Mutilated bodies of five children have been found by detectives leading the biggest ever murder inquiry in Levenford's history, the story blared from the front page of the Gazette.
The gruesome find was made by steeplejacks working on a disused venting chimney at Thomson's Forge.
And the discovery follows the macabre abduction of two teenagers and the brutal slaying of another in a car-part store in the early hours of Thursday morning.
The latest violent death was discovered yesterday when staff at Rolling Stock in the commercial centre just off Strathleven Street opened for business. The horrified shop assistants discovered part of the body of a young man, and evidence of a violent struggle in which, it is suspected, two other teenage boys have been injured or killed.
The dead boy has been identified as Votek Visotsky, whose father Karl is the well known manager of Kirkland Automobiles and secretary of the Round Table. The shocked parents were too distressed last night to speak of the tragedy.
The missing boys are Edward Redford and Charles Black, both of East Mains, who have been missing since Wednesday night. A blood-soaked piece of clothing, bearing a wallet identified as belonging to Edward Redford, leads police to suspect he was involved in the incident. His whereabouts are subject to a massive police search of the area around the Rough Drain on the east side of the Burgh.
Police are also investigating an incident involving a fourth youth, known to be a friend of the other three, who was found badly injured on Castlebank Street in the early hours of the morning by local bowling club secretary and newsagent Walter Dickson. Mr Dickson took the boy, believed to have been burned, to Lochend Hospital from where he was rushed to Keltybank Hospital, the world-renowned plastic surgery unit, where he is still undergoing emergency treatment.
The bodies in the Thomson Forge Chimney, one of the town's major landmarks, were discovered by Fergus Milby and his assistant Daniel Cullen moments after they scaled the 200-foot tower in a routine maintenance operation.
They told the Gazette that the dead children had been impaled on the spikes of lightning conductors and were hanging inside the chimney. Mr Milby described the scene as being "like a butcher's shop".
Police are working on the theory that the dead children include the bodies of babies Timothy Doyle and Kelly Campbell, both of whom were abducted two weeks ago. Mrs Shona Campbell was killed in the barbaric attack. Two of the others are believed to be those of Neil Kennedy, 8, who went missing from near his home in Miller Road on Monday night, and Carol Howard, 16, who disappeared from an elevator in Castlebank Distillery on Tuesday. The identity of the fifth child is unknown at the moment, raising yet another riddle in this series of tragedies. Police have confirmed that they have had no further reports of missing children so far.
The horrific slayings, which began with the murder of elderly Marta Herkik in her home in Cairn House on River Street, now thought to have been the beginning of the series of deaths and abductions, have been parallelled by a bizarre succession of suicides.
Blair listed them at length.
The man heading the murder and abduction inquiry, Detective Chief Inspector Jack Fallon, has appealed for any information concerning the deaths.
Mr Fallon and scene of crimes officer Inspector Ralph Slater were first on the scene at Thomson Forge where the bodies were found, and again affirmed the warnings to all parents. Because of the public outcry over the series of horrific killings, Regional Headquarters have confirmed the temporary transfer of a significant number of officers to help in the inquiry.
Mr Fallon said he had to weigh the balance between causing a public panic and ensuring public protection.
"I have to say protection comes first," he told the Gazette: "Every parent should by now be aware of the danger to children. This person, or persons, has so far taken babies, a boy, and a teenage girl, and possibly three youths. All of the incidents have happened at night, but this pattern may change. We cannot say.
"Every parent should be made aware of the dangers. Children must be watched at all times, and they should under no circumstances be out after dark. Any woman, young or old, should avoid dark or isolated places where there are no people. At night, all windows and doors should be locked. Deserted areas must be avoided."
Provost Stanley Moor, leader of the Labour administration on the District Council however, last night hit out at the lack of police success.
"What are we paying them money for?" he asked."They've got people out stopping drivers with broken tail lights and giving out parking tickets, while there's some maniac running around our streets and killing our children. This town is under siege, and I wasn't voted in here to sit back and take it. I will be speaking to the Chief Constable first thing in the morning to demand immediate action."
Provost Moor declined to offer any advice to the murder squad detectives, or to suggest what action they should take.
The story continued on pages two and three and the centre spread. Blair Bryden had again burned the midnight oil and he'd gone knocking on the doors. There were interviews with relatives and friends, pictures of white-faced shop assistants at Rolling Stock who were far from shy about describing in detail what they had found in the early hours of a cold and frosty morning. Blair had been circumspect about his own descriptions. An old aerial shot of the town had been hauled out of the files and spread across the centre pages, with every location outlined with a black circle. It looked as if Levenford had been used as a target by a giant hoopla-player. They crowded on the page like a scattering of malignant haloes. On the wing column of the spread, there was another article.
OCCULT DETECTIVES?
It read.
Chief Superintendent Jack Fallon is remaining tight lipped about the involvement of two alleged psychic experts who have both been interviewed at Levenford Police station and are believed to be helping with inquiries.
The experts are Andrew Toye, professor of paranormal studies at the City university, and librarian Lorna Breck, who recently featured in these pages after a tragic fire on Murroch Road which claimed the lives of four people.
Professor Toye is a well known authority on the occult and a veteran psychic investigator. Last year he was involved in the Blackhale mystery where a young girl was thought to have been the focus of a poltergeist-style haunting. Professor Toye is also respected for his expertise in Celtic Studies.
Lorna Breck, of Clydeshore Avenue, who recently came to Levenford to work in Strathleven Library, is reputed to have foreseen the disastrous fire which claimed the life of Patrick McCann and his three small children, James, Brendan and Kerry.
Though Miss Breck makes no claims for any psychic capability, Mrs Moira McCluskie a friend, who was present during the 'episode' told the Gazette: "It was amazing. I've never seen anything like it in my life. Lorna was reading the tea-leaves, and we were ll having a bit of fun. Nobody took it seriously, at least I didn't.
"But then she went all funny and started telling Agnes to go home. That was the mother, poor woman. She said she had to go home because her house was on fire, and it was true. When we went downstairs, we could hear the fire engines in the distance and by the time we got along to Murroch Road, there was nothing left of the house."
Both professor Toye and Lorna Breck have refused to comment on their involvement.
However, it is known, or suspected, that the first in this terrifying spate of murders happened during a seance in Cairn House, the tragic history of which has been revealed in previous issues of the Gazette.
Mrs Herkik, a Hungarian refugee, was a well known psychic or speywife who held regular seances in her fourth-floor rooms. Police are working on the theory that she may have actually been killed during the progress of such a sitting.
A further, and more disturbing theory is that she may have been at the centre of a cult of devil-worshippers or occultists.
At St Rowan's Church, Father Liam Boyle said: "This kind of blasphemy is dangerous and a sin against the Holy Ghost and the first of the commandments. People who are involved in these practices are in danger of losing their immortal souls."
Chief Inspector Fallon, has so far refused to confirm the involvement of either Miss Breck or Professor Toye, but other forces on England have, on numerous occasions, sought the help of so-called psychics in the search for missing persons. But the fact that a paranormal expert and an alleged fortune-teller have been discussing the issue with the murder squad detectives suggests that they had been called in for advice on both the mysterious and brutal killing of Marta Herkik and the whereabouts of the missing children.
Mr Fallon would only confirm that none of them are suspected of any involvement in the horrendous crimes which have terrified the people of Levenford.
The discovery of the five dead children in the chimney of Thomson's Forge may indicate that their involvement has been helpful.
It is not understood how, or why, the children were taken to such an inaccessible place and hung on the spikes. The awful find, reminiscent of the cache of the Shrike, or butcher-bird which impales its prey, has sent shock-waves of fear and anxiety throughout the community. On Friday, Fr Boyle is to hold a special service of prayer for the victims and for an end to the spate of killings.
"What the hell is this?" Cowie said, throwing the newspaper down onto his desk. It landed with a loud slap.
"It's a newspaper," Jack said, blandly. "Is this what you called me in for?"
Jack had managed to get up to Julia's house where she cooked him the first real dinner he could remember in recent weeks.
As he wolfed a steak pie, Davy sat beside him while Julia eyed him askance.
"So he's not happy?" she asked.
"He'll never be happy. Dad told me about folk like Cowie, promoted above their station. The handshake still counts for too much, even these days."
"Dad would have killed you if you'd joined them."
"I would have killed myself," Jack said through a mouthful of pastry. "There's too many damned secrets without having a society to start new ones."
"Uncle Jack said a bad word," Davy piped up gleefully, nudging Jack just under the ribs. "Just like he said when he fell in the water."
"Now Davy," Julia told him, though she was looking at Jack with her eyebrows raised. "Don't tell tales."
"Explosive expletive," Jack said, trying to keep his face straight. "I didn't think he heard."
"Are you going to catch the bad men?" The boy asked, eyes wide and serious.
"Bad men?" For a moment Jack was nonplussed, then the coin dropped. "Oh yes. I'm going to catch them."
"We had a policeman round today again. We can't even get out in the playground any more. We all have to stay in."
"That's the best thing. When I catch the bad men, you can all get out to play again."
"Good," Davy said brightly. "I told my pals you would get them. They all said it was a monster that caught people and ate them. Some of the girls were crying, but I wasn't. I told them you'd catch them and punch them on the nose."
"That I will," Jack said. In himself, he was wondering how he was going to catch whatever he was hunting. Somehow he thought a punch on the nose would not be standard operating procedure.
He'd toyed with the idea of going back up to Lorna Breck's house, again, but after his run-in with Ronald Cowie, he'd decided against it, because he was still tense with anger. A sister was different, especially one like Julia who'd already been through the wars of a divorce. She knew how to handle him. Her house just round the corner from Cargill Farm Cottage, was the one place he could sit and let the tension ease out. There was another reason, one that he'd just begun to realise when he'd thought about making another trip across to Clydeshore Avenue.
She was a strange girl, Lorna Breck. The first time he'd met her, she'd been in a state of hysterical collapse. The second, she'd looked not much better. But since then, since he'd got to know her a little better, and once he'd made the enormous mental leap of actually believing what she said, he'd seen her in a different light. He'd thought of her short chestnut-shiny hair and her wide, innocent grey eyes as they fixed upon him and he had felt the stirring of something he hadn't felt for so long he thought he'd forgotten how to feel it. Sometime in the past couple of days, without even consciously thinking it, he'd noticed what a stunner Lorna Breck was. Maybe he'd bodyswerved the notion, shrugged it off as soon as it started in his head, but when he considered his reasons for going back up to her house in the early evening, he couldn't really think of one, except that he wanted to.
So he came to Julia's house instead and had dinner with his sister and his nephew and tried not to think about Lorna Breck at all.
That's where Ronald Cowie's assistant found him after telephoning several numbers.
"The boss wants you in here pronto," the voice said.
"Why, what's happened," Jack asked. Davy was over at the table by the window doing a jigsaw puzzle he'd asked his uncle to help him with. Julia was on the armchair, legs curled up underneath her, looking across at her brother with muted concern.
"I don't know. I haven't heard anything. He just wants you to report to his office immediately"
It was pitch black when Jack got into his car. Davy waved from the window as he pulled away and went back down to the station. Cowie looked up at him when he came into the Superintendent's office and threw the paper down with an angry slashing motion.
Jack picked it up and read Blair Bryden's front page piece.
"Seems about right," he said.
"Oh no, it's not alright," Cowie snorted, "Are you responsible for that information?"
"Some of it, not all. He's a digger. Knows his area."
"And what about the rubbish on the centre pages?"
Jack flipped through and held the wings of the paper up in front of him. He gave the aerial shot a cursory glance. He'd his own picture from the air, and huge grid-maps besides. He already knew where everything had happened. He scanned the quotes from Doreen Sweeney in Rolling Stock, flicked over the tremulous statements gleaned from Sandra Mitchell who had watched the crazed Derek Elliot ground to a pulp under the train, and skimmed over the colourful description of the find in the chimney as told by Danny Cullen.
Then the headline on the other side of the page caught his eye and he felt himself sag.
"Witchcraft?" Cowie barked. "Is that what we're down to? I thought it was bad enough with that Irishman, but this really takes the biscuit."
"Sorry," Jack said as levelly as he could. "I'm not with you."
"You had better believe that," Cowie said, his voice rising in indignation. "I want to know what you're playing at. I was told nothing about these charlatans. What the hell are they doing on a murder case?"
"They're helping with inquiries."
"You'd better explain that," Cowie grated.
"Certainly. Professor Toye is an old acquaintance of mine from university. I brought him in for an expert opinion on the Cairn House murder. He's an expert of parapsychology and the occult. Assuming that Marta Herkik was involved in some sort of seance at or around the time she died, I thought his advice might be helpful."
"And this Breck girl?"
"That's a different kettle of fish," Jack said, extemporising. He was loath to tell Ronald Cowie exactly why he'd been dealing with Lorna Breck. Certainly Blair Bryden had worked something out for himself, and Jack could not blame him for running the piece in the Gazette, no matter how unhelpful it was to him. He'd promised to keep it out until Friday's edition. Jack had forgotten that the bi-weekly paper was printed on a Thursday night. Cowie had got an early copy.
"She's reputed to have some sort of extra sensory perception. Professor Toye believes she'd be helpful."
"And that's why you have made this whole station a laughing stock?"
"I don't quite see it like that. Lorna Breck was able to give us a specific pointer to the warehouse where the Kennedy boy was snatched. Based on that, I feel that she might be crucial to this operation."
"Mister Fallon," Cowie hissed through clenched teeth. "Must I remind you that this is a murder inquiry? The fact that you have brought in so called psychics and fortune tellers makes you, and every man in this station look like a fool, and I'm not going to have that. The people out there," he said with a sweeping gesture, "expect solid investigation, and that's what they are going to get. They do not expect you to consult the stars, or witches or whatever you care to call them. They want this thing stopped, and if you think stargazing is going to do it, you're very much mistaken."
"I brought them in for sound reasons. They are also in addition to the investigation. I've had people out all over town every minute of the day since this started."
"And come up with nothing, as I predicted. Now it's your day of reckoning. The reputation of this force and the safety of the people of this burgh is much too important. As you told me earlier, you believe this man O'Day was at the sitting which ended in the death of Marta Herkik?"
Jack saw what was coming, but he could not tell a lie on this.
"Yes. I believe he was."
"He admitted this to you?"
Jack nodded.
"And you left him up in the bell tower, despite your knowledge that he had broken into the church and stolen valuable religious objects." Cowie snorted with derisory laughter.
"So, you have a witness to a murder. All the others believed to have been present are dead, and you let this man stay free? Didn't you stop to think that this man is not only a witness but a prime suspect?"
"I don't think so," Jack said. "In fact I know he is not a suspect. He couldn't have carried out the killings."
"I take it you got that from the stars, eh?"
Jack said nothing, and Cowie blustered on triumphantly.
"Gross dereliction of duty. Criminal dereliction as far as I'm concerned, and I suspect a few others will see it my way. I am now formally taking over this case, which, if you had done your job properly, you would realise is pretty much cut and dried. I have instructed Inspector Slater to formally arrest Michael O'Day for the murders of Marta Herkik and complicity in the killings of Doyle, Campbell, Kennedy, and Howard with others unknown. I believe his already admitted links with the suicides will reveal more than you have so far found."
Cowie leaned forward and put his hands on his spotless desk. The buttons on his shoulder gleamed in the overhead light.
"Have you anything to say?" he asked, with what could only be described as a sneer.
"I think you're making a huge mistake. O'Day did not kill any of those people. Look at the state of him man. He can hardly stand up. If you speak to Dr Cattanach, he'll tell you. The marks on those bodies were not made by anything he's ever seen.
"Oh, you haven't considered the possibility of ritual torture and mutilation?"
"You think he climbed that chimney and put the bodies there?"
Cowie faltered a little, but then came back strongly.
"That's neither here nor there. You have a man who admitted he was there when the Herkik woman was killed and who has admitted his association with all of the others suspected of involvement. I think that wraps the case up nicely. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some serious police work to do. And you, my university educated friend, will be the subject of a report to headquarters. As far as you are concerned, I think you can count your days on this force as numbered."
Jack stood there, towering over his superior, almost unable to breathe because of the tight anger building up inside him. It took a great effort of will to force the words out of his mouth without shouting.
"Listen to me you crazy shit. If you think this is over, you've got another think coming. And if you stop this investigation now, then you'll be responsible for what happens next. This is not finished yet. If somebody else dies, then you'll have blood on your hands."
Cowie smiled brightly. "Oh, I don't really think so. And by the way, I'll be adding this conversation to my report."
He flicked a hand towards the door. "That will be all. I believe you are off duty now. I understand you have several days owing, so as of tonight, I must insist you take them. You look a little over tired."
Jack found the door handle and it took another major effort not to wrench the door from his hinges.
He found Ralph Slater and John McColl in the operations room. They looked up as he came in and he could see their discomfiture as soon as he opened the door.
"Sorry, Chief," Ralph started. "There was nothing we could do. He came down and insisted I make up an arrest sheet on O'Day. The poor bastard didn't understand a word when I read him his rights. He's down there going mental. Gibbering like an idiot."
"Do you think O'Day did any of this?"
"Oh, I think he's crazy enough at the moment, but he's scared out of his mind, and it's not us he's frightened of. Says something's coming for him. I reckon you've got a better idea of what he's talking about than we have, but no, I don't believe it. There's not a pick on the man. He looks as if he hasn't eaten for a fortnight, and he's scared witless."
"Is that fool Cowie closing the case?" John asked.
"I'm afraid he is. I'm off it, in case you didn't hear the jungle drums. That only means he'll make an announcement tomorrow, get a bloody great pat on the back, and then all the kids will come out to play again. Then another youngster will get killed. I told him it's not over yet, but he wouldn't listen."
"Man's a buffoon," John said. "Batteries not included. So what do we do now?"
"I've got a problem. I've been told to take time owing. I can't refuse it. But I would appreciate if you kept me in touch"
He scribbled three numbers down on a sheet of paper and handed it to Ralph.
"I'll be at one of these if you have to get a hold of me. Stay close to Robbie Cattanach and get his post mortem results as quickly as possible. And Ralph, if you can get a rush on those blood samples from Rolling Stock, they'll tell us who was who. The search for those lads will need top priority, but for God's sake, have a word with the Community Involvement boys. No matter what Cowie says tomorrow, and he'll probably sent a fax up to HQ tonight, I want them all round the schools in the afternoon. We can't afford a stand down on that, or we'll lose more children."
He stood, hunched over with his hands in his pockets, the familiar slick of straight black hair hanging down over his eye.
"We're going to lose more anyway." he said with utter conviction. He opened his drawer and took out a flat folder which he stuffed inside his bag, then left without a word.
This time he did go to Lorna Breck's house. Again she called out from behind the door, but when she heard his voice she opened it quickly and gave him a wide smile. Jack's heart did a strange little flip and he mentally berated himself for a fool. Lorna reached out and took his hand, pulling him over the threshold. He dropped his bag in the hallway.
"I was hoping you would come back," she said.
"Why's that?"
The girl shrugged. She was wearing a pair of light jeans and a baggy pullover that made her look even younger than before.
"Oh, I don't know. I've been thinking, maybe we can work together on this. I feel safe when you're with me."
Jack's heart did its little thump again. He wasn't sure he liked this.
She led him through to the kitchen still holding his hand. "I've got some wine in the fridge. Want some?"
Jack hadn't had wine in as many weeks as he'd missed hot dinners. He decided he'd really like a glass or two, or ten. She handed him the bottle from the fridge. It was red, but he didn't care. It would taste just as good cold. He pulled the cork while she got the glasses and poured two manly amounts. She told him to sling his coat and jacket over a chair and they both sat down opposite each other.
"Something's wrong," she said.
"You got that from holding my hand?"
"No, silly," she said and then she laughed for the first time in Jack's recollection. It was surprisingly throaty and very feminine and Jack took a drink from his glass so he wouldn't notice if his heart did it again. "I can see it on your face. You look as if you want to do somebody an injury."
"Oh I do. I've just been pulled off the case by a pompous, ignorant, incompetent fool of a man."
"Why?"
"Because he read the Gazette today. They've speculated about you and Professor Toye."
Lorna coloured. "But I didn't say anything to them. Mr Bryden phoned me and I told him I didn't want to comment."
"So did Andrew Toye. It doesn't matter. That's not the real reason. My Superintendent thinks he can get a feather in his cap by telling the world he's arrested the killer. He's hauled Michael O'Day down to the station. He's been up in St Rowan's belltower for the best part of a week. All he's eaten and drunk are holy wafers and holy water. He could't put a hole in a wet tissue."
Lorna looked at him intently. "That means he'll stop the hunt, doesn't it?"
Jack affirmed that with a look.
"So it will keep on going. It will kill other people."
"That's what I told him, but he's hungry for the fame and the kudos. And by the way, he called you a charlatan."
Lorna's eyes widened instantly and it was Jack's turn to laugh.
"Oh, what the hell," he said. "Let's have a drink, then a think. I've got one or two friends who have promised to help me."
"And another one," Lorna said. Jack looked across at her and she smiled again, her eyes crinkling. "You've got me."
Jack took another gulp of his wine. He sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments until Lorna spoke again. "I do want to help, but I'm scared."
He reached across the table and engulfed her small hand in his. The skin was warm and soft. "Me too, and working blind. I want to try something, see if I can use you as my eyes, but first I'll tell you what O'Day told me, and what Andrew Toye thinks."
He explained about Michael O'Day's appeal for sanctuary.
"He says it can't get him as long as he'd on hallowed ground and has the sacraments to protect him. So far, as far as I can see, he's been right."
Jack reached for his coat and fumbled in the pocket. He drew out the cross which O'Day had handed to him up in the tower. he'd forgotten about it until that moment.
"He said I should keep a hold of that. Thinks it can protect me. I suppose I should give it back to the church."
Lorna reached across and took the crucific in her hand, hefting it.
"No. I think you should keep it until this is over."
He shook his head. "Maybe O'Day believes, but not me."
She held on to the golden cross, rubbing the surface with her thumb. "Now that he's out, what will happen?"
"I don't know. My folk have promised to keep a special watch on him. I think he'll be safe enough where he is. Nobody can get in and he can't get out. The man's hardly got the strength to walk. He told me about the seance in Cairn House, and I believe him. The rest of them didn't turn on Marta Herkik. They were involved in some kind of ritual and he says something came into the room. Like a scene from Poltergeist."
Lorna raised her eyebrows, asking a silent question.
"It was a film. Great special effects. O'Day says this was no trick. Andrew Toye goes along with it. It's hard to take it all in, but I'm prepared to go along too. O'Day says whatever it is, it's been using the people who were at Cairn House. I don't know why and I don't know how, but he seems to think it needs them for energy or food or something."
"Where does it come from?"
"God alone knows. Andrew has some old books which tell how to raise demons. Call it hell or the underworld or another dimension, it doesn't matter. I've got to find it and I have to stop it, though I don't have the faintest idea how to do either. That's why I've come to you for help. I want you to try to see it for me."
Lorna's face paled. "I thought you might suggest something like that. I don't know if I can."
"You don't want to?"
"No, I don't, but I will try," she said in a small, resigned voice. " But I don't know if I can do it. This isn't a voluntary thing, you know. I've been trying not to see it for weeks, and I've failed miserably."
Jack poured another glass of wine for both of them. Already he could feel it heat him up inside. He changed the subject and for the next hour or so they pretended to forget about why he'd come. Lorna told him about her childhood on a farm up on the north west coast. He told her about his own, in Levenford, running wild up in the Langmuir Crags, catching newts in the bomb-craters which had been left since the war, guddling trout in the streams which ran down off the hills. She made some cheese and toast and they had another glass, almost finishing the bottle, and then they both went through to her small cluttered living room and sat side-by side on the sofa. Jack fetched his bag, drew out the folder and produced a sheaf of photographs.
"These might help," he said. "I know the town, but you might recognise something in these." He laid them down on the floor, overlapping the prints until eventually he had a jig-saw picture of the town spread on the carpet.
Lorna turned the lights down and sat, staring at the pictures which were barely illuminated. Jack sat in silence, hoping she might spot a landmark, seen from above, that she would recognise. It took a minute or so before he realised that she'd closed her eyes. Her breathing deepened, the only sound in the quiet room.
He was about to speak when she shivered violently and she gasped sharply.
"Oh," she moaned. "It's dark. Cold." Her shoulders drew upwards and her hands crossed themselves to rub her own forearms before she twisted and drew herself into a tight hug.
"Cold," she said again. "I can feel it." The words were slow and drawn out, like the speech of a dreamer, Jack felt a crawling sensation trickle under the skin at the back of his neck.
"I see stone. A wall. It's dark in here and cold. The wind is blowing through. The smell. I can smell birds. Dead. Dead birds, No noise."
She stiffened. "It's there. I can feel it. Oh, it's there in the dark. He hurt it. Oh, the pain," she wailed, slapping a hand to her eye, "and anger."
He started to say something, but she held up her free hand to forestall him, even though one eye was covered and another closed tight.
"Wooden beams again. Old boxes. I see an elephant. A round hole with chicken wire to stop the birds, but it's torn. There's a smell of paper, and something else."
Lorna shivered again. "It's blood. It's all around."
She dropped her hand, eyes now wide, but somehow unfocussed, as if she was searching in the dark. She turned slightly, head swivelling.
"I see them. Oh my. They're hanging there." Her voice shuddered in horror. "Dead. All of them. Hanging on the pipes. It can see in the dark. It is moving out from the corner where the roof goes down to the beams. Like a shadow. I can hear it breathing, like an animal. It is hungry, and it has pain. It's going up to the pipes and it's...."
Lorna let loud cry. Her body arched back as it uncoiled violently and she fell against the back of the couch. She lay there, head lolling, gasping for breath. Jack moved across to her and put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her up to a sitting position. She fell against him and he held her tightly, trying to deaden the tremors with his own body.
"Come on," he said softly. "You're safe." He smoothed her hair with his other hand, holding her head in at his neck, almost under his chin. She smelled warm and clean. It took a few minutes for the trembling to die away and he still held her tight. Finally, she began to raise her head and he shifted position. She looked up at him and her eyes looked huge in the gloom, dark puddles against her pale skin.
"I saw it," she said faltering, trying to keep from sobbing. "It was feeding. There was a foot hanging down. I could see the shoe, like a trainer. It came out of the dark and it reached up. They were hanging down from the pipes. Three of them. The feet almost touched the floor." She stopped, drew in her breath in a quick hiccup. "No. It was one foot. There wasn't another one."
"Do you remember where it was?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. It was in a roof. I could see the beams sloping down to the floor. Dead birds. I could smell them. And boxes of paper. All stacked high. It was behind them, in the corner where it's dark. It doesn't like the light. And there was an elephant on the boxes. A funny kind of elephant."
A memory tried to form itself in Jack's mind, but it was too vague. It was an odd thing to say, an elephant, but there was significance to it. He concentrated hard, and it came to him.
The elephant with the castle on its back. It was the main motif on the old burgh's coat of arms. It appeared on every signpost on the edges of the town. It was the stylised image of the great double humped rock of the castle beneath which Annie Eastwood's body had been found. Jack closed his eyes and tried to visualise the old house inside the castle ramparts where Ian Ramage, the keeper lived. He'd been down there half a dozen times with Davy on weekends in the summer. It had a pitched roof, as Lorna had described, but he could not remember a circular hole where birds, or anything else could get in or out.
"Could you see anything else?"
She shook her head. "It was feeding. It turned and looked at me. It's eye opened. The other one's been hurt, but it looked at me and then it smiled. At least I think it did. It's too black to see. But it was looking at me and it knows I was watching it."
Her whole body shuddered powerfully.
"It knows about me," she whimpered.