Uprising. Scott G. Mariani

      He tinkled the little silver bell on the table in front of him, and seconds later the butler came running out of the house.

      ‘Roberto, have my jet prepared. I have to return to Britain as soon as possible.’

       Chapter Nineteen

       The John Radcliffe Hospital

       4.25 p.m.

      ‘You again,’ the staff nurse sneered at Joel. ‘Visiting hours are over.’

      ‘Don’t give me that,’ he said and marched by her.

      Dec Maddon was sitting up in bed reading a comic book as Joel walked into his ward.

      ‘What happened to the old guy next to you?’ Joel asked, pointing at the empty, neatly made bed.

      Dec shut the comic with a surly look. ‘Died.’

      ‘How’s the wrist?’

      ‘Getting better, so it is. What are you doing here? More questions?’

      ‘Good news first,’ Joel said, sitting in the chair next to the bed. ‘Your blood tests came through negative. Which means there’ll be no drug driving charge. You’re not supposed to know that yet, so keep it to yourself, okay?’

      ‘Told you, didn’t I?’ Dec raised an eyebrow. ‘So what’s the bad news?’

      ‘The bad news is I need you to look at something for me. And again, this isn’t something you should be seeing. It’s strictly between you and me. Understood?’ Joel took out his phone.

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘Something not nice, Dec. You’re going to have to be brave.’

      ‘I saw a girl get her throat slashed and a bunch of vampires taking a shower in her blood,’ Dec muttered. ‘I think I can handle whatever you have to show me.’

      Joel scrolled up the photo he’d taken at the recovery scene. Without another word he handed the phone to Dec. The young guy’s face drained of colour as he stared at the image on the screen.

      ‘Scroll down. There’s another.’

      Dec thumbed the button and his face grew even whiter. He dropped the phone in his lap, then sank his head into his hands. ‘Shit. That is bad.’

      Joel took the phone back from him. ‘You okay?’

      ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t think I’ll be wanting dinner, though.’

      ‘Well?’

      ‘It’s her,’ Dec mumbled through his fingers. ‘The girl from the party. The one they killed.’

      ‘Dec, we need to be completely sure.’

      The young guy looked up sharply. ‘You don’t forget something like that. I’m sure.’

      Joel nodded. He was silent for a few moments as he got his thoughts together. Confiding in Dec Maddon was going a long way out on a limb – but Dec was all he had right now.

      He took a deep breath. ‘This isn’t a regular murder investigation, is it, Dec? This is something different.’

      Dec looked at him. ‘Does that mean you believe me?’

      Joel paused a long time before he replied. ‘We need to keep all this between us. I’m taking a big chance on you. Don’t let me down.’

      Dec nodded solemnly. ‘I won’t let you down.’

      ‘You’re going to be discharged from here tomorrow morning, and you and I are going for a drive. I want you to help me find the house. You need to think hard.’

      ‘Things are coming back slowly,’ Dec said. ‘Details.’

      ‘Like?’

      ‘Like those weird birds.’

      ‘What weird birds?’

      ‘On the gateposts. Like sculptures, you know? Stone birds. Ravens or something. I can remember their claws and beaks. Ugly fuckers.’

      Joel patted him on the shoulder as he rose to leave.

      ‘Keep it coming. Write down everything you remember. I’ll see you in the morning.’

       Chapter Twenty

      Evening was falling by the time Joel rode into Lavender Close on the edge of the market town of Wallingford. He cruised slowly past the gate entrances looking for number sixteen, but couldn’t find it until he realised that the Hawthornes’ place was the only house in the street with a name instead of a number. The fancy slate sign on the wall read ‘The Willows’.

      He rolled the big Suzuki up onto the kerb by the gate and killed the engine. Unstrapping his helmet, he looked around him. The houses looked like they could have been made of Lego, all sitting in neat ranks in the amber glow of the streetlamps, each with its crisp little garden. Two of them even had gnomes. The house next door to the Hawthornes’ place was the only property that lacked the compulsory manicured lawn and perfect hedge, and instead of a Rover or a Volvo in the drive, there was a builder’s van and a couple of go-faster hatchbacks. That would be the Maddon place, then.

      He walked in the gate of The Willows, brushed his fingers through his hair at the door, and knocked. A few seconds later a light came on in the hallway, then the door opened and a sour-faced woman appeared on the front step. She eyed the bike and his leather jacket with obvious distaste, and crossed her arms.

      ‘If it’s the Maddons you’re looking for, it’s the next door along.’

      ‘I’m not. Are you Mrs Hawthorne?’

      ‘I’m Gillian Hawthorne,’ she said uncertainly. Her eyes opened wide as he showed her his police ID. ‘You’re a Detective Inspector?’ She made no attempt to mask the scepticism in her voice.

      ‘Incredible though it may seem,’ he felt like saying. Instead he adopted his most polite tone and said, ‘It’s your daughter Kate I’ve come to see. Is she in?’

      ‘If this is about Declan Maddon, shouldn’t you be talking to them?’ She jerked her thumb dismissively at the house next door, keeping her eyes averted from the place as though it would turn her stomach to look at it directly. ‘The police have already been here once today. Is Kate in trouble?’

      ‘None whatsoever. I just want to ask her a couple of questions.’

      ‘Oh, very well.’ She ushered him inside the hall and made a big show of getting him to leave his helmet by the door. The house smelled of new carpets and air freshener. Gillian Hawthorne called up the stairs, ‘Ka-ate!’

      No reply.

      ‘She’s been in bed.’

      ‘Is she not well?’

      ‘She’s just a little off-colour. Do you really need to talk to her now?’

      ‘It’s quite important,’ he replied.

      ‘I suppose you’d better come up, then.’

      Gillian Hawthorne led the way up the stairs and stopped at a door.

      ‘Kate, dear?’ She turned the handle and Joel followed her inside. The room was dark. Gillian turned on a side light, and there was a groan from the bed. Joel could see the girl’s red hair sticking out from under the duvet. He looked around. The bedroom was just like any teenage girl’s room. Posters on the walls, TV, computer, a desk covered in magazines, hairbrush, iPod, makeup, mobile. The only