Then another thought came into his head. And when it did, his heart felt like a sinking stone inside his chest. He sighed, whatever happiness, energy he had been feeling draining out of him.
He had nowhere to perform the sacrifice.
The house was gone. All his tools, his ritual with it. The cage… the cage was gone…
But there was another. He smiled to himself. Felt the stone lift in his chest. An even more sacred space. He had never attempted to do a sacrifice there before. But it made sense. It was the perfect place.
Perfect.
He was still thinking, still planning when his lift arrived. The driver had a baseball cap on and his collar turned up, but the Gardener still recognised him. He got in beside him.
The Portreeve didn’t look happy. He looked scared.
The Gardener said nothing to him. Just waited until he pulled away, then yanked his hood up.
Smelled the rich, loamy smell. Felt comforted by it. Charged.
Beside him, he felt the Portreeve’s fear increase.
Good.
Good…
65
Phil pulled up at the hospital. Parked, went inside. Flashed his warrant card at reception, asked where the boy under police surveillance was. Ignored the double-take the receptionist gave to his clothing.
He thanked her, went on his way.
He walked down corridors, mentally following the instructions he’d been given. As he rounded the final corner, he was expecting to find Anni, but was greeted instead by DCI Glass.
Phil stopped walking. His heart sank. ‘Afternoon, sir,’ he said, as neutrally as he could.
Glass turned, about to say something in return, stopped. ‘What… what’s that?’
Phil kept a smile off his face. ‘What’s what, sir?’
Glass pointed at him. ‘That… that… What are you wearing?’
‘I think you can see what it is, sir.’ Phil again kept his voice neutral.
‘A… a bow tie. An officer of mine is wearing a bow tie.’ Glass shook his head.
‘You said I needed to smarten myself up, sir. I thought a tweed jacket and bow tie would do the trick. They’re very fashionable at the moment, I believe, sir. Very on trend.’
Glass’s lips became thin, bloodless. ‘Are you taking the piss?’
‘Not at all, sir. It’s just the kind of thing that’ll play well in media briefings. The cameras’ll love it. Sir.’
Glass’s face changed colour, deepened to an unattractive shade of heart-attack red. Well at least he’s in the right place, thought Phil. Glass moved in closer. No smile now, not even the pretence of one.
‘The cameras’ll love it, will they? The cameras’ll love it. No they won’t, Detective Inspector. No they won’t.’ His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. ‘Because you are going nowhere near a camera. You are going nowhere near a case in my department ever again. You are suspended from duty. Forthwith.’
Phil felt anger rise within him. He knew the best thing to do would be to keep it contained, but he also knew that wasn’t an option. Not after what Glass had just said. ‘On what grounds?’
A nasty smile smeared itself over Glass’s features. ‘I think that speaks for itself. Insubordination. Incompetence. Negligence. Not following correct procedures. How does that sound so far?’
Phil stepped in close to Glass. The DCI flinched. ‘Bullshit and you know it. All I have to do is phone the Super at Chelmsford. He knows me. He’ll back me up.’
‘He’ll also want to preserve the chain of command. He’ll want to be seen to be following grievance procedure. He’s open to scrutiny as well. He has his own job to think about before yours.’
‘So that’s it, is it? I’m out.’
‘You most certainly are.’
A smile flitted across Phil’s features. ‘Then since I’m no longer a police officer, you won’t mind if I do this.’ He pulled his arm back, ready to punch the DCI.
Glass stood his ground, stared straight into Phil’s eyes. ‘I’d think twice before you do that, if I were you.’
‘Why? You’re no longer my superior officer, and I’m no longer on the case.’
‘I’m thinking of your safety, Detective Inspector.’
‘My safety?’
‘Yes. You hit me and I’ll fucking kill you.’
His stare level, icy. Phil didn’t doubt the sincerity behind his words.
‘I’ve read your file, Brennan. I know you’ve got previous where this is concerned. I know you’ve struck your superiors before and got away with it. Well not this one. Hit me and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.’
Phil stared at him.
Glass smiled. ‘That’s better. Now run along home. The proper police have got work to do.’
Phil felt suddenly ridiculous standing there in a bow tie, even more so with the rage he was feeling inside him. He wanted so much to punch Glass. So, so much.
Glass laughed. ‘Don’t. Hit me, you go down. And you don’t get back up again.’
Anni came round the corner, stopped dead when she saw the two men before her.
‘Boss? What… what’s happening?’
Phil turned. Tried to speak. No words came out.
‘I’ve just relieved DI Brennan of his position,’ said Glass. ‘From now on, you answer directly to me, Detective Constable Hepburn. Clear?’
Anni turned to Phil. ‘What the hell’s happened? Has he gone mental?’
‘Keep talking like that, DC Hepburn,’ said Glass, ‘and you’ll be next.’
Anni stared at the DCI, then shook her head, restraining herself.
Glass caught the look. ‘Just get him out of here,’ he said, turning and walking away, shoulders and back bunched with tension.
Anni looked back at Phil. ‘And what are you wearing?’
‘A bow tie,’ he said, then sighed. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’ Another sigh. He looked directly at Anni, turning his back on Glass, his voice a whisper. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me… ’
Any kind of answer was cut short by a sound from the boy’s room. Phil knew immediately what it was. Not a car backfiring, he thought; that’s just a cliche. It was followed by a scream.
He and Anni looked at each other.
‘Was that…?’
‘This way,’ said Anni. ‘Come on.’
She ran round the corner, Phil following. The door to the boy’s room was open. Darkness inside.
‘I was only away for a couple of minutes,’ Anni said. ‘I left Jenny Swan, the psychologist, in there with him. He should be… ’
She stopped talking as they entered the room. Jenny Swan was lying on the floor, unmoving. Blood pooling underneath her head. On the bed, the boy was backed up to the headboard, as far as he could go without burrowing into the wall behind him. Screaming. Screaming for his life.
Before him, standing at the side of the bed, was a man Phil hadn’t seen before.
The man realised he wasn’t alone, turned.
‘Stay where you are,’ he shouted. ‘Don’t come any closer. I mean it… ’
And that was when Phil saw the gun.
66
Mickey leaned back, fingers interlaced behind his head, stretched his body. Felt the pull of the muscles down
