What She Saw (17 page)

‘What happened?' asked Macy, pointing at the Scientific Support van.

‘Ooh, I don't know,' said Bellwood.

‘It wasn't like that this morning when I walked to school. Was it, Paul?'

He blanked his sister's question.

‘I only came on duty an hour ago,' lied Bellwood. On the soc tape, she saw Corrigan and Rosen watching a gleaming black mortuary van pull away. Rearview mirror. Paul Conner mouthed the words, ‘Fucking hell.'

‘I'm not like most kids nowadays,' said Macy, brightly.

Bellwood hung back to allow the black van to enter the traffic directly ahead of her.

‘How do you mean, Macy?' asked Bellwood.

‘A lot of kids nowadays ride in cars all of the time, like. For me, it's dead unusual. This is really nice. Thanks, Miss Bellwood.'

‘You're welcome.'

At a red light, they sat behind the black van.

‘This is miles better than walking home from school.'

‘Mmmn.' Bellwood considered the journey. ‘Lots of busy roads to cross.'

‘Seven to be precise. Quick 24.'

‘“Quick 24”? What do you mean, Macy?' asked Bellwood.

Macy pointed at the licence plate of the mortuary van and read, ‘K24 1CUQ. It's an anagram. We do them in school when it's wet play.'

In the back, Paul sighed bitterly.

The mortuary van pulled away and at the next junction turned left.

Rearview mirror. Paul Conner's eyes followed the mortuary van with a darting glance. His eyes came back to the rearview mirror where he met Bellwood's, smiling at him.

‘All right in the back, Paul?'

She glanced back and this time, in a beat, made direct eye contact with Paul. His personae crumbled and, in that fragment of time, she saw Macy transformed into an older boy. Bellwood warmed to him.

‘What the fuck,' snarled Paul, looking away.

‘Oh, Paauul!' Macy's disappointment was jagged.

Two silent minutes elapsed.

When Bannerman Square was just around the corner, Paul sat up straight in the back. ‘OK! You can drop us off here.'

Bellwood pulled up at the kerb. Paul tried to open the door.

‘It's child-locked, or in my case, Paul, prisoner-locked,' said Bellwood.

‘Obviously,' said Macy, glancing at her brother as she opened the front passenger door easily and stepped out. Bellwood opened the back door and Paul walked off straight away.

‘Paul!' Bellwood put sufficient iron in her voice to make his shoulders sag and for him to come back, slowly, unwillingly.

Sullenly, Paul stopped in front of Bellwood, who turned to Macy and said, ‘Go over there for a minute, Macy.'

When she was out of hearing range, Bellwood fixed her attention on the teenager.

‘When will your mother be available, Paul?'

‘I don't know. I'm not fucking talking to her and she isn't fucking talking to me.'

‘Well, you've got to talk to her when she gets home.' She offered him a card, which he made no effort to take.

‘We haven't got a landline or a mobile. Some people don't.'

‘Give her a message from DCI Rosen, then, through me, DS Bellwood. Macy's a key witness in a particularly nasty crime. Do not allow Macy out of your sight. Either you or your mother should be with her at all times. She must not be allowed out on her own under any circumstances. If you notice an increased police presence in your immediate neighbourhood, you notice correctly.'

‘What's going on, Bellwood?'

‘Talk to your mother. Follow my instructions. Don't say or do anything to make Macy afraid at this time because that would really upset me.'

She stared him down. ‘You going to look after your little sister?'

‘Yeah, if you say so.'

‘I'll be popping round to the flat. Not sure when, could be any time, to try and catch your mum. Tell her. Don't let Macy out of your sights.'

40

3.58 P.M.

‘
T
hat's a wicked, wicked thing to do to a living creature.' Moved by the tale Macy told her about the day's cruelty, Grandma spoke firmly and clearly in spite of the cancer lodged in her spine.

Macy adjusted the pillows behind her to make her comfortable and sat on the edge of her grandmother's bed. Carefully, she raised a spoonful of Heinz tomato soup to the old woman's withered lips.

‘Take your time, Grandma.'

It was a slow and cautious process, but Macy was well practised in the art of feeding the old lady. She wiped the merest trace of soup from beneath her grandma's lower lip.

‘I don't want any more, sweetheart.'

‘But, Grandma, you've only had eight spoonfuls.' Macy paused, thought about it. ‘But that's one better than yesterday's seven.'

The old woman smiled and Macy questioned it with a perplexed glance.

‘You should have been named Pollyanna, the little girl who always looked on the bright side of life,' said her grandma.

Next door, in Mum's room, Capital Radio news began its four o'clock broadcast. The words
second body
filtered through the wall,
and then
found
and
horrific burns
. Mum turned the radio off.

Macy put the spoon down in the bowl and placed the tray on the floor.

‘Want me to read to you, Grandma?'

‘Not now, love, I'm a bit tired.'

‘Well, would you like me to sit with you?'

‘Haven't you got homework to do?'

‘I'll go to the library later. Friday. It's open until six.'

‘Then sit with me awhile.'

The old woman closed her eyes and Macy drank in her face. She opened her eyes and saw Macy staring at her.

‘What is it, Macy?'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘What for?'

‘Telling you about what happened in school today, you know, with the class pet. But I was upset and I needed to get it off my chest.' She leaned into the bed, confidentially. ‘And Mum doesn't really want to listen, not like you, Grandma. I'm sorry if I've upset you with that bad news.'

‘Worse things happen at sea.' The old woman pre-empted the child's question. ‘Which is an old saying meaning, yes that was very bad what happened in school today but at sea – which means in the whole world – other, much more terrible things happen and we must keep all these things in context. Do you understand what I'm saying, child?'

‘I understand perfectly.'

‘That's because you're very clever, Macy. You only have to hear a thing once and you understand. . . good girl, clever girl. . .'

The energy was now drifting from the old woman's voice, and Macy watched as fragile sleep crept in.

‘Take what happened' – her breathing grew denser and the dim candle light animated her tired features – ‘to you. Macy. The terrible, terrible things. . .'

‘Don't worry about me, Grandma.'

Silence. Macy waited until she was fast asleep and knelt beside the bed. She looked up at the window, at the heavy sky.
Please don't take her from me
, she prayed silently.
Please don't take her away from me. I couldn't stand it. I beg you, don't take her away from me
.

She picked herself up, lifted the tray, and left the room, closing the door quietly with her foot so as not to disturb Grandma.

As she made her way to the kitchen, Macy was stopped in her tracks by the sound of her mother's bedroom door opening. She carried on to the kitchen and placed the tray down on the small table.

Macy spooned soup to her lips. It had gone cold but she was hungry and even a cold spoonful was better than an empty one. She paused, spoon close to her mouth, as she heard the sound of a match striking and she smelled the familiar aroma of her mother's cigarettes.

She turned the corner into the kitchen and faced Macy.

‘Did you see Paul?' asked Macy.

Her mum looked through Macy as if she wasn't there.

‘I'm taking you to a solicitor Monday.' Macy opened her mouth to speak but Mum placed a finger to her lips. ‘I can claim money for your face – criminal compensation – so when we go, you keep your fucking big mouth shut and I'll do the talking. Just nod if you understand because I don't wanna hear your fucking voice.'

Macy nodded and Mum went back the way she'd come. Across the edge of the doorway, a thin line of smoke cut through the air, and her mother's bedroom door closed.

Macy raised the bowl to her lips and in one hungry stream of sips drank the remains of the soup. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and drifted to the window of the living room.

Macy looked down at Bannerman Square and saw a woman, a stranger to her, carrying a baby in a carrier towards the mobile incident room. DCI Rosen stepped out of the Portakabin and walked towards the woman with the baby. Macy could tell Rosen was pleased and surprised.

She watched as Rosen and the woman met and he kissed her on the face. She raised the basket and Rosen took it from her, pressed his face closer to the baby inside and kissed it.

Rosen was a daddy. Longing and disappointment played inside her, and she headed for the front door of the flat, wishing she could slam it as she left because she felt so utterly sad.

41

4.09 P.M.

‘
I
'm not staying long, David. I was driving through the neighbourhood, so I thought I'd come here on the off-chance.'

Inside the mobile incident room, Rosen cradled Joe in his arms and looked into his eyes, wide awake and content.

‘This is a lovely surprise.'

‘You said you didn't see enough of us, so I thought. . .'

‘Where are you parked?' asked Rosen, wondering if he'd nodded off at his desk and was dreaming.

‘Just round the corner from Bannerman Square.'

The surprise, the sight alone of Sarah and Joe, gave Rosen an energy boost. And the ever-rumbling guilt of his prolonged absences from his child disappeared in those moments.

Rosen's mobile phone rang and Sarah took Joe back.

‘I know you're up to your eyes in it, so we'll get going,' said Sarah.

He picked up the phone from the desk.

‘We're behind you all the way,' she continued.

He glanced at the display and felt sick.

‘David, what's wrong?'

He sensed darkness crossing his face. Tension built behind his eyes.

The phone vibrated in his hand as it rang out again.

He double-checked the display.

He shut the door of the Portakabin. Sarah looked both quizzical and unsettled.

‘Answer your call.'

It was as if each ring touched every edge of the enclosed space.

He connected the call to Stevie Jensen's mobile.

Silence.

‘DCI Rosen.' He broke the silence and, as he did so, Joe let out a cry that made Rosen feel utterly afraid for his son. He held a finger to his lips.

Eyes pinned on her husband, Sarah shushed Joe, rocking him in her arms.

‘Baby, baby, baby.' A voice, mechanical and cold, whispered in Rosen's ear.

Joe cried a little louder.

‘It sounds like your baby's being tortured, Rosen.' It was neither male nor female.

‘Why did you murder Stevie Jensen?' asked Rosen, matter of fact.

Sarah looked like an invisible hand had slapped her face. She held her child a little closer, smothering his cries in her coat.

‘Rosen. You're dead! You're next!'

The caller hung up.

Duration of call: thirteen seconds.

Rosen stood with his back against the Portakabin door. He gripped the phone in his hand.

‘Tell me, David,' said Sarah. Joe had stopped crying. ‘Tell me the truth.'

‘It was from the dead boy's phone. It was the killer. It was a death threat against me.'

‘What are you going to do?' she asked.

‘What can I do? I'm going to carry on.' The resolve in his tone was meant to reassure Sarah but, behind the facade, images of Stevie's
charred remains streamed through Rosen's mind and he pictured himself doused in petrol, agonized by fire, the smell of his own burning flesh in his nostrils.

He pressed speed dial. He needed Corrigan, the toughest team member, fast.

Corrigan connected at the other end. The background noise told Rosen he was in his car.

‘David, what's up?'

‘Where are you, Corrigan?'

‘Driving to Bannerman Square from the new scene.'

‘How close are you?'

‘A minute.'

‘I've got a job for you. Hurry, OK?'

‘I can see Claude House.'

Rosen closed the call down.

‘What's happening?' Sarah was agitated and afraid.

‘Where did you say you parked?'

‘Round the corner, Lydia Road.'

The place where Macy Conner was attacked.

Rosen estimated it was a sixty- to ninety-second walk.

‘They know what I look like, but they won't know you. If I go with you to the car. . .'

There was a knock on the door. Rosen imagined opening it and receiving a face full of fuel and a freshly struck match.

‘Who is it?' asked Rosen.

‘Jeff Corrigan.'

It was good to hear Corrigan's voice. Rosen opened the door enough for Corrigan to get in and then shut the door as soon as he was inside.

‘Hello,' said Corrigan, pleasantly surprised to see Sarah. And then to the baby, ‘All right, kidda?'

‘Jeff, I want you to walk Sarah and Joe back to her car.'

‘No problem.' Corrigan smiled, but his brow creased.

‘I'll explain later. You're not to leave them until the doors are locked and they're away from here. Call me as soon as they've gone. OK?'

He turned to Sarah.

‘You don't want us to do this again.'

‘I'm sorry. No.' The good their surprise visit had done him was gone. She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Be careful, be extra careful.'