Driftnet (24 page)

Edward
explained that he was there to look in on his son and he pushed his
card across the desk. The nurse gave it a quick glance, recognised
the name and said that would be fine. Mr Stewart could go up
quietly, please.

Edward gave one
of his charming smiles and the nurse’s face lit up. He asked her if
they had recently admitted a boy with suspected appendicitis.

‘I think it
might be the nephew of a friend of mine.’

The nurse
nodded.

Yes, there was
a boy with appendicitis on the ward now. ‘He’s been sedated,’ she
said, ‘They’re planning to remove the appendix in the morning.’

‘Thank
you.’

Edward looked
at Rhona. Wrong again, his expression rebuked. Before they left, he
delivered a few off-the-shelf pleasantries about the dedication of
the NHS. The nurse was completely charmed.

Chapter
37

Someone had
brushed Jonathan’s hair back from his face. For the first time
Rhona could see it clearly. He looked like his father, she thought,
but his delicate nose was Fiona’s.

The charge
nurse smiled at them as they passed, obviously recognising at least
one of the late-night visitors.

‘One of the
advantages of private health care,’ Edward said as he swung open
the door.

There was an
enormous bunch of flowers on the table at the window and the
trolley beside the bed held a personal stereo and a pile of
CDs.

‘We shouldn’t
wake him,’ Rhona said, her heart aching at the thought of standing
in that room, looking at Edward’s son. A son they didn’t share.

‘He won’t wake.
They’ve sedated him,’ Edward said, the strain coming through in his
voice.

He led her into
a side room with a coffee machine, a television and a phone.

‘What luxury,’
Rhona commented.

‘I need to work
while I’m here.’ Edward explained. ‘The hospital is very
understanding. Coffee?’ he suggested. ‘Although, it might be a
little overdone.’

It would help
her stay awake.

They sat down,
each waiting for the other to begin. Rhona felt she had told Edward
everything she could.

‘The papers
don’t know... ’ Edward began finally. ‘Jonathan apparently tried to
kill himself.’

He looked at
Rhona’s concerned face. ‘I’m sure it’s all a mistake,’ he insisted.
‘Jonathan had been drinking. We found an empty vodka bottle and a
bottle of paracetemol.’

Rhona said
nothing. Edward placed the cup carefully on the table.

‘I believe he
overdosed by mistake.’

It didn’t sound
like the truth to Rhona. ‘Where does this Simon come into this?’
she asked quietly.

Edward crossed
to the door and closed it.

‘There was an
email on Jonathan’s computer from someone called Simon,’ he said.
‘It made me think Jonathan was in trouble.’

‘Oh, Edward.’
Rhona stood up and went towards him, suddenly overwhelmingly sorry
for this man, who she had hated for so long. ‘What did the police
say ?’

He turned a
frozen stare on her.

‘I haven’t told
them,’ he said firmly.

‘But you have
to. If Jonathan is in danger, you have to tell the police.’ Rhona
was remembering another young face on a dirty pillow.

Edward’s voice
grew agonised and confessional. ‘I can’t, Rhona. Don’t you see
that?’ He looked despairingly at her. ‘It would ruin
everything.’

He wanted her
approval.

‘Does Fiona
know about this email?’

He shook his
head. ‘You’re the only one who knows.’

She was
supposed to be pleased by being taken into his confidence in this
way.

‘You can’t do
this to me, Edward!’ She was furious. All he cared about was his
reputation. She was even more furious at herself. If only she had
told Bill Wilson what she suspected, instead of phoning Edward.

‘You can’t
blame me for protecting my son,’ his voice was moving from
defensiveness to defiance.

‘You’re not
protecting Jonathan,’ she said scornfully. ‘You’re protecting your
own career.’

There was a
moment’s silence. Then Edward said, ‘You once made that choice
yourself. Remember?’

‘Bastard,’ she
spat. But his words had got to her. Edward was only speaking the
truth.

Jonathan knew
his father was in the room. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He
didn’t want to see him or speak to him.

He wanted to
drop back into oblivion, but his father’s voice was getting in the
way. And there was another voice, a woman’s voice. It wasn’t his
mother and it wasn’t Nurse Jenkins. It sounded angry. Even in the
state he was in, Jonathan was pleased that someone was angry at his
father.

One thing was
certain, they wouldn’t be discussing what he had done. He knew that
officially this had never happened. He was in hospital for a minor
operation, that was all. Edward Stewart’s son would never have
tried to croak himself. That would be too embarrassing. The nurses
had been warned to say nothing to him, he was sure of it. Only
Nurse Jenkins showed that she knew. He hadn’t had a visit from the
psychiatrist. Even his mother didn’t go beyond standard bedside
chat, you’ll be home soon and not to worry. Amy was the only one he
wanted to see and she wasn’t allowed to visit.

‘You’ll see Amy
when you get home,’ his father had said, as though Amy was a
household pet.

Jonathan waited
until the voices had faded and the door shut behind them before he
opened his eyes. The room was in semi-darkness, with the small
light above his bed angled away from his eyes. He thought about
listening to another CD. He settled the earplugs in place and lay
back down and closed his eyes against the world. When Edward and
Rhona left, he was fast asleep.

If Jonathan had
not put the earplugs back in, he would have heard the door open. As
it was, he heard nothing until the hand was over his mouth.

‘Don’t scream
Jonathan,’ a voice was whispering in his ear. There’s nothing to be
frightened of. It’s me, Simon. I’ve come to get you out of
here.’

Jonathan turned
toward the voice. The light from the small bed lamp touched the
blonde head above the bright blue eyes. Simon smiled at him, the
same wide smile.

‘You do want
out of here, don’t you?’

Jonathan didn’t
know what to do, but something told him to agree. If he agreed to
whatever Simon said, maybe Simon wouldn’t harm him.

‘I’m going to
take my hand away now Jonathan. Then we can talk. Okay?’

Jonathan nodded
again.

‘There. Sorry
about that,’ Simon stood up. ‘I didn’t want the night nurse coming
in here, spoiling everything. Now where did they put your clothes?’
Simon looked about him.

‘In the
cupboard. I can’t go away with you,’ Jonathan blurted. ‘They’ll
call the police.’

Simon looked
thoughtful.

‘You can leave
a note. Tell them you’ve left home. You’re almost sixteen. An
adult. You can leave home when you like.’

‘But I
can’t.’

The smell of
Simon was bringing everything back.

‘I don’t want
to.’

Simon’s blue
eyes clouded.

‘I haven’t any
money.’ Jonathan was clutching at straws.

‘Oh,’ said
Simon, his face growing pleasant again. ‘That’s not a problem. I’ve
got money. Come on, get dressed. Quick. I have something else to
sort out before we leave.’

He threw the
clothes at Jonathan and went over to the window.

‘Who was in the
room with you earlier?’ he asked as Jonathan got dressed.

‘You mean my
father?’

‘No, the
woman?’

Simon’s eyes
were cruel. How could he have liked those eyes?

‘I didn’t see
her.’

Simon was at
the door now, looking down the corridor. What if Nurse Jenkins came
to check on him. What would Simon do to her?

Simon shut the
door.

‘Right
Jonathan. You like playing games. Let’s play games.’

Simon took out
a roll of twine and a knife.

‘Simon...’

‘Turn
round.’

Jonathan was so
terrified and ashamed he did as he was told. The smell was circling
him, as the twine dug deep into his wrists.

‘And let’s make
it even better...’

A piece of
cloth forced his lips apart.

Outside the air
was cool. Simon had resumed his caring voice, telling Jonathan not
to worry, there was a blanket in the back of the car in case he got
cold. Jonathan stumbled down the metal steps of the fire escape,
praying that Nurse Jenkins would look in on his room now and raise
the alarm. But the window above him stayed dark. His room was three
storeys up. Twice Simon stopped him, thrusting him down on the cold
metal steps, until he was sure there was no movement behind the
fire doors on each landing. Simon held the knife that he had cut
the twine with. On the first floor landing, he held it close to
Jonathan’s face and in the faint light of the emergency bulb,
Jonathan recognised it. It was a knife from the set that sat on the
kitchen surface beside the range in his kitchen. How had Simon got
hold of it? It couldn’t be the same one. If it was, Simon had been
in his kitchen. Jonathan felt sick. What had Simon been doing in
his house?

At the bottom
of the fire escape steps, Simon made him sit down while he checked
the car park was clear. Jonathan frantically scanned the darkened
windows above him, willing someone to look out.

‘Right. Come
on.’

He was bundled
round the side of the building towards the shadow of a car. The gag
was so tight and it was hard to get his breath. They were at the
car now. Simon forced Jonathan low, looked round, opened the back
door and pushed him in.

Jonathan
collapsed onto the seat.

‘There,’ said
Simon triumphantly as he climbed in and locked all the doors. ‘And
just to prove how much I’ve been thinking about you...’ Simon
lifted something white from the front passenger seat, buried his
face in it, then threw it over the back, ‘recognise this?’

Jonathan’s
stomach turned over. This time the smell was his. It was his
tee-shirt. Simon had his tee-shirt, and the only place he could
have got it from was his own room.

‘How do you
like our new game, then?’ Simon smiled down at him for a moment
before the blanket covered his eyes.

When Rhona got
home, the hall light was on and there was a message on the pad from
Chrissy. Detective Wilson wanted to speak to her. It was four
o’clock in the morning. Surely Bill wouldn’t to hear from her at
this hour? Chrissy had fallen asleep on the couch. Neil hadn’t come
back yet.

Rhona decided
to speak to Bill first thing in the morning. She would sleep on it
first. Probably Bill would blow her suspicions about Gavin sky
high.

She set the
alarm for half past eight and rolled gratefully into bed.

Chapter
38

Bill Wilson had
slept through thirty-six murders in his time as a policeman. That
made an average of three a year for the past twelve years.

During all
those investigations, he had never once discussed his thoughts with
his wife. He didn’t want her to feel disgust at what was rattling
round his head.

For the last
four days he had been waiting for the next death. That thought lay
behind every move he made., He was willing to put his job on the
line to prevent it.

Searching Sir
James Dalrymple’s cottage on the say of a male prostitute had done
just that. He argued to the Super that everything was justified by
finding the curtain tie-back that matched the one round the dead
boy’s neck. The Super did not agree. There are thousands of
tie-backs like that one, he had growled. And although they had gone
over the cottage with a fine tooth comb, that was all they had
got.

Connelly was
adamant about his story. The rent boy had had sex there with a guy
who called himself Caligula. He reckoned Caligula and Simon were
one and the same man. Why didn’t Bill phone Rhona MacLeod and see
what she had to say about it. Which he’d tried. Her mobile was
switched off.

What he had to
go on amounted to next to nothing, and he knew it.

‘Come back when
your rent boy agrees to give us a proper statement,’ the Super said
dismissively. ‘Then we’ll talk to Sir James.’

Back in his own
office, the first call he took was from a Rachel Jenkins. Jonathan
Stewart was missing. He had left a note in his room, but she was
sure he would never have left it of his own accord. Bill asked if
she had informed the family. She sounded contemptuous, as she
described how unwilling Edward Stewart had been to inform the
police.

A woman after
my own heart, decided Bill.

‘Better safe
than sorry. Don’t move anything, and don’t let anyone else in
there.’

When Bill
arrived at the hospital ten minutes later, Edward Stewart was
waiting. It took him a full hour to begin to get the truth.

‘After you told
Dr MacLeod about Jonathan, where did she go?’

‘She said she
was going home.’

Bill pulled out
his mobile and stabbed in Rhona’s number. Chrissy answered. The
station had sent a police car to pick up Rhona.

When Bill
finally got through to Janice, she confirmed that no one at the
Station had contacted Rhona MacLeod that morning.

‘By the way,
Sir. There’s no answer from Gavin MacLean. Neither last night nor
this morning. The beat Constable went there first thing. A
neighbour said he’d gone to look after his nephews while his sister
is on holiday.’

‘When Gavin
calls in, I need to speak to him.’

Edward was
suddenly all ears.

‘This Gavin
MacLean. He was the man Rhona said she’d met here in the car park.
He was the one she’d seen with my son. I thought she’d made a
mistake. I checked at reception and they seemed to confirm what he
said. But Rhona had seen something at his flat that suggested he
might be involved with Jonathan in some way.’