Silencing the Dead by Will Harker (ready to read books .TXT) 📗

night, just for a social catch-up. He wondered if we’d had some kind of falling out, not having seen me since Bradbury End. Sharp as ever, your old man. Anyway, he told me about poor Tilda Urnshaw. I’d guessed something of the sort must have happened after seeing the news. I know you won’t believe me, but for what it’s worth—”

I gripped the phone until the casing squeaked. “Do you get a kick out of this, you sorry old sack of shit? Pretending you actually have the emotions of a real boy? You’re a psychopath, Garris. You’ll never be a real boy. We both know that this is just you wanting to wheedle your way back into my head. And you know what? I’m actually tempted to let you in. Maybe it would take someone as twisted as you to make sense of that rat’s maze I’ve got between my ears. But… no. I don’t think I’m going to tell you anything.”

A beat. I could hear him breathing lightly at the end of the line. “I could make you tell me,” he said. “I still have the recording, remember? The one where you describe what Harry did to his father.”

I felt the casing crack under my hand. “If you want to hurt anyone, you come after me. If you so much as look sideways at Harry Moorhouse, then I swear to God I will make you suffer beyond anything even your rancid mind could invent. Haz deserves…” I swallowed hard. “He deserves his chance to be happy.”

“He deserves his chance,” that neutral voice echoed. “Something’s happened between you, then? Scott, I am truly sorry if—”

I turned off the phone and threw it to the end of the trailer.

Then, my head still pounding, I staggered over to the sink. After making my statement to Tallis at the station last night and him driving me back to my car, I’d asked the inspector if he fancied a drink. It wasn’t some desperate rebound thing. I didn’t particularly fancy him and I wasn’t even sure Tallis swung my way. I just didn’t feel quite ready for my own company. Anyway, he’d politely declined and I was soon back at the fair where, after a heroic ten-minute battle, I surrendered to the half bottle of Scotch and a couple of sleeping pills I’d been saving for just such an occasion.

Now, I poured a bowl of cold water from the canister by the sink and splashed my face, careful to avoid the surgical glue that held my forehead together. My physical pain, at least, seemed to be centred there. A sharp, hot throbbing that made me wonder if the wound was infected. I slapped my tongue against the roof of my mouth, tasted the metallic residue of the sleeping pills. With the waning effect of the drug still in my system, I knew my thoughts would be sluggish for the rest of the day. Some way to catch a killer.

“Selfish bastard,” I muttered to myself, and went in search of my phone.

2:43 pm. The time and a text alert from Tallis glared up at me almost accusatorially. Nothing more from Cloade, the message ran. Still insists he found the bag on the altar after the evening service. Refuses to give names or even descriptions of his congregation. The homeless man you mentioned is known to us and I managed to have a word with him this morning. He thanks you for the tenner. Says those attending come and go—no particular regulars and he doesn’t know all of them. No one stands out in his memory. First sweep by the marine unit has come up empty-handed—no sign of Genevieve’s gloves… I’m sorry, btw, if I seemed standoffish last night. Maybe a friendly drink when the case is done. Tom

I washed and dressed quickly, pulling a beanie hat over my wounded forehead before stepping outside. I had some thought of checking the communal post box by the gate to see if my copy of Hearing the Dead had arrived ahead of schedule when Sal ran into my path. She’d been playing a chase game with Jodie and the other chavvies. Her expression darkened when she saw me. The munchkin herself squealed and started to dash over, asking breathless questions about Haz: “Did you hear our song for Aunt Tilda? Is Uncle Haz coming back again today? Can we go and see him if not?” Sal ordered her away and I could see the tears start in Jodie’s uncomprehending eyes.

“What the hell have you done now?” Sal demanded when her daughter was at a safe distance. “I called him this morning and he sounds devastated. Of course, he’d never say a word against you, but I could tell—”

“Enough,” I said. “Sal, I mean it. Enough. What goes on between me and Haz is none of your business.” When she started to argue back, I shot her a look I would later regret. “I don’t want to hear anymore about it. Not from you, not from anyone. Are we clear?”

“You’re on something again,” she said in a brittle voice. “Pills or booze or both. Is that why he left?”

I felt my lips twitch into a hard smile. “Whatever you think he sounded like this morning, he’s most definitely not devastated. He’s got someone else, OK? I’ve seen them together, and you know what? I’m happy for him. Genuinely. And you and Jodie and everyone else who’s fallen in love with Harry Moorhouse on this fair should be happy for him too. I was never worthy of being loved by someone like that.”

Sal’s face crumpled. “Scott. No. What are you saying? Of course, you’re worthy—”

I pushed her hands away when she tried to reach for me. “I don’t want to hear it. If you ever speak to me about him again, Sal, that’s it. We’re done.”

I left her on the side ground and made my way towards the forest road. I already felt sickened by what I’d said, but couldn’t