The drawings were strange. Up close, it became apparent how childlike many of them were. His gaze moved here and there, over stick figures, amateurish watercolors, and then his attention was drawn to something more unusual. A red plastic devil mask. It was the kind of item you’d find in a cheap fancy dress shop, but for some reason Collins had encased it in a thin rectangle of glass and hung it on his wall.
“A collector’s item, that.”
Collins was suddenly beside him. Pete resisted the urge to shout, but couldn’t stop himself from taking a step away.
“A collector’s item?”
“Indeed.” Collins nodded. “It was worn by a fairly notorious murderer during the crimes he committed. It cost a small fortune to acquire, but it’s a handsome piece, and the source and paperwork are impeccable.” Collins turned quickly to look at Pete. “All completely legal and aboveboard, I assure you. Was there anything else I could help you with?”
Pete shook his head, trying to make sense of what Collins had just said. Then he looked at some of the other items on the wall. It wasn’t just pictures, he realized. Several of the frames contained notes and letters. Some were clearly official documents and reports, while others were handwritten, scrawled on cheap notepaper.
He gestured at the wall, feeling slightly helpless.
“And … these?”
“Correspondence,” Collins said happily. “Some personal, some acquired. Forms and paperwork from cases, as well.”
Pete stepped away again, this time moving all the way back to the middle of the room. And then he turned, looking this way and that. As he understood what he was seeing, the feeling of unease deepened, folding over inside him, drawing the heat away from his skin.
Drawings, mementos, correspondence.
Artifacts of death and murder.
He had been aware before now that there were people in the world who were driven to acquire such macabre things, and that there were even thriving online marketplaces dedicated to the activity. But he had never before stood in the heart of such a collection. The room around him seemed to be throbbing with menace, not least because this was clearly not simply a collection, but a celebration. There was reverence in the way these things had been put on display.
He looked at Norman Collins, who remained standing by the wall. The smile had disappeared from the man’s face now, his expression replaced by something altogether more alien and reptilian. Collins had not wanted to let Pete in, and he had clearly hoped to conclude the conversation without Pete noticing his pictures and ornaments. But there was a sneer of pride on his face now—a look that said he knew how abhorrent Pete must find his collection, and that a part of him relished it. That he was even above Pete in some way.
All completely legal and aboveboard, I assure you.
And so Pete simply stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do, unsure if he even could do anything. Then his cell phone rang, jolting him. He took it out—Amanda—and then turned away, speaking quietly as he pressed the phone hard to his ear.
“Willis here.”
“Pete? Where are you?”
“I’m where I said I would be.” He noticed the urgency in her voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m at a house on Garholt Street. We’ve got a second body.”
“A second?”
“Yes. But these remains are much older—it looks like they’ve been hidden for a long time.”
Pete tried to take in what he was hearing.
“The house here was sold recently.” Amanda sounded a little breathless, as though she were still trying to process all this too. “The new owner found the body in a box in the garage. He also made a report that someone might have attempted to abduct his son last night. And your man Norman Collins—it looks like he’s been creeping at the property. Owner puts him at the scene. I think Collins knew the body was there.”
Pete turned around quickly then—suddenly aware of a presence. Collins had magicked himself closer once again. He was standing right next to Pete now, his face near enough that Pete could see the pores of his skin and the blankness in his eyes. The air was singing with menace.
“Is there anything else, DI Willis?” Collins whispered.
Pete took a step away, his heart beating hard.
“Bring him in,” Amanda said.
Twenty-nine
I parked a road away from Jake’s school, thinking that it should have been reassuring to have a policeman in the car with me.
I’d been frustrated that the officers who called around that morning hadn’t taken