The Lost

Chapter 17

Dusk was settling by the time he reached Slaughter Quay. He pulled onto the same patch of weed-choked tarmac as before, at the last minute giving in to some superstitious urge and parking in a different spot to last time.

His was the only car there. He looked over to where Gavin’s Audi had been, then climbed out. A cold wind was coming off the water, bringing a dank smell of oil and mud. Balanced on his crutches, Jonah shivered and wondered what he was doing there. After leaving Chrissie’s, he’d felt at a loss. He didn’t want to go back to his flat, so he’d set off driving without any clear destination. But, as though the idea had only been waiting to present itself, before he’d got to the end of the road he’d already made up his mind.

Even now he couldn’t say why, except the compulsion had been growing since he’d left the hospital. He wasn’t fooling himself that coming back would bring any sort of revelation or help him understand what had happened here.

He just needed to see it again.

In which case, he thought, maybe he should have gone earlier. The light was fading fast as he set off along the path towards the quay. He followed the same route as before, crossing the narrow side street by the old tannery building, where cobblestones showed beneath the broken tarmac like scabbed wounds. The only sound was the metronome click of his crutches, but as he neared the quayside he could hear the slosh of the river against the pilings. The moored barges announced themselves with the protesting squeal of rubber fenders. The large one still bobbed a little away from the rest, like an unwelcome guest at a party. The paintwork on its bows spelling out The Oracle was flaked and faded, and Jonah noticed a sun-bleached For Sale sign propped in a window.

No sign of the cat this time.

It was colder as he neared the end of the quayside. The wind cut in directly from the water, bringing a front of piercing cold and damp that made his knee ache. Up ahead he could see the last warehouse. The damaged fencing had been replaced but otherwise it looked as he remembered. A derelict shell with boarded-up doors and broken windows.

He’d wondered how he’d feel being there again, but the truth was he felt nothing. There was no emotional shock, no catharsis. No answers. He looked at it for a while, then turned away and started back for his car.

But it was a long walk, and as the light fell the lonely quayside seemed to take on a more sinister aspect. The deepening shadows brought an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. He did his best to ignore it, until he heard a metallic chink, like swinging chains. All at once he was back in the loading bay, with the smell of blood and Gavin’s body on the plastic sheet. He faltered, his heart seeming to stutter.

Then it had passed, leaving him clammy and shaken. There were no chains, only a section of wire fencing rocking in the wind. Jesus... Letting out an unsteady breath, Jonah set off along the quayside again. All he wanted now was to be back in the warmth of his car. Cutting away from the waterside, he went back down the narrow lane by the old tannery. It was even darker down there, and he had to watch his footing on the cobbles.

He wasn’t sure when he realised he wasn’t alone. The awareness came gradually, a subliminal unease that became impossible to ignore. Without knowing why, Jonah felt the hairs prickle upright on the back of his neck.

Looking up, he saw someone at the far end of the lane.

It was a woman. In the gathering dark it was hard to make her out, her face a pale oval above the long dark coat. But Jonah knew she was watching him. His mouth had dried. No. Not possible... He took a faltering step and stumbled as one of his crutches caught on a cobblestone.