Silencing the Dead by Will Harker (ereader ebook .txt) 📕

That maybe it’s always been waiting for him, right from the very beginning, and that even if he tries to avoid it, this thing will still reach out and find him. I know it sounds barmy, but if you’d been there, if you’d heard how he said it? He even had me half-convinced.”

“Sounds like he’s talking about fate,” I suggested. “Or maybe a reckoning? I guess that would play into the trauma of what’s happened to him recently. Being questioned and exposed. But what does he expect you to do about it? You’re a strong lad, Nick, but you can’t protect him from his own paranoia.”

“He’s looking for a way out, that’s my guess,” Nick said. “Something solid he can pin a reasonable fear on. If he can go to the producers and say, ‘Here’s a tangible threat to my safety, so I’m not doing the gig,’ maybe they’ll reorganise the whole thing.”

“You don’t think he’s scared of the reputation of the house itself?” I thought back to my conversation with Miss Rowell and her conviction that those who exploited Purley often came to a sticky end. When Nick denied that Everwood had ever mentioned Purley in those terms, I asked again, “So, why’s he coming here? From what you’ve told me, he’s successful enough to pull out of the event if he wants to.”

“He was,” Nick said. “But all that was before little Miss Instagrammer’s public meltdown. His publicity team have gone into damage limitation overdrive, but a lot of the mud has stuck. Tickets for his gigs have collapsed, theatres have pulled bookings, old celeb pals are giving him the cold shoulder. Darrel Everwood is toxic goods right now. Between us, he spends brass like there’s no tomorrow. Long story short, he needs the money.”

I nodded. “Well, it’d be devastating for the fair if he did cancel. We’re only pulling in punters over these few nights because of the excitement leading up to the TV show. So I’m not sure if I should wish you well, Nicky. All I can say is, it was good to see you.”

I’d started to move away when that iron hand caught my wrist again. Unbalanced, I was pulled around to face him. His breath steamed the night air, faint wisps drifting against my lips.

“I missed you, you know,” he said. “After you left Noonan and joined the police. I know it was never anything more than just sex between us, but I wanted to say—”

“No.” I prised his fingers from my arm and repeated, “No.”

A curse, an apology, a question—I can’t say what he called after me. My mind was reeling, my blood pounding almost in time to the roar of the fair. I headed straight for it, desperate for its numbing clamour to envelop me. To hide me. What if someone had seen Nick and me together in that moment? And what if they then happened to mention it to Haz? This unexpected intrusion of my old life made me nervous. And yet it wasn’t only those years I had spent doing Mark Noonan’s dirty work, nor the intimacy I’d shared with Nick that unsettled me. For weeks now, things hadn’t been right between me and Haz, and I had no idea why. All I sensed was that we were hanging on by the slimmest thread and that it wouldn’t take much to sever it entirely.

I came to a stop. Tried to let my thoughts settle. The first of the crowds were streaming in, squeaking and squabbling as they always do. In a few days, this Halloween event would be over, I told myself. The fair would move on and us with it. Nicholas Holloway and all he represented would be gone. Then there would be time for Haz and me to talk, to figure things out, to start again.

I wanted that, didn’t I?

I started shouldering my way between the throng. Travellers called out greetings from their stalls and in answer I plastered on the most convincing smile I could. Turning a corner, I found the kiddie’s carousel we had rented from my dad, gleaming and ready for the night’s trade. Sal Myers and her daughter Jodie straightened up from their work, my goddaughter flicking a wet sponge in my direction. Buckets of soapy water stood at their feet, suds sprinkled in their matching auburn hair. I came over and cupped Jodie’s raw little hands in mine, rubbing warmth into them.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said.

“Someone had to,” Sal muttered. “The ride looked a proper state before Jodes and I got to work. Didn’t it, love?”

The mirror image of her mother, Jodie treated me to an identical scowl. Then that pixie face cracked into the biggest grin and she tugged at my sleeve. “Wanna hear the song I’ve been practising with Uncle Haz?”

Not waiting for an answer, she launched into a surprisingly soulful rendition of Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen. Even Sal stopped glaring at me for a full ninety seconds. As Jodie hit the final note, me, her mother, and a passing family all broke into spontaneous applause. Haz had worked his usual wonders and it was pretty clear that the munchkin had found her forte. She’d certainly abandoned her former ambition of following in my footsteps and becoming a detective. Smart girl.

“Where is Haz?” I asked, leaning in and tweaking her nose.

I looked up to find Sal gazing at my knuckles. Specifically at the burn marks from the wet bedsheet.

“I need you to go back to the trailer and put the buckets away, sweetheart,” she said, her eyes still on my fists. When Jodie started to moan, Sal threw her the kind of look that turned pissed-up punters sober on the spot. I gave the little girl a reassuring wink and she sighed glumly and heaved away at the first bucket, dirty suds splashing her dungarees.

“So,” Sal said when her daughter was out of earshot. “Been finding trouble again?”

“Just a tussle with the laundry.”

“You know something, Scott, I…