Summoning the Dead (DI Bob Valentine #3)(67)

Fallon spoke. ‘The key’s in it. Turn the handle.’

As Valentine opened the small, square door a bolt mechanism clicked into place. He looked inside and saw a long, cylindrical cardboard roll.

‘Take it out and bring it over here.’ Fallon stayed at the desk by the gun, watching every one of the detective’s slow and careful movements.

Valentine removed the roll and returned to the desk, placing the item under the light from the lamp. He watched as Fallon opened up the scroll and threw down a bundle of faded colour photographs that were attached with a paperclip.

‘There you go,’ he said, stepping away from the desk as if to disassociate himself. ‘You won’t see me in any of them.’

In the first picture the detective identified Rory Stevenson straightaway. Rory was with an unknown, bare-chested man. The same man featured in the second picture that was removed, and also the third. There were more pictures, but Valentine didn’t need to look at them to know what they contained. He threw down the pile of photographs in disgust and turned to face Fallon.

‘Speak,’ said the detective.

‘Recognise the man?’

‘Who is it?’

‘It’s Andrew Lucas. I don’t think I need to tell you who the boy is. We all know he’s the reason we’re here.’

Valentine struggled with the rage building in him. ‘What the hell is this, Fallon?’

Fallon grabbed the pictures and started to flick through them. His voice came loudly, his words rapidly firing; he’d held the secret inside him for too long and wanted to be rid of it now. ‘Andy Lucas and the murdered boy at Ardinsh Farm . . . Andy Lucas with two murdered boys, in the same place . . . ’ He flung down the photographs as he went. They slapped on to the desk and skidded into a grim montage of flesh and depravity.

Valentine reached out and grabbed Fallon’s hands. ‘Enough. Do you hear me, you bastard? I said enough!’

Fallon stepped away. ‘It wasn’t me. I told you, and that’s your proof.’

‘How did it happen? Why?’ He reached for Fallon’s shoulders now and spun him around.

‘How? Jesus, isn’t it blindingly obvious, man?’

‘I think I can make out the seedy perverts’ sex party, maybe even see how the Columba House boy ends up there, but how does Rory Stevenson fit in and why?’

Fallon bunched a handful of his iron-grey hair. The long strands lay limply on his moist brow as he retreated to his chair. ‘The boys were regulars at a certain sort of soiree Garry Keirns ran back then.’

‘At Ardinsh Farm?’

‘Well yes. But not exclusively. This time, though, yes.’

‘This time? What do you mean by that?’

‘They were numerous, these nights in, and Andy Lucas was a regular. That’s why I was brought . . . Lucas was becoming very powerful in his little fiefdom then. He needed to be secured.’

‘Blackmailed you mean?’

‘Christ, don’t be naive. Do you think people like Lucas can be moved around like useful little chess pieces? This is how the world turns.’

‘And you were just helping out, were you? Just doing your bit. Keeping everything hush-hush to make sure it was business as usual for all your slimy friends.’

‘Do you think I had a choice? You’ve seen the evidence.’ He scattered the photographs over the desk.

Valentine grabbed Fallon’s hand and shoved it away from the photographs. ‘Who killed the boys? Tell me everything.’

Fallon patted his ribcage and slid his fingers into the tight pocket of the waistcoat beneath his dress jacket. ‘I believe it was Lucas. I believe it was unintentional.’ He seemed resigned now, not relieved, but familiar enough with the facts of the case to know that he had no way of withholding what he knew any longer. If he didn’t reveal these secrets, he might incriminate himself, and that was something Fallon, a born survivor, would never do.

‘One was strangled and one bludgeoned to death. How in God’s name can that be unintentional?’ said Valentine.

‘There was some kind of mix-up. The Stevenson boy was brought along by mistake and reacted, well, appropriately.’

‘He was coshed for objecting to what he saw, you mean?’

‘My understanding is there was some kind of squabble, yes. The other one came to his aid and was subdued by Lucas. Unfortunately he didn’t know his own strength and the boy couldn’t be revived.’

Valentine touched his mouth. He felt as if he wanted to push in his words. His sudden understanding projected images he didn’t want to see, even if it meant he had the answers now. His words escaped angrily. ‘And Lucas couldn’t keep Rory around to identify him after that.’

‘Obviously not. I mean it stands to reason that was the thinking behind it.’

‘So the boys get dumped in a barrel and then a shallow grave. How very clinical and convenient for you and your cronies.’

‘It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. It was supposed to be all about applying a bit of pressure to Lucas. Nobody wanted to see those boys killed.’

‘You make it sound so bloody matter of fact. Two boys died here, and Christ alone knows how many more were raped and abused as part of your little sting operation, Fallon.’

‘It wasn’t as simple as that. It wasn’t my doing,’ he pleaded.