The Chemistry of Death (32 page)

'Wish me luck,' I said to Ben, standing up to leave.

He'd wanted to come as well, but I'd refused. As much as I would have welcomed his company, it would have been asking for trouble. He and the Brenners were a volatile combination at the best of times, let alone when Ben had half a bottle of whisky inside him. And what I'd got in mind called for persuasion, not confrontation.

I'd considered telling Mackenzie what I was going to do, but quickly dismissed the notion. I'd no more to back up my suspicions now than I'd had when I spoke to him earlier. And Mackenzie had already made it clear he didn't appreciate my interference. He wasn't going to do anything without evidence.

Which was why I was going to the Brenner house.

I felt less confident now, though. My earlier certainty had ebbed as I parked outside. The same dog ran around the corner barking at the sound of the car. But it was bolder this time. Perhaps because I was alone it didn't retreat as it had before. It was a big mongrel with a torn ear. Bristling, it planted itself between me and the house. I took my first-aid kit out of the car and held it ready in case it attacked. The dog hackled as I walked towards it. I stopped, but it continued to growl.

'Jed!'

The dog gave me a last warning look as it trotted towards where Mrs Brenner had appeared in the doorway. Her narrow face was hostile.

'What do you want?'

I had my story prepared. 'I'd like another look at Scott's foot.'

She regarded me with suspicion. Or perhaps my nerves just interpreted it as that. 'You looked at it earlier.'

'I didn't have everything I needed with me then. I want to make sure it doesn't get infected. But if you don't want me to bother...'

I made as if to go back to my car. She sighed. 'No, you'd better come in.'

Trying not to show how relieved -- and nervous -- I was I followed her inside. Scott was in the living room, sprawled in front of the television on a grubby settee. His injured leg was stretched out along the cushions.

'The doctor's come to see you again,' his mother said as we walked in.

He pushed himself upright, looking surprised. And guilty, I thought. But again, that could have been my imagination.

'Carl's not back yet,' she said.

'That's OK. I was nearby and I thought I'd take another look at your foot. I've brought an antibacterial dressing for it.' I tried to seem relaxed, but my voice sounded horribly false to my ears.

'Was it you phoned for Carl earlier?' his mother asked, her hostility surfacing.

'Yes, I got cut off. I was on my mobile.'

'What did you want him for?'

'I wanted to apologize.' The lie came surprisingly easily. I went and sat on the chair nearest to Scott. 'But right now I'm more interested in your foot. Do you mind if I examine it again?'

He looked at his mother, then shrugged. 'No.'

I began to unwrap the bandage. His mother stood in the doorway, watching.

'I don't suppose there's any chance of a cup of tea?' I asked without looking up.

For a moment I thought she was going to refuse. Then, with a huffy sigh, she went into the kitchen. After she'd gone the only sound was the babble of the television and the whisper of the bandage as I unwound it. My mouth was dry. I risked a glance at Scott. He was watching me with a faintly worried expression.

'Tell me again how it happened,' I said.

'I stepped in a snare.'

'Whereabouts did you say it was?'

He looked down at his lap. 'Can't remember.'

I stripped away the bandage and dressing. Underneath, the stitches were as ugly as ever. 'You were lucky not to lose your foot. If it gets infected you still could.' He was past the danger stage, but I wanted to rattle him.

'It wasn't my fault,' he said, sullenly. 'I didn't step in it on purpose.'

'Perhaps not. But if there's nerve damage you're going to limp for the rest of your life. You should have had it looked at before this.' I looked up at him. 'Or didn't Carl want you to?'

His eyes flicked away from mine. 'Why shouldn't he?'

'It's common knowledge about his poaching. The last thing he wants is for the police to ask questions because his brother's stepped in a trap.'

'I told you, it wasn't one of ours,' he mumbled.

'OK,' I said, as though I didn't care one way or the other. I made a show of examining his wound, flexing his foot back and forth. 'But you didn't report it to the police, did you?'

'I told them when they came and asked me about it,' he said, defensively.

I didn't mention I'd been the one who'd told Mackenzie. 'What did Carl have to say about that?'

'What do you mean?'

'When the police came to see you. Did he tell you what to say to them?'

He suddenly pulled his foot away. 'What the fuck's it got to do with you?'

I tried to sound reasonable, even if I didn't feel it. 'Carl lied to the police, didn't he?'

He was glaring at me. I knew I'd gone too far. But I couldn't think how else to approach it.

'Get out! Go on, fuck off!'

I stood up. 'OK. But ask yourself why you're covering for someone who'd let you get gangrene rather than take you to a hospital.'

'That's bullshit!'

'Is it? So why didn't he take you straight away? Why did he come looking for me to patch you up when he could see how badly you were hurt?'

'You were closest.'

'And he knew a hospital would report it to the police. He didn't want to take you even when I said you needed stitches.'

Something in his face made me stop. I looked down at the clumsy stitches in his foot, and suddenly understood.

'He never did take you, did he? That's why you never had the dressing changed. You never went to hospital in the first place.'

Scott's anger had evaporated. He couldn't look at me. 'He said it would be all right.'

'So who put the stitches in? Him?'

'My cousin Dale.' He sounded embarrassed now that he'd been found out. 'He used to be in the army. He knows about stuff like that.'

That was the same cousin I'd seen with Brenner at the road block the day before. 'And did he bother to look at it again after he'd put them in?'

Scott shook his head, miserably. I felt sorry for him, but not sorry enough to stop.

'Does he help Carl with other things as well? Like the poaching?'

He gave a reluctant nod. I knew I was on the verge of something. Two men. Two hunters, one with an army background.

Two different knives.

'And what else?'

'Nothing,' he insisted, but his attempt at ignorance was feeble.

'They put you at risk. You know that, don't you?' I told him. 'What was so important they'd let you lose your foot over it?'

He was squirming now. I saw with dismay he was close to tears. But I couldn't afford to care about that.

'I don't want to get them into trouble,' he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

'They're in trouble already. And they weren't so worried about what happened to you.' I was about to push further, but instinct made me hold off. I waited, letting Scott wrestle with his decision.

'They've been trapping birds,' he said at last. 'Rare ones. Animals as well, like otters and things when they can get them. Carl thought there might be a market for live stuff as well as eggs. To sell to collectors. You know.'

'They're in it together?'

'Pretty much. But Carl does most of the trapping. He keeps them out on the marsh, in the old windmill.'

My mind was working so fast it seemed to be skidding. The windmill was completely derelict, isolated and long abandoned. Or apparently not.

I started rebandaging his foot again. 'That was where you stepped in the trap,' I said, remembering their story when they'd stumbled into the Lamb that night. And how Brenner had cut him off from saying too much.

He nodded. 'When the police started searching for those women Carl was frightened they'd look there. He doesn't let me go out with him normally. He says I should get my own business and keep out of his. But Dale was away that week, so I had to help him move everything.'

'Where to?'

'All over. Different places. We brought most of them here, in the outhouses. My mum wasn't happy but it was only for a couple of days, until the police had searched the windmill. But then I stepped in the trap, and he had to take them back by himself.' He looked downcast. 'He went mad. But it wasn't like I did it on purpose.'

'So was the trap his?'

He shook his head. 'He said afterwards it must have been that nutter's who's been killing those women.'

I kept my face averted, feigning preoccupation with his foot. 'Has he got anything out there now?'

'Yeah. He's got nowhere else to put them. Dale won't risk moving them with all the cops knocking about.'

'And does Carl still go out there?'

'Every day. He's got to keep them alive until they can sell them.' He shrugged. 'Don't know how much longer he'll bother, though. They haven't been able to get rid of many yet.'

It was an effort to act normally. I kept my voice as casual as I could.

'So did you cover for Carl with the police?'

He looked confused. 'What?'

My hands were trembling as I finished bandaging his foot. 'When they were asking about the missing women. He couldn't tell them his alibi was being out poaching, could he?'

Scott actually smiled. 'Naw. We just said he'd been here all the time.' His smile faltered. 'You won't tell him I've said, will you?'

'No,' I said. 'I won't tell him.'

I'd told him too much already. I remembered what I'd said to Brenner earlier.
He keeps them alive for three days before he kills them.
Now he knew the police were aware of his timetable. Thanks to me Jenny might not have even that small chance of survival.

God, what had I done?

I stood up, fumbling to pack away my things as Scott's mother returned carrying a mug of tea.

'Sorry, I've got to go.'

Her mouth thinned with displeasure. 'I thought you wanted a cup of tea?'

'I'm sorry.'

I was already hurrying from the room. Scott was looking at me uncertainly, as if he was starting to regret what he'd said. All at once I was desperate to get away, half-expecting Brenner to suddenly materialize and try and stop me. I threw my first-aid kit into the Land Rover and quickly switched on the ignition, aware of Mrs Brenner staring at me from the doorway as I bumped down the track.

I was reaching for my phone as soon as I was out of sight. But when I tried to call Mackenzie the signal wavered in and out before dying altogether.

'Come on, come
on
!'

I shot out onto the road and turned towards the old windmill, willing the signal to reappear. As soon as it did I redialled Mackenzie's number.

His voicemail service answered.
Shit, shit!
'Carl Brenner's family lied about his alibi,' I said without preamble. 'He's been--'

Mackenzie abruptly picked up. 'Tell me you've not been out to see him.'

'Not Brenner, his brother, but--'

'I told you to keep away!'

'Just listen!' I shouted. 'Brenner's been trapping birds and animals to sell with his cousin. Name of Dale Brenner, he's ex-army. They've been keeping them out at a ruined windmill, about a mile south of the village. Where Scott Brenner stepped in the trap.'

'Wait.' Now I'd got his attention he was all business. I heard muffled voices in the background. 'OK, I know where you mean. But that was checked, there's nothing in it.'

'They moved them all when you were searching around there for Lyn Metcalf, then put them back again. That's when Brenner's brother was injured. Brenner was so keen not to involve the police he wouldn't even take him to hospital.'

'He's a poacher, we already know that,' Mackenzie said, stubbornly.

'You didn't know his family lied to protect him. Or that you've got a hunter and an ex-army man trapping animals and keeping them in an abandoned building, and at least one of them doesn't have an alibi. Do I have to spell it out for you?'

The obscenity I heard him mutter told him I didn't.

'Where are you now?'

'I've just left Brenner's.' I didn't tell him I was on my way to the windmill.

"Where is he?'

'No idea.'

'OK, look, I'm at the mobile incident room. Get out here as soon as you can.'

That was in the opposite direction.

'What for? I've told you all you need to know.'

'And I'd like to hear about it in more detail. I don't want anyone going off half-cocked, do you understand?'

I didn't answer. I drove with the phone pressed to my ear, the road whispering by under the car wheels, each second taking me closer to where I was certain Jenny was being kept.

'Did you hear me, Dr Hunter?'

Now there was steel in Mackenzie's voice. I eased my foot off the accelerator. It was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do.

'I heard you,' I grated.

And I turned round and went back.

The sky had developed an unhealthy sheen. A thin scab of clouds had formed over the sun, giving the light a jaundiced quality. For the first time in weeks, the breeze carried a hint of something other than overheated air. Somewhere, not too far off, was the threat of rain, but for the moment the increased humidity only made the heat seem worse.

Even with the windows down, I was sweating by the time I reached the police trailer that served as the incident room. There was more activity than usual around it. Mackenzie was standing at a table with a group of plain-clothed and uniformed police officers when I went in, poring over a map. The ones in uniform were wearing body armour. He broke off when he saw me.

His expression was far from fond as he came over. 'I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about what you did,' he said, jaw thrust out aggressively. 'I appreciate the help you gave us earlier, but this is a police investigation. There's no room for civilians blundering about in it.'

'I tried to tell you about Brenner but you wouldn't listen. What was I supposed to do?'

I could see he wanted to argue, but he checked himself. 'The superintendent wants to talk to you.'