Free Philip Brennan 03-Cage of Bones by Tania Carver

anonymous. We have to respect their wishes.’
    ‘Right … ’
    She placed her hand on the small of his back, ushering him out of the office. At the doorway she stopped. Body blocking his view of the next office along. ‘Do you have a card? Some way for me to get in touch with you?’
    ‘Uh, yes … ’ He dug into his jacket, handed one over.
    ‘Thank you. If I think of anything else, can I call you?’ Eyes full on him. ‘Or you can call me … ’
    Mickey was flustered once more. ‘Yeah … sure.’
    Another dazzling smile. ‘I’d like that.’ She turned, motioned to a pretty girl seated at a desk. ‘Stephanie will see you out.’
    Mickey said goodbye and left.
    Head spinning from the encounter. Hoping he would see her again. Wondering just who the man was. He couldn’t think of where he had seen him.
    But he knew it wasn’t good news.

18
     
    A t least he had stopped screaming, thought Anni. That was something.
    The boy from the cage lay in front of them. Completely still, eyes wide open, staring straight ahead. Like an animal hiding in plain view, frozen. Thinking that if he couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see him.
    Anni tried another smile. ‘What’s your name?’
    Nothing. Just those eyes, unblinking.
    Dr Ubha was standing behind them both, monitoring the situation. She had been first in the room when they heard the screaming. Had ducked to avoid a plastic tumbler aimed at her head. When they had stepped into the darkened room, they had seen a water jug lying on its side where he had thrown it, the floor wet. He was kicking, thrashing, trying to pull the feeding drip from the back of his hand, escape from the tightly made bed covers.
    Dr Ubha went straight up to the boy. On seeing her approach, he forgot the drip and, eyes brimming with panic and fear, grabbed her arms to fight her off. Anni had been at her side in an instant, ready to assist, but the doctor, sensing that the boy’s reaction was born of terror rather than aggression, had pulled away from him and stepped back. Once she did that, his hands had dropped.
    Seeing he had no means of escape through the door with the three women there, he had backed himself up against the headboard of the bed, tried to push himself through it. Gasping and sobbing as he did so. But, Anni had noticed, there was no violence. And he hadn’t spoken. Just the staring. And silence.
    Realising he wasn’t going to attack again, Anni exchanged a glance with Marina and moved forward, making to sit in the chair beside the bed. The child pushed himself even further back, whimpering once more, trembling now in fear. Eyes moving from staring at nothing to being directly on Anni. She stopped, chilled when they met hers. She had come across people in distress through her work, on an almost daily basis. But she had never encountered such depths of terror in anyone. She flinched inwardly, not wanting to think about what the boy had seen, experienced.
    ‘OK … ’ Eyes averted from his, she backed off. Took a chair from behind her and slowly brought it up to the bottom of the bed. The boy didn’t take his eyes off her all the time she was moving. She sat. Looked at him. Managed to smile.
    ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m Anni. What’s your name?’
    Nothing.
    ‘You do have a name, don’t you?’
    Nothing. Just those eyes, that stare …
    Anni could cope with traumatised women, rape victims, abused wives, but children were a blind spot. She had been trained to deal with them and always followed her training, but it wasn’t something that came naturally to her. Usually she found something she could relate to, some shared commonality on which to start a dialogue, build a relationship. It could be anything from difficulties with siblings or school to football or even Doctor Who . Anything. But it was all book-learned, not natural. And he kept staring at her. Those eyes … Maybe if she had children of her own. That might be different. But she didn’t, and although her