‘This is just getting weirder and weirder,’ Easton said as Dani pulled her car back onto the road.
‘Tell me about it.’
‘So Liam goes missing in mysterious circumstances, five years ago, after years spent living under false names.’
‘Living and working under false names, apparently.’
‘But why?’
Dani really didn’t know.
‘Then at some point, Clara becomes obsessed with his disappearance,’ Easton said.
‘Perhaps only because the disappearance was so weird to start with.’
‘Perhaps. Then she starts using an alias as well. Clara Doyle? Fake driving licence, the works.’
‘And now she’s dead.’
Dani glanced over to see Easton shaking his head, confused. She felt the same way. There were so many answers they didn’t have.
They drove on in silence for a few moments. Dani could tell Easton was still deep in thought.
‘We’re not going back to the city centre?’ he said, as if finally coming out of his trance.
‘No,’ Dani said.
‘No court today either then?’
‘No point is there?’
Easton didn’t answer that, though Dani certainly wasn’t finished yet with Damian Curtis. Still, it was far more healthy for her state of mind to concentrate on events she could control, rather than dwelling on her past. Even if it was someone else’s past she was dwelling on.
‘So where are we going then?’
‘You’ll see.’
On the outskirts of Tipton, the 1950s semi was on a twisty cul-de-sac that led to the entrance of a primary school. Like so many other towns in the Black Country area, Tipton had been at the heart of the nineteenth-century Industrial Revolution, though following the closure of most heavy industry from the 1970s onwards, was now increasingly a commuter town to other areas within the region.
As Dani shut down the engine and stepped from the car the sound of the young kids playing in the nearby school caught her ears. She looked over to the tall green metal fences of the school, beyond which was a blur of movement as the pupils raced around haphazardly, giggling and shouting and squealing.
‘Is that before or after their lunchtime sugar rush?’ Easton asked.
‘You would know better than me,’ she said.
He rolled his eyes.
Dani locked the car and glanced up and down the street and then along the short drive to the house they were standing by. The houses here were modest but far from downtrodden, though some had clearly been loved and cared for more than others, with neatly trimmed gardens, new windows and doors and faultless tiling on the roofs. A few others were in need of a good dose of TLC, though the one Dani and Easton were standing outside fell somewhere in between. That wasn’t what stood out about the house to Dani. The thing that stood out most was that every window at the front of the house had thick curtains drawn across them, both downstairs and upstairs, and there was no car on the poky drive.
‘Anyone home, you reckon?’ Easton asked.
‘Let’s find out,’ Dani said.
They headed up the drive. The pockmarked tarmac had been gritted and there were indentations in the sandy mixture from thick-soled boots. Possibly just the postman, but possibly from someone else coming or going recently.
Dani pressed the bell then knocked loudly three times.
After thirty seconds there was still no response. Dani tried again.
‘Maybe we should have called in advance,’ Easton said.
But Dani could hear faint movement from the inside now. The click of locks. Then the door edged open a couple of inches, until it caught on a chain. Two yellowy eyes poked out from the darkened interior, barely five feet from the floor.
‘Yes?’ said the woman in a croaky voice.
‘Mrs Popescu?’ Dani asked. She showed her ID and introduced herself and Easton. ‘We’d like to talk to you about your grandson, Nicolae.’
Brigitta Popescu said nothing as she stared at Dani. A moment later her eyes disappeared and the door was pushed closed.
Ten seconds passed. Twenty.
‘Weird,’ Easton said.
Dani was thinking the same. She was about to knock again when the door reopened, without the chain this time, though only just enough to reveal the homeowner. Hunched over, shakily holding a walking stick, Brigitta had a withered face, and even with her cardigan and long skirt it was clear she was a bag of bones by the way jagged joints poked out against the fabric.
‘Please. Come in,’ Brigitta said, and it was already clear from her thick accent that English wasn’t her first language.
Dani and Easton followed into the house. Easton shut the door behind them, and they were plunged into near darkness. There were no lights on in the hall, and just a faint glow of orange and yellow coming from the back room. Dani couldn’t even see the end of the stairs in front of her because the top floor was pitch black.
‘Please,’ Brigitta said, as she continued to shuffle through the darkness towards the rear of the house.
Dani and Easton followed. As she passed by the front room, Dani peeked in and realised the gloomy space beyond was being used as a bedroom. Brigitta certainly looked too frail to be getting up and down those stairs. So was the top floor used at all?
They were soon inside a cramped sitting room at the back of the house. Long thick curtains were pulled across the windows, just slivers of light coming into the room around the top edge of the blackouts.
Brigitta rummaged through the dark and groaned painfully as she lowered herself into an armchair.
‘Please,’ she said, indicating the adjacent sofa.
Dani and Easton both took a seat. Dani’s eyes worked across the room. No sign of a TV. A table lamp on a unit in the corner glowed orange, but its low-power bulb was doing a lousy job of lighting the space. By Brigitta’s side was another unit where a series of candles burned away, their short flames flickering.
Beyond the flames was a dull painting on the wall – Jesus on a cross? – though it was hard to tell in the dim light. Around the candles were various photos, cast in shadow, though Dani was sure each of them showed the same young woman.
‘You live here alone, Mrs Popescu?’ Easton asked.
‘What?’
Easton repeated the question more loudly and clearly.
‘Yes. Yes. This is my home.’
She said those words forcefully as though the house was perfectly suitable for a frail woman in her late eighties.
‘Mrs Popescu, we’d like to talk to you about your grandson,’ Dani said.
A nod in response. Apparently she didn’t find it unusual that two police officers were here asking about him.
‘Are you happy for us to speak to you alone? Or do you—’
‘You’re here about Nic?’
‘Yes. Have you spoken to him recently?’ Dani asked.
‘Heh?’
Brigitta cupped her ear. Dani repeated the question, louder and more clearly, much like Easton had moments before. She could sense him smirking beside her.
‘Nic? No. He doesn’t call me for weeks.’
‘He’s still in—’
‘My birthday. He called then. I’m eighty-six. No card, just phone call. He’s a busy man.’
‘Can you—’
‘But he did send flowers.’
She sat forward and looked around the room, as though searching for them, then mumbled under her breath, ‘They died, I think.’
‘Is there a reason you’ve got all the curtains closed?’ Easton asked.
Dani had wondered the exact same thing, though she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask or not.
‘How I like it.’
‘Mrs Popescu, the reason we’re asking about Nic is that—’
‘You want tea?’
Dani paused.
‘Heh?’ Brigitta said, cupping her ear again. ‘Coffee?’
‘No, I’m fine, thank—’
‘In the kitchen. Please. Tea. Milk only.’
Dani looked at Easton and saw the amused grin on his face.
‘I’ll go,’ Easton said, just beating Dani to it.
She sighed as he got up and headed out.
‘Mrs Popescu, I need to ask you about two people I think your grandson knows.’
‘Nic?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Ah, he’s not such a bad boy. His heart is good. He used to live here. Did you know?’
Dani smiled and got to her feet as she pulled her phone out. She picked out a picture each of Clara and Liam Dunne as she moved over to Brigitta and knelt down by her side. The smell of musky oldness filled Dani’s nostrils.
‘This man is Liam Dunne. But he might also have called himself Patrick, or James. I think your grandson may know him.’
Brigitta was staring at the picture but she gave no reaction at all.
‘Do you remember ever seeing him? Or hearing about him?’
‘Him?’
Brigitta pointed a shaky finger at the photo.
‘Yes. Him. Do you know him?’
Her weary eyes found Dani’s now. She looked seriously surprised by the question.
‘No. I don’t know this man.’
‘How about this woman? Her name was Clara.’
Brigitta focused on the screen again, this time only for only a second before she looked away and slumped back down in the armchair.
‘So that’s why you’re here.’
‘You know her?’
‘Her? No. I don’t. But now I know why you’re here.’
‘You do?’
‘Another one,’ Brigitta said.
‘Sorry?’
‘She’s dead,’ she said, shaking her head mournfully.
Dani’s skin prickled, then she jumped when she heard the footsteps behind her.
It was just Easton, carrying two mugs. He paused. ‘Sorry, did I—’
‘Don’t worry,’ Dani said, focusing back on Brigitta.‘Mrs Popescu, what do you mean? Did you know Clara?’
Brigitta shook her head.
‘Are you sure? You just said she’s dead.’
‘Isn’t she?’
‘She is. But… You also said another one. What does that mean?’
Brigitta looked away now, to her right, to the series of photos in among the flickering candles.
‘There’s always another one.’
Dani looked around to Easton who was still on his feet. In the darkness she could just make out the concerned look on his face.
‘Sorry, Mrs Popescu, can you explain that?’ Dani said.
Brigitta shuffled in her seat and reached out and grasped the nearest of the pictures. As Brigitta brought it closer Dani could see it was a black and white photo of a young woman, probably late teens or early twenties, with dark but pretty eyes and long dark hair.
‘Is that your daughter?’ Dani asked.
Brigitta remained focused on the picture.
‘She was twenty years old. A baby, really.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘She was taken. Just like all the others.’
‘Taken by who?’
Dani’s heart was racing in her chest now. And when Brigitta finally looked away from the photo and caught Dani’s eye, it sent a chill right into her bones. Dani shivered and was sure she felt a rush of cold against her right side. The flames from the candles flickered more ferociously and Dani whipped her head around to the doorway.
Easton was already back on the sofa, and there was no one else there. When she turned back, the candles were calming again.
‘Mrs Popescu, what do you mean she was taken? By who?’
She leaned forwards and whispered fearfully. ‘The Strigoi. Sooner or later, they come for us all.’
Dani shivered again, a split second before there was a crash from out in the hallway.