The Lost Girl (Brennan and Esposito) Page 3

  And then Kyle did the last thing Josh would have expected of him. He began to cry.

  And neither he nor Tom blamed him.

  PART TWO

  NIGHTHAWKS

  2

  The three of them stared at the board. No one spoke. On the board were three pictures, blown up, copied photos. All showing identical images but none of them the same.

  Each was an enlarged photo of a tarot card. The Hanged Man. And on it, written in the same black, block capital handwriting, a name. PHIL BRENNAN.

  Before the board were three people. Detective Inspector Phil Brennan of the West Midlands Police Major Incident Unit. The MIU handled all the big cases. Their designated title changed with every departmental reshuffle but their intended objective remained the same. They were the murder squad by any other name. His superior, DCI Alison Cotter. And Marina Esposito, their criminal profiler and Phil’s wife. None of them spoke, just examined the images before them. Studied them closely, hoped they would give up their secrets.

  Cotter broke the silence. ‘These cards have been examined over and over. Nothing. We can only match the handwriting if we have something to match it to. We don’t. The same with DNA. Nothing there. No matches. Whoever placed them there wore gloves at the very least.’

  ‘I’ve looked into the meaning of the card too,’ said Marina. ‘The Hanged Man. Number twelve in the Major Arcana of a set of tarot cards, if we’re assuming it’s based on an occult set used for divination.’

  ‘What else would it be?’ asked Cotter.

  ‘Tarot used to be used for card games in Europe, decades ago. Now they’re just for telling the future. The Hanged Man,’ she said, pointing, ‘is hanging from the tree of life. Upside down. His head in the roots of the world, the underworld, us, his feet in the heavens.’ She looked at the other two, back to the pictures, finger gesturing. ‘He looks calm, relaxed. Like he’s there by choice, or at least the hanging’s not bothering him. See here, he’s attached to the tree by his right foot. His left leg is bent at the knee, tucked behind his body. His arms are behind his back. All done casually.’

  ‘Is that supposed to mean something, him doing that?’ asked Cotter.

  ‘I think so, yes. Or at least readers can write something into it. But look at the colours, what he’s wearing. That means something too. His trousers, leggings, whatever, are red. This apparently represents passion, the human body. Physicality. His upper half is blue, representing high ideals. And he’s got a bright yellow halo around his head. Some kind of spiritual achievement? Holiness?’

  ‘What a load of bollocks,’ said Cotter.

  Phil said nothing.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Marina, ‘to you and me, but not to the person who placed it there. And there’s more. It’s the card of ultimate surrender. Of martyrdom, sacrifice to the greater good. Of getting rid of old patterns of behaviour, of change. Seeing the world from a different angle.’

  ‘Well, you would if you’re hanging upside down,’ Cotter said.

  ‘Want to know more?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘The card’s ruling planet is Neptune, the planet of self-sacrifice and idealism…’

  ‘I think that’s enough for now, thanks.’ Cotter, shaking her head, looked at the board once more, back to the other two. ‘Of course, while we’ve found out what the card supposedly means and all that, interesting though it may or may not be, there’s a massive elephant in the room we’ve not yet addressed, isn’t there?’

  Phil felt their eyes on him.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Me.’

  3

  ‘Three dead bodies,’ continued Cotter. ‘Males, Caucasian, aged late thirties. All dressed similarly. All found hanged. All with the same tarot card in their leather jacket pocket, the Hanged Man, and the same name written on it.’ She fixed her gaze on him. ‘Yours, Phil.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, not knowing what more he could meaningfully add.

  ‘And I’m assuming the locations all mean something?’ Cotter asked.

  ‘They certainly do.’ He gestured to the board. ‘Want me to…?’

  ‘Please. Talk me through it.’

  He stood up, walked over to the board that had been taken from the incident room and set up in the corner of Cotter’s office. They were keeping this on a need-to-know basis. The rest of the team hadn’t yet been informed. And they wouldn’t be; not until they had more idea about what – or whom – they were dealing with.

  There were photos of the three hanged bodies. One outdoors in a forest, strung up from a thick branch. One hanging from a metal strut in an old warehouse. One hanging from a crossbeam in a dark, cramped cellar. Multiple images showed their faces, bodies, clothes, in detail. All wearing similar clothes to what Phil was wearing at that moment: brown leather jacket, plaid shirt, jeans, boots. All with similar haircuts to Phil’s. Facially there was no resemblance. But physically there was. Same height, same hair colour. In the shadows they could have passed for him. Phil couldn’t look at them for too long. It was unnerving, to say the least, seeing yourself hanging there. Dead.

  ‘The first one, in the forest. It’s Wrabness.’ He looked at Marina. ‘I don’t need to tell you about that.’

  Marina shook her head.

  ‘You probably know about this already,’ he said to Cotter.

  ‘Well, obviously I’ve heard, but it’s better if you tell me.’

  Phil nodded. ‘There was someone targeting full-term pregnant women. Cutting out their unborn babies and attempting to claim them as their own.’

  ‘Jesus, that’s… really sick.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Phil, wincing, mind slipping back into the case. ‘It was. And sad too, believe it or not. Tragic, really.’

  ‘But you caught the perpetrator.’

  ‘Oh yeah, or rather Marina did.’

  Marina shuddered. Remembered the underground cavern, the desperate escape, the screwdriver as makeshift knife plunged again and again into her deranged assailant.

  ‘Our first date,’ she said, hoping humour could counteract the memory.

  ‘So it’s not just another case. It’s somewhere that holds meaning to you,’ said Cotter.

  ‘Not just for Phil, both of us.’

  Cotter nodded. ‘And the next one? Which one is that, if we’re going chronologically?’

  ‘Here,’ said Phil pointing to the body hanging in the warehouse. ‘This one. This was where I encountered Fiona Welch.’

  ‘Ah.’ Cotter knew all about her. The psychologist who had attempted to try her torturously sickening theories out using a disfigured, rage-fuelled, psychopathic ex-serviceman.

  ‘The real one,’ said Phil.

  Someone claiming to be her had recently broken free from a psychiatric hospital, gone on a killing spree then disappeared. But not before besting Phil physically and promising to see him again. But Phil knew it wasn’t the real one. Because he had watched the real one fall to her death.

  ‘And is this both of you again?’

  ‘No,’ said Marina. ‘I had nothing to do with that. I was… away. Sorting something out.’ She glanced at Phil, found his returned smile reassuring.

  ‘So it’s just you, then?’ Cotter asked.

  ‘Just me. And then there’s the third one.’ He pointed to the photo of the body hanging in the cellar. ‘This is where we found a feral child, chained up in a cage made from bones.’

  Cotter stared at the pair of them. ‘Did you just come to work here for a holiday?’

  ‘You think the stuff I’ve dealt with since I’ve been here counts as a holiday?’

  Cotter nodded. ‘Point taken.’

  ‘There was an added layer to that one,’ said Marina.

  ‘Really?’ Cotter raised her eyebrows. ‘Can’t wait to hear this one.’

  ‘Involving Phil’s background. His childhood.’

  ‘Right.’

  Phil nodded, not wanting to relive the unpleasantness. ‘It was… a pretty harrowing experience. I don’t want t
o go into it now.’

  ‘What if it’s relevant to the enquiry? To what’s been done to these men?’

  ‘Then I’ll have no choice but to confront it again. And I’ll tell you all about it, don’t worry. If I need to. But at the moment it’s… well, I hope it’s not relevant.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Cotter. ‘But this was targeted at you. I think we’re in no doubt about that now. So if needs be we’ll have to start looking into your childhood.’

  Phil nodded once more, clearly unhappy, but knowing it was necessary.

  ‘The question is,’ said Cotter, ‘what do we do next?’

  4

  ‘I presume I should go over there,’ said Phil. ‘Back to Colchester and see what’s happening. Someone’s clearly trying to get my attention.’

  ‘It’s not safe,’ said Marina, an edge of hysteria creeping into her voice.

  Phil looked at her. He knew why she was so upset. Shared her misgivings.

  ‘Look,’ she went on, ‘we know these deaths are no coincidence. And let’s be honest, we know who’s behind this.’

  ‘Marina, we don’t —’

  ‘Yes, we do, Phil. You might not want to admit it, but you do. You know as well as I do.’

  They stared at each other. Cotter broke the silence.

  ‘I take it you mean this is the work of the woman calling herself Fiona Welch?’

  ‘Who else?’ said Marina, pleased that the name, the supposition, was out in the open, hoping that by speaking it aloud it would be robbed of its power. ‘It’s her. It has to be. She’s…’

  ‘Insane?’ suggested Cotter.

  ‘I don’t know what she is, or what she wants. But she made it more than clear last time we met her that she was going to come back for Phil. And this seems like her way of getting his attention.’

  ‘Well it’s worked,’ said Phil. ‘Whoever it is.’

  ‘Let’s hope it is her,’ said Cotter.

  They both looked at her.

  ‘We don’t want another one as mad as her running around now, do we?’

  ‘True,’ said Phil, with some reluctance. ‘And if it is her, that’s all the more reason I should go. Get it over with. Find her, stop her. Get rid of her once and for all.’

  ‘But she’s dangerous,’ said Marina. ‘Really dangerous.’

  ‘And that’s my job.’

  Marina shook her head. Stood up, walked about the room. She stopped, turned to face Phil. Spoke to him as if Cotter wasn’t there. ‘You can’t go.’

  ‘You see those bodies?’ Phil gestured to the board. ‘The names? I think I have to.’

  ‘It’s a trap. She’s waiting for you. Trying to get your attention, trying to get you to…’

  Phil crossed to her, placed his hands on her shoulders. She shook him off.

  ‘Don’t go. She’s waiting for you. Anticipating you coming. If this is what she’s done to get your attention, what’s she going to do once you’re over there? No. It’s not safe.’

  ‘Nothing’s safe. Life isn’t safe. Come on, we’ve discussed this. We can’t live our lives in the shadows. We’ve got to stand up, confront her. Get it over with.’

  Marina stared at him, said nothing. He continued.

  ‘Look, I know. I’ve thought all this myself, as soon as I heard about it I knew who it would be. And you’re right. She’s dangerous. And this is just what she wants me to do. But I have to do it. And you know it. I think you know it.’

  Again, she said nothing.

  ‘I can’t just ignore it, can I? We can’t ignore it. None of us in this room. What would happen if we did that? Would she keep trying to get my attention, do something more in retaliation? Something even worse?’

  ‘What would be worse?’

  ‘I don’t know. How many more lives would she take just to get my attention? What could she do to them? Don’t know. Don’t want to think about it. And I certainly don’t want to find out.’

  Marina stared at him. She knew he was right, no matter how much she didn’t want to hear him say it. And deep down, she knew she agreed with him.

  ‘Well,’ she said, the words drawn from her with great reluctance, ‘if you have to go, then at least let me come with you.’

  ‘No,’ said Cotter stepping in, ‘I can’t allow that. I know you’ve become a very valuable part of our team but you’re still a civilian.’

  ‘Then I could just go with him. There’s nothing to stop me from accompanying my husband on a trip to where we used to live.’

  ‘No there’s not,’ said Cotter. ‘But the police at the other end would have orders not to involve you. I’m afraid you’d find yourself incapacitated there.’

  Marina’s expression was incredulous. ‘You mean under guard?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Not exactly?’ Her voice was getting louder. ‘What exactly do you mean, then?’

  ‘Marina, please,’ said Phil. ‘I know it’s difficult. But… please.’

  ‘You’ll need a psychologist. You’ll need me.’

  ‘I don’t even know if they’ll need me, Marina. I’m just going to advise. You know I won’t be able to get involved. Not directly. That’s my name on the bodies. I’m too personally involved already.’

  Marina fell into a sullen silence once more.

  ‘Please,’ said Phil, his voice low, his tone conciliatory, ‘Josephina needs at least one of us to stay with her. And it won’t be for long. At least I don’t think so. I’ll just go over there, see for myself what’s happened, give them as much help and information as I possibly can and then come back. That’s all I can do. The rest is up to them. Let Franks and his team deal with it.’

  Gary Franks was Cotter’s opposite number in Colchester.

  Marina, reluctantly, nodded.

  ‘You’ll be given round-the-clock protection,’ said Cotter to Marina. ‘You and your daughter. Ring of steel. Nothing will get through.’

  Marina nodded once more, not making eye contact with either of them.

  ‘I’ve spoken to Franks,’ said Cotter, ‘and he said he’ll send over someone to escort you there.’

  ‘I know the way to Colchester.’

  ‘I’m sure you do, but this officer is firearms trained and is to be your bodyguard. Just as a precaution. You’ll be perfectly safe.’

  Phil said nothing.

  Marina gave one more try. ‘What d’you hope to achieve by this? It’s a trap. You know it is. She’s targeting you for a reason.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure she is. And I’m sure that’s what she intends. But as long as I’m there and protected, I’m in a good place to find out what she wants, what’s going on. And the sooner we know that, the sooner we catch her.’

  ‘And the sooner we can all relax,’ said Cotter.

  ‘Exactly.’

  Marina said nothing.

  5

  Josephina Brennan couldn’t have been happier. She sat with her parents, surveyed the bowls of food before her. There was barely a centimetre of the table uncovered. She smiled, looked up at them.

  ‘Did I tell you this is my favourite place?’

  ‘Only about a hundred times,’ said Phil, smiling. ‘Today.’

  It was a treat. They had picked her up from school, brought her down to the Las Iguanas restaurant at the Arcadian. The lighting was dim in the chain restaurant, with palm trees and faux, unspecific South American tiki décor. Josephina loved the place. It was a glimpse of a different, exciting world, miles away from her own home and school and playing with friends. And she loved the food. Especially the tapas menu.

  Quesadillas, gambas and champiñones. Pata taquito and albondigas. Plus empanadas, crayfish salad and beer for the grown-ups. Nachos to share.

  ‘Can I start?’ she asked, barely able to restrain herself.

  ‘Go on,’ said Marina. ‘But don’t forget your manners. We’re in a restaurant. There are other people here.’

  Josephina rolled her eyes, hoping her mother wouldn’t see. Phil tried to sti
fle a grin. Couldn’t begin to explain, even to himself, just how much this seven-year-old girl meant to him. Josephina began eating. Phil’s grin faded to sadness. Like he had already gone and this dinner just a memory.

  He looked up. Marina was watching him. She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said quietly, shaking his head.

  Marina said nothing. She felt the tension coming off him. Shared it herself. Knew what he was about to say, dreaded it as much as him.

  He waited until Josephina was well into the meal before speaking. Let her have a brief bit of pleasure first, he thought.

  ‘Listen, Josie, I’ve got something to tell you.’

  Josephina looked up, eyes round, expectant. Trusting. The look of creeping apprehension on Phil’s face began to remove the trust from hers.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s just… I’ve got to go away. Only for a couple of days, though.’

  Josephina stopped eating. She looked between her parents, trying to find some kind of clue as to what was about to happen next.

  A parent going away, even for a couple of days, shouldn’t be a big deal for a child. But given all the things that Phil, Marina and Josephina had been through over the years, the suffering they had undergone both separately and as a family, every item of news such as this had to be carefully couched, sensitively explained. Even though past memories were receding, Josephina still had nightmares about ordeals she had been through. Growing more sporadic but still there. They couldn’t afford to do or say anything to her that would upset her too much. Especially now that she was at an age where she could understand the truth. Or most of it. She still had to be protected, brought up as safely as possible.

  ‘Is it…’ said Josephina, eyes still darting between one parent to the other, ‘is it like before?’

  ‘Before?’ asked Marina.

  Josephina nodded. ‘When I had to go and live in the flat with Mummy and not see you,’ she said, uncertain eyes settling on Phil. ‘When you wouldn’t speak to each other?’