by Michael Wood
‘Dad, you’ve got a visitor.’
Ruby Hartley bounded into the kitchen. Her father, Daniel, was sitting at the table tapping away on his laptop. He looked up and his smile dropped as he saw Samuel Bryce standing in the doorway.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. His voice had dropped and was shaking.
‘Daniel, that’s no way to speak to a visitor,’ Laura said. She wiped her hands on the tea towel. ‘Hello, I’m Laura, Daniel’s wife. I must apologize for my antisocial husband. His manners appear to have taken the evening off.’
‘That’s quite all right,’ Samuel said, smiling without revealing his teeth. He had purposely spruced himself up for the occasion. He’d washed and flattened down his knotted hair and managed to find some old clothes in a bin at the back of Primark to make himself look halfway decent. ‘Daniel and I go back a long way. I’m used to his moods.’
‘You’re an old friend of Daniel’s? That’s nice.’
‘Yes. I’m visiting Manchester for the Christmas holidays and thought I’d look up an old friend while I’m here.’
‘Well isn’t that sweet. Would you like a drink … ?’
‘Samuel. Samuel Bryce. And a drink would be lovely, thank you.’
Daniel watched on in horror as his wife was innocently having a charming conversation with a killer. She had no idea who she was inviting into their lives.
‘Ruby, go and shout Thomas down to say hello to an old friend of your dad’s.’
‘Actually, love,’ Daniel said, jumping up. ‘Let me just have a few words with Samuel on our own. I’ll take him into the living room.’
He practically pushed Samuel out of the kitchen and manhandled him into the lounge. He closed the door behind them with a slam.
‘What a beautiful Christmas tree,’ Samuel said looking up at the seven-foot spruce.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Daniel spat with venom.
‘I’ve come to see your family. I’ve come to wish you all a very merry Christmas. I’ve come for my present.’
‘Present?’
‘Yes. I thought you’d like to give me a couple of grand in the spirit of the season.’
‘I told you the last time I don’t have that kind of money,’ Daniel hissed.
‘Really? I think you’re lying; but then you were always good at lying, weren’t you? Let’s see,’ he said, walking around the large living room. ‘That TV must have set you back a few grand, and I know for a fact Bang & Olufsen aren’t cheap either. Was that an Apple Mac you were playing with in the kitchen?’
‘Come off it Wes … Samuel, that isn’t fair. I’ve paid my dues. I served my time and I made something of myself. You could have done it too. Why should I help you because you couldn’t be bothered to create a decent life for yourself?’
‘Don’t you dare!’ Samuel said. He walked up close to Daniel, who took a step back in fear. ‘You have no idea of the struggle I’ve had to cope with. I’ve tried to make a life for myself. I’ve tried to get a career, a house, and a job, but I’ve always fallen at the final hurdle. Do you know why? This,’ he tapped the side of his head. ‘I can’t get Felix Myers out of my head.’
It was the first time Daniel Hartley had heard Felix’s name since his trial, and he recoiled at it was spoken.
‘Unlike you, I have a conscience,’ Samuel continued. ‘You’ve obviously been able to put it behind you and move on. Did you think serving nine years was enough? Did you think that made everything better? Well it didn’t. I couldn’t just turn my mind off and carry on as normal. I’ve had Felix Myers living in my head for almost thirty years, and it’s fucking killing me. You may have been able to shut him out but I haven’t. So yes, I think you could afford to give me a few quid to help me out.’
‘No way. I’m not giving you anything,’ Daniel tried to sound confident but it wasn’t working. ‘I’m going to call the police and say you’ve broken the terms of your licence. You’ll be straight back in prison, and you’ll never see daylight again.’
‘And what will that do? Do you honestly think you’ll be safe with me behind bars? I know where you live now. I know your name. I can write to your wife. I can look your kids up on Facebook and let them know all about their precious daddy.’
‘You’re a sick bastard.’
‘I’m sick? That’s rich. You named your son Thomas after your old life. Now that’s sick. I bet if you’d had another son you’d have called him Felix, wouldn’t you?’
‘I want you to leave,’ Daniel said with all the hatred he could muster without raising his voice.
‘I’m not going anywhere without some cash.’
‘I’ve already told you I don’t have any.’
‘Then I’m going to go back into that kitchen and have a lovely chat with the lovely Laura and tell her all the lovely things about her lovely husband. I wonder how she’ll react when I tell her the man she sleeps with every night crushed the fingers of a thirteen-year-old boy with a pair of pliers, or that she’s had two children with a man who set fire to an innocent teenager and laughed while he watched him burn.’
Daniel was stuck against the back wall in the living room. His left hand was clamped to his mouth and tears were streaming down his face as the whole nightmare came flooding back. He had tried so hard to forget it, to block it out, to build a life for himself, and his family, but it was always there. Now, the full memory was back and it was eating away at him.
Daniel fumbled in his pocket for his wallet and opened it. There was eighty pounds in cash which he shoved into Samuel’s hand. He lifted out his bank card and pointed it at him. ‘The PIN is 1191. There’s about three grand in the account. Take the lot. Only, do me a favour; whatever it is you’re taking make sure you give yourself a killer dose because, I swear to God, if you come back here again I’ll beat every ounce of life out of you and I won’t be able to stop until I’ve pummelled you to death. Do we understand each other?’
Samuel took the blue plastic card in his dirty, grubby hands.
Daniel turned away, opened the door and found his son standing on the other side.
‘Is everything all right, Dad?’ Thomas asked.
‘Everything’s fine, son. Samuel’s just remembered he needs to be somewhere else.’
‘That’s right. Thomas. Sorry I can’t stay. Wish your family a merry Christmas from me. I hope you all get what you deserve.’
SEVENTY-TWO
‘Did you ever see Daniel Hartley again?’ Matilda asked Samuel Bryce.
‘No.’
‘When did you find out he’d died?’
‘The thing is, I don’t really remember much about that Christmas, or afterwards. I cleared his bank account like he said I could. It took me a couple of weeks to empty it. I had to write the PIN on my arm in case I forgot it.’
‘Did you blow the lot on drink and drugs?’ Amy asked.
‘Certainly did. Best Christmas ever, from what I remember.’
‘Did you go back to Manchester to see Daniel Hartley or his family in January 2014?’ Matilda asked, raising her voice slightly.
‘I honestly can’t answer that. We kept buying more meth and we’d lose days, sometimes a full week. I didn’t know what I was doing.’
‘Where’s Caitlyn now? Could we speak to her?’
‘Not without holding a séance. She died in February 2014.’
‘Overdose?’
‘She needed it. The bloke who sold us the meth said he had a few mates who’d pay her a grand to spend the night with them. She didn’t want to, but I talked her into it. We didn’t have much of Daniel’s money left and needed everything we could get. The night she left I told her I loved her for the first time,’ Samuel’s voice broke and his bottom lip began to wobble. ‘She said it back to me too. The next morning, I found her in the living room. She’d been beaten black and blue. She wouldn’t talk to me. It took me all day to get it out of her. They weren’t a couple of his mates, there was a whole gang of them. She lost count
of how many there were. They did anything they wanted with her and she just had to take it. They kicked her out when they’d finished and didn’t give her a penny.’
Samuel was crying. He had genuine feelings for Caitlyn and he’d encouraged her to go out that night. He’d sent her to her death.
‘I cleaned her up. I told her it would be all right. We’d move away, start a new life. She’d given up though, I saw it in her eyes. She said it was too late. No matter where we moved it would always be with her, in her head. She told me she couldn’t live like this any longer, and she wanted to go to sleep. I let her.’
‘Did she give herself the overdose?’ Amy asked.
Samuel nodded. He couldn’t speak. There were genuine tears of sadness pooling in his eyes.
‘What happened after that?’
‘The next day I took her to the park and left her in the bushes. She was found later that day. I saw a story in the newspapers a few weeks later saying the police were still appealing for witnesses to come forward to identify her. They’re probably still waiting.’
‘I’m sorry about Caitlyn, Samuel,’ Matilda said.
‘So am I.’
‘Where was this flat you lived in?’ Amy asked.
‘Near the train station in Leicester. Just off Wellington Street.’
‘Samuel,’ Matilda asked. ‘Going back to Daniel Hartley. Is it possible you killed him while on crystal meth and not remember doing it?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Daniel’s son, Thomas, is currently serving life in prison for killing his father, mother, and eight-year-old sister, Ruby. He’s maintained his innocence from day one, and I believe him.’
Samuel shrugged.
From her inside pocket, Matilda took a photograph of Thomas Hartley. It was the standard photo taken at school. He was flashing a toothy smile, head up high, back straight, grinning to the camera. He was a handsome boy, smart and tidy. He looked nothing like that now. The life had been torn out of him. Matilda pushed the photo to Samuel.
‘This is Thomas Hartley. You met him, briefly. Look at him. Young, happy, good-looking, intelligent. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. He could be anything he wants. Instead, he’s languishing in a Young Offenders Unit for a crime he didn’t commit. I think you went back to Manchester while you were high on meth, and you killed Daniel and Laura and Ruby when you couldn’t get any more money out of Daniel.’
Samuel looked at the photo. He didn’t touch it, he leaned over the table and stared, analysing the picture.
‘You’re in here for the rest of your life anyway, Samuel. Is it really worth ruining another boy’s life by not owning up to what you’ve done?’
Samuel couldn’t take his eyes from the photograph. The clock at the back of the room ticked away a painfully long minute. Eventually, he looked Matilda in the eye. ‘I’m a killer. I killed Felix Myers for no reason. I’ll admit that as I know, hand on heart, that I did it. Killing is in me. Crystal meth gives you a rush of confidence and energy. It makes you believe you can do anything you want. I’ve no idea what I was doing around the time Daniel and his family were killed. But when I read about it in the papers, when I saw the way they died, I knew it was me. I knew I’d done it. I just couldn’t prove it. Not even to myself.’
Inside, Matilda was cheering. She’d just secured Thomas Hartley’s release from prison.
SEVENTY-THREE
Kate Moloney was walking past the back entrance to Starling House when she saw the three detectives approaching. She pulled opened the door and let in a torrent of rain. She shivered against the cold stiff breeze.
‘What are you doing here?’ Kate looked dreadful. Her hair was tangled, her face was make-up free and every wrinkle and line was on show. ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?’
‘We need to talk to your staff again.’
‘You’re joking, surely. You still think one of the staff killed Ryan and Jacob? Bloody hell, it’s no wonder Matilda Darke couldn’t find Carl Meagan when you’re constantly looking in the wrong direction.’
‘Where are your staff, Ms Moloney?’ Christian said, ignoring the remark about his boss.
‘I have no idea and I’m not in the slightest bit interested.’
‘Is the representative from BB Security here yet?’ Sian asked.
‘No. They’ve had storms in Ireland too. No planes out until tomorrow at the earliest.’
‘Do you mind if we have a look around?’
‘You can do what the hell you want. I’m past caring.’ She turned and headed off back down the corridor.
‘Kate, how long have your staff been working here?’ Sian asked.
‘Does any of that matter now? We’re all out of a job.’
‘Humour me.’ Sian stared her out.
Kate took a deep breath and let out a huge sigh. ‘Peter McFly has only been here a few weeks. Rebecca Childs about a year or so. Same for Gavin Ryecroft. Oliver Byron, a few months, maybe—’
‘None of them for very long then?’
‘We were all new at some point. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ she said. She turned and headed down the corridor.
‘Ms Moloney, I’d like you to come with us if you don’t mind,’ Christian said.
‘Why?’
‘Please.’
‘I’ll be glad to see the back of you lot,’ she said under her breath but loud enough for them to hear it.
Oliver, Gavin, Rebecca, and Peter were all in the staffroom having a sandwich. The atmosphere was tense and the conversation was stilted. They were making pointless small talk just for something to say, to take the edge off the situation.
‘Would anyone mind if I closed the window?’ Rebecca asked.
‘I would. The smell of whatever it is you’re putting in your sandwich is turning my stomach,’ Gavin said.
‘Fine. I’ll freeze to death then, don’t worry about me.’ She purposely made a performance out of zipping up her jacket and took her sandwich and mug of tea to the table.
The door opened and Kate entered with the detectives following her.
‘Here they all are. Which one do you want to accuse this time?’
‘What’s going on?’ Gavin asked, his mouth full of a cheese and pickle sandwich.
‘These detectives have put all our names in a hat and pulled one out at random and whoever they’ve chosen is going to be framed for Ryan and Jacob’s murder. Isn’t that right, detective?’
‘There really is no need for that attitude, Kate,’ Sian said, slowly losing patience with her.
‘Isn’t there? You come in here and blunder your way through a murder investigation and allow another inmate to be killed under your noses. Thanks to your ineptitude you’ve probably managed to get this place closed down and all of us fired. Don’t you think we have a right to be slightly pissed off?’
Christian Brady ignored her and stepped forward. ‘Oliver Byron, we’d like a word in private.’
‘With me?’ he asked.
‘Yes. If you’d like to come with us?’
‘Why?’
‘If you could come with us we can talk about this in another room.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Oliver,’ Kate said. ‘They’ll blame you for half an hour then they’ll change their mind and try and pin the murder on Rebecca. Then it’ll be Peter’s turn.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Oliver said.
‘I think you do, John.’
The room fell silent. Christian and Oliver stared at each other. Neither one of them wanting to flinch first.
‘John? Who’s John?’ Rebecca asked.
‘You know?’ Oliver looked up with wide eyes.
‘We know,’ Christian said. It was evident he was taking no pleasure out of this. Nobody who had children would relish taking another father into custody for protecting their own child. ‘John Preston, I’m arresting you for the murder of Ryan Asher and Jacob Brown. You do not have to say anything; but it may harm your defence if you do not mentio
n when questioned something which you later rely on in court.’
‘What the hell is going on?’ Gavin protested. ‘Who’s John Preston?’
‘Would you come with us, please, John,’ Christian said.
‘No. I’m sorry, no. I’m not going anywhere.’ John started to back away but the staffroom was small and already full to capacity. There was nowhere for him to go. His eyes widened and darted around the room as if looking for a way out. He saw a large knife on the counter and picked it up, grabbed Rebecca by her hair and lifted her out of her chair. She screamed as he gripped her firmly in his left hand and held the knife to her throat.
‘John, this is not the way to solve this,’ Sian said, stepping forward. ‘Put the knife down, let Rebecca go and we’ll talk about this.’
‘No. I’ve nothing to say.’
‘It’s over, John. We know everything. We know about your son in hospital. We know what happened.’
The heavy silence enveloped the entire room. Kate, Peter, and Gavin were struck dumb by the unfolding drama. Rebecca, tears streaming down her face, was fearing for her life, and Oliver Byron, or John Preston, was panicking, as he knew the end was near.
‘I had no choice,’ he began, swallowing hard. ‘Everyone knew Ryan Asher beat my son to a pulp. Even the police knew it, but there was no evidence so they couldn’t arrest him. The only person who could point the finger was my son, and he’s in a coma and destined to be in one for the rest of his life.
‘A part of me wanted to hunt Ryan down and knock him over with my car or give him the same beating he gave Malcolm, but I didn’t. I sat by my son’s bed day after day after day thinking of ways to make Ryan pay for what he’d done. Then I read in the newspapers he’d killed his grandparents. I went to his trial. I made sure I sat near his parents so that every time he looked up at them he’d see me too … ’
‘Were you the man who made the scene?’ Faith interrupted.
John Preston grimaced. ‘I’m afraid I allowed my emotions to get the better of me that day. His mother was crying. I thought, how can she weep for a monster she brought into the world? I decided not to go back after that. I couldn’t face it. I did my homework though. I knew he’d end up at Starling House when he was found guilty so I went along for a job interview. At first I thought it was serendipity that there just happened to be a position available – until I started working here. There’s always a position available. Nobody wants to work here.’
