Deity

‘The local paper wouldn’t have access to SOCO pictures,’ said Noble.

‘And they wouldn’t print them if they did,’ said Cooper.

‘Agreed. I only said it looked like a SOCO picture,’ said Brook. ‘But if it isn’t, somebody else has taken this at the scene.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning Wilson Woodrow may be the latest in a long line.’

‘What do you want? I’ve done nothing wrong.’

Brook smiled at Jake and sat down at the side of his bed, Noble on the other. I’ve not done nothing was the default response. Jake looked pale and washed-out; he scratched at the tube feeding saline solution into his arm.

‘How are you feeling?’

Jake looked sullenly at the crisp white cotton of his top sheet. ‘Where’s my mum?’

‘She’s taking a break. You gave her quite a shock.’

‘I suppose. Do they know what happened?’ Jake was unable to meet their eyes.

Brook and Noble exchanged a glance. ‘You took an overdose of your mum’s sleeping pills, Jake. They had to pump your stomach.’

Jake made a pathetic attempt to fly his version of events, shaking his head in mock disbelief. ‘I thought they were aspirins.’ He looked up at Brook. ‘I had a headache.’

‘Must have been some headache to take twenty tablets,’ he answered.

‘It’s a good job the squad car called or we wouldn’t be talking,’ chipped in Noble. Jake said nothing.

‘Why would you try to kill yourself, Jake?’

‘Kill myself? Are you tripping?’

‘Don’t waste our time,’ said Noble. ‘We can put you under arrest right here.’

‘I want my mum. Fetch my mum.’

‘You’re eighteen, Jake,’ said Noble. ‘We can speak to you without her permission.’

‘Actually, Sergeant, I don’t mind if Mrs McKenzie sits in while we talk to Jake about his relationship with Kyle.’ Brook rose to fetch her.

‘No!’ retorted Jake sharply, raising his unattached hand. ‘Don’t. It’s okay. I want to help.’

‘Good.’ Brook smiled and read from his notes. ‘I hate you, Jake. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself. You betrayed me when I needed you most.’ Jake looked steadfastly at the sheet. Brook placed the printout from T-mobile in his hands. ‘You received that text this morning. It’s from Kyle Kennedy’s mobile number.’

‘You’ve got my phone?’

‘Your computer too. We have a warrant.’

Jake was silent.

‘This is the first direct contact from one of our missing students since they disappeared eight days ago. And of all the people Kyle could have contacted, he contacted you, Jake. Why?’

‘Can I have a drink of water?’

Brook poured him a cupful from a nearby jug. ‘According to my information, Kyle Kennedy also rang you on his mobile, the night before his eighteenth-birthday party — the night before he disappeared.’

Jake took a sip of water. ‘Sounds right.’

‘What time was it?’

Jake became exasperated. ‘You’ve got my phone. Why don’t you tell me?’

‘Because we need you to get your memory of that night working,’ said Noble.

Jake cast around, thinking. ‘About nine o’clock, I think.’

Brook nodded. ‘Close enough.’

‘Well, then.’

‘Why did he ring you?’

Jake was silent for a moment. ‘He wanted to invite me to his party and to thank me.’

‘Thank you for what?’

‘Somebody at college went for him. I stepped in.’

‘You’re referring to Wilson Woodrow,’ said Brook.

‘Yes. He started picking on Kyle in Media Studies. That smarmy git Rifkind wasn’t going to do anything so I got in between them and broke it up.’

‘That was good of you.’

Jake shrugged. ‘I don’t like bullies.’

‘Really. So you don’t like Wilson Woodrow.’

‘No. He’s a sherm.’

Present tense. Brook and Noble exchanged a glance. ‘Sherm?’

‘A knobhead to you.’

‘So what did Kyle say exactly?’ asked Brook softly.

Jake smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he replied, as though talking to an idiot.

‘And that was it? He thanked you and then less than an hour later — half a mile from your home — you just happened to wander past at the exact time Kyle was being assaulted by Wilson.’ Jake became tight-lipped. ‘You have seen the assault on the internet, I take it?’

‘Who hasn’t?’

Brook waited. Silence was the heaviest pressure. ‘According to Mrs Kennedy, Kyle left her house before nine that night. He was carrying a poster and a CD. He told his mum they were for a friend.’ Still Jake was silent. ‘When we searched Kyle’s room after he disappeared, we discovered what a huge fan of The Smiths he is — posters all over his walls, every CD they ever released.’ Brook paused to look up from his notes. ‘If we searched your room. .’

‘He came round.’

‘To your house?’

‘Yes. In fact, when he phoned me, he was already outside.’

‘Why didn’t he just knock on the door?’

Jake shrugged. ‘Guess he knew my dad hates faggots.’

Brook nodded and looked into Jake’s eyes. The teenager turned away.

‘What was he wearing?’ asked Noble.

‘Jeans — and he had his G-STAR hoodie on. He never took it off.’

‘What colour?’

‘Blue.’

‘So you went out to speak to him?’

‘Yes, and he gave me the poster and a CD he’d burned as a thank you.’

‘What was it?’

‘The Smiths. Like you said — Kyle was nuts about them.’

‘Was?’ queried Noble. ‘You think he’s dead?’ Jake looked up. ‘I don’t know.’

‘And the poster?’

‘It was the lead singer — Morrissey.’

‘You know Morrissey is a gay icon?’

‘I guess,’ answered Jake.

‘Did you know Kyle was gay?’ asked Noble.

Jake started laughing. It subsided quickly. ‘Yes.’

‘Is that why Wilson bullied him?’

‘That sh- knobhead doesn’t need a reason.’

Brook and Noble exchanged another glance. Jake was either being very clever or he honestly didn’t yet know Wilson’s body had been discovered that morning.

‘These gifts,’ said Brook. ‘Do you still have them?’

Jake nodded.