Chapter 105

Nightingale had said the cadaver dog, a black Labrador called Pat, would sniff out the blood in two minutes. Pat didn't. In fact, Pat didn't find any blood at all, not in the amount the videos had suggested he would.

Nightingale and her crew had woken Joshua Meade along with the rest of the Children of Job's live-in members. He had objected and issued threats of religious persecution lawsuits, but it was water off a superintendent's back to Nightingale. It was what happened when search warrants were executed and she'd heard it all before. Anyway, it was hard to take Joshua seriously. Puce-faced with rage, he was wearing an eighteenth-century nightgown, the kind worn by upper-class Victorians and out-of-touch Tories. If he'd been wearing a bedcap Poe would have assumed the man had an undisclosed Scrooge fetish.

Poe glared at Joshua, convinced he must have known something about what had gone on prior to his tenure at the Children of Job. Israel Cobb said no one else had been involved, but surely someone must have heard the screaming. Seen the bodies being taken out. Heard a rumour.

Joshua bristled under Poe's naked hostility. ‘Who do you think you are, Poe?' he barked.

‘I'm the Ghost of the Children of Job Are Finished, you sinister motherfucker,' Poe barked back. ‘When this is all over, I'm making you the most famous cult in the world. By the time me and Tilly have finished, not even the Westboro Baptist Church will return your calls.'

‘How dare you! The Children of Job is not a cult, it's a—'

‘That's enough!' Nightingale snapped. ‘Poe, if you can't be civil, I'll have you removed. And Mr Meade, I would advise you to tread carefully. Very carefully. We are way beyond Cornelius Green's murder now.'

While Nightingale performed the legal niceties of explaining what they were looking for and what the search warrant allowed them to seize, a team secured the old school basement.

Pat the cadaver dog went in first. He didn't bark or otherwise indicate there was anything there.

By the time Nightingale had finished with Joshua, Pat was back outside and CSI were inside, chipping away at the concrete floor, taking samples to the mobile lab they'd brought with them. They split the basement into one-metre grids and took a sample from each one.

Still nothing.

Poe didn't like the basement. Didn't like to think he was loitering in the same place Bethany and the other victims had died. Instead, he removed his forensic barrier clothing and sat in the main hall with the guys not actively involved in processing the basement. The seats and tables that had been set up for the graduation ceremony had gone, replaced with pews arranged in a herringbone pattern. A pulpit centred the stage. Poe sat on one of the pews and stared into space for fifteen minutes, trying to figure out what the lack of blood meant. He was convinced they were in the right place. That it was the school basement on those videos. But if the dogs or the CSI team couldn't find blood, it meant the videos had been staged, and that made no sense at all. Poe doubted anyone at the Children of Job would have had the technical skills to pull off something so sophisticated, and even if they had, the bodies being pulled out of those graves were very real. Nightingale had taken a call earlier confirming that a corpse had been secreted under the coffin in another exhumed grave. Including the badger-exhumed grave, that was three for three now.

Nightingale wasn't about to give up after an hour. Poe knew that even if she had to dig right down to the school's foundations, she would find corroborating evidence. She'd seen one of the videos as well. Motivation like that didn't wane easily.

Poe glanced at the huge crucifix hanging above the stage, the one the Christian rock band had been rehearsing under, in what seemed like a lifetime ago. In the harsh CSI lights, the crucifix seemed even bigger than he remembered. None of the cops or techs or support staff were paying the crucifix the slightest bit of attention, which once again reminded Poe of the closing scenes in The Life of Brian. He started humming ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' then stopped. He didn't feel like looking on the bright side of life right now. He wanted to brood.

Nightingale came up from the basement entrance to the left of the stage. She caught his eye, pulled down her mask and flashed him a what-you-gonna-do? grimace. She grabbed two coffees from the urn that someone had set up and sat down beside him. Poe shuffled along to give her room. She passed him a Styrofoam cup. It was full to the brim with black coffee. ‘It tastes foul, but it's as hot as a volcano and loaded with caffeine,' she said.

Poe took a sip. She was right; it was foul. He drank some more anyway. ‘Anything?' he asked, knowing there wasn't. If there had been she'd have led with it.

‘There's nothing down there,' she said.

‘There has to be. The brickwork, the floor, the height of the walls, it all matches what was in the videos.'

‘It does,' she agreed. ‘And don't get me wrong; we're not giving up. I'm just telling you it doesn't look good.'

They sat in silence and finished their coffees. Nightingale got to her feet and said, ‘I'm going back down.' She faced Poe. He hoped he didn't look as tired as she did. ‘Do yourself a favour, Poe – go home. Have a long, hot shower. Try to scrub the stench off your soul. Believe me, you don't want to live with this any longer than you need to. Trust us to do our jobs.'

Poe nodded. It wasn't the worst advice he'd been given. And a shower did sound good right now. Maybe a long walk with Doyle and Edgar. ‘I'll give it another half hour then I think I'll do exactly that, ma'am.'

‘Go now,' she said. ‘I promise you, yours will be the first number I call if we make a breakthrough.'

‘I can't.'

‘Why not?'

Poe pointed at the door.

‘That's why,' he said.