Darkside_ A Novel - Belinda Bauer [44]
'There will be,' said Marvel in a doom-laden voice. He knew that one old woman being murdered was a shame, but two in the same tiny village in just over a week had the thrilling ring of serial violence about it, and it was only a matter of time before reporters started to arrive with their pushy ways and their cock-eyed views. He wanted Dave Pollard in charge of the press because he was the dullest and least forthcoming of the team. He had no fear that Pollard would suddenly get all star-struck and blab too much at a press conference just because the reporter who'd asked the question was wearing a push-up bra.
Two paramedics, finding their intended patient was past help, had instead turned their attentions to Jonas and stripped his trousers, socks and boots from him with professional disregard for his dignity. They had wrapped him in a foil blanket, followed by a scratchy grey one very like the blanket he himself had draped around the shoulders of Yvonne Marsh just a couple of days ago. At that thought, Jonas stopped trying to fight the chattering of his teeth and let them drown out all sound, like snare drums between his ears.
He'd known as soon as he saw the body in the water that it was Yvonne Marsh. He could have saved her. Could have followed her into the house that day and talked with Danny and his father about their options, the help available, safety locks. He could have given them the number of Social Services for respite care, or quietly asked Rupert Cooke up at Sunset Lodge whether he had room for another resident.
Could have, would have, should have. Now that Yvonne Marsh was dead, Jonas could think of a million ways of keeping her alive.
Because once Marvel pointed out the bruises to Reynolds, Jonas knew that the man who had killed Margaret Priddy had also killed Yvonne Marsh. Knew it in his gut.
More easily, too, he imagined. Jonas would bet good money that the killer had not had to break into the Marsh home to find his second victim. No doubt Yvonne had just wandered out into the confused night of her mind to go to the shops, or to pick little Danny up from school, or to find her sandals in the lake.
Instead she had found her killer, or he had found her.
And Jonas had failed again.
''Vonne!' He heard a jolting, whimpering sound and looked up to see Alan Marsh running awkwardly across the playing field in the oily blue overalls and steel toecaps he wore to work. The man's usually dour face was twisted open by emotion. Twenty yards behind him was his son, barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt, careless of the cold - and the Reverend Chard, too tubby to travel at more than a brisk walk.
Grey tried to stop Alan Marsh from just rushing the scene, but the older man ran past him as if he wasn't there, and fell to his knees beside his dead wife.
Jonas expected tears and wailing, but Alan Marsh calmed right down when he saw his worst fears confirmed. He didn't even touch the body - just knelt and looked at it and shook his head. Danny allowed himself to be slowed by Grey, and then stood with his hand on his father's shoulder.
Jonas wished he had his trousers on, but this wasn't about him. Holding the blanket around his hips like a sarong, he went over to the tableau of sorrow and stood in Danny's eye-line.
'I'm sorry, Danny. Mr Marsh.'
Danny looked at Jonas, dazed. 'What happened?'
'We're not sure yet. I found her in the stream.'
'She drowned?'
Jonas ignored Marvel's unnecessary warning look. 'We don't know yet. I tried CPR but I think she'd been in the water a while. Hours, maybe.'
Danny nodded and bit his lip until he could speak again. 'We didn't even know she were gone. Not until we heard the ambulance.'
Jonas nodded.
'You can't watch her all the time,' said Danny dully.
'I know,' said Jonas. 'I know.'
He saw the tears gather in his former friend's