she needs. Doradus is another door to kick against. She’s found her own private War on Terror.’ She had her back to him. He saw she was breathing heavily. ‘Tell me I’m wrong,’ he said.
‘It’s going to be light in a couple of hours,’ she said dully. ‘We can stay here for a while but we need to be out by nightfall.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not leaving her,’ he said.
Caroline came across and bent down to her. She felt at Erica’s neck for a pulse. ‘You don’t need to worry about that. She’s dead,’ she said evenly. Then her eyes softened. ‘I’m sorry.’
Gareth was choked into silence. Whilst he’d been talking Erica had slipped quietly away. He stroked the woman’s shoulders tenderly, and without warning, against his will, he burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears. Caroline left him alone, going outside to stand in the cold, her arms folded tightly around her. She stared up at the massive cathedral-like dome of the sky as dawn began to furl back the chill of night.
47
‘What time is it?’
She glanced at her watch. ‘Five minutes to six.’
‘You let me sleep for too long,’ said Gareth, rising to his elbows. He looked over to Erica’s blanket covered body, and the events of the previous night came thundering in on him again. At least sleep had blotted it all out for a time, exhaustion dulling the pain and the implications of it all. He was surprised, though, that he’d slept the entire day and into the early evening.
‘You needed it,’ she said. She was messing around with a small digital radio, flipping through channels. She looked agitated.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘You need to hear something.’
‘Lionel Ritchie is hardly appropriate, given the circumstances.’
‘Tough.’ A guitar blasted out.
‘Turn it off. It’s not right. She’s dead, if it escaped your notice.’
‘She’s hardly likely to complain about the noise, is she?’ When she turned to face him he could tell something was troubling her.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘There’s nothing wrong,’ she said, lowering the volume for his benefit. She took out two boxes from the army satchel. ‘What do you think; black or chestnut brown?’
‘Look, Caroline, forget the bloody hair dye! We’ve got to talk…’
‘Black, I reckon.’ She stuffed the other box into the satchel.
‘What are we going to do?’ he said.
‘About what in particular?’
‘Jesus, Caroline! About Erica here, about Tremain, Lambert-Chide and Doradus! We’re in a whole heap of shit and all you’re concerned about is listening to Radio Two and hair dye!’
She shrugged. ‘Can’t argue with you there,’ she said.
He swept back the blankets, his body feeling stiff and sore from long hours on the hard floor. In spite of the many hours sleep he still felt immensely tired, his head still heavy, mind unfocussed. He was drawn against his will to keep looking at Erica’s shrouded body, and each time he felt a ballooning anger that he couldn’t tamp down. Before sleep claimed him he’d sat there with his grief gradually morphing into rage, turning the gun over in his hand, no longer afraid of it, needing to use it, needing to enact swift revenge. He scraped it up off the floorboards now; already the gun felt all too familiar, too comfortable.
‘If I’d just gotten into the damn car earlier she might be alive today,’ he said. ‘It’s my fault.’
‘Stop beating yourself up. There’s nothing you can do. Let’s face it, she’s had longer than most of us.’
‘And that’s supposed to make things alright? She’s been murdered!’
‘What else do you want me to say?’ she asked. ‘I did my best.’ She lowered her head, and then sat down with her back against the wall, the box of hair dye twirling in her hand. The radio hummed in the background. ‘I got a text from Pipistrelle early this morning,’ she admitted. ‘Doradus knows who he is now. You want to know what’s eating me? I’ll tell you: I’ve got to go help him, even though I know he would want me to stay here with you, to ensure both you and I are safe from them. But he’s my father, or the nearest I’ve ever got to having one. I can’t desert him when he needs me. I can’t let Doradus get to him. He’s as good as dead if he does.’
‘Then we’ll go to the police,’ he said animatedly. ‘The rot can’t be as bad as you make out. There’s still some good out there. And you can’t fight something this big all alone.’
She laughed. ‘You won’t accept it, will you? Going to the police simply isn’t an option.’
‘So you’re going to leave me behind with Erica here, is that your plan?’
‘I haven’t decided what I’m going to do, which is why I’m still here with you,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘It was never intended to end like this. Get you and Erica out, ship you somewhere safe, job done. But now if Pipistrelle falls into Doradus’ hands sooner or later they’ll prise all manner of secrets from his head. I move up their most wanted list, and all the escape routes we’ve planned beforehand will be of no use. It’s not safe staying here either. They’ll know about this house soon enough.’ She glanced from under her brows at him. ‘We’ve got people wanting us both dead. All we have left is each other now.’
‘Surely someone somewhere can help us. Someone in authority.’
‘Yeah, there must be. If you know who to trust.’
‘DCI Stafford, I trust him. He’s clean, I can tell. The rot hasn’t extended to him.’
Instead of answering him she went over to the radio, looked at her watch and turned up the volume. ‘I’ve got bad news for you on that front,’ she said bleakly. The music finished and the six o’clock news came over the radio.
‘I say we go now and try to make contact with him.’
‘You can’t.’
‘What is it with you and orders?’ he snapped.
She pointed to the radio. ‘I heard this earlier today. Listen for yourself.’
He didn’t know what on earth she was getting at till he heard Stafford’s and Styles’ names mentioned at which point his ears pricked. Both officers had tragically died as the result of a gas explosion in a derelict house in Manchester. DI Styles killed outright, DCI Stafford dying from his injuries in hospital in the early hours of this morning. All evidence pointed to an accident waiting to happen. Fellow officers were mourning the loss of two respected police officers, said the radio reporter. Both Superintendent Maloney and the Chief Constable praised the two brave officers, who had been instrumental in the arrest of a man, who police have named Heniek Pawlowski, in connection with the murder of Ania Dabrowska in Manchester.
‘You say the rot hasn’t gone that far? It certainly reached Stafford and Styles.’
‘They said it was an accident…’
‘You really want to hang onto that?’ she said. ‘OK, you do that. You take that chance.’ She turned off the radio. ‘Face it, Davies, we’re all on our lonesome now. Just you and me against the world. And I for one ain’t about to stay here till Doradus comes sniffing around. Me, I’m going to help Pipistrelle and take things from there. I’m not going to let these bastards get hold of him. I owe him that much. So do you and Erica; without him she’d have been dead decades ago and you would have ended up in tiny pieces floating in a row of pickle jars. You can either choose to come along with me or go your own way. I guarantee that you won’t last too long on your own.’
‘Is that supposed to be a choice? Go with you and potentially end up dead, or stay here and end up dead?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘But what about Erica? I can’t just leave her here like this.’
Caroline went out of the room and came back in with a green plastic petrol can. ‘I brought spare fuel from the car.’
