Randall brought the Chevette to a screeching halt, the tyres spinning for a second on the wet tarmac. Across the street he could see an ambulance, its blue light spinning noiselessly, and two Panda cars. Uniformed men moved around in the darkness and, as he pushed open the door, the Inspector saw that much of the far side of the road was lined with trees. Beyond them was a narrow pathway which led between two houses. The pathway was masked by high hedges on both sides. There were lights on in both of the houses and also in some further down the street. Indeed, some people had even braved the rain to stand at their gates in an effort to see what was going on.
Maggie got out too, slamming her door behind her. Together they crossed to the scene of feverish activity. Randall caught sight of PC Higgins and called him over.
“Where’s the body?” he said.
“This way, guv,” he said. “We didn’t move anything until you arrived.” He led them a little way down the narrow path to a sheet shrouded object. Randall knelt and pulled back one corner of the covering, wincing as he did so.
“Shit,” he muttered.
Maggie too looked at the headless body, letting out a long, slow breath.
“Where’s the witness?” the inspector wanted to know.
“He’s in the ambulance. Some old girl from the house next door gave him a cup of tea. The poor sod’s in quite a state. He’s only a kid.”
Randall and Maggie followed Higgins to the ambulance, the Inspector hauling himself up into the back of the vehicle. The youth, no more than fifteen, was milk white and shaking like a leaf. He held a mug of tea in both hands as if not quite sure what to do with it.
He looked up anxiously as Randall joined him in the back of the ambulance. Maggie climbed in behind him.
“What’s your name, son?” Randall asked him.
The lad picked nervously at one of the spots on his chin and swallowed hard.
“M-Mark Rawlings,” he stammered.
“I just want to know what you saw,” said Randall, softly.
The youth tried to stop himself shaking but found it an impossible task. Some of the tea slopped over the lip of the mug and burned his hand. Maggie took it from him.
“Well,” he began. “I was coming home from the pictures, I’d just left my girlfriend. She only lives round the corner see. So I thought I’d take a short-cut up the lane. I saw this bloke with a knife.”
“In the alley?” Randall asked.
“Yeah. He was bending over something. I just saw him lifting the knife. Then I saw that there was a body there. He cut the fucking head off.” The youth turned even paler and clenched his teeth together. “I saw him pick it up. He put it in a sack or bag or something. He didn’t see me.”
“But you got a look at his face? The man with the knife?” Randall said.
“Yeah. I know it was dark but, well he had this great big scar or something all down one side of his face.
Randall shot Maggie an anxious glance, the same thought registering in their minds.
“He looked like something out of a fucking horror film,” Rawlings continued. “Like he’d been burned or something.”
Randall got to his feet, patted the youth on the shoulder and jumped down from the ambulance, helping Maggie down after him. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t have to. Randall had a quick word with Sergeant Willis then led Maggie back to the Chevette. They both climbed in, sitting there for a moment, the Inspector breathing heavily.
“When Pierce left the hospital,” he said. “Where did he go?”
“I told you before, Lou, nobody knew,” Maggie told him.
Randall banged the steering wheel angrily but then, his initial anger subsided. He looked at her.
“He was locked up in that asylum for more than thirty years, wasn’t he?”
She nodded.
“I don’t get you.”
“It’s the only home he’s ever known.” Randall started the engine.
She suddenly understood.
He put the car in gear and swung it round in the wide road. In a few minutes, they were heading out towards the road which would take them to the deserted asylum.