Time to Die

The little boy nodded, staring up at her with round liquid eyes full of sadness and knowing. Somehow, he knew his mother wasn’t coming back, and it broke Je

Je

She could see from his worried expression that any doubts he had about the seriousness of the killer were now cast from his mind. ‘He must have taken the camisole from her room and posted it through my letterbox,’ she said, her voice sounding a million miles away.

‘Hello,’ a voice said from behind, accompanied by the lingering smell of cigarettes. Je

‘I’m glad to see you, boss. I’m afraid I’ve had to enter the scene to remove the child.’

‘Your sergeant has filled me in. As for entering the scene, you would have been severely criticised if you’d left the child in there alone. You did the right thing.’

Je

[#]

She couldn’t leave without speaking to the next-door neighbour, who would make up part of the house-to-house enquiries. The man was named Mr Marshall. At least that’s what he told her when she asked him for his details. He seemed affronted by Je

Mr Marshall leaned against the chipped doorframe, staring at her with apathy. It was most likely the same apathy that earned him his considerable girth bulging over his faded blue jeans. His lumberjack checked shirt gave off a pungent odour of sweat and tobacco, making Je

‘So you’re telling me you didn’t hear anything suspicious last night? Anything at all?’ Je

Mr Marshall spoke with half-closed eyes, like someone who had just woken up, but Je

Je

He waved his hand in front of him, as if he was swatting away a fly. ‘Nah, she was too busy going out to worry about him. She was always bringing back fellas, you’d hear them kicking off in the middle of the night. Then your lot would turn up, and that would be the last you’d see of them. It’s the kid, you see, not right in the head. What bloke would want to be involved with that?’ He emphasised his point by tapping the side of his greasy forehead.

Je

Mr Marshall shifted his slippered feet. ‘Not my business. Besides, you get a brick through your window for reporting things around here. Now if you don’t mind, I’m watching the footie.’

Je

Marshall’s eyebrows shot up; the blubber on his chin wobbling as he vehemently shook his head. ‘There’s no need for that. Come inside if you want, but I’ve told you everything I know.’

Je

Apart from giving Je

Chapter Twenty

Bert

Bert eyed up the large oak tree that skirted the empty fields at the end of their house. Lately he had been feeling sicker than ever, and wondered if the special concoctions his mother brought him to drink contained more than just vitamins. Sleepy all the time, his legs no longer afforded him the strength to escape to the forest. Instead, he focused on the oak tree, staring at the raven housed in its branches, waiting for him to come. As he hitched up his dungarees, his mother’s voice echoed throughout the house in song. She was busy making preserves, and the last thing he wanted was attention being drawn to the fact he was doing something she perceived as dangerous. But he had gotten away with disposing of his special tonic, and was going to make the most of the time he felt well enough to go outside. Bert swung his leg through the open window. He was eight years old now, and didn’t need his toy box to reach it any more. He ambled down the field, swearing under his breath as Callum called after him from the shed. He swore a lot in his head, they were words he picked up from his father, used only when mother was not around. He liked how they made him feel. Callum would never swear. The very mention of a swearword made his face crumple, as if someone had kicked him in the stomach.

Bert kept walking, his head bowed against the wind as he kept the oak tree in sight. Tiny spikes of drizzle jabbed his face as he strode down the damp gravel path. Callum scampered after him, his heavy footsteps kicking up stones in their wake. Dad used to say that Callum had footballer’s legs. They were far removed from Bert’s spindly limbs, which had spent too long resting to build any muscle.