Page 98 of The Rising Tide

But the next sound she hears isn’t a door. It’s the music again. And it’s coming from Fin’s room.

THIRTY-FOUR

Abraham’s phone starts ringing as he’s leaving Exeter prison. Once he learned Lucy Locke had booked a visit with her husband, he decided to observe their interaction. What he just saw concerns him greatly.

At the hospital, and later during questioning, Daniel Locke indicated an utter hatred of his wife. On Sunday, at the station, Lucy acted like someone in denial of the facts. Neither of them behaved like that today. Abraham couldn’t hear their discussion but he witnessed their body language – and saw what looked like two people who loved each other, carefully planning their next move.

Crossing the road to his car, he recalls Beth McKaylin’s comments about Lucy Locke.

She’s the driving force – the one with the ideas, the power, in that relationship. I don’t reckon there was a thing going around in Daniel Locke’s head that she didn’t know about. If she didn’t like it, she’d get rid of it. And if it was still there, it’s because she endorsed it.

The more Abraham discovers about Lucy, the more troubled he becomes. Friday lunchtime, while theLazySusanwas drifting offshore, Bee Tavistock had been expecting her boss at the Drift Net. Instead, she found Lucy at home, wet from the shower and working through a mass of paperwork. Or, just possibly, destroying incriminating documents after a high-speed dinghy ride back to land.

When he answers the phone, he hears Cooper’s voice.

‘We found the dinghy,’ the DS tells him. ‘Or at least one that matches Lucy’s description. Search team discovered it south of Smuggler’s Tumble. They just sent over photos. Looks like someone dragged it into the forest above the beach, slashed the air tubes and folded it up. Probably why the shoreline searchers missed it during their sweep. Other than the damage, it seems pretty well maintained. I can’t imagine it isn’t the one she mentioned. They’ve got the outboard, too. Not a spot of rust.’

‘You’ve called out Mike Drummond’s team?’

‘On their way. Although I’m not sure what saltwater and two days’ heavy rainfall will have left them. Where are you?’

Abraham reaches his car and slides behind the wheel. He shakes out an OxyContin and swallows it. ‘Just leaving Exeter. I’ll meet you there.’

Hanging up, he pulls out of the car park. He thinks of Fin Locke, the little storyteller; his curvy chimp ears and gap-toothed smile. If the boy’s alive – and it’s ahugeif – he made it back to land in that dinghy.

Abraham recalls his journey with Lucy in the pool car back to Skentel. She’d been soconvincing– so obviously concerned about her family.

There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick torush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community …

Abraham had suspected that this started as an insurance fraud and developed into something darker. What he saw at the prison changes that. He knows he’s missing something vital. He needs a leap – a connection between two disparate facts; something that will pull together the pieces of this disjointed picture.

Exhaustion washes over him, so heavy that he nearly veers off the road. Abraham grimaces. Leaning forward, he accelerates past the speed limit.

THIRTY-FIVE

1

Often, in her previous life, Lucy had been startled by one of Fin’s electronic toys spontaneously reactivating. But she doesn’t recognize this melody. As she draws closer to his room, she hears a rhythmic buzzing beneath the music.

Not a toy, she realizes, but a mobile phone.

Lucy’s hand tightens on the knife. She arrives in the doorway and steps over the threshold. Fin’s room looks just like it did when she last checked: his desk with its pile of half-completed projects; his telescope angled at the sky.

The music stops.

She glances around. So many places to hide a device. At the bookcase, she examines its contents: paperbacks, comics, the collection of die-cast models. Abruptly, the music starts up again.

Lucy turns to the bed. On Fin’s pillow lie his neatly folded pyjamas. She pulls them away. And leaps back as if bitten.

There’s the phone. A push-button Nokia she’s neverseen until now. Malevolence pours off it like poison. The screen glows blue. On it, one word:UNKNOWN.

Lucy snatches it up. Her fingers feel numb, her whole arm. She connects the call and holds the phone to her ear.

A crackle of static. An electronic whine.

Her scalp contracts. She thinks of the voicemail from Friday afternoon:Daddy, no—

Goosebumps break out across her flesh. She hears a voice and suddenly her bones are like water. Her heart feels as if it’ll erupt from her chest. Because she was expecting a demon and instead she hears an angel. ‘Hi, Mummy. It’s Fin.’

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