head. I could smell the sweat on him now.

'So I took Leanne.'

As Markham spoke her name a subtle change passed across Healy's face and I realized something: he hurt too deeply to ever get over what he was about to be told. He could get his vengeance, but it would never repair the hole left behind. All the frustration, all the aggression, all the violence to come — ultimately it meant nothing.

'He must have first picked me out through the youth club,' Markham said. 'He must have been watching that place - watching Leanne and Megan — and seen me there on a Monday. I had a good relationship with both of them. I suppose they trusted me. I mean…' He stopped. "Why wouldn't they?'

I glanced at Healy. He was absolutely still.

'He called Leanne my practice run. I had to make her think I wanted to be with her. Then I had to take her to the woods and give her to him. He told me that if I got found out, if I left anything for anyone to find, he would cut me adrift, and I would never see my wife again.' Markham looked away for a moment. 'So that's what I did. I made Leanne think I liked her. I forced myself into her life. And then, when I had her fooled, I just… fed her to him.'

'Healy,' I said.

'It stays on.'

'You can —'

'It stays on ,' he spat, turning to face me. In the dull light, something shimmered in one of his eyes. And then he fixed his gaze back on the television as Markham got up from his seat. He sniffed, walked past the camera — and everything turned to black.

A second later, it started again.

He moved from behind the camera and headed back to his seat. This time he appeared more composed. 'I got the sense Megan was more important to him than Leanne. I don't know why - that was just what it felt like. He planned everything out for Leanne, but he seemed to be even more meticulous with Megan. Maybe it was just that

Leanne was easier to get at. She wasn't very bright and she'd had a disrupted home life. Her mother was having an affair, and her father was never around.'

I glanced at Healy. Nothing.

'Megan was different. She had wealthy parents, and with wealth comes resources. If she disappeared, they'd use that wealth. They'd use all of it if it meant finding her. Leanne, I just got for him. But Megan came with a set of ground rules.'

I looked at Healy again. Sweat had soaked through his shirt, under his arms, at his collar. He turned to me, face blank. 'What Does he mean by "ground rules"?'

'I think he means the London Conservation Trust,' I said, pushing Pause on the VCR. 'Glass set that up to make himself untraceable. He used bogus newsletters to hide messages in, and the site to give her details of meetings. She thought it was all being sent from Markham - but it wasn't. It was Glass.'

'And Megan didn't think it was a bit weird?'