Free Evil Valley by Simon Hall Page B

then? It wasn’t because I was on, was it?’
    There was a brief pause before Adam answered. ‘Don’t joke. I’m wondering if that might be part of it. Here are the even weirder bits. The guy produced a piece of paper and wrote down what he wanted. He didn’t speak, just wrote. He wanted her passport, or driving licence, or birth certificate. She pointed to some drawers and he went through them and took the passport. He didn’t go over the house and wreck it like burglars do, looking for anything valuable. He only took the passport and smashed the TV. And here’s the really odd bit.’
    ‘Uh huh,’ repeated Dan, sitting on his bed and trying to pull on his socks one-handed.
    ‘He had a plastic bag with him,’ said Adam. ‘And he took a severed pig’s head out, and put it in the telly where he’d smashed it.’
    Dan stopped fiddling with his socks. ‘Blimey, that does sound weird. And no attack on the woman at all?’
    ‘No. She was totally unharmed. Well, physically, anyway.’
    ‘It looks like you’ve got a nutter on your hands. I take it you want some news coverage to warn people about him? And to put out an appeal for anyone who might have seen anything? The usual stuff.’
    ‘Yeah, we’ll certainly do all that, but later. It’s not the reason I’m calling you. This bit isn’t to go out on the TV.’
    Dan was about to grab his coat, but the tone of Adam’s voice stopped him.
    ‘No?’ he said slowly. ‘Why do you want me then?’
    ‘Because the guy left a letter at the scene, on top of the TV in fact. And it’s addressed to you.’

Chapter Five
    A POLICE CAR PICKED him up, Adam had insisted but wouldn’t say why. The flat was just off the city centre at North Hill. Dan hadn’t had time to properly dry off, and wriggled in his seat to try to rub some of the clinging moisture from his back. His hair was still damp too, and he dabbed absent-mindedly at it with a grimy handkerchief. His brain was buzzing. Who could possibly want to commit a bizarre crime and leave him a note at the scene? And why was he being escorted there?
    There was a pair of police vans and four cars outside the house, uniformed officers jogging up and down the street, a group of neighbours watching. Some looked like students, others older people, a couple of children too. Typical of the area. It used to be popular with families who liked the big town houses, but with the expansion of the university many became flats and bedsits for the students. A sweet smell drifted in the air, the unmistakeable hint of cannabis.
    Someone’s panicking at this moment, Dan thought, imagining them flushing a stash down a toilet at the sight of all these police officers. He tried to smile, but the expression wouldn’t grow. He itched tetchily at his back and attempted to calm a welling concern. Adam had never sent him an escort before.
    The car parked and the driver got out and walked with him over to the house, politely insisted on it, despite Dan’s protests. Adam was waiting, pacing back and forth along the pavement.
    ‘We can’t go in, the scene’s been secured and we’re checking for evidence.’
    And good evening to you, thought Dan, but didn’t say so. His friend didn’t sound in the mood for humour.
    A couple of white-overalled figures were crouching on the path, looking for footprints. Dan knew more would be inside, checking every corner of the flat. The sound of detectives carrying out door-to-door inquiries slipped across from the neighbouring houses, soothing but insistent voices intermingled with alarmed and excited residents.
    ‘I’ve had a look around and that’s all I need for now,’ continued Adam. ‘The more people who go inside the flat, the more difficult it becomes. We’d have to take a sample of your hair and shoe and finger prints and all that stuff if you go any further. I’ve got a copy of what was written on the envelope and the letter inside. They’re the only bits you need to see.’
    Adam put on his