Like This, for Ever

PART TWO





38




Sunday 17 February

‘SOMEONE KNOWS THIS killer,’ said the dark-skinned detective. ‘He has friends, he goes home at night, he talks to his family. Someone knows who he is.’

By eight-thirty in the morning, Barney had already been up for two hours and it had felt safe to turn the TV on. The news on all channels was covering the discovery last night of the dead body of a young boy. It hadn’t officially been confirmed as that of Tyler King, the first of the Twilight Killer’s five victims, but no one really had any doubt.

‘We believe he lives or works in South London,’ the detective, Dana Tulloch, continued. ‘We believe he doesn’t live alone and that he has some good reason for being out of the house on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. That’s when the boys disappear and their bodies are found.’

Tuesdays and Thursdays – what he’d spotted days ago. Barney heard noise on the floor above him. His dad was moving around.

‘He doesn’t look like a monster. He persuaded five sensible, streetwise boys to leave their homes and go with him. He’ll be convincing, plausible. He’ll look normal.’

Footsteps coming down the stairs.

Almond-shaped eyes, oddly pale against the detective’s skin and hair, seemed to be looking directly at Barney. ‘It isn’t easy to betray someone you know and trust, maybe someone you love, but if you are protecting this killer, you are doing him no favours because he will carry on killing until he’s stopped. If you know something, anything at all, please help us to stop him.’

The picture on the screen switched to a shot of Deptford Creek. Barney could see the yard, the line of boats, the ring of police tape around where the body had lain. The reporter was talking to another detective, a young man with dark, curly hair. Behind Barney, the kitchen door opened.

‘Whoever found the body last night contacted the police anonymously,’ the detective was saying. ‘Whilst we appreciate their efforts to let us know immediately, we do need to ask them some further questions. If you were anywhere near this yard last night, please contact Lewisham police station as soon as you can.’

‘Morning, Barney.’

His dad looked tired, a bit more crumpled around the edges of his face than normal. ‘I see they found him.’ He was looking over Barney’s head at the TV screen, at footage taken the night before of a large black bag being carried out of the yard. ‘Poor kid.’

‘Isn’t that where Granddad’s boat is?’ said Barney, watching his father’s face carefully.

His dad screwed up his eyes, stepped closer to the screen. ‘Looks like it,’ he said after a moment. ‘Was he found at Theatre Arm Marina?’

‘That’s what they said,’ said Barney. ‘Must have been just by Granddad’s boat.’

His dad scratched the back of his neck. ‘Well, it’s a big area. All the same, we should pop down there soon, make sure it’s alright. Maybe when all the fuss has died down.’

Apparently losing interest in the TV, his dad opened the dishwasher to find it empty. Barney had already washed all the cocoa mugs by hand and put them away. The KitKat wrappers were in the outside bin and the sitting-room looked as if no one had been near it.

‘Why are you back so early?’

Barney shrugged. ‘We all woke up early,’ he said. ‘I didn’t really want to hang around.’

‘Bit messy, was it?’ teased his dad. ‘Dirty socks on the carpet?’

‘Something like that,’ admitted Barney, wondering if he found lying so easy because his dad did. Maybe it was a genetic thing.

‘Make sure you marry a tidy woman, son, or neither of you will have any peace.’

Like you did, Barney wanted to say. His mum had been tidy. Is that a genetic thing, too? Did I get my tidiness from Mum and my ability to lie from you? He couldn’t say it out loud. Mentioning Mum was a taboo he couldn’t possibly break. Even now.

‘Are we going to watch the rugby this morning?’ his dad asked him.

The others from last night would be at the rugby. He could check none of them were having jitters. Reassure them they’d got away with it. The body had been found and no one suspected they’d been involved. It was all fine.

Barney ran upstairs. He just had time to check Facebook before he went. He found his jacket, hat, scarf and gloves while he waited for the system to boot up. He logged on to Facebook and went to the Missing Boys page.

Christ, everyone on the planet had been on the site this morning, he’d never have time to read through it all. Barney started scrolling down. The usual messages of sympathy, expressions of outrage, taunts from the sickos. Barney kept going, looking for the earliest time the news about Tyler’s body could have been broadcast.

Shortly after midnight, the boy calling himself Peter Sweep had posted.

Badly decomposed body of Tyler King pulled out of Deptford Creek at 10.30 this evening. Slightly damp. Who said he would never be found? Never is an awfully long time, and murder will out. Even mine.

Peter had finally admitted that he was the killer.