Darkside_ A Novel - Belinda Bauer [64]
He considered telling Marvel, then immediately discounted the idea. On the face of it, all he'd done was desert his post on a smidgeon of a hunch and a barrowful of boredom - and he had nothing to show for it. All he'd be doing would be inviting Marvel to have another pop at him. So far the man hadn't needed any excuse; Jonas didn't feel like giving him one now.
Jonas sighed. The deaths of Margaret Priddy and Yvonne Marsh felt like his first real challenges as an officer of the law, and he was failing at every aspect of their investigation. He couldn't even tail a suspect successfully in his own village - even in the snow.
As if to mock him, the snow started again, quickly filling in the herringbone footprints.
Jonas got back to his doorstep thoroughly defeated.
As though she'd known he would fail, Linda Cobb immediately opened the door and handed him his mug.
*
Reynolds felt well disposed towards Jonas Holly for no other reason than that Marvel didn't.
He was on his way to get fish and chips at the Blue Dolphin when he saw Jonas standing on the doorstep with his hands around a mug. He pulled the car over and got out.
'Hi,' he said, sticking out his hand. Jonas took it and Reynolds could feel the residual warmth of the mug.
'You know, we haven't been properly introduced, what with all that's going on. I'm DS Reynolds.'
'Jonas Holly,' said Jonas, wondering what Reynolds wanted.
But he didn't seem to want anything very much.
'Local officers are a big help to us,' said Reynolds.
'Yeah?' said Jonas, raising a wry eyebrow.
'If you've not been given that impression then I'm sorry,' said Reynolds carefully. 'But if you have any concerns or would like to talk about any aspect of this case, please give me a call.'
He took out a card and handed it to Jonas. 'My mobile number's on there.'
Jonas looked at the card, which was too thick to be standard police issue. Reynolds must have had his own made.
'OK,' he said. 'I will. Thanks.'
Reynolds started to turn away.
'I saw a stranger,' Jonas blurted. Immediately he realized how dumb it must sound to the ears of someone not living in a tiny village.
Either way, he described what had happened.
Reynolds listened to Jonas's story with an interested look on his face, and made sketchy notes - 'waxed hat', 'long coat', 'herringbone prints', 'ducked into alleyway' - all the time feeling faintly ridiculous at the amateur-sleuth nature of the whole thing.
'I don't know if it's relevant,' said Jonas at the end, and Reynolds guessed that it wasn't. Hopping over a low wall was hardly jumping the wire on a motorbike.
He thanked Jonas anyway. Let the man think he was being taken seriously. Couldn't hurt.
Reynolds almost asked Jonas if he wanted anything from the chip shop, but then thought that might be taking fraternizing with the natives too far. And there'd be the issue of whether he meant Jonas to pay or not. It would all be a bit awkward. So he just said goodbye and got back in his car, happy that he had bypassed - and therefore undermined - Marvel in even the smallest way.
*
Danny Marsh was calling his name. From somewhere.
Not grown-up Danny - boy-Danny.
Jonas hid from him. He didn't know why. He just knew that hiding was best, here in the bales of fragrant, itchy hay. He hid and listened to his heart between his ears. Every time it pumped, his head got hotter. His heart was pumping molten rock and he felt the pressure build and build until he thought the top of his head would blow off and the river of rock inside would shoot into the night sky like a fiery geyser. His head was burning up but his feet were freezing cold, and he looked down to see that the reason was that Danny's dead mother was draped across them, her slack grey bra pulled up to reveal her flaccid breasts pooled like pancake mix across her chest.
Jonas jolted awake with a shiver and a kick and found that Lucy was hogging the covers; his feet were exposed. He breathed heavily, his hair and neck damp with sweat.
'Jonas!' the voice hissed in his ear. He jerked his head to the side.