A Dark and Twisted Tide (27 page)

It had been Ray’s unquestioning acceptance that she’d been right that had unnerved her the most. And also, that he hadn’t considered
for a moment searching the yard. They’d come straight out on to the river. Quite who or what he was expecting to find was another matter.

Not so long ago, Joesbury had drawn a heart shape in sugar in her cabin. The next day someone had copied it using shells and pebbles and had thrown in a linen bag of crabs for good measure. Toy boats had been left for her to find on three separate occasions. Someone was watching her. Playing games. Someone who’d come back. Someone who was out there now.

They’d reached the point where the creek met the concrete beneath Church Street. Ray steered the boat under the shelter of the bridge and the gloom deepened. Water drizzled from the steel plates overhead, the dripping unnaturally loud. There was a scurrying on the bank as they disturbed a riverside creature. Then they were out again, gliding smoothly along.

There was movement everywhere. Water splashed against the bank, trickling down again to join the river. The breeze stirred leaves and branches. Particles of mud and dust tumbled down. And every so often a creature – rat, vole, another one of those blessed crabs – scurried from sight into the mud.

A sudden sound above them made them both jump. A large bird was passing overhead. Too stocky to be a gull, it flew in low and fast, its wings fanning a current of air over Lacey’s face. She’d swung the torch upwards and now lowered it again, letting it sweep across the water in front of them.

Eyes staring back at her, not fifteen yards away.

Lacey’s hands gripped the torch, pinpointing its beam on the small, round shape in the water. A head. Human? Possibly. No doubt about the eyes, though. Large and gleaming, reflecting back the light of the torch. A sleek head, which might have hair floating around it. Or it could be just a trick of light on the water.

‘Ray.’ The boat moved closer with every stroke of the oars. ‘Stop rowing. Turn round.’ He did what she told him. They both watched the head in the water, which didn’t move. There was something almost hypnotic about those huge, pale eyes.

The bird was back, screeching overhead, breaking the spell. The
head disappeared. Lacey leaned forward in the boat, trying to find it again.

‘Steady on.’ Ray sounded more unnerved than she’d heard him before. ‘We don’t want to go in. Not now.’

‘Ray, where did it—?’

‘Keep still. And keep quiet.’

Lacey regained her balance and began sweeping the light across the creek, from one wall to the other, her heart beating so fast and so hard it seemed to be in danger of rocking the boat. She had to calm down. The torch-beam was powerful enough to reach each bank, but they were almost at the main channel now and the flow of water was less predictable. And much faster.

‘I think we’re done,’ said Ray.

He avoided her eyes as he turned the boat and began rowing towards the marina. It would take them several minutes to get back. Lacey turned once again. There was no way she was turning her back on the creek. Not for a second.

The Bradburys’ boat was twice the size of Lacey’s but, unlike hers, hadn’t been designed with comfort in mind. The main cabin was large but the walls were the bare charcoal-grey metal of the hull. It smelled of tobacco and fried onions, and of water left too long in the bilges.

Ray was fumbling around inside a free-standing cupboard. None of the furniture she could see had been designed for a boat. It was ordinary household or office furniture. It didn’t work somehow, giving the room the look of a floating furniture store. When he’d straightened up, he put a bottle and two glasses on the table in front of her.

‘Drink this,’ he told her. Lacey reached out and accepted the glass gratefully. She breathed in the fumes and took a sip. Rum. Ray was a waterman. Of course he’d be a rum drinker.

‘Won’t we wake Eileen?’ she asked quietly.

‘End of the world wouldn’t wake Eileen.’ He pulled his own glass closer. The bottle sat between them, like a scene from a pirate movie.

‘You saw it, didn’t you?’ she asked him.

Ray didn’t take his eyes from hers. Just let his head fall and lift again. He’d seen it.

‘What the hell was it?’

He flicked the glass up towards his mouth in the manner of someone planning to down it in one, but when it was lowered again on the table, very little seemed to have gone. Lacey copied him, letting the spirit sit on her tongue until it burned.

‘My best guess?’ he said. ‘A seal.’

‘It didn’t look like a seal.’ Lacey put her glass down, empty, on the table. ‘It looked human. Ray, I’ve heard the talk about the creek mermaid. I just assumed they were drunken fishermen’s tales. After tonight, I’m not so sure.’

‘There are seals in the estuary,’ said Ray. ‘Not as many as there used to be, but you do see them occasionally up this far.’

Lacey reached out and poured herself another measure of rum.

‘Seals have very human faces, Lacey. Big eyes, cute little noses.’

‘I doubt a seal could have filled my boat with crabs. Or tapped on the side of the hull. Or called out “Lacey”.’

Ray didn’t reply.

‘We have to report it,’ she said.

Ray rolled a cigarette and knocked it lightly on the table top. ‘Probably. But let’s just sleep on it for now. From what I hear, you’re not exactly flavour of the month at Wapping right now. How do you think your governors are going to react when you say you saw a mermaid?’

Lacey finished her second drink.

‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Get back to bed. I won’t sleep any more tonight and I always enjoy a sunrise. I’ll make sure nothing bothers you.’

61

The Swimmer

IN THE CREEK
, the swimmer watched the lights on the boat. Through the cabin window was movement, darker shapes against the glow of the lamps. Moving closer, it might be possible to hear what they were saying. Closer, close enough to touch. Between the two boats. Risky, but sometimes . . .

Time was running out. Another girl was going to die soon. Another one of those beautiful, long-limbed, smooth-skinned girls.

A raised voice inside the cabin. Lacey. The name was like a flower. Lacey was the most beautiful of them all.

They couldn’t swim, the other girls. All that flaying, screaming, thrashing. They were easy meat. They screamed as they went under, water pouring into their gullets, and then it was all over. Not Lacey, though. Lacey was strong. Fast. She was born to be in the water. Lacey would fight. Or flee. Either way, Lacey wouldn’t be easy.

Lacey was the one.

MONDAY, 30 JUNE

62

Lacey

LACEY WOKE JUST
as dawn was breaking. For a moment she was disorientated, then remembered she’d curled up in the stern cabin because its two tiny portholes were impossible to open from the outside. She’d wrapped the duvet around herself and had overheated, but at least she’d slept.

Tap, tap, tap.

It was back. Whatever had woken her in the night had come back. She sat up, banging her head on the low roof. The knocking was coming from the main hatch.

‘Lacey.’

Ray’s voice. He was at the hatch, agitated. ‘Lacey, I’m coming in.’

The hatch started to slide open. Lacey got up on legs that hadn’t had nearly enough rest. As she opened the cabin door, she saw Ray’s tanned, wrinkled face peering down at her from the cockpit. Every line on it seemed to sink with relief when he saw her.

‘Thank God for that.’ He held out a hand. ‘Come on, love. Let’s get you out of there.’

Still groggy, Lacey looked round. ‘What? What’s happened?’

‘I need you off the boat. Right now.’

The boat looked normal. It wasn’t on fire. She checked the floor quickly. No water.

No crabs.

‘I’ll just get—’

‘No!’

She’d been about to go into her own cabin to get clothes, had half stepped along the floor towards it. And yet, she could see now, there was something different about the room she usually slept in, not as much light coming through the bow hatch as there should be.

‘Ray, you’re scaring me.’

Ray made a quick, urgent gesture with both hands, a
get-up-on-deck-now
signal. ‘You’re going to stay close to me and we’re going to walk across to my boat,’ he said. ‘It would be really good if you kept your eyes on your feet.’

That noise sneaking its way up her throat was a whimper.

‘It’s only just become light enough to see,’ he was saying, as she climbed the steps and stepped out into the cockpit, not taking her eyes from Ray’s.

‘I think it must have been there for most of the night,’ he went on. ‘Maybe strung up while we were out on the water.’

It was behind her, whatever it was that Ray didn’t want her to see. There was nothing out of place at the stern. The thing was up at the bow, above the cabin where she usually slept.

‘Try and keep your voice down,’ Ray was saying, as if making sound of any kind wasn’t completely beyond her. ‘The police are on their way. I really don’t want people seeing this if we can help it.’

They’d stepped on to the starboard deck. Ray’s boat was a large stride away. The air around them was still cold. The sun hadn’t appeared yet.

Ray held out his hand. Lacey took it and stepped from one boat to the next. When she was safely on his boat, she turned round.

The first thing she noticed was the linen-wrapped corpse, dangling from the mast of her yacht. One of her halliards had been hooked on to the twine that was wrapped around its neck and it had been hoisted aloft. Its feet just brushed the port hatch. Then she saw the crabs. Dozens of them, climbing the legs of the corpse, scuttling around her boat, as though it had become their natural home.

63

Dana

‘
WE NEED TO
find you somewhere else to live for now, Lacey. You can come to me tonight. Until we sort out something longer term.’

Silence in the small, eclectically furnished cabin of the Bradburys’ boat.

Dana braced herself for a fight.

‘You can’t stay here. Even you must see that. We’ve gone way beyond coincidence now. Whoever is killing these women has got you in their sights. God alone knows how you manage it.’

Lacey sighed, got up from the table and nearly knocked over a coffee cup. She crossed to the porthole and looked out. Over her shoulder, Dana could see the yellow yacht. The body had been removed. SOCOs were crawling all over the boat, just as the crabs had done earlier. It would be days, maybe longer, before Lacey could live on it again.

‘And why,
why
didn’t you tell me about those toy boats sooner? This has been going on for well over a week.’

Over in the galley area, Ray and Eileen were talking quietly. Eileen, still wearing a purple dressing gown, turned to face them. ‘You can stay with us, Lucy. We’ve got plenty of room.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Dana. ‘It’s very good of you to offer, but
it’s not fair to expect you to be responsible for Lacey’s safety.’

‘But this swimmer the two of them saw last night is more likely to come back if she’s still living here,’ said Eileen.

Another look between Ray and Lacey. What weren’t these two telling her? As if the story hadn’t been daft enough. Someone tapping on Lacey’s boat in the small hours. The two of them going out on the water to investigate. A dark figure in the creek that disappeared as they’d looked at it and might have been a seal, neither of them were entirely certain. Oh, and crabs. Lots of crabs.

‘That is true,’ said Lacey. ‘I can be seen on and around my boat during the day once SOCOs have finished with it, just sleep here at night.’

Dana thought about it. She could have a heavy detective presence in and around the yard. The Marine Unit could increase patrols around the creek.

‘We’ll see,’ she said in the end. ‘Let’s see what the post-mortem throws up.’

64

Dana

‘
FINALLY, THE RIVER
police give me one they haven’t buggered about with first.’ Kaytes pulled on his gloves and looked around at the six police officers. ‘Pretty sizeable crowd for a mortuary. Come to find out how it’s done, have we?’

Dana glanced across the room to where David Cook and Lacey stood side by side. Both remained still, staring at the body, oblivious to Kaytes’s banter.

‘She was found this morning on Lacey’s boat,’ said Dana. ‘Given that, technically, she was found on water, she was taken to Wapping police station, where she was weighed, measured, photographed and entered on to the system. I particularly requested that no examination of the body take place until she was brought here.’

‘She?’ Kaytes pulled at his nose. ‘Know something I don’t?’

‘It’s a woman.’ Lacey’s eyes went briefly to Kaytes. ‘From somewhere in the Middle East or South Asia. No disrespect, Dr Kaytes, but we all know that.’

Close to Lacey, Mizon was nodding. Neither Anderson, Stenning nor Cook showed any sign of disagreeing.

‘Yeah, well, you’re probably right,’ muttered Kaytes. ‘OK, let’s all have a good look. Feel free to tell me your thoughts, people, but I
want considered opinions, not hysterical assertions. Are you listening, River Police?’

Once again, Lacey didn’t rise, just stepped closer and continued her slow, careful appraisal of the body. Around her, others followed, Dana last of all.

The slender form on the gurney was still wrapped in linen, the fabric stained the brown of the river silt. Algae had covered swathes of it, giving it a dull, greenish sheen, and the marine creatures had begun the process of making it their own. Ragged holes gaped around the face and neck, more on the abdomen. Dana felt a surge of excitement. This one hadn’t been in the river long. This one would have more to tell them. There would be fingerprints, her internal organs would all be present, any wounds would be obvious. They would know whether or not she’d been pregnant.

‘OK.’ Kaytes turned to his colleagues, Max and Jac. ‘Let’s have a proper look, shall we? Who’s got the scissors?’