She leads him into the kitchen and stands in front of a small white box on the kitchen counter. Cody approaches it cautiously, like it might be an explosive device.
Webley says, ‘I don’t know whether you should…’
He looks at her.
‘I wasn’t thinking,’ she continues. ‘When I called you, I was acting on impulse. I wasn’t thinking… you know, about what you’ve been through.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘No. I’ll understand. If you don’t want to look at it, you don’t have to.’
Webley is one of the few people who is aware of how fragile his mental state can be. She has been right there at his side when he has lost control. He could back out now and she wouldn’t think any worse of him.
But he would hate himself for ever.
I can do this.
‘Honestly, it’s fine.’
He grasps the lid of the box. Counts to three. Lifts it off.
A wave of nausea washes over him. For a few seconds he thinks he’s going to black out. Or perhaps just vomit.
What he sees in the box is a severed finger.
Webley knows that he has had four of his toes cut off, which is why she was offering him an escape route. What she doesn’t know, however, is just how raw the experience is. She is unaware that one of the aforementioned toes was recently returned to Cody. Left in his building, just outside the door to his flat, presumably by Waldo. Cody still has it in the bottom of his freezer. Doesn’t know why he kept it, really, but tossing one of his body parts away with the rubbish just didn’t seem right.
He remembers how much he screamed that night. His worry when Webley asked for his help was that he would carry out a repeat performance.
But he hasn’t. He’s okay. Holding it together, just about.
He faces Webley again. ‘That’s… definitely a finger, all right. Are you sure it’s Parker’s?’
‘I think so. When we got engaged, we gave each other rings. Seemed like a more modern way of doing things. Equality and all that. That looks like the one I gave him. There should be an inscription on the inside.’
‘You haven’t checked?’
‘I… I can’t.’
A cue if ever there was one, Cody thinks. He looks into the box again, tries to block out the flesh and bone and gore and focus instead on the silver band around it.
A right pair, we are, he thinks. Two supposedly hardened murder detectives, used to dealing with the worst sights imaginable when it comes to human remains. And yet here we are, both with the heebie-jeebies over a simple finger.
‘You want me to look?’ He tries to sound unruffled.
‘Are you up to it?’
‘Sure. No problem.’
It’s a big problem.
He reaches for the finger. He can feel Webley’s eyes burning into the back of his neck.
The skin is pale and cold. The touch of it reminds him of his own dead toe, and bile starts to rise in his gullet again.
I can do this.
He tugs at the ring. It’s tight, doesn’t want to move. He tugs harder, half expecting the digit to come apart in his hands. Like pulled pork.
The ring finally relents. Cody slides it off, then places the finger back in its box. He holds the ring up to the light and peers at its inner edge.
‘It just says “For Ever”.’
Webley’s nod is emphatic. ‘That’s the ring I bought him.’
Cody puts the ring down on the worktop. ‘Okay, so it’s Parker’s ring. Presumably his finger too. The question is why?’
‘I don’t know. And I can’t get hold of him. I’ve been calling him ever since I found the… that. He’s obviously lost his fucking marbles. First his hair and now his fucking finger. What the hell is he playing at?’
Cody idly picks up the lid of the box. He turns it over. There’s something on the inside of it…
Webley says, ‘I need to go over to his house. Will you come with me?’
A small square rectangle of card. Dried blood has made it stick to the lid. Cody picks at it.
‘Cody?’
‘What?’ he says. ‘Yeah.’
