Free Echoes of Lies by Jo Bannister

builders found you on Monday morning. Sunday night was frosty: the cold kept you from bleeding to death.”
    Daniel hugged himself. The room was hot and stuffy but the memories were like ice. “And you don’t know why.”
    Deacon shook his head. “I’ll find out.”
    â€œWill they come back?”
    That was the big one. But the answer depended on why they’d come in the first place and was thus far unknowable. “They think you’re dead,” said Deacon. “That’s what I told the papers. If they learn otherwise they may come back. Or not, depending on why they wanted you in the first place. We’ll do our best to protect you.
But I’d be lying if I said we could keep you safe indefinitely. The best way to do that is to put them behind bars.”
    â€œBut if you don’t know who they were … ?”
    â€œExactly,” nodded Deacon. “Well, I have one good witness, somebody who was there throughout. Maybe something you heard or saw will help - something that hasn’t come back to you yet but will do. If anything occurs to you, whether or not you think it matters, call me.”
    â€œI’ve told you everything.”
    â€œNo you haven’t,” said Deacon without rancour. “No one ever does. You’ve told me everything you’ve remembered so far. But there is more. There has to be. There’s a reason for what they did, and somewhere behind those mental barriers you know what it is. You must do. Whether or not you understand why, you’re the key to all this.”
    â€œI think they made a mistake,” murmured Daniel. “I don’t think it was me they wanted.”
    â€œThey didn’t think they’d made a mistake.”
    â€œThey thought I knew something about this Sylvia or Sophie or whoever.” His brow cleared suddenly, his eyes surprised. “Sophie. The woman they were asking about - she was called Sophie.”
    â€œThere you are,” said Deacon approvingly, “that’s something we didn’t know five minutes ago. And it won’t be the last thing. Keep thinking about it. I’ll get onto the Police National Computer and start looking for a missing Sophie. In the meantime, is there anything you want?”
    Daniel considered for a moment. “An explanation. Catch them if you can, but I’d settle for knowing why. And …”
    â€œMm?”
    In the circumstances his smile was unbearably tender, like the first blink of spring sunshine, the first tremulous birdsong. When Deacon first saw Daniel Hood he thought he looked like an old man. Cleaned up, warmed up, fed, healing and with his pale face lit by that unexpected smile, he looked not just younger but oddly ageless. And androgynous. Ambiguous.
    Daniel said, “And, for none of this to have happened. I want to be
who I was a week ago. I liked my life then; I liked me. Now I don’t even know who I am.”
    Deacon’s gaze dipped, hiding his confusion. He wasn’t a man who was easily touched by other people. He was pragmatic and objective, and many people thought him hard. It was how he saw himself. He was startled by the feelings this young man stirred in him.
    There was nothing wrong with them. Even by his own rather narrow terms of reference there was nothing wrong with feeling compassion for someone who’d suffered as Daniel Hood had. He just wasn’t used to responding to people on an emotional level. He dealt in facts, in evidence, in forensics. He was disturbed to find himself empathising with someone he didn’t know, didn’t need to know, only needed to do his duty by.
    He stood up, turned away and headed for the door. “I’ll try and get you the explanation, anyway.”

Chapter 6
    The computer had nothing helpful to offer. Deacon was appalled by just how many people were missing nationwide. But though there were a handful of Sophies of various ages being sought by their