The Quick and the Dead (A Sister Agnes Mystery) (25 page)

‘There’s no point —’ Agnes began.

‘Going after her? Because of my leg, you mean? Because she’s got three minutes’ start and by now she could be on a bus, or a train? Sure, she could be anywhere. But I’ve spent my whole life looking for her. What difference is another few years going to make?’

Mike and Agnes sat helpless as he limped from the room and the front door closed behind him. At last Agnes murmured to Mike, ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head, began to speak, but she said, ‘No, it’s my fault. Both of them back on the streets now. How clever of me.’

‘We could drive out looking for them,’ Mike said.

‘And then what? Just repeat the scene again?’

Mike sighed. ‘I should have brought him in sooner. But what the hell was I supposed to do? The kid’s an out-and-out consumer, everything was measured in terms of what I spent on her. He’d have been lost with no cable telly to give her, no new clothes and Blur CDs and disco tickets, no cruising Tesco’s for the slimline passion fruit yoghurt …’ Mike looked up at Agnes. ‘I always knew she wasn’t mine. Those early months with Linda, with the baby on the way, it felt wrong. And I thought, I’ll be OK when it’s born, but I remember the first time I looked at Sam, I knew — I knew … I suppose it’s easy to say in retrospect. But I think that’s why I ended up drifting away from them. When Tom came to me last year, when he told me, I was relieved. It was like this burden lifted that had been there for fifteen years.’ Agnes looked across at Mike. She took a sip of cold tea and realised that something in him had changed.

‘What now?’ he said. 

‘Firstly, you don’t have to feel responsible. Tom’s met Sam again, and Sam knows who he is.’ She shrugged. ‘No one was asking you to guarantee a happy ending. You’ve done all you could.’

‘What’ll you do?’

‘I suppose I’ll go and look for them. One day. But right at this moment, I’ve got rather a lot on.’

In Mike’s hallway she paused, and offered him her hand. ‘I misjudged you,’ she said. ‘I knew you were lying, but I didn’t know why. I’m sorry.’

He shook her hand. ‘I thought it must be something like that. Listen, you tell me if there’s anything I can do — let me know what happens, eh?’

Agnes smiled. ‘Yes. Though, like you, I can’t guarantee any happy endings either. You see, I’ve stopped believing in fairy-tales — particularly where fathers and daughters are concerned.’

Back at home she made herself a tuna fish sandwich and listened to her answering machine. There was a message from Madeleine, saying, please get in touch. Then Richard Witham, wanting her to ring him back. The next message was a nervous, female voice. ‘Hello, it’s Elizabeth Murphy here. Oh, I hate talking on these things. I just thought you should know, Morris has confessed. About, you know, um, Becky. Roger told me. Apparently, Ross is, um, working with him now. I just wanted you to know. Goodbye.’

Agnes stopped the machine. She stared at it Morris. Yes. Although … She switched the machine back on. The last message was from Sheila. 

‘Agnes, have you heard from Lily? She’s vanished. I’m worried sick, she’s never just gone off before. Phone me, please.’

Agnes dialled her number.

‘Sheila,’ she said, her mouth full of tuna fish.

‘Oh, God, Agnes, thank God. Any news?’

‘None at all. What happened?’

‘She left the eviction with Amy, you know, like I said. But it turns out, Amy was caught up with the crowd, trying to get out through the police cordon, and she thought Lily was with her. When she got to the village she waited, but Lily didn’t show up. I thought she was with Amy. I only heard this morning that she wasn’t. I’d arranged for them to stay there, so that I could be here for the others —’

‘Oh my God. Have you asked the police?’

‘Yes, that was my first thought, that they’d pulled her in too, but no sign. Charlie’s worried sick, he’s checked all the notifications, nothing. I went back to the woods. I thought she’d got some romantic notion of staying there, but zilch. No sign. Agnes, what shall I do?’

Agnes stared at her sandwich, at the soggy white bread and the greasy flakes of fish inside. She recalled Steven praying loudly in the woods, tears pouring down his face while the distant battle raged. She felt suddenly sick. ‘Sheila,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll be right there.’

Sheila seemed to have aged ten years. She grabbed hold of Agnes at the door, and pushed her towards the phone.

‘There. Phone them. Charlie, anyone. They’ve got to find her.’ 

‘But you’ve already —’

‘But you know them, this so-called church. Tell them. Tell the police they’ve got her.’

‘You think —’

‘What else?’

Agnes was put through to two other officers before she reached Charlie.

‘Sheila’s already told me,’ he said, shortly. ‘Here’s what I know so far. No one’s happy about this Ross Turner bloke, we’re going to be calling on him. Hang on —’ There was muttering in the background, then Charlie came back on. ‘There’s a shout, gotta go.’

‘And now that Morris —’ Agnes began.

She heard more radio noise, then Charlie said, ‘What were you saying?’

‘Hasn’t Morris Stanton …?’ Agnes stopped herself.

‘Nothing new on the Stanton case for weeks,’ Charlie said. ‘Anyway, must go, tell Sheila to try not to worry, we’ll be calling on the church lot.’

‘Oh. Good.’

Agnes turned to Sheila. ‘They’re going to visit Ross Turner. Eventually.’

‘I bet they’ve no idea where he is,’ Sheila snapped.

‘No,’ Agnes said, as a thought crystallised in her mind. ‘But I do. Come on.’

‘Why are we going back to the forest?’ Sheila asked, as Agnes screeched up the track where the camp had been and parked by the gate.

‘I’ve just got to get something. Wait in the car.’

*

The landscape that greeted Agnes as she reached the top of the hill was completely alien, a desolate wasteland of churned mud, felled trees, scrubby grassland scarred by tyres. It was like crossing a battlefield, the dead still unburied.

She went into the woods and followed the smell of wood-smoke. Bill’s camp was further away now, nearer the existing road. When she saw he was there, crouched over his fire, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He looked up, startled, then smiled.

‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

‘I’ve come to do a deal,’ Agnes said.

‘Yes?’

‘You owe me an explanation.’

‘Yes.’

‘You also have a gun. A pistol.’

He grinned. ‘I admit it. For rabbits.’

‘Crap. You’ve never killed a rabbit with it. The point is, I need it. Now.’

‘Why?’

‘That’s the deal. I don’t ask you for an explanation. You don’t ask me.’

He stood up, smiled, came towards her. He took her hand in his. ‘I’d hate you to come to harm.’

‘I’m in a hurry.’

He turned her hand palm upwards, then placed in it a .38 Smith and Wesson. ‘It’s loaded,’ he said. ‘Do you know how to use it?’

‘I hope I won’t have to,’ Agnes said.

‘Have this as well.’ She looked down to see he was offering her a mobile phone. She took it. ‘I haven’t killed any rabbits with that, either,’ he said, scribbling his number down. ‘Just in case,’ he said, slipping the scrap of paper into her pocket.

She turned to go.

‘Be careful,’ Bill said.

*

‘Where are we going now?’ Sheila asked, as they sped along suburban roads outside Chelmsford.

‘To Lily, I hope,’ Agnes murmured. It all depended on her hunch being right, she thought. Elizabeth is convinced that Morris has confessed. But the police know nothing about it. Which means, she thought, that Ross is still holding the whole thing together.

The dashboard clock said three minutes past two.

She pulled into the Murphys’ neat cul-de-sac, ran up the drive and rang the bell. The door was opened a crack by Elizabeth, then, as she saw it was Agnes, a little wider.

‘Where’s Lily?’ Agnes said.

‘They’re all with Morris. Shirley’s here, with David,’ Elizabeth murmured.

‘Why Lily?’

‘I don’t know. Steven said it was Jerry’s idea. Ross must need her to help in the work with Morris.’

‘When you say “work” …?’

‘Sometimes people need help. Sometimes people are reluctant to confess the power that Satan has over them.’

‘Elizabeth —’ Agnes looked at the petite, nervous woman standing in front of her. She took a deep breath. ‘Elizabeth, I need you with me.’

‘They said to stay here. Just in case.’

‘I need you,’ Agnes said firmly, her foot in the doorway. 

‘I can’t disobey —’

‘Elizabeth. Think for yourself. For once.’ Agnes tried to keep her voice firm, level, keeping Elizabeth’s gaze locked with her own. ‘I’ve got Lily’s mother in the car. Think. Think if it was your son.’

‘L-Lily …?’ Elizabeth looked blank.

‘Lily. Jerry’s girlfriend. Think.’

‘But it’s Morris —’

‘Elizabeth. I need you. She’s in terrible danger. The same danger that Becky knew.’

‘But her father — the Lord has told us —’

Agnes felt time slipping away. ‘You know. Elizabeth, you know what the Lord tells you. In your heart of hearts. Be true to that, Elizabeth. You know what Steven knows.’

Elizabeth stared at the floor. ‘I can’t … I don’t think … ’

‘I saw him, Steven. I saw him in the woods. Yesterday. At the place where Becky was found. He was praying. And crying.’

Elizabeth looked at Agnes. ‘Steven … crying …?’

‘You know why, Elizabeth. Come with us. Please.’ Agnes watched the tiny pulse at Elizabeth’s temple. Her eyes were full of bewilderment. Then she frowned, blinked. ‘I’ll — I’ll just change my shoes,’ she said.

As Agnes helped Elizabeth into the back seat of the car, she caught Sheila’s glance. Not a word, she willed to her. Don’t say a thing.

She drove slowly from the Murphys’ house to the Stanton house, collecting her thoughts, aware of the pistol in her pocket.

She parked outside the house. It looked normal, orderly. 

Sheila grabbed at the door handle. ‘Is this it? Is she here?’ she said, opening the car door.

‘Sheila, don’t,’ Agnes seized her arm. ‘If you go in now —’

‘What the hell are you saying? My daughter’s in there, against her will. Of course I’m going to —’

‘Sheila, please. If you go in now it’ll get more dangerous for Lily.’

‘I don’t care, I’m going to —’

Elizabeth’s voice rang clear as she broke her silence. ‘If you care for Lily, do what she says. Do what Agnes says. She’s right. I know.’

Something about her tone made Sheila hesitate. She sat back in her seat. Elizabeth turned to Agnes. ‘We’ll stay here,’ she said.

Agnes handed Sheila the mobile phone. ‘My hope is that I can send Lily out to you. When you see her coming out, dial 999. But not before. Please. It’s important. Elizabeth will tell you how important.’

Elizabeth grasped Agnes’s hand. She looked like someone who had awakened from a dream. ‘And Steven,’ she said. ‘Send him out too. Here,’ she said, handing Agnes a key. ‘Shirley’s spare key. Use it.’

Agnes went up the drive and let herself silently into the house. It was quiet. For a moment Agnes wondered if she’d been completely wrong. Perhaps there’s no one here at all, she thought, but then she caught a sound from upstairs, a strange, deep sobbing. Then voices, raised in unison. Agnes started up the stairs. The sounds were coming from Becky’s room. Of course, Agnes thought. Her hand went to her pocket. 

Becky’s broken crucifix. In the other pocket, Bill’s gun. Oh God, Agnes thought, I hope I don’t have to use it.

She stood outside Becky’s room. The sobbing had become louder, a choking sound that made Agnes’s blood run cold. Then she heard Ross’s voice, raised in prayer. ‘Oh God, our Father,’ she heard. ‘Save this Thy child … Oh God, our Father …’ It was a kind of chant. Agnes heard the words father, child, reverberating in the room; echoing in her head. She felt a steely calm descend on her. She put her hand on the door handle. ‘Save this Thy child,’ she heard. Like hell, she thought, flinging the door open.

The room was in darkness, flickering with candlelight. The curtains were drawn. The first thing Agnes saw was Morris, his eyes wide, his mouth open. His face was wet with tears. He was sitting on a chair surrounded by the others, all standing. Steven on one side, Jerry on the other, Roger next to Jerry, Ross standing right in front of the chair. Lily was the other side of Steven, and Agnes noticed her bright eyes, her look of blank calm as she glanced at Agnes and then back to Morris. Morris gripped the sides of the chair, white-knuckled.

‘Sister Agnes,’ Ross said, stepping back from Morris. ‘Well, well. Though I’d expect you to know better than to interrupt people in communion with the Lord.’

Don’t you mean Satan, Agnes wanted to say, but kept silent, as Ross took her hand firmly in his own and led her into the room. He shut the door behind her and stood by it.