From Chapter 32
DI Valentine sensed some semblance of composure returning. ‘He was called Duncan Knox.’
The name sat between them like a small explosion that dictated they wait for the dust to settle before dealing with the fallout.
‘We don’t know him,’ said Billy.
‘Are you sure?’ Valentine addressed the husband but kept his stare fixed on the wife. She held still.
‘Why would we?’
‘There’s no reason that you would… We just hoped.’
Billy Cooper’s colour seemed to alter: he became darker. He gnawed on his fingernail for a moment before he spoke again. ‘You’re on a fishing trip?’
‘Excuse me?’ said Valentine.
Billy rose, his inoffensive demeanour seemed harder now. His jaw jutted as he spoke with a finger pointed towards the detectives. ‘You came here with nothing and now you’re leaving with nothing…’ He pointed to his wife, who had her head bowed. ‘And it’s the pair of us that’ll have to pick up the pieces.’
Valentine stood up. The blood was surging in his veins as he presented his open palms towards Billy Cooper. ‘I’m sorry, I know those words won’t help a lot, but I do genuinely feel your loss.’
Billy shook his head and shot a hand to the side of his face. His nails dug into the fleshy part of his cheek for a moment and then he lunged forward and closed down the detective. ‘Don’t give me your *****!’
‘Sir, can you step back, please…’ DS McCormack jumped to her feet and tried to get between the two men.
‘Sylvia, no… It’s fine, sit down.’
Billy stepped back, but his chest was still inflated, his eyes burning with anger. ‘You ******** don’t care one jot about our loss; if you did, you’d have caught the freak that took our wee lassie.’
Valentine was unable to hold Billy’s gaze. He looked away and caught sight of Mrs Cooper, sitting statue still. He wanted to leave their temple to the memory of their daughter, not because he felt unwelcome – though he assuredly did – but because he saw now that it was all they had. Something precious had been taken from them, something more than their daughter, even – their will to go on.
Valentine motioned DS McCormack to the door as he extended a hand to Billy Cooper. ‘I’m very sorry to have intruded like this, I hope you can forgive us.’
He stood with his hand in the air for a moment and then withdrew it. As he did so, a sharp pain shot up his opposite arm and he jerked to grip his arm tightly.
As they paced into the hallway, Valentine heard McCormack’s heavy footfalls on the thin carpet behind him, but his eyes were drawn to an open door at the far end of the hall.
He tried to focus, but his vision blurred like he was under water and he grew suddenly cold, as though the temperature in the flat had plummeted sharply. With the next step, his knee locked mid-stride then suddenly gave way; his blurred vision disappeared into blackness as he fell first into the wall and then dropped to the hard floor with a thud.
Where he lay, Valentine saw the cornflower-blue walls in the facing room reflecting a luminous light that was streaming through the window in denial of the dreich day’s setting.
For a moment, his chest tensed to a sharp pain and he heard the blood pulsing in his ears like a cacophonous hammering. He made a deep wheeze of indrawn breath and time slowed to the dull pace of a mill wheel as a small, white-haired girl appeared in the doorway of the room.
A deep spring of sorrow was tapped in Valentine as he stared at the girl in a red duffel coat, swinging a doll in her hand. She was smiling at him.
Blood ran hot in his cheeks as he tried to speak, but words wouldn’t pass his lips. He turned back to face the way he had come, hoping to see the Coopers, but there was no-one there. When he spun back to the front he felt a warm hand on his face.
‘Boss.’ DS McCormack was facing him, her voice loud in his ears. ‘Boss, are you all right?’
He gazed over her shoulder, towards the bedroom with the blue walls. The door was open but the room was empty.
‘Boss…’
The Coopers had appeared now. ‘Is he all right?’
‘What happened to him?’
Valentine eased himself onto his elbow, then pushed away from the floor with the flat of his hand. ‘I’m fine…’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that, sir.’ McCormack placed a palm on his shoulder and withdrew her phone.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Calling an ambulance…’
Valentine snatched the phone and eased himself off the ground; his head started to spin as he got to his feet.
‘You’re overreacting…’
‘Sir, you passed out.’
The DI grabbed her hand and slammed the phone in it. ‘I’m fine!’ Valentine staggered past her and opened the front door.
As he headed for the stairs, his shaky steps became a brisk duckwalk. By the tenement’s entrance, he was breathing hard and a glaze of sweat had formed on his forehead. He pushed open the door and gulped for air as he flounced onto the front path.
Artefacts of the Dead by Tony Black, £7.99 paperback, Black & White Publishing.