THEIR FLAT HAD BECOME A sparse chamber. Usually, in the first week of December, they had their Christmas decorations up, but they were packed too, ready for The Move. As soon as Dad had dropped them off home, Ava harnessed Fizz and left before her mother could say anything. She ran to John’s granddad’s house, rang the bell, and stood on the doorstep, seriously impatient.
When John opened the door, she said, ‘War Room, now.’
* * *
‘The Wolf is a child,’ Ava declared, as Fizz sniffed about the winter garden.
‘He’s a what?’ John said.
Ava rubbed out ‘MARY BELL’ with her sleeve and wrote down another name: ‘POMEROY’.
‘Between March and April 1874,’ she said, ‘two children went missing and were later found dead. A fourteen-year-old boy called Jesse Pomeroy was charged with their murder. Before the murders, he’d attacked young boys for years, beating and stabbing them. Like Mary Bell, he was a kid who killed kids. And the St Severs werewolf—’
‘Yeah, Jean Grenier. . .’ John interrupted.
‘The St Severs werewolf,’ Ava pressed on, ‘was fourteen years old when he killed his child victims. The only reason he wasn’t burned at the stake was because he was a child, so he was sent to a monastery for the rest of his life instead. The Wolf is a mix of Bell, Grenier and Pomeroy.’ As she talked, Ava scribbled notes on the blackboard and then grabbed one of the big marker pens and started writing on the back of the poster. ‘And it’s Nathaniel Marlowe, John.’
John’s jaw fell open. He didn’t speak for a few moments, a look of shock etched on his face. ‘We have to be sure, Ava.’
‘I am sure. I don’t want to be. But I feel in every part of my being Nathaniel is The Wolf,’ Ava said, tearfully.
‘It can’t be him, because . . .’
John trailed off as the thought tumbled in his head. Why couldn’t it be Nathaniel? Because he was just a teenager? Because he always seemed such a good person who was funny and clever and protective? Can a person be too nice, too good to be true?
Then he remembered. ‘Ava, a few months ago, I helped Nathaniel carry a little dead dog to some bushes so it wouldn’t be messed about with by kids and such. He really cared about it, the way you are with dead animals but . . . ’ He groaned at his own naivety. ‘Christ, it is Marlowe. How much do you want to bet that little dog was the one found with Bryan?’
Ava looked as ill as he was feeling. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
John shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ He’d thought it might have been jealousy that had prevented him from sharing this incident with her because Marlowe always called her Lady A. When she’d told him about Nathaniel showing her his den on the roof of the apartment building, he’d been so jealous that a crucial connection between events had been missed.
‘He showed you the Sky Den. Do you think he had access to all the roofs of all the blocks of flats, Ava?’ John had always harboured a suspicion about Marlowe, some instinct about him – the charm with a void behind it. ‘Like the roof of your flats so that he could throw a tortured cat off it?’
Her eyes were so large in her small face. ‘Why didn’t I see it? I’ve been so stupid.’
‘Why would you, Ava?’ said John. ‘He’s charming, he’s helpful and he’s just a kid. Granted, a strong, man-sized kid but he’s still a teenager. Why would anyone suspect a child killing another child especially the way he kills them? And, Ava, he likes you, he protects you. You’d miss the bad in him because he shows you only the good. It doesn’t make you stupid, only human.’
Ava looked relieved when he said that. ‘He had some bandages around his forearms when I last talked to him at the Sky Den. I think those wounds were caused by his victims fighting back not by playing with his dogs like he said.’ She paled. ‘Oh, God, John! I think I know how he makes his wolf suit!’
John felt sick.
‘That bloody teddy bear! His bike,’ said Ava. ‘I remember seeing those trailer buckets at Banlock Farm! I should’ve made the connection then. That trailer is large enough to carry a child, dead or alive. I know this because he took me home in it.’
John covered his face with his hands.
‘That’s not all,’ said Ava. ‘In the news, you know Keith Magaw, the runaway boy who was knocked down by a car and is in a coma?’ John nodded. ‘Well, DS Delahaye told me that Keith is a victim of The Wolf who survived! The Wolf attacked him, treated the wounds he caused then Keith escaped!’
Although it was fantastically good news the boy had survived, John had to ask, ‘But why did he keep Keith Magaw alive?’
Ava shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe Keith made The Wolf like him – like the opposite of Stockholm Syndrome or something. Oh, we have to find that bloody lair!’
John straightened. ‘I’ll find it.’
Ava stared at him. ‘What? How?’
‘I deliver the Marlowes their newspapers, remember? I know their routine. They both leave for work around the same time every morning. Mr Marlowe leaves in his car and turns right towards the hills and Nathaniel leaves on War Horse minutes later and turns left towards Rubery. When they leave, I’ll take a look around their back garden.’
‘The news said bunkers could be anywhere . . . ’Ava said.
‘My granddad says that many fallout shelters were built away from houses so that, if the house was destroyed during the bombing, it didn’t collapse on the bunker door and trap everyone inside. There was a house in Edgbaston that had a bunker built in the back garden that the new owners only discovered when it caved in. They thought it was a sinkhole at first.’ John folded his arms. ‘I’ll find it.’
‘I’ll come with you, said Ava.
‘No,’ said John. He crossed his arms. ‘Not this time. I’m doing this. You won’t be able to sneak out with Trevor staying with your mom every night before the move. And she’s become strict on where you go and when you come back. You can’t risk getting into trouble, Ava, because she’ll stop you going anywhere if she catches you. I know where Marlowe lives. I’ll try and find the lair around the property. If I do, then I’ll tell the police. If I don’t, well, let’s just tell the police what we’ve guessed anyway. There may even be a bunker somewhere under the scrapyard.’
Ava brightened. ‘Yes! I hadn’t thought of that!’
Because you’re stressed, John thought. The Wolf, finding dead children, Trevor, your mom, school, the move – it’s a wonder you aren’t screaming mad in a padded room, Ava. He’d expected her to insist she go with him but the relief on her face told him she was pleased he’d offered to go alone. He’d always been the voice of caution and she’d always been the one taking risks. It was time he stepped up and took action rather than act like a health and safety officer. He was the bloke and it was time to act like one and he found he didn’t mind at all. Was he scared? Not yet. But he was bigger and stronger now, certainly bigger than The Wolf’s four victims.
‘So, the plan is: tomorrow I try and find the lair at the Marlowe’s property. If I do, I tell the police where it is and that The Wolf is Nathaniel. If I don’t, I still tell them it’s Nathaniel and recommend they start looking at the scrapyard for the lair,’ said John.
Ava nodded, her expression worried. ‘But, John, Nathaniel hasn’t been at school all week because of his headaches,’ she said quietly. ‘What if he’s home?’
‘But he isn’t home,’ said John. ‘Because he’s left every morning this week at the same time the way he always does while wearing school uniform. He’s duping his dad into thinking he’s going to school when he’s not. He’s going somewhere but it’s not school and not home.’
Ava hugged him. John was so shocked by the unexpected close contact that he was unable to react let alone reciprocate. By the time his arms stretched to wrap around her, she was gone from them. She opened the shed door and a cold blast of air invaded the small space. As they left the War Room, John saw his granddad gazing out of his kitchen window. John waved but the old man didn’t seem to see them as he stared at the War Room shed, sipping a cup of tea.