The Dead Tracks

    Phillips and Davidson.

    I got out of the car. 'What the hell is this?'

    Neither of them said anything. Phillips led the way, a long black coat trailing behind him like a cape. Davidson followed, a cup of takeaway coffee in his hands, the merest hint of a smile on his face.

    'David,' Phillips said.

    We were either side of the crime-scene tape. Phillips looked back at the house. A crime-scene tech was coming down the driveway now, carrying a shoebox. It was one of the ones I'd had stacked in the spare-room wardrobes; full of stuff belonging to Derryn that I hadn't yet sorted through. It was inside an evidence bag.

    'Where's she going with that?'

    Phillips didn't reply. Davidson shrugged.

    I glared at Phillips. 'Everything in there belongs to my wife'

    'Calm down, David,' he replied.

    'Calm down?'

    'Calm down.'

    'I want that box back now.'

    'Listen to me,' Phillips said, and his eyes flicked to the crowd at the end of the road. Automatically, I turned and looked towards Liz's house. It was dark. No one home. I didn't want her to see this. 'Just calm down,' he said again, 'before you make this worse.'

    'What are you doing in my house?' I said, ignoring him. 'Have you even got a warrant?'

    Phillips felt around in the pocket of his coat and brought out a piece of paper, sealed inside a waterproof sleeve. He held it up.

    'Did you lie on oath to get this?'

    He didn't reply, just handed it to me.

    I looked at it. In the lack of light it was difficult to see the specifics, but I spotted my name at the top and a signature at the bottom.

    'Who the fuck signed off on that?'

    'I need you to come with me,' Phillips replied.

    'Why would I do that?' There was definitely a smile on Davidson's face now. I looked at him. 'You got something to say to me, fat man?'

    He shrugged, still smiling.

    Phillips audibly sighed. 'Okay, David, we're going to have to make this official.'

    Davidson now had a pad in his hands and — despite the rain - was busy writing down what I'd just said. Even as the rage boiled in me, I knew I had to cool off to avoid saying something I'd regret. But when I looked again at the tech loading the shoebox into the back of the van, anger fired in me for a second time. I ducked under the tape. The uniformed officer made a move towards me. Phillips noticed and held up a hand.

    'David,' he said.

    'You better have a damn good reason for being here.'

    Phillips nodded. 'David Raker, I'm arresting you on suspicion of the abduction of Megan Carver. You do not have to say anything —'

    'What?'

    '— but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, anything which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be used in evidence. Do you understand what I've just said to you?'

    You've got to be kidding me.'

    'Do you understand, David?'

    I glanced at the two of them. Davidson was still writing. Phillips looked between me and the PC standing to my side.

    'David?'

    I stared at him.

    'David, do you understand — yes or no?'

    Behind him, Davidson continued writing.

    'Yes or no?'

    I looked at him. 'Yes.'

    He nodded at the PC again. I heard the metallic rasp of a pair of handcuffs and then felt the officer come up behind me. He guided my arms around to my back and sat them at the base of my spine. Cold, wet metal fed around my wrists and locked into place. In front of me, Davidson made a point of forcibly adding a full stop on to the end of whatever he was writing.

    'This is crazy,' I said.

    Phillips placed a hand on my arm. Time to go.'

This is the Beginning

    She had a mattress and two blankets for when she slept. An hour after his second visit of the day, when he would throw down the liquid for her face and the cotton wool to apply it with, the lights would go out, plunging the room into total darkness. The lights would come on again the next day, for the first visit, when he came with her food. With the lights out, all she had was silence.

    Some nights, early on, she would yell at the top of her voice, trying to get someone to hear her. When a week passed, she started trying to reason with him when he came in. At ten days, she told him the mattress was uncomfortable. Finally, at two weeks, she changed tactics when he came in with her food.

    'I'm going to kill you, you bastard!'

    She only tried once.

    After she screamed at him, he paused. Straightened. Looked down at her. A smile broke out on his face; a thin line, like a slash from a knife. As it formed, his mouth peeling open, she realized it wasn't a smile at all. It was a warning. He was telling her that, even if she never slept again, she wouldn't see him approach. He'd do what he wanted to her, come for her when he needed her.

    And all she would see was a flicker in the darkness.

    Sona woke. It was pitch black; the middle of the night. She rolled over on the mattress, springs popping beneath her, and pulled the blanket up to her neck. As she did, she heard something beyond the silence for the first time since she'd been taken: the gentle patter of rain. It was coming down somewhere distantly, softly, consistently. When she shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on the noise, it sounded like it was hitting a metal grate.

    pffffffff

    Her eyes snapped open.

    The hole was bricked in dark colours all the way up, so there was no definition to her surroundings. No chinks of light. She couldn't even see her own hand in front of her face. Everything vanished in the darkness, and all that remained was sound: a very gentle rumble now, reverberating through the floor of the room above and down the walls of the hole; and the rhythmic beat of the rain.

    She lay there with her eyes open. As she counted the time in her head - thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes, five minutes — the rain started to get harder. At ten minutes, she could feel herself getting tired again. Her eyes drifted closer together. She opened them and stared into the darkness for another sixty seconds. Then she closed them, too tired now to fight the onset of sleep.

    pffffffff

    She moved quickly, sitting up on the mattress. What was that? The sound had been closer this time. She expected to be able to see something, maybe just the smallest mark against the darkness. But there was nothing. No light. No shapes. Everything was black. She reached out in front of her, to where the sound had come from. Leaned a little way forward. Pressed her other hand against the floor for support.

    And then it came to her.