House of the Dead, page 17
“All right,” she said. “Do you have any more details? It isn’t much to go on.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” he said.
“I’ll have a look though the scrapbooks.”
“Scrapbooks?”
“Yes, I kept clippings of every news story Greg was mentioned in. I assume that what you’re talking about would have been in the papers.”
“Yes, it would. Mrs Hughes, do you mind if we come over to your house? We could help you look.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll put the kettle on.”
“It’ll take us an hour to get there.”
“All right, I’ll wait.”
“See you soon.” Tony ended the call and looked at Ryan. “She’s got scrapbooks of all the old cases.”
Ryan nodded. “I’ll drive.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
05:32
They pulled up outside the house in Flanders Road and got out of the Aston Martin. Tony tried to stop looking at his watch every few seconds. They had five and a half hours to save Dani. Time was slipping away.
Helen Hughes opened the front door and Tony gave her a brief smile. “This is DC Ryan,” he said.
She ushered them into the house. “I’ll get the kettle on. The scrapbooks are in the living room.”
Tony led Ryan into the living room, where four large scrapbooks sat on the coffee table. One of them was open to a page where a number of newspaper clippings had been glued neatly next to each other.
Tony picked up one of the closed books and Ryan did the same. They sat next to each other on the sofa and began turning the pages, scanning the headlines.
As well as newspaper clippings relating to Greg Hughes’ career, the pages of the scrapbooks were filled with recipes, interior design magazine articles, and pressed flowers.
Mrs Hughes came in and placed a tray on the table. “I’ll be mother,” she said, pouring tea from the pot into three China teacups. “Help yourselves to milk and sugar.”
“That’s wonderful, Mrs Hughes. Thank you.” Ryan took a cup and added two sugars to it, along with a splash of milk.
Tony did likewise, sipping the hot tea while he balanced the scrapbook on his lap. He turned the page and was faced with a headline that read, SCARBOROUGH MAN KILLS FAMILY.
Tony checked the date in the corner of the newspaper clipping. Twelve years ago.
The photo that accompanied the article was a low resolution black and white picture of family on a beach. Five faces grinned at the camera. A dark-haired man wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, a blonde woman in a sun dress and large straw hat, and three children. Two boys and a girl. All three children were fair-haired. The girl looked four or five years old. The youngest of the three siblings. The oldest brother looked fourteen or fifteen, the middle child around twelve.
Tony shifted his attention to the words printed on the page and read them carefully.
Scarborough man, Ronald Graves (42) killed his family and himself yesterday by driving a campervan over the edge of a cliff near Whitby. According to eyewitnesses, the incident was not an accident.
His wife, Fiona (38), daughter Maddy (4), and son Stephen (15) were killed. The family’s other son, Jason (12), was injured at the scene and is currently recovering in hospital.
“Mrs Hughes,” Tony said. “Why is this clipping in here? It doesn’t mention Greg at all.”
“Let me have a look, dear.”
He passed the scrapbook to her. She squinted at the newspaper article.
“Oh, this,” she said. “Greg insisted on keeping that. Said it was a reminder that he couldn’t help everyone, no matter how hard he tried.” She shook her head slowly. “Such a tragedy.”
“Why that particular story?” Tony asked. “Why did that remind him he couldn’t help everyone?”
“Greg and Dani arrested Ronald Graves the day before this happened. Domestic disturbance, I think it was. They took him to the station and locked him up for the night, but his wife decided she wasn’t going to press charges, so they had to release Ronald the next day.”
She looked down at the newspaper clipping and tutted. “Then he went and did this. Terrible.”
“And the son who survived,” Tony said. “Jason Graves. Do you know what happened to him?”
“He recovered from his injuries. A small mercy, considering he lost his entire family.”
“It’s him,” Tony said to Ryan. “Read it.”
Ryan took the scrapbook from Mrs Hughes and read it quickly. “Yeah, it’s got to be him.”
Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the Support Team at headquarters. As soon as someone answered, he said, “This is Doctor Sheridan. I need to know the whereabouts of a Jason Graves, age 24, from Scarborough.”
“Yes, doctor,” said the female voice on the other end of the line. “I’ll ring you back with the information.”
Tony hung up and called Battle.
“What have you found?” the DCI said when he answered.
“Jason Graves. Dani and Greg arrested his father twelve years ago on some sort of domestic disturbance charge, but he was released the next day. He drove his family over a cliff in a campervan.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Jason survived. The Support Team are trying to locate him.”
“How sure are you that it’s him, doctor?”
“I’m sure,” Tony said. “Jason Graves is the GameMaster.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
12 Years Ago
Jason dawdled home from school. Carrying his book bag over his shoulder, he ambled along the streets that led to his house, wishing he could be going anywhere else in the world.
He’d even considered running away a couple of times, but he was only twelve, and he had no idea where he would go, or how to take care of himself. He didn’t even have any relatives he could stay with. His mum was an only child and her parents—Jason’s grandma and grandad—had both died when Jason was a baby.
His dad was adopted and didn’t get on with his parents. No surprise there. His dad didn’t get on with anybody.
So that meant Jason only had Stephen and Maddy. And his mum, of course. Maybe when Stephen was old enough to leave home, he’d take Jason with him.
That sounded like a fantastic idea, but the more Jason thought about it, the more he realised it would never happen. He couldn’t leave his mum and Maddy at home with his dad. He could never do that. Besides, Stephen was only 15, so it would be at least three years before he was old enough to leave, and that seemed like an eternity to Jason.
When his house came into view, he stopped on the pavement and let out a long sigh. There was no getting away from it. No matter how much he wished things were different, that house was his home and he had to live there.
As he pushed through the gate and walked up the path to the front door, he felt his shoulders hunch and his head drop. It was as if he was trying to make himself smaller. Less noticeable.
He opened the front door and went inside.
The first thing he did when he entered the house was try to figure out where his father was. He stood in the hallway and sniffed the air, trying to detect the origin of the cigarette smoke that hung in the air.
It seemed to be coming from the living room. The telly was on in there and Jason could hear what sounded like the news. His dad’s favourite pastime to watch the news and complain. He blamed the news for everything. Said the world was going down the toilet.
Jason quietly put his book bag down and walked quickly past the open living room door. His mum was in the kitchen. He could hear her talking to Maddy. And the smell of spaghetti sauce drifted from that direction. Much better than cigarette smoke.
“Jason, is that you?”
Jason froze when he heard the voice coming from the living room. He wanted to run to the kitchen, away from the cloying smoke and the gravelly voice.
“Yes,” he said weakly. He hoped that was the end of the conversation. That his dad would go back to watching the telly and complaining about the price of petrol or something.
“Come here.”
Jason swallowed and slowly turned to face the living room doorway. He didn’t want to go in there, but he knew that if he didn’t do what his dad told him to, he’d be sorry.
He took a single step through the doorway but went no further. His father was slouched on the settee, wearing only a dirty vest and jeans. It didn’t look like he’d been to work today. He’d stayed home quite a lot lately, preferring to watch telly and drink than go to his job at the paint factory.
An ashtray was balanced precariously on the arm of the settee, overflowing with cigarette butts. Empty beer bottles were piled up on the carpet.
“Get me another beer.” His dad didn’t even look at him. His eyes were glued to the telly.
Jason nodded and went to the kitchen. His mum was in there, standing by the oven, making spaghetti. Maddy was roaming around with a doll in each hand.
“Jason!” his mum said, grinning when she saw him. “How was school?”
He shrugged. “Okay.” He went to the fridge and said, “Dad wants another beer.”
Her face became worried. “Oh.”
Jason took a bottle from the fridge and took it to the living room. His dad was lighting another cigarette.
Jason handed him the beer.
His dad took the bottle and gestured at the telly with it. “Those miners in New Zealand have died. Just because those blokes were rescued in Chile last month, the New Zealand authorities thought they’d get these miners out as well. But they didn’t. An explosion killed all of ‘em. Their time was up, and that was that. They’ll never learn. You can’t rescue everybody.”
He looked up at Jason and sneered. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this. You’re too young to understand.”
Jason said nothing. He understood a lot. His teachers had called him gifted. That was something his dad didn’t know, because Mum had kept it from him at Jason’s request. No need to give this bitter alcoholic a reason to single him out for punishment and ridicule.
He slipped out of the room and went to the kitchen. “Where’s Stephen?”
“He’s staying at his friend’s house tonight,” said Mum.
Jason sighed. He wished he could stay at a friend’s house. But the truth was that, even though he had friends, he never asked to stay at their houses, or even go for tea. Because then they’d expect him to reciprocate, and he could never do that. He couldn’t bring a friend here. Not when his father was around.
He noticed his mum’s hand shaking as she stirred the bolognese sauce in the saucepan. He knew she was scared about what was going to happen later. When Dad drank like this, he liked to argue. And fight. He lashed out with his fists.
Jason wished there was a camping trip to look forward to. In the Summer holidays, his mum always took him, Stephen, and Maddy camping. Dad never came. He couldn’t be bothered. So the four of them had a wonderful time.
Camping trips were Jason’s favourite things in the world. And he knew they were his mum’s as well. She saved up most of the money she made at her job in Asda to hire a camper van and buy everything they needed for their week away.
Everyone was friendly at the campsites they stayed at. And Tommy, the man who ran them, was always telling bad jokes, which made Jason laugh even though they were terrible.
But it was ages before they’d be going camping again. It was November now, which meant there were eight months to go before their next getaway.
Mum dished out spaghetti for Jason and Maddy. They sat at the kitchen table and started eating.
“Do you want spaghetti, Ron?” Mum waited a few seconds for an answer and, when none, came, brought her own bowl over to the table.
Jason rarely saw his father eat these days. The man seemed to exist on beer alone.
“When you’ve eaten, you’d best go up to your room to do your homework,” Mum said to Jason.
He nodded. She was giving him an excuse to get out of the way for when the shouting started later.
“And you can go to bed early as well, young lady,” she said to Maddy.
Maddy nodded, and that made Jason feel sad. Most four-year-olds would fight to stay up, but his sister wanted to get out of the way of their father and would gladly go to bed to do so.
Jason finished his spaghetti and said, “I’ll go up and do my homework, then.” He only had a bit of maths and a couple of English questions to do. He found those subjects easy. It shouldn’t take him more than ten minutes to do the work.
Then, he planned to play games on his computer. He and his friends usually played World of Warcraft together, talking to each other through headsets while they raided dungeons.
Jason loved killing monsters, and his character was a high-level Death Knight who didn’t take any nonsense from anyone. His answer to problems was to kill his enemies. If only the real world was as simple, Jason thought as he grabbed his book bag from the hall and went upstairs.
When he got into his room, he closed the door and threw the book bag on the bed. Homework could wait for now. He’d see if any of his friends were online.
He sat at his desk and booted up the computer. When he logged into the game, he found that Derek, his friend from school, was online. Derek’s online handle was GameGeek. That was nowhere near as cool as Jason’s name.
He put his headset on and heard Derek’s voice immediately. “Hey, Jason, are you there?”
“Don’t call me Jason, GameGeek. We only use our online names on here, remember?”
“Sorry,” Derek said. “I forgot.”
Jason shifted slightly in the chair and tried to get into character, imagining himself as a powerful Death Knight who killed everyone who got in his way.
When he felt he’d achieved the proper mindset, he grinned and said, “This is the GameMaster speaking.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
12 Years Ago
A noise downstairs woke Jason. Or perhaps he’d just dreamt it. He wasn’t sure, so he slid out of bed and crept to the door in the darkness. He opened it quietly.
The landing was dark, but the lights were on downstairs. His father was down there, shouting.
“No one appreciates what I do for this family!”
Although there was no reply, Jason knew his mother was down there as well, and the shouts were being aimed at her.
It was at this point that Stephen would usually appear from his bedroom and tell Jason to go back to bed. That there was nothing they could do. He’d tell Maddy the same thing, if she was awake. But Maddy seemed to be asleep in her room and Stephen wasn’t here.
So, Jason crept to the top of the stairs.
The next noise he heard was a slapping sound followed by a whimper. That second sound had come from his mum.
Jason felt angry and scared. Why did they have to live with this terrible man? Was it going to be like this forever? What if his dad hit his mum so hard that he killed her?
Jason couldn’t imagine a world in which his mother was dead. A world in which he and his siblings had to live with just their father.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was on the stairs, going down them quickly to the hallway.
The shouting and other noises were still coming from the kitchen as he went to the phone that was mounted on the wall and picked up the receiver.
The dial tone buzzed in his ear.
He dialled 999.
“Emergency. Which service?”
“Police,” Jason said. He felt a hot tear run down his cheek.
There was a click, and then a female voice said, “Police. What’s your emergency?”
“My dad is hitting my mum.”
“Is this happening right now?”
“Yes. They’re in the kitchen.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Jason. Jason Graves.”
“Can you tell me your address, Jason?”
“Yes.” He told her the address.
“All right. I’m sending a car over there right now. Is there somewhere safe you can go until the officers arrive?”
“My bedroom.”
“Can you stay on the phone with me while you’re in your bedroom?”
“No. The phone is in the hallway.”
“All right, sweetheart. You put the phone down and go to your room. The officers are on their way. They’re almost there.”
“Okay.” Jason replaced the receiver and crept back upstairs to his room, where he sat on his bed in the dark.
Downstairs, the shouting continued until there was a loud knock on the front door.
Jason’s father stopped mid-shout and then mumbled. “Who the hell is that?”
Jason felt a tightness in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t have called the police. He didn’t want to make things worse. What had he been thinking?
He knew the answer to that, of course. He’d been hoping the police would take his father away. Put him in jail. But now they were actually here, he wasn’t so sure that was really going to happen.
He heard the front door open and his dad say, “What do you want?”
Then other, quieter, voices drifted up from downstairs, but Jason couldn’t hear what they were saying. He went out onto the landing and peered over the railing.
What he saw filled his heart with joy. His father was being led out of the front door in handcuffs by a policeman.
A uniformed policewoman was talking to Jason’s mum, trying to calm her down.
“Mum?” Jason said, going downstairs.
His mum looked up at him. Tears streaked her face. “Jason, go back to bed.”
“What’s happening?” he said. He knew what he hoped was happening, but he needed to hear it from a grown up. Was his dad really going to jail, like he deserved?
“I said go back to bed!”
He froze on the stairs. He thought his mum would be happy. Their dad was gone. They didn’t have to be scared of him anymore. Didn’t have to tip toe around him as if he were a sleeping bear they were desperate not to wake up.
