The Dead Tracks

    Healy didn't reply.

    'Fuck all. Nothing. Just like the last time.'

    Healy glanced at me again and slowly shook his head. We're in trouble. His eyes moved to Drayton for a second time.

    'I don't know where Raker is,' he said finally.

    Phillips blew air down the phone, the line distorting. 'You just finished your career — you do understand that, right?'

    Healy didn't reply.

    'Right? Phillips said a second time. He got no response. 'You trust Raker above the people in this station? Above the people you've closed cases with, who stood by you and worked for free, when Leanne went missing?'

    I watched him wince at the mention of his daughter's name. His cheeks started to flush, filling up like blood soaking through cotton.

    'You didn't do anything for me. She's not even on your radar.'

    'We tried to help you find -'

    'Don't tell me you tried to help me find her!' Healy erupted, eyes burning now. 'The people who helped me, most of them weren't yours. You and Hart — you didn't give a shit about her. You didn't give me anyone. No one.'

    'Leanne can't officially be linked —'

    'Don't tell me that she can't be linked to this, you fucking prick!' he screamed down the line. That piece of shit Glass took my daughter. And you know what I'm going to do now? I'm going to find him — and I'm going to kill him.'

    'Healy,' Phillips said slowly. You will go to jail.'

    'I don't give a shit.'

    Healy glanced at me. Then his eyes moved across the road to Drayton again, and he nodded to the office door. We're going in now.

    I placed a hand on the door, opened it.

    'You're in deep shit, Healy,' Phillips said. 'Deep shit. And so is your partner-in- crime there next to you, wherever the hell it is you're hiding. But let me tell you this now, so we're all crystal clear: we're on to you. You get me? We've picked up your trail.' Phillips paused. 'And when we get to you, you're both going down.'

Chapter Fifty-two

    We marched across the road towards the office, Healy in front. His face was flushed and burning with anger, his fists opening and closing, ready to push aside, pull apart and tear into pieces. 'Healy,' I said to him, trying to keep my voice level, trying to clear the fog that was forming inside his head. 'Wait a second.'

    But he didn't. He stepped up to the office door and shoved it open. It swung back so hard it hit the adjacent wall, the pane of glass clattering inside its panel. From the counter, Drayton looked up, eyes widening. He backed away from the desk.

    'What are you doing —'

    Healy grabbed the back of Drayton's head and yanked him forward, smashing him down on to the counter. The side of his face made a slapping sound as his cheek hit the vinyl. He cried out in pain. Healy leaned into his ear. 'What's under the trapdoor?'

    'What?' Drayton said, his words muffled by Healy's hand.

    'You better tell me what's in there.'

    Drayton's eyes darted between us.

    'Healy,' I said again.

    He glanced at me. 'What?'

    'Calm down.'

    'Shut the fuck up,' he spat, and pulled Drayton towards him, dragging his small frame up and over the counter. Drayton hit the floor face-first, crying out, and then rolled up into a heap on the carpet as if expecting punches to rain down on him. When they didn't, he looked up at us, blood running down one of his cheeks.

    Healy reached down, yanked him to his feet and pulled him in so they were nose to nose. 'Open the trapdoor.'

    'What are you talk—'

    'Open the trapdoor now.'

    Drayton glanced between us. I backed up towards the office door and looked out. The road was dark and quiet; only the sound of rain on the metal roof. When I turned back, Healy had swivelled Drayton around and had a hand locked in place at the back of his neck. He guided him out of the office and along the front of the warehouse to the delivery doors. They were padlocked.

    'Unlock them.'

    'There's nothing —'

    Healy pushed forward and Drayton's face hit the metal door. The noise passed across the building like a ripple.

    'I'm telling you,' Drayton said, his voice wavering. 'Please. I'm telling you - there's nothing in there.'

    'Open it, and we'll see.'

    Drayton fumbled in his pockets and brought out a ring of keys. He selected a brass one with a red mark on the side and slid it into the padlock. It clicked. Healy reached around him, pulled the padlock out from the metal plate and tossed it into the street. Then he yanked open one of the doors and pushed Drayton inside. The warehouse was completely dark except for one faint rectangle of orange street light filtering in from a window above us.

    'Where are the lights?'

    'There,' Drayton nodded.

    He was looking at a panel of white switches to my left. I flicked them all on. Strip lights buzzed in the darkness, then stark white light fed along the ceiling.

    The rear door was the same size as the delivery entrance at the front. Drayton unlocked the padlock with a second brass key, also marked red. Then Healy used him as a battering ram, forcing him forward into the door until it opened enough to let them through. Out in the yard, four security lights flicked on simultaneously, shining down from poles built into the fencing. In their glow, rain sheeted past us.

    Healy glanced at me and jabbed his head towards the pile. 'Show him.'

    I looked between him and Drayton, then walked around to the spot I'd glimpsed earlier and pushed aside a couple of the bigger containers. Beneath one, the edge of the trapdoor emerged.

    'What's that?' Healy said to Drayton, pushing at his neck.

    'It's for storage.'

    'No shit.'

    I moved some of the other boxes. A minute later, I'd cleared a space. A circle, cut into the floor and about two feet across, was freeze-framed in the security lights. It looked like a manhole cover. There was a handle cut into it and a lock attached. I dropped down, slid my fingers in and pulled. It didn't budge.

    I glanced up at Drayton. 'Which key unlocks it?'

    No reply.

    Healy forced Drayton forward, so he was almost standing over the manhole. 'Which key is it?' he said through gritted teeth.

    Drayton threw the key ring over. It landed in a puddle on the floor next to me. 'It's the small silver one, marked with a blue dot.'

    I selected the key and slid it into the lock on the manhole cover. It clicked. Sliding my fingers around the handle again, I pulled it out from its surrounds.

    The space dropped down less than a foot.