Page 27 of The Girl in the Woods

‘Yeah, it’s me, mate. Did you call the old bill?’

‘Have they gone?’ Jim asked.

‘Yeah, let me help you up. There’s no need to crawl. There ain’t any bombs, not now.’

Jim saw Luke and went to make for the cupboard again.

‘It’s all right,’ said Needles, holding on to him. ‘He helped get rid of them. Let’s have a nice cuppa.’

Jim nodded, allowing Needles to lead him to the living room. Luke was struck by the older man’s extraordinary relationship with this shaven-headed man.

‘Did you hear some noises tonight?’ Needles asked Jim, whose eyes were now on the TV.

‘You called the police about noises you heard,’ prompted Luke.

Jim’s forehead creased in concentration. ‘Oh, the Nazis were crashing around outside like they were breaking something.’

‘Can I check your garden and garage, Mr Carter?’

Jim looked confused. ‘I don’t have a garage.’

‘He doesn’t remember he has a garage,’ said Needles. ‘He keeps nothing in there.’

‘The banging was close. I could hear it over the phone.’

Needles jumped up. ‘He’s got nothing in the garage anyone would want.’

‘I’ll check all the same. Do you know where he keeps the garage key?’

‘No idea,’ lied Needles, following the police officer to the garage.

‘Does he have help come in?’ Luke asked as they walked.

‘No. No one gives a fuck about ’im, not his sister nor his wanker of a son.’

‘Social services should be informed.’

‘They’re rubbish,’ said Needles, his lips tightening in anger. ‘He never uses the garage. It’s a waste of your time.’

Luke shone his torch on the garage door. ‘Is this the one?’ It was numbered 38, like Jim’s house.

Before Needles could lie and say it wasn’t, Luke had shone his torch on the lock, and Needles gasped when he saw it had been forced.

‘Looks like someone has been in here,’ said Luke.

Needles dived in front of him and lifted the door. He clicked on the light switch and blinked several times, unable to believe his eyes. Chunks of twisted metal lay everywhere, and the sickening smell of spilt petrol and sweat hung over the air like a toxic cloud. Needles slowly became aware of what he was looking at, and it felt like his breathing was suspended for a second. He leant down to pick up a piece of metal.

‘Leave it, son,’ said Luke. ‘Do you have any idea who this bike belonged to?’

Needles was staring at the slashed tyres. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But they’re sure going to be upset.’

He spotted something by the side of the tyre. He couldn’t think what it was. Did he drop it? Or did it belong to whoever had smashed his bike? Needles told himself he’d return for it later, but then Luke spotted it too. He knelt and studied it before carefully picking it up with a plastic bag. Needles then saw it was a postcard. Luke read aloud the words on it.

‘When the law fails to serve us, we must serve as the law. The Vigilante.’

Needles thought he would explode. That fucking vigilante must have followed him. That’s how he knew where the bike was. He must have watched him take it out. He fantasised about the violent retaliation he’d take when he found the bastard.

‘Are you sure you don’t know who this bike belongs to?’ asked Luke.

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