Murder Club - Mark Pearson [98]
It took a few more kicks, but eventually Delaney had the door open.
They walked into a room with a three-piece suite in beige fabric, a television and a coffee table. Nothing expensive. Seemed that John Garland – Delaney had discovered from Christian Peterson what Smith’s real name was – had saved all his money for the state-of-the-art sound system and huge collection of CDs that dominated the left-hand side of the room.
They continued through the lounge into a small passageway. There was a bedroom to the right, a kitchen ahead and a bathroom with the door open leading off from the kitchen.
Delaney pushed the bedroom door open and flicked on the light.
‘Jesus Christ, sir,’ said Sally as she followed him.
There was a double bed in the right-hand corner. One wall was covered with newspaper cuttings and photos. Mainly of Stephanie Hewson.
The phone in his pocket trilled and he took it out. ‘Delaney.’ He listened for a while. ‘How long has she been missing?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Siobhan’s safe?’ His right hand was balling into a fist. ‘I’m at John Garland’s place now, Diane. Send back-up.’
He closed the phone and put it back in his pocket. Gazing at the photos on the wall, his mind whirred. There he was with Stephanie Hewson on her doorstep, Stephanie hugging him as if he was a long-awaited lover. And there was a picture of Kate Walker. Her curly hair every bit as dark as Stephanie Hewson’s.
‘He’s got her, Sally,’ said Delaney. ‘That sick son-of-a-bitch has taken Kate.’
68.
BIBLE STEVE SMILED at the pretty young nurse as she walked alongside his bed which was being wheeled, by a porter, along the corridor to the general ward at the top of the intensive-care area.
‘Sorry to have to move you, Steve, but there has been a pile-up on Western Avenue. Too many people thinking they can drive as fast as they like even in these treacherous conditions.’
Bible watched as paramedics and nurses hurried past with people on trolleys, blood-splattered, some moaning in pain. The surgical registrar ran alongside, her junior assistants with her as she talked to the paramedics, assessing the seriousness of the crash victims’ injuries.
‘So much blood,’ said Bible Steve.
‘I’m sorry?’ said the nurse who was distracted by the commotion.
‘More people will die.’
The nurse helped the porter wheel his bed into position in the empty space at the top of the ward.
‘What do you mean, Steve?’
Bible Steve turned to look at her. ‘That’s not my name,’ he said.
*
Jack Delaney took a candle from the box by the small side-chapel. He carried it to the wrought-iron candelabra. It already contained a number of candles, none of them alight. He took a lighter from his pocket and scratched the flint. The wheel turned but no flame came. Again and again he tried, but to no avail. He closed his eyes and shook the small, steel box furiously. Once more he span the wheel. A flame flared and Delaney quickly lit the candle before it winked out, and carried it over to the candelabra.
He knelt on the cold stone floor, closed his eyes once more and made a sign of the cross.
‘Pater noster qui es in caelis …’ But he stumbled over the words. ‘Pater noster …’ he began again, but couldn’t find the words that once upon a time had come so readily to his lips. He opened his eyes and looked upward at the statue to the woman after whom the church had been named.
‘Hail Mary, full of grace,’ he said. ‘Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.’
Kate stumbled slightly but John Garland held her arm tightly and marched her along the alleyway. He had cut the ties from her wrists, but they still throbbed with the pain of it. She held her left arm over her stomach. Trying to feel her baby’s heartbeat through the thick, woollen fabric of her coat.
She grunted with pain as the man dug his fingers into her arm.
‘Shut it or you’ll regret it,’ hissed Garland