Dying Eyes (5 page)

Brian put pen to paper and expanded his doodle. Should he risk it?
Screw it.
“This is all very good, Joshua. But I sense that you had feelings for Nicola that might go beyond your work?”

Joshua looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He reached into his pocket. “You’ve got that wrong, and you’re running down the wrong track.”

“Well, you certainly seem a bit defensive. All I’m saying.”

Joshua planted a photograph onto the table. It was a picture of him and another man with a streaked quiff, both dressed in suits. They were signing a piece of paper in what looked like a registry office.

He held out a silver ring. “Been in a civil partnership for a year. Very happy in it. I love him, he loves me. Like I said, you’re running down the wrong track.” He smiled again.

“I have to ask these questions,” Brian said. “Just procedure, y’know?” In his gut, he felt punched. He was getting nowhere.

“I know. I understand you’re just doing your job. But it’s tough, y’know? She…‌Nicola. She was just so…‌so normal. I don’t understand why anyone would want to do this to her. She was just an ordinary girl, you know?”

Brian pulled another details card out of his pocket as his phone buzzed. “Like I say, if you have anything else to tell us, or any of your colleagues have anything to say, give us a ring, all right? Sorry about your loss. And sorry, I have to take this.” He handed the card to Joshua and pulled the phone to his ear.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Brian, you need to get down to Danny’s as soon as possible,” Cassy said.

“What‌–‌what’s going on?”

Cassy sounded out of breath. “He’s gone. Hasn’t been seen since yesterday afternoon.”

Adrenaline rushed through Brian’s body. “I‌–‌I’ll be right there,” he said, before running out of the room and down the stairs.

At least he’d finally got his five flights of exercise for the year.

Chapter Five

It seemed like forever ago that driving with the siren on had last excited Brian.

He used to love it, whirring through the traffic, filled with youthful excitement and adrenaline. Now, it was just routine. The sound grew irritating over the years. In the films, sirens were a sign of an impending chase‌–‌a high-tempo shoot-out with a group of crooks. In Preston, sirens were usually due to a Chihuahua terrorising some neighbours, or something along those lines.

He shot through the parting traffic as the old hospital emerged in the distance. It used to be sprawling inside, full of life. Now, it was an empty shell, ghostly and abandoned. A thick film of dark-green moss coated the red brick, which was wearing away, on the side of the clock tower. He’d dealt with a few druggies and delinquents in there, but nothing too serious.

Brian pulled up outside the grey brick house on the opposite side of the road to the hospital. Cassy stood in the garden with an elderly woman. Looked too old to be Danny’s mother. Maybe a grandparent or a neighbour.

He walked over to Cassy and the other woman. The woman folded her arms over her grey cardigan. A massive mole sprouted out of her left cheek, and her scraggy, unkempt grey hair clung to the sides of her face like an animal with separation anxiety. Cassy held her hands out, trying to calm the woman down.

“Not my lad,” she was saying in protest. “My lad wouldn’t do a thing. Nope, not my Danny.”

“Mrs. Stocks, we’re not trying to accu‌–‌”

“It’s
Ms.
Stocks, alright?
Ms.
Learn to get it right before you start bossing me around, lady. All the same, the lot of you. All the same…”

“Can I help you, Madame?” Brian looked at Ms. Stocks with concern. Cassy shook her head, battling to resist saying anything inappropriate.

Ms. Stocks eyed Brian closely. “Just this woman of yours. Us women, we shouldn’t be in the police. We don’t have a clue about things like that. In my day, it was just the fellas. Back to those days, I say!”

Cassy rolled her eyes. The way she tensed her jaw, Brian knew she was dying to say something.

“Look, it’s all right,” Brian said. “I’m here now. Cassy‌–‌you grab a coffee. Got one in the car for you. Okay?”

Cassy, her mouth dangling open, stared at Brian. Then she shrugged and walked over to her police car. “Whatever.”

Ms. Stocks tutted. “So rude, that girl. So, so rude.”

Brian sighed. This woman was going to be hard work, but he’d dealt with worse in the past. “Sorry about my colleague. First off, I just want to assure you that we’re not here to do anything to your son‌–‌”

“Grandson. He’s my grandson, our Danny. Mum died a few years back. Got the breast cancer. Never was strong enough.” She slipped a long cigarette between her chapped lips and took a drag, then let out a tickly, chesty cough. Stale, smoky breath clouded around Brian’s face. The way she coughed, she’d probably want to keep an eye out for “the cancer” herself.

“Your grandson. Now, we don’t want any trouble, Ms. Stocks. All we want to know is where he could’ve got to. We’re worried about him, okay? That’s all. We just want to ask him a few questions about his girlfriend. You with me, Ms. Stocks?”

“His ex,” Ms. Stocks said, sharply. “Never was good enough for our Danny, that girl. Didn’t give two shits about him. He thought the world of her, y’know? Thought the world of her. Fool. Silly fool.”

Brian leaned against the garden wall. He felt something sticky in his hand and turned to see he’d rested his palm on a thick, slimy slug.

“Oh those bloody slugs,” Ms. Stocks said, pulling the cigarette out of her mouth and ramming it into the slug’s back. It shrivelled and dropped to the floor, drying up almost instantly.

“You say they split up?” Brian asked, cringing as Ms. Stocks continued to smoke on the slime-coated cigarette.

“I didn’t say that, did I? His ex, I said. ‘Cause she’s gone now. Long gone.”

Brian wasn’t convinced. She seemed to know more than she was letting on. Her eyes, the way they twitched. Her evident animosity towards Nicola Watson.

“You weren’t fond of Nicola, then?”

Ms. Stocks coughed. “Hope you aren’t trying to say nothin’ about me or my family, ‘cause I swear we ain’t done nothin’, I tell you!”

“Ms. Stocks, I can assure you I’m not trying to do anything of the sort. I just want to know a little more about Nicola Watson. Try to build the best sort of character picture that I can. You can see how much that could help us, okay?”

Ms. Stocks took another spluttering drag on her cigarette. “My Danny, he was obsessed with her‌–‌crazy about her. At first, she was all right. But then she’d end up cancelling coming ‘round for tea, ‘cause she had stuff better to do. Broke our Danny’s heart, she did. Then she’d stop coming at all, and Danny would end up having to pay to go see her. Was as if she thought she was too good for us, y’know?”

All this was good information, but Brian wasn’t getting anywhere concerning Danny’s whereabouts.

“Ms. Stocks, I don’t mean to pry, but do you have any idea where your grandson might be? Any friends or relatives, or just somewhere he might go to when he wants to be alone?”

Ms. Stocks squeezed her eyes shut in deep thought. “He was always here or with that girl. Other than that, I’ve no idea. I’d tell you or go find him myself if I did, y’know?”

Brian sighed. He put a hand on Ms. Stocks’ shoulder. “Thank you very much for everything, Ms. Stocks. I realise it must be a very stressful time for both you and your grandson.”

She glanced away. “He was crazy about her, y’know? Crazy about her, silly fool.”

Brian looked back at the police car. Cassy stared through the window, fidgeting with agitation like a dog locked inside on a hot day. Brian tilted his head at her and she rushed out, sucking on a straw wedged into a carton of coffee.

Ms. Stocks’ eyes widened when she saw Cassy approaching. “What’s she doing back here again?”

“Ms. Stocks,” Brian said. “With your permission, of course, DS Emerson and I would love to take a quick look around your grandson’s room. It’s nothing serious, just a quick check to see where he might have got to. Is that okay?”

Ms. Stocks looked out at the street, uncertainty in her expression. “Do you ‘ave one of them things? A warrant, or whatever they call them on the telly?”

Shit.
They could usually take advantage of old women, especially with a few friendly manners. “Ms. Stocks, it’s only a quick look, I‌–‌”

“No,” she snapped. “You can come back here with a warrant. I don’t have to let you in, not if this girl you’re with is saying things about my boy. No, no.”

Brian gave up speaking. He turned to Cassy, who fumbled in her pocket, and shook his head. There was nothing they could do until they got a warrant.
Good job, Cassy, good job.

“Ms. Stocks,” Cassy intervened. “Would you like us to file your grandson as a missing person?”

Ms. Stocks looked to Brian, then Cassy, and chewed at her lip. “Yep. Yep. He’s just done a runner. Gone missing, that’s all. Missing person. Good lad, our Danny. Missing person.”

“DS Emerson, we’ll just have to‌–‌” Brian started.

“And would you like to make that an official missing person report?”

Ms. Stocks nodded. “Yes. Yes, I would. My boy needs finding. He needs bringing back. You need to do your jobs.”

Cassy took some more notes in her daybook and smiled reassuringly at Ms. Stocks. “If you’d just sign here, please, we can make that official.” She handed the pen and book to Ms. Stocks, who wedged her half-smoked cigarette between her fingers whilst she scanned and signed beneath the entry.

What was Cassy doing? They didn’t need a missing person’s investigation open. The budget was stretched as it was. They needed to treat this as one case.

“Thank you,” Cassy said as Ms. Stocks passed back the daybook. She offered it to Brian, who glared at her, puzzled. “Ms. Stocks, now we’ve got your written consent and report of Daniel Stocks’ disappearance, we are entitled to take a look around your grandson’s room for any clues as to his location. Or in the event that he may just be hiding underneath his bed.”

Brian’s stomach tingled as he realised what Cassy had done.

“What?” Ms. Stocks said, her lips shaking. “But I…‌but I thought…‌What?”

Cassy smiled. “You filed the report, Ms. Stocks. That was your decision, not ours.”

Ms. Stocks twitched her head and muttered some inaudible words before holding her arm in the direction of her house. “Oh, whatever. First door on the left up the stairs.”

As they followed Ms. Stocks inside, Brian nodded in thanks, and Cassy’s lips formed a wide, sarcastic smile.

The hallway was narrow and claustrophobic, the lighting dim. The once-white wallpaper curled at the edges as brown mould peppered across it. The washed-out ceiling looked like a coffee drinker’s teeth, yellow and grimy. Stale cigarette smoke clouded the staircase.

Ms. Stocks stumbled up the stairs with Brian and Cassy in tow. She held her back and winced with every step.

“You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to, Ms. Stocks,” Brian said.

“No, I do,” she said sharply. “My house, I’ll do what I want. I think I can climb my own stairs.”

Cassy tutted as the pair of them waited for Ms. Stocks to take another step.

And another.

And another.

When they finally reached Danny Stocks’ room, Ms. Stocks stood beside the door, her arms folded like a nightclub bouncer’s. “I’ll be out here if you need ‘owt,” she said, staring at Brian and refusing to acknowledge Cassy.

“Thank you, Ms. Stocks. We appreciate your cooperation.”

She shrugged and mumbled something under her breath as Brian and Cassy walked into the room.

A double bed sat at the opposite side of Danny’s large, spacious bedroom, thick bedding spilling out of cracked buttons at the bottom of the sheets. Several posters hung on the walls: Preston North End Football Club, women, rock stars. A big glass display cabinet sat at the foot of the bed. It housed medals, video games, a digital camera, and scraps of weed and rolling papers.

Brian opened up the glass cupboard and reached for the digital camera. It looked quite new, perhaps a recent Christmas present.

Cassy dabbed some of the weed onto her fingers. “Old mare out there could do with a joint or two. Sorry, I shouldn’t insult your new lady-friend right under your nose, should I? What the hell was that all about? ‘DS Emerson, kindly go sit in the car like a nice little lap dog.’”

Brian, ignoring Cassy’s sarcasm, held down the power button of the camera. “Anything on the computer?”

Cassy clicked the mouse and scrolled around. “It’s a new one by the looks of things. Not a scrap on it. No photos, no music‌–‌nothing.”

“It’s not new.”

“Hear what I just said? The box is here, right next to it. The thing’s still got fucking tape on the screen. It’s brand new.”

“Or, he’s a very organised guy, and he deleted what little stuff he had on the computer in a rush but forgot to take his camera along with him.” He passed the camera to Cassy. She looked at it and clicked through the photographs, her mouth widening.

“2
^nd
January…‌and that’s‌–‌hold on, is that…?”

“Yes, it is,” Brian said.

Cassy flipped the camera back around and pointed to the tall guy in glasses, who was sucking on a joint. “Who d’you think this is?” she asked.

“Ms. Stocks,” Brian called. “That’s what I’m about to find out from my lovely new lady-friend.”

Ms. Stocks pottered into the room. “Did you call, Officer?” She ignored the weed and the mound of smelly underwear beside her grandson’s bed.

Brian smiled at her and rolled the digital camera around in his hand. “This is a very nice bit of kit. Big fan of photography myself. Is it new?”

Ms. Stocks squinted at the camera as if it were an alien object. “Oh, that thing. Yes, my Danny has been saving up for so long for one of those things. He’s a good lad, my Danny. Likes his photographs.”

“Sure.” Brian held the camera up to Ms. Stocks so she could see. “This photograph was taken just a few hours before Nicola Watson was murdered. Can you tell me who the third person in this photograph is, please?”