Birthdays for the dead

I said I ll do it. They don t deserve to get the news from some spotty stranger in a uniform.

Silence.

Dr McDonald put her hand up. Can I go with him, I mean if that s OK I need to talk to them about their daughter to get some context on the victimology, did Ash tell you that we ve had a problem with the psychology data on our servers and I have to start again from scratch and I only joined the investigation yesterday, but I want to assure you this isn t the first case I ve handled and I m sure Ash will vouch for me, won t you, Ash?

Great, so now whatever happened would be all my fault.

Chapter 7

Douglas Kelly peered around the door. His cheekbones stuck out more than they used to, so did his forehead, nose, and chin, as if he were slowly disappearing from the inside out. His freckled scalp stood out through a crown of thin grey hair. Wasn t even forty yet, and he already looked the other side of sixty.

It was a nice house, about a third of the way down a small Georgian terrace one of four that enclosed a little private park. But where the one behind McDermid Avenue was sprawling and overgrown, this one was trimmed and tidy, closed off from the road by a set of four-foot-high railings. Nice neighbourhood too: mullioned windows, no litter, every car an Audi, a Porsche, or a Range Rover.

Couldn t have been further from my crappy little Kingsmeath council house if it was in Australia.

Douglas Kelly blinked at me.

I stood on the top step, hands behind my back. Douglas, can we come in, please?

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as if he was tasting the air, then turned and stalked back into the house. Not so much as a word.

We followed him into the lounge.

Douglas slumped into the leather couch and reached for a china mug. He peered up at the carriage clock ticking away on the mantelpiece, the noise jarring in the cluttered room. Cardboard

boxes made a cubist city on the polished floorboards, each one printed with a red squirrel in dungarees, carrying a huge acorn: SAMMY S MIDNIGHT FLIT YOU D BE NUTS TO TRUST ANYONE ELSE!!!

A standard lamp cast a yellow glow in the gloomy room.

I licked my lips. Took a deep breath. Douglas, you ll have seen My phone rang. Fuck I dragged the thing from my pocket, dropped it, grabbed it before it hit the deck. A name sat in the middle of the screen: Kerrigan, Mrs. No thanks. I switched the phone off, then stuck it back in my pocket again. Sorry.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

A car drove by on the street outside.

Try again: Douglas, it s

I m sorry about the mess. We should really get round to unpacking, but He blinked, biting his bottom lip, deep breaths hissing in through his nose. His pale blue eyes shimmered. He scrubbed a hand across them. Stared down into his tea.

I m sorry. It s been

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Douglas, we ve found

All these years you ve come out and sat with us: every sixteenth of September, even when Angela had her breakdown You didn t have to do that.

Douglas, I m so sorry, we

Don t say it. Please. The china mug trembled in his hands. Please

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Dr McDonald picked her way between the boxes, squatted down in front of Douglas Kelly and put a hand on his knee. Just like she d done with Helen McMillan s parents. It s OK. You can let go.

It s Douglas screwed his eyes closed, biting his lips.

It happened a long, long time ago. She s not suffering any more, he can t hurt her. It s over.

Who A tear ran down the side of his nose.

Who When he opened his eyes they were pink and swollen. Lips quivering.

It s OK, Douglas, it s OK. It s over. She s

Douglas Kelly slammed the mug into Dr McDonald s face. It shattered, shards of delicate white bursting open in slow motion like a flower blooming, tea spraying out. She grunted, toppled backwards, glasses clattering into the fireplace. He let go of the remaining bits of mug and clenched his hand into a fist launched himself off the couch, swinging for her.

I dipped my knees and lunged. And then everything snapped back to normal speed.

Slam: I barrelled into his side, pinning him against the couch as he struggled and kicked and screamed.

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

I grabbed his arm twisted it around behind his back.

Calm down!

IT S NOT OK! IT LL NEVER BE OK!

His leg jerked out, and Dr McDonald grunted again.

DOUGLAS: CALM DOWN! I twisted harder, shoving his face into the leather upholstery and keeping it there. Come on, stop it

He bucked, and writhed, and swore, and after what seemed like hours, finally went slack. Shoulders quivering, sobbing.

Dr McDonald huddled by the fireplace, staring at the palm of her left hand. Scarlet trickled down her pale face from a gash in her eyebrow. I m bleeding

I let go of Douglas and backed away from the couch. He didn t even move, just lay there crying, so I helped Dr McDonald to her feet.

She wobbled in her bright-red Converse Hi-tops. I m bleeding She frowned. Where s my glasses?

I picked them out of the fireplace and handed them to her. One leg was bent and twisted.