“You’d better get over here.”
I head to the door, Brad on my tail. “On my way.”
“The fuck?” Brad says as I race down the stairs to the club. “Someone could have moved him, right?”
“Like who?” I snap, jogging through the club.
“I don’t know. The fucking grave keepers. Fuck me, I amnotputting that call in.”
“One of us has to,” I say quietly, breaking out into the sunshine. “We’ll draw straws.”
“Jesus Christ,” Brad breathes, looking a bit pale.
We pull up to the small churchyard on the edge of town, seeing it swimming with cop cars, blue lights on full whack, the peaceful place far from peaceful. Brad’s had his mobile in his hand the whole journey, spinning it, tapping it on the wheel, constantly locking and loading his thumb ready to push down on Danny’s number but thinking better of it each time.
I seriously do not envy him.
Brad pulls over, and we slowly get out, taking in the scene as we do before meeting at the front of the car, bracing ourselves. We walk side by side over to Higham, passing through a dozen or so cops, all of whom eye us warily or with looks of derision. We ignore them all. I bet their hands are twitching to reach for their cuffs. Even their guns.
With that thought, I stand taller, knowing a slight slump will have the Heckler tucked into the waist of my jeans protruding. I look out the corner of my eye seeing Brad is obviously having the same thoughts I am. Any one of these arseholes could cause us the greatest of inconvenience if they decide they’d like to go on a power trip. And any one of them could be bent. I cast my eye over each and every one. We know for a fact The Bear had men on the inside. Beau’s uncle Dexter being one, the two cops that stopped Nathan Butler by the side of the road being two others. Spittle. All now dead. But are there more?
“Gentlemen,” Higham says, his arm held out to the empty hole in the ground. His tone is grave. He understands the ramifications of this situation. A very angry Brit on the loose.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brad breathes on the edge of the grave, looking down at the dirt. I join him, feeling his grief. I didn’t know Brad’s uncle and Danny’s father, he died three years before I dragged Danny from the dead to fight this war with me, but I know Danny loved the barbaric fucker with everything he had. Carlo Black took Danny in off the streets. Raised him as his own. Taught him everything he knows, which is why Danny Black has the deadly reputation he has. This is not going to end well.
I see forensic investigators poking around in the dirt. “Anything?” I ask, circling the grave.
“Nothing.”
“Do we know when this happened?”
One of the investigators looks up at me, pulling down her facemask. “The temperature of the unearthed soil indicates very recently. It’s still cool, the height of today’s sun not yet reaching it. So, yes, within the past twelve hours.”
“Cameras anywhere?” Brad asks, and I look at him tiredly. “What?”
“God’s the camera, Brad. I’m pretty sure most dead people rely on him to watch over them.”
“Well, he’s not doing a very good job, is he? You can cremate my ass when I’m gone. Burn me until I’m ash and throw m—”
I flinch, closing my eyes.
“Fuck, man,” Brad says quietly. “I’m...fuck.”
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head clear, pushing back the memories. The sounds of my family’s screams. The sight of the roaring fire.
I find Higham, who’s noting a few things down on his pad. “Does Danny know?” he asks.
Brad shows him his mobile. “I’m bracing myself. You should too.”
Higham laughs lightly, but it is a laugh of complete despair. “Oh, I am.” He holds something up. A ring.
“What?” Brad breathes, taking the gold and emerald piece from Higham.
“Is that a snake?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s a snake.” He pockets the ring and wanders off, dialing, and Higham comes to me on the other side of the empty grave. “Any ideas?” he asks, tucking his pad away.
“A few.”