Dead Flesh

Page 19

 

  Potter glanced at him in the rear-view mirror and said, “I really don’t get you, Isidor. ”

  “What’s not to get?” he asked between singing the words.

  “Well just take a look at you,” Potter said, keeping one eye on the road ahead. “You’ve got the eyebrow piercing, the Shaggy-Doo beard and tattoos up your arms and neck and your singing along to Abba. I mean, what’s going on?”

  “So what you’re saying is that I should be listening to something more gothic – dull and depressing?” Isidor said, still not looking up from his book.

  “Well, yeah,” Potter said.

  “If I wanted that sort of thing, I’d spend more time listening to you, Potter,” Isidor said, glancing up from his book and winking at me.

  “Very funny,” Potter said.

  “Leave Isidor alone,” I smiled at the sight of Isidor giving Potter a taste of his own medicine.

  “Whatever,” Potter sulked.

  We spent the rest of the journey in silence, until suddenly I noticed that Potter was strumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time and singing along to Take a Chance on Me.

  It was early afternoon when Potter pulled the car up in front of the farmhouse. The rain hadn’t stopped the whole journey, and the sky was so overcast that it could have been night. The farmhouse was situated at the top of a narrow dirt track that was barely wide enough to fit the car. On each side of the track there were slate stone walls that were covered in wild ivy, nettles, and thorns.

  The farmhouse itself was neat and tidy and had been looked after. There was a small kitchen and living room downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs with a tiny bathroom that was just big enough to fit a tub. The nicest thing about the house was the real fireplace that was set into the far living room wall. It was surrounded by red coloured brick and the owner had been kind enough to have stacked a pile of freshly cut logs before it.

  Isidor took one of the bedrooms and Potter and I took the other. Once we had settled in, I checked my emails on my iPod to see if I’d received a message from Kayla. There wasn’t one. Looking out the living room window across the fog-covered moors, I wondered if Kayla was safe. I still had fears about her locked away in Ravenwood, and if I’d had my way, she wouldn’t have gone. But Kayla wasn’t my sister, although I thought of her as one. I loved Kayla and did feel in some way responsible for her, even though she was only four years younger than me. I understood how Kayla felt, and even though she had been through so much already in her life, I still found her a little naive at times – just like a younger sister would be.

  “What now?” a voice said from behind me and I turned to see Potter standing at the foot of the wooden staircase which led into the living room.

  “I’m going to drive into town and visit the local police station,” I said. “Make some enquires into Emily Clarke’s disappearance. ”

  “Her sister has already tried that,” Potter reminded me.

  “Yeah, but she didn’t have one of these,” I said, holding up my police badge.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said.

  “No, stay here,” I told him.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to go in heavy handed,” I said as delicately as I could. “We want to try and get the local coppers on our side. We might need them. ”

  “So what am I meant to do?” he asked me.

  “Get that fire going,” I smiled at him.

  I pulled into the car park of the local police station, killed the engine and made my way inside. With an air of confidence, I flashed my badge to the clerk behind the front desk and asked if I could speak to whoever it was in charge. The clerk told me to take a seat.

  I waited for several minutes until a large looking head with a shock of white hair appeared around the edge of the door that led into the station. It was a tired-looking face, a face that had seen too many late nights and long hours.

  “Kiera Hudson?” the face asked.

  “That’s me,” I said standing up.

  The door was pushed open further to reveal a well-built man, wearing a shirt which was open at the throat, and smart trousers that looked too tight about his waist.

  “Inspector Cliff Banner,” he said thrusting out one large meaty hand towards me. “What can I do for ya?”

  I shook his open hand, which he pumped up and down with such force that I thought he was going to snap every one of my fingers. Once I had the feeling back in my hand, I produced my badge and showed it to him.

  “I’m from out of town but I could do with some help. ”

  “Sounds intriguing - follow me. ” He ushered me through the door from the small waiting area into a sterile and brightly lit corridor. I followed him to his office, where he gestured me towards a seat. We sat facing each other on opposite sides of his cluttered desk.

  “Excuse me,” he said, “I was just in the middle of my supper. ” He picked up a half-eaten sandwich which looked small and ridiculous in his huge hand, and took a bite. Peanut butter oozed from it and onto his bushy white beard, which he wiped away with a piece of crinkled tissue paper that lay amongst the other litter on his desk.

  “So how can I be of help?”

  “A friend of mine, Emily Clarke has gone missing. ”

  “How old is this friend…a kid is she?” he asked as he chewed the remains of his sandwich.

  “No, she’s an adult, a little older than me. ”

  “What she’s vulnerable then…you know…like retarded?”

  “No, she’s just like you and me,” I told him. I knew where he was going with this without him saying anything else.

  “Well there’s the trick. If she ain’t a juvey and no retard then there’s nothing we can do about it. ” He screwed up the piece of grease-proof paper that his sandwich had been wrapped in and threw it at the rubbish bin on the other side of the room. “You should know there ain’t nothing we can do about it, you being a cop and all. ”

  “Yeah I know all that, but this is different,” I told him.

  “Oh, how come?”

  “Emily was teaching at the Ravenwood School…” I began to tell him.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he whistled through his teeth. “Stop right there. That school has been taken over by the wolves – the Skin-walkers. ”

  I shook my head. “So?”

  He stared at me blankly.

  “My friend, Emily, told her sister, Elizabeth Clarke before she went missing that…”

  “Who did you say?” That name seemed to have grabbed his attention.

  “Elizabeth Clarke,” I repeated.

  “Ah, that’s right,” he said thumbing through the paperwork strewn across his desk. Then, holding up a sheet of peanut butter smeared paper, he added, “she came in here yesterday spouting on about how her sister had been murdered. Can you believe that? Murdered! Reckons that Headmaster McCain did it. ”

  “Have you had dealings with him before?”

  “Never,” he said, combing his overgrown moustache with his fingers.

  “So how can you be sure that he’s not capable of murder?” I said defensively.

  “Well damn me,” he chuckled.

  “Look, I can see that you find this all very amusing, but are you gonna help me or not?” I asked him.

  “Listen, Karen. . . ”

  “Kiera,” I corrected him.

  “Kiera, for a cop, you ain’t half naive. These people. . . wolves. . . Skin-walkers, whatever you want to call ‘em…they don’t live like us,” he warned me in an almost fatherly tone.

  “What do you mean?” I asked him.

  “You know…they don’t live by the same rules as us. People may not like it, but that’s the way it is. It’s been like it for hundreds of years. ”

  “So they are allowed to get away with murder?” I said sarcastically. “My understanding of the Wasp Water Treaty is that the
y can match with children every five years, although that is bad enough. But are they allowed to murder innocent people? I thought that’s what the treaty was brought in for – to end the killing. ”

  “Look, what goes on behind the walls of that school is wolf business,” he said.

  “So that makes it all okay then?” I argued.

  “All I’m saying is that your friend…Emily…has probably found herself another teaching post and moved on. ”

  “So what you’re saying is, Emily just woke up one morning and left her home, her job and hasn’t been in contact with her sister since?” I pushed him.

  Realizing that he wasn’t going to change my mind, Banner sighed deeply and said, “What’s a pretty young copper like you gone and got herself caught up in something like this for?”

  “What, police work you mean?”

  “Wolf business,” he said, staring at me from across his desk.

  Without breaking his stare, I said, “Look, one cop to another…are you gonna help me or not?”

  Banner pulled a notepad and pen from beneath the mountain of rubble on his desk. “Who does she bank with?” he asked.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “She’s gotta eat, ain’t she? Fill up her car with petrol?” he said as if he was teaching me something new. “I’ll run a few checks to see if she used her bank cards in the last few days; that should tell us where she is. ” He tossed the pad and pen across the desk at me.

  I scribbled Emily’s full name, date of birth, address, and banking details onto the pad. I was just about to hand it back when I paused and then added the address of where I was staying. I then pushed it back across the desk towards Banner.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I ain’t promising you nothing. If it wasn’t for the fact you’re a cop, I’d kick your arrogant arse outter here!”

  I got up and left his office.

  Chapter Twenty