had no such compunction and walked down the aisle and up towards the altar.
‘Hello?’ His voice echoed hers. Seconds later a door opened to the side of the altar and a priest emerged.
‘I’m Father Berkeley. How can I help you?’
Imogen joined Adrian as the priest approached, they both pulled out their IDs and the priest’s smile got a little tighter.
‘We’re conducting an investigation. We heard that you have a lot of homeless people in and out of here. We just wondered if you had noticed anyone missing recently?’ Imogen said, as Adrian wandered off towards the candle bank, the tiny shine of the tea lights burning away even when no one was there.
‘It doesn’t really work like that,’ Father Berkeley told them politely, clearly already eager for them to leave. ‘People come and people go.’
‘Do you know a man called Bricks?’ Imogen asked him.
‘Yes, Bricks came here sometimes. He was a strange one. I occasionally invite people to eat with me. He came and had dinner a couple of times but I didn’t invite him back a third time.’
‘Why was that?’
‘He was quite unpleasant and made me feel uncomfortable. You know when someone has a darkness about them? I imagine you get something similar in your line of work, like an instinct about people.’
‘When was that, sorry?’ Imogen ignored the priest’s extraneous comments, unwilling to engage in a conversation with him about the similarities between their line of work.
‘Probably around a month ago. He had a bit of money on him. I had to ask him to leave because he was quite rude to one of my parishioners, used the “c” word.’ The priest shook his head. ‘I threatened to call the police and he went off. I haven’t seen him since then.’
‘A month ago?’ Adrian looked at Imogen and pulled out his phone. This was news to them.
‘Do you have any idea who he hung out with? Do you have a photo of him?’ Imogen said to the priest.
‘No I don’t, he was always a bit antisocial, never came to any of the church gatherings for the homeless. I don’t think he liked me. You can’t like everyone though, can you?’
‘Indeed,’ Imogen said. ‘Thank you.’
The priest nodded and went into a back room. Imogen turned to see Adrian putting money into the collection box; as she watched him, he picked up a candle and lit it, placing it in the tiered metal candle holder. She thought he might even be praying for a moment before he turned to look at her.
‘Anything?’
‘Nope. But he obviously wasn’t in prison a month ago. We need to get Gary on the case. What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like?’
‘I didn’t think you were into all that.’
‘I’m just lighting a candle, Grey, calm down.’
‘I think we’ve known each other long enough for you to know that telling me to calm down is a bad idea.’
‘Why don’t you light one?’
‘Why would I do that? I’m not Catholic.’
‘You just do it for yourself, to remind yourself of the people you care about,’ Adrian said. ‘It just feels good.’
‘Who would I do it for?’ she said. Her mind immediately went to Dean, followed by a quick burst of shame for not thinking of her mother first.
‘You could do it for your mum; you’re already thinking about her.’
‘That’s not going to help her though, is it?’ Imogen’s mother Irene had never gone for more than a week without her. Now she was away with a man Imogen didn’t even know, in another country.
‘No, but it might help you.’
‘Fine.’ Imogen wasn’t sure who she was more concerned for. Irene for being with a strange man, or her newly found father Elias, who might disappear altogether again after spending so much time with Irene. After realising how unstable she was.
Adrian pulled out another pound coin and put it in the collection box. Imogen lit a candle and placed it next to Adrian’s, while she desperately tried to stay focussed on thinking about her mother. That was how it worked, wasn’t it? Bizarrely, she did feel better.
‘Who did you light yours for?’ she asked him.
‘You.’
‘Me? What’s wrong with me?’
‘The age-old question, eh?’
‘Seriously – why?’
‘Because you’ve got a lot going on right now, Grey.’ His expression was kind. ‘Plus, I’m not actually allowed to say anything nice to you for fear of you knocking my block off.’ They stared at each other for a moment.
‘Let’s go, Miley. We’ve got work to do, we need to find out who the body in the signal box belonged to, and how long Bricks has been out of prison,’ she said, conceding that it was nice to have someone in her corner that she trusted. She knew she gave Adrian a hard time, but she got the impression he liked it that way.
Gabriel sat in the waiting room outside the mental health nurse’s office. He was disturbed by the fact that he was actually looking forward to it, looking forward to speaking to someone in private without the fear of something terrible happening. Apart from mealtimes, Gabriel didn’t see much of anyone else, especially now that Jason was gone, forgotten, and it didn’t seem like he would be coming back. Sol would walk past every now and then and knock but that was as much human contact as he’d had since being inside. So far, he had witnessed three fights break out, all minor, but still with an intensity that threatened to spread among the other inmates and cause a much bigger problem.
Gabriel had carefully studied the prison officers to see which ones he needed to be on guard with. The officer who had escorted him here, Hyde, seemed to be the most volatile of the bunch. His bloodshot eyes were disengaged, he always looked tired and was constantly rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. How long before you got burnt out in a job like this? Gabriel wondered how many years he had worked here. He thought about all the men he must have seen come and go and then come back again. Who was really in prison here? Most of the prisoners here would do three years at most and then they got to go home, wherever that was, and forget. The unlucky ones like Gabriel would get moved to a different prison after sentencing. Not everyone came back, not everyone reoffended. Hyde, however, had been here longer than most of the other guards, he seemed to be the one that they turned to when things went south. He stared at these same walls as the prisoners every day, locked in the same buildings, leaving only to go home and sleep in his bed at night before returning again in the morning.
‘Come
