In the Light of Madness (2 page)

“I’m sorry, the young boy matching Tom’s description was found dead in the cemetery in Barksbury.”

Emily covered her face with the cushion to muffle her wailing. Her chest heaved violently as her husband sat down, placing a protective arm around her shoulder and drawing her into him. Fat drops of salty tears dribbled silently down his ashen cheeks.

Wednesday watched the scene unfold, digging her nails into her palms. She sensed Lennox watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“Our boy, our dear little boy,” whispered James Dolby.

“May we offer you our sincere condolences,” Wednesday spoke with genuine feeling.

“You found him in a graveyard? How did he die?” James asked, dabbing his face with a crisp white handkerchief.

“We’re working on it, sir. We’re still gathering evidence,” replied Wednesday, who was beginning to wonder if Lennox was ever going to join in.

In a telepathic triumph, Lennox let his deep, soothing tone waft into the atmosphere.

“We know this is a very difficult time for you both to answer questions, but we need to move as fast as possible. The first few hours are vital. We’ll need to see his bedroom, if you don’t mind.”

Lennox nodded to the family liaison officer as she entered with a tray of tea for the parents. Wednesday retrieved her notebook from her bag and tapped her front teeth with a pen until both parents had sipped the proverbial hot sweet tea.

“Do you know where Tom was last night, and with whom?” she asked.

They looked at one another with penetrating eyes.

“He just said he was meeting up with Darren and that he wouldn’t be back late.” James’s voice was quiet, requiring Wednesday to sit forward in her seat.

“Are you sure it’s him, you might be mistaken,” blurted out Emily with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“We’ll require a formal identification of the body, but it doesn’t have to be you, it could be another relative.” Wednesday waited for the words to register in Emily Dolby’s mind before continuing. “We’ll also need Darren’s address.”

James Dolby rose and picked up the address book, flicking through the pages then handing it to Wednesday.

“Could you tell us what kind of boy Tom was?” asked Janice Parker.

The parents looked at one another, then Emily finally spoke.

“He was quiet and kind. He was never in any trouble, you know. He didn’t drink, smoke, or do drugs.” Her face shone as she talked about him. She sipped some more tea from the cup she was nursing in her hands.

Wednesday thought how often she had heard bereaved parents say similar things about their child; almost chapter and verse. All that was missing was the silent Amen.

“He was a bit of a loner, except for seeing Darren. They’d been sort of friends since primary school.” Emily drifted off momentarily, clearly remembering the past and savouring the closeness of Tom’s spirit in the room. Parker placed her hand on top of Emily’s clenched fist, encouraging her to talk.

“We weren’t keen on him being friends with Darren; he has an unsavoury home life.” She blew her nose before continuing. “His brother’s in prison for assault, and the stepdad can be a nasty piece of work, too.”

“Was Tom bullied at school?”

“Not that we know of.”

Wednesday and Lennox quietly excused themselves to take a look at Tom’s room, leaving the couple in the capable hands of Parker.

His room was what they expected for a sixteen-year-old boy; black bedding and furniture. Scattered on the floor was an assortment of socks, trainers, and crumpled up computer magazines.

“We’ll take the laptop for technical support to have a look at. We might get some clues from his MSN pages, or whatever it is they’re into these days,” said Lennox.

He was methodical in his examination, but Wednesday could not help feeling overwhelmed with the poignant sadness of the room that would never be used again by the boy.

“Finished?” he questioned as he observed her rigid stillness.

“I’ve got a couple of notebooks from his bedside table which might prove useful,” she replied, slipping them into an evidence bag.

Returning to the lounge, they found the group sitting in solitary contemplation. Lennox gave James Dolby an evidence slip for the laptop and notebooks before making eye contact with Parker so she knew what he was going to say.

“We’ll need someone to identify the body now,” he asked, rising up and down on the balls of his feet.

“I’d like to go now,” answered James Dolby in an almost inaudible tone.

“I need to go too,” implored his wife, displaying her tear streaked face for all to see.

“Okay, Janice will take you and we’ll meet you there.”

Wednesday and Lennox sat quietly in his car for a few seconds before he started up the engine.

“They seem like a normal functioning family,” she ventured as he reversed the car.

“Perhaps substitute normal for dull. It was hardly an inspiring environment for a teenager,” he replied, driving off to follow the patrol car. He noticed curtains twitching as they headed off down the road.

Wednesday wondered what he would make of her family home, with its eclectic mix of hand-thrown pottery and hand-painted canvases. If he saw that, would he perhaps expect her to wear tie-dyed maxi dresses with coloured braids in her hair, rather like her own mother, who was far from dull in so many ways.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the police station in Cambridge. Sending Lennox to the incident room, Wednesday played with the packet of cigarettes in her pocket before following the shuffling parents towards the mortuary.

The parents’ anguish clung to the air as they stood behind the large glass window overlooking the stark white room. A metal gurney where the body lay stood in the middle, covered by a crisp green sheet.

Wednesday gave the nod to the mortuary assistant who peeled back the sheet to reveal the peaceful looking boy.

“He . . . He looks asleep,” whispered Emily Dolby.

“Is this your son?” Wednesday asked gently.

“That’s our boy,” replied James in a breaking voice. “How did he die?”

“We’re trying to determine that, sir.”

“Did he suffer?”

“There are no visible wounds or abrasions. The pathologist’s report will tell us more. I’m sorry I can’t be more precise.”

“Who would do that to our son?” he said, looking directly at Wednesday with his sunken eyes; his skin translucent.

“We don’t know yet. I am truly sorry for you both,” she said, placing a hand on Emily Dolby’s arm in a symbolic gesture.

“I want to kiss him goodbye,” she said, turning around to face Wednesday. “I have to say goodbye to my baby.”

Wednesday could feel the sensation of tears welling behind her eyes. Her throat constricted as she escorted the pair into the room. She then moved to stand with the technician close to the wall, leaving a respectable distance between themselves and the parents, in order to give some semblance of privacy for their last family moment. Wednesday found the montage painful to witness.

Slowly, the parents drew away from their only child; their arms outstretched in a vain attempt to magically make him rise up from the table.

Janice Parker escorted them out of the room to the sound of Emily Dolby sobbing into her hands, whilst James Dolby looked like a walking spirit roaming the dark arena called limbo. Wednesday asked for the parents to be escorted home and for Parker to remain with them if they so desired. The parents nodded dolefully and moved stiffly down the corridor. As they reached the door, James turned around.

“You will catch them won’t you, DI Wednesday? I couldn’t go on living knowing that justice wasn’t done for my boy.”

“We will do our upmost, I can assure you, Mr Dolby,” she replied softly, as she handed him a card. “If you think of anything else, please contact me on this number, anytime.” A smile felt inappropriate so she inclined her head as they moved away.

She noticed how tired and old the pair suddenly looked as they drifted through the doorway, a cloud of sorrow hanging over them.

With a deflated heart, she went to the Incident Room to hook up with Lennox.

Chapter Two

It was the early hours of the morning, and they knew that Darren’s parents were not going to appreciate the untimely call. However, they needed to get as much information from Darren about Tom’s last whereabouts as soon as possible.

The address was in the same village as the Dolby’s but at the opposite end. The not-so-affluent end. Lennox pulled up outside the house that was in complete darkness.

Wednesday felt emotionally weary and did not relish breaking the news to a young person that his friend, perhaps his only friend, was dead.

They walked up the front garden which was crowded with overgrown shrubs. Lennox tripped on a raised slab on the pathway.

“Bloody hell,” he snapped under his breath.

Wednesday sensed fatigue was unravelling his composure. He rang the doorbell several times before a light came on. They were both poised with their IDs on view in the hopes of placating the occupants.

The door was wrenched open and a towering man with the stature to match that of Lennox, stood before them in baggy boxer shorts and an off-white vest. A snarl ripped across his face and his eyes darted between the pair. Lennox explained the reason for their visit so he reluctantly let them in.

“Judith,” he hollered up the stairs, “it’s the police. They want to talk to your Darren.”

The three of them stood in the cramped and cluttered hallway listening to the creaking floorboards above, accompanied by swearing as a door opened.

Wrapped in a grubby towelling bathrobe, Darren’s mum sauntered heavily down the stairs bringing with her the unmistakable stench of cheap wine.

“He’s not in his room,” she said, slurring her words as she clung to the banister.

“Are you Darren’s mother?” Wednesday enquired.

“Yep, I’m Judith Wright. This here is Des, Darren’s stepdad.”

“If Darren’s not in his room then where is he?” Lennox asked, wondering why parents allowed their teenagers to roam freely without knowing their whereabouts.

“No idea. I thought he was in bed,” she said before licking her dry lips with a furry tongue.

Wednesday and Jacob eyed one another, then she took the lead.

“This is very important, Mrs Wright. It’s imperative that we find Darren, can you think of anywhere he might be?”

Judith shuffled on her feet, then crouched down to sit on a step, allowing the dressing gown to reveal a blotchy pink, dimpled thigh.

“He’s probably round that Tom’s house. His mum is a stuck up old cow, always looking down on us. Beats me why the boys are friends.”

Wednesday bit her bottom lip, allowing her time to compose her words before answering.

“I’m afraid Tom has been found dead. So you can see why we urgently need to speak to your son. Can you contact him on his mobile?” She rolled on the balls of her feet in order to alleviate the cramps in her calves.

“What’s the stupid bugger done now?” bellowed Des, lighting a semi-smoked roll-up which he held between his grubby-nailed fat fingers. He inhaled and then blew the smoke out so it swirled around the naked light bulb suspended from the ceiling.

“Have you any idea where your son and Tom were supposed to be or who they were meeting?” Terseness reverberated through Lennox’s voice.

“His mobile’s switched off,” Judith uttered.

The Wrights looked at the detectives with their dulled eyes.

“God knows then. Anyway, isn’t it your job to go looking for him, that’s what you lot do all the time, isn’t it?” Des spoke, smoke seeping from between his lips.