Vanished

like he was praying. As I left Drake and inched through the darkness, past Wilky and on to the boy, I knew – even before I got to him – that it was Marc Erion. He was tiny and incredibly thin. Just bones. No fat at all.

I swallowed hard, and directed the torchlight beyond Erion to the other two bodies. Both were naked and shaved. Nearest to me, a man was half sitting up at the wall, arm attached to a metal plate above him. His breathing was soft and moist, like there might be blood in his lungs, and there were deep cuts all across his chest, his face beaten to a pulp. But I knew who it was. On the middle finger of his right hand was a silver ring with a rune on it.

Pell.

They’d never been working together. Pell had been nothing more to Smart than another victim. Another piece of misdirection. I’d been chasing Pell, thinking he was the Snatcher, while the real killer had him locked up in his basement with five other men.

I took another step forward.

Beyond Pell was the last of them. Like the others, he was naked, every inch of him shaved, but there was no blood on him. No bruising. He was thin, drawn, but while he was chained at the ankle, Smart had made an effort to keep him pristine, as if he saw him as something better. Something special. Something worth taking a risk over.

I’d found Samuel Wren.

76

Five minutes later the house was crawling with police and forensics. Craw made me give my account of what happened, of all the events leading up to the point at which we found ourselves, and then asked me to wait in the semi-darkness of the living room, surrounded by photographs of Smart’s father, and Smart as a boy. After an hour – after she’d been to the old Underground station, and down into the basement of the house – she came in, sat down and said nothing. We could both hear Davidson in the kitchen, telling someone to be careful with evidence, and when I looked at Craw I saw a kind of resignation in her, as if she was sick of this case, and maybe sick of her job. Men like Smart were a reset button: you thought you’d seen everything that people were capable of doing to one another, and then someone like him came along and you realized there was always someone worse.

I traced Smart’s face in one of the nearest photographs. There was nothing unique about him. He was just a man. No distinguishing features. Nothing to make your eyes linger on him as he passed you. And that was what had made him so effective.

‘Do you think he was trying to misdirect us?’ she asked.

‘With what?’

‘With the padlock on the lift shaft. Marking it with a red dot like that.’

I looked at her. ‘Are you asking for my input now?’

She smiled, and nodded to herself as if she understood my position. ‘You know, you and your friend Healy are very well suited, even if you don’t see it.’

‘He’s not my friend.’

‘And yet you like him.’

I shrugged. ‘I like some parts of him, but mostly he just wears me out.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled again, a small movement. ‘He does have that ability.’

‘Is he definitely gone?’

She eyed me, but didn’t seem surprised I knew Healy had been fired. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘he’s definitely gone. He went against protocol, broke the law and left me to clean up the mess. He’s a liar, and I can’t trust him.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘You don’t know all the details, Mr Raker.’

‘David’s fine.’

‘You don’t know all the details, David.’

‘I don’t expect I do.’

‘He deserved to go.’

I met her gaze. ‘Then why are we still talking about him?’

She just nodded.

After a long silence, I said, ‘This isn’t how it normally goes for you.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You understand people, what makes them tick, what makes them do the things they do. But you didn’t get Smart, and you don’t get Healy.’

‘And you do?’

‘No. I never saw Smart coming, and Healy …’ I paused. Shrugged. ‘I think I know him and then he does something stupid and I realize I don’t know him at all.’

‘Then I guess we can agree on something.’

‘I guess we can.’

Craw looked at the photos of Smart. ‘What is it with you?’ she said.

‘With me?’

‘Come on, David, don’t be coy. You know what I mean. How is it you always end up in these places, chasing down these men? How is it you always get here before us?’

I frowned. ‘Are you accusing me of something?’

‘No. But you have a knack.’

You don’t know when to stop. Maybe it was as simple as that. Or maybe it really was something more. Some kind of twisted destiny.

‘I don’t know,’ I said finally.

She nodded, as if she wasn’t all that surprised by the answer. Then she reached to the breast pocket of her jacket and took out a notebook. ‘Just wait there a second, would you?’ She didn’t wait for my response, just got up and headed out of the living room. A couple of minutes passed. A murmur of conversation in the kitchen. Then she returned, this time flanked by Davidson and another cop, one I didn’t recognize.

‘David, you know DS Davidson,’ she said, gesturing to him. Davidson looked at me, sober, unreadable. ‘This is DC Richter. He’s going to take some notes for me.’

‘Notes?’

‘We want to ask you a few questions.’

‘I’ll call my solicitor then.’

‘We’re not arresting you for anything,’ she continued, sitting down opposite me. Davidson pulled a chair out from the table and dragged it all the way across the living room so he was facing me on my left. Richter sat down at the table. ‘We just want to fill in the blanks. You know Samuel Wren, you know Duncan Pell, you probably know more than we do about Edwin Smart. We’re not too proud to engage the help of an expert.’

‘So you are asking for my input?’

‘I’m not asking,’ she said.

She’d let her guard down when we’d been alone in the living room. Now she was playing up to the crowd. Or maybe this was just her natural state, and the person I’d been with moments before – softer and more transparent – was all part of the act.

I shrugged, an indication she could start.

‘Given the level of your relationship with Colm Healy over the past eight months, and the fact that you were knee-deep in bodies when we turned up here, I’m going to assume you’re up to speed on the Snatcher case.’

‘What is the level of my relationship with Healy?’

‘I think we both know –’

‘No, we don’t,’ I said, making a point of looking at Davidson. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth or lay actions at my feet when you don’t have the first idea what you’re talking about.’ I let that settle, silence in the room now, then turned to Craw: ‘The trouble with your task force, is that it’s manned by people who have no interest in its aims.’

She frowned. ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’

‘You know what I mean,’ I said, and in the moments that followed I saw her flick a look towards Davidson. ‘I