by Wes Markin
‘I will, sir …’
Yorke laughed. ‘There you go again.’
‘That’s because it’s your job. No one I’ve ever met can do this job like you. I’m not going to stomach being an imposter too much longer.’
‘Goodnight, Emma.’
‘Goodnight, Mike.’
It was getting late, and the park was quietening down. Jake stood at the entrance, looking from bench to bench, confused.
Only one bench was occupied. By a woman with her head shaved, wearing black clothing. There was no child with her, but there was a little boy sitting on a swing in front of her bench. He was too young to operate it properly, so it just teetered back and forth in the wind.
Surely not …
As he approached, she didn’t look up at him, but that didn’t prove it wasn’t her. After all, she’d be game playing. That was all she ever did.
When she looked up at the young boy on the swing, Jake saw that her eyes and lips were caked in black make-up and she’d opted for tattoos that reached up her neck to her face.
It made sense. She wanted to lose the heat her recent exploits had brought down upon her while still being a complete exhibitionist.
He stood in front of her. ‘Millie from South Carolina?’
‘You bet ya!’ Lacey used the Southern American drawl she’d introduced earlier on the phone.
He sat down beside her. She smiled and pointed at his shaved head. ‘Wow, when did you do that? You look totally different.’
Jake shrugged.
‘You know,’ Lacey said, returning to her normal west-country accent, ‘I regret this choice of venue now, because I just want to kiss you all over. And I can’t,’ she pointed over at two teenagers on a seesaw, ‘not in front of the children.’
‘Well, at least there are other things you won’t do to me either.’
‘Come on now Jake! Can’t we let bygones be bygones? If I was going to kill you, don’t you think I would have done it already? As long as you remain interesting to me, I prefer you in the world.’
‘Thanks, Lacey,’ Jake said and sneered.
‘At least tell me I look good?’
Jake shook his head. ‘You’re not my type.’
‘Shit … don’t say that! I did this for you.’
Jake sighed loudly. ‘Why are you back, Lacey?’
‘I like it Jake. Straight to business.’ She patted his thigh. ‘Before I ask for your help, I’m going to help you.’
Jake shook his head. ‘I don’t need your help.’
Lacey started to rustle in her backpack at her feet. Jake glanced at her. What was she doing? He remembered facing off against her secateurs several years ago in that car workshop. His heart started to beat faster.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the young boy teetering on the swing, staring at him. His face was pale and blank.
‘That’s Tobias, my little boy or my ragdoll, as I call him back in South Carolina.’ She pulled an A4 brown envelope from her backpack.
‘Funny that, because last time I saw you, you had no children, and he must be about five?’
Lacey shrugged. ‘Always so suspicious, huh? We will get to Tobias in a minute, but first I need to help you.’ She held out the envelope. When he reached to grab it, she pulled it back. ‘But first, promise to help me, if I help you.’
‘No—’
‘Okay, then no help.’
‘When have I ever asked for your fucking help?’
‘You haven’t. But you need it. Believe me, you really need it.’
‘Fucking ridiculous, as usual!’
Lacey began to slip the envelope in her backpack. ‘Fine by me. Live in ignorance. Continue with Caroline until … until … until …’
‘Until what?’
She blew Jake a kiss. ‘You die.’
Jake held his hand out. ‘Give me the envelope!’
‘And …?
‘And what?’
‘And you promise to help me?’
‘Whatever. I promise to help you. Now give me the bloody envelope.’
‘Good boy.’
Lacey waved Tobias over. He stepped off the swing and walked slowly over. She handed Jake the envelope.
‘Sit on my knee, darling,’ Lacey said.
Tobias hopped on her knee and she folded her arms around him.
‘What did she tell you she did for a living, Jake?’
‘She’s a beauty therapist.’ Jake pulled out some photographs.
‘Uh oh, the first lie. Look at the top photograph.’
The top photograph was of a tall, suited man. He had a waxed side-parting. Attached to his arm, wearing a glamourous red dress, was Caroline.
‘Ex-boyfriend?’ Jake said.
‘Our survey says no. That’s her husband, David Hewitt. He works with Simon Young. Heard of him?’
‘No.’
‘You would have done if you worked in Southampton.’
‘Why?’
‘Simon is CEO of Young Properties, or at least that’s his front. Really,’ Lacey took her hands from around Tobias’s waist and made a symbol of a gun with her hands, ‘he’s a hot shot gangster.’ She pretended to shoot. ‘Pow pow.’
‘I don’t understand …’ The colour started to drain from Jake’s face.
‘Well, start with this. She doesn’t have to work as a beauty therapist because she’s absolutely loaded. She’s married to Simon Young’s Lieutenant, David Hewitt.’
‘I don’t believe any of what you are telling me.’
‘You really do have trust issues, don’t you? Let’s move to photograph number two.’
Jake looked at the next photograph of Young and Hewitt eating a meal together in a restaurant.
‘Things have been getting a little bit hot in Southampton for Mr Simon Young of late. Someone has been interfering with his enterprise.’ She tapped her chin and faked being deep in thought. ‘Oh yeah, that would be me! I think this is the meeting they had about a year ago when Simon told David to be more vigilant. That someone, yes that’s me, was messing with his empire and on occasion, hurting and killing certain members of his staff. That was about the time that sweet little Caroline moved to Salisbury. Or was sent to Salisbury rather. Out of harm’s way.’
Jake felt his heart bashing against his ribs. ‘These are just words and images …’
Lacey kissed Tobias’s head. He stared straight ahead. He showed no response to Lacey’s display of affection. He probably realises how false it is, thought Jake.
Lacey continued, ‘Look at the next photo, Jake, and then maybe, you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt.’
Jake looked at the next photo. He wasn’t expecting it, and he flinched. It was a photo of a man and woman with their arms around each other. Both of their throats had been slit.
Across their laps was a dead child.
‘Ah shit.’ He put his hand to his mouth.
‘You know what I’m going to say next Jake, don’t you?’
He nodded.
‘I’m going to say that this is a picture of the last man Caroline had an affair with. That poor woman next to him is his innocent wife. And the dead child across their laps is their four-year-old son.’
If Jake hadn’t already thrown up earlier at Caroline’s, he probably would have thrown up right now.
‘Yes, David and Simon are very bad men, Jake. And the worst thing is, they’re on their way to Salisbury now.’
Jake looked at her. ‘How do you know?’
‘Two reasons.’ She stroked Tobias’s hair. ‘Firstly, this beautiful little man is Simon’s son, and he wants him back.’
She rubbed her nose against the back of Tobias’s head. He still offered no facial expressions.
‘And the second reason?’
‘Well … I invited them, of course.’
She stared off over Jake’s shoulder. He turned to see what she was looking at.
Outside the park, over the street, there was a man watching them. Lacey
waved to him, and the man turned away.
Each time Simon Young watched the recording his breathing quickened slightly.
The psychotic bitch had only filmed the events inside the room. Most of her kills, two in fact, took place off-camera at the front door.
This was disappointing. He wanted to see every blow this vicious whore struck against his people. Every blow.
Every time she struck, every time, she emailed a video file. Her assault on his businesses around Southampton had been unrelenting. But business wasn’t the only thing she’d taken from him, was it? She’d taken something far more important too.
He watched as Clive Bates threw his obscene carcass at her, only to miss and receive an ice pick in his side. At least he got a blow in; and after, when he was on top of her, he managed to squeeze some of the life out of the blood-sucking slag.
Young’s breathing continued to quicken. How he wished, desperately wished, that it was his hands around her neck.
‘They will be one day, Lacey,’ he told the video recording. ‘You can be certain of that.’
The next moment on the video was one that clouded the purity of his rage with another emotion.
He watched a young boy bury a knife into Clive’s neck.
His son.
Tobias.
So, with rage, came another emotion. One he wasn’t really used to. Despair.
He’d always known that he would get his son back one day. He’d never doubted it. Not for a second. But this boy on the video … was this really his son?
He looked so different … so cold … so empty …
Where was the child he’d lost? The joyful little man he used to snuggle with, read stories to, build Lego farms with?
So, today, now, he felt real despair, because she’d taken his son over two years ago, and it looked as if he was never going to get him back. Not the one he lost. Not the boy he loved.
With traces of tears in his eyes, he restarted the video, only to be interrupted by his phone.
‘It’s Johnny, Mr Young.’
‘Go on, Johnny.’
‘She came back. Exactly how you described her to us. Tattoos, shaved head. She stopped first at her dead brother’s cottage in Salisbury. One of my men was positioned there and he clocked her looking the place up and down. It’s unoccupied as the remaining family have moved to Wilton. I thought she might just break in and use it as a place to lay low, but she bottled it.’
Young rose to his feet. He was still breathing quickly.
‘Are you okay, Mr Young?’
‘I’m fine, Johnny. But know this, she didn’t bottle it. She went there because she knew we’d be there. She’s inviting me to come out and play.’
‘Okay, Mr Young. We know where she is right now. The cheeky bitch just waved right at me. What would you like us to do?’
‘Nothing, Johnny. You do nothing.’
There was a pause. ‘Really? I don’t understand. Why?’
‘Because I am accepting the invitation. I’m going to come out and play.’
After hanging up, he noticed that his breathing had returned to normal.
7
YORKE HAD PARKED the shitstorm that was Operation Bookmark to the back of his mind ten minutes ago. Now, he was turning his attention to something that mattered no less.
Ewan. His adopted son.
What a horrible thing to do to someone, he thought, to call them an orphan.
Yorke didn’t bother asking the question – what makes people do such horrible things? There was no point. He knew people did horrible things. Far more horrible things, in fact, than calling someone an orphan. He also knew that treating the cause of the problem wasn’t the final solution. That the problem always returned.
It was the same when Yorke and his team put a stop to evil. They stopped Robert Lock, only for Christian Severance to crawl from the shadows a year later.
You had to accept that it would never end. You had to learn to live with the existence of evil and just learn to deal with it every time it reared its ugly head.
So, how was he going to explain this to a thirteen-year-old?
Well, he’d have to make it clear that there would always be people out there who would try to hurt him. The answer was not to succumb to it. And knowing that it would come back again and again built resilience.
Yorke grimaced. Not only was he going to have to broach this now, but he was also going to have to admit that he’d stolen a look at Ewan’s mobile phone. Invaded his privacy. And had not behaved like a good father. A worried one, yes, but not a good one.
He rehearsed what he was going to say in his head.
‘Until you, and Beatrice, I didn’t have much experience of taking care of anybody. Even now, I don’t have much experience. Bea has only just come along, and you, Ewan, not that long before. I want to be the best I can be, I really do, but I think it’s going to take time, and I’m bound to make some mistakes along the way …’
He imagined putting a hand on Ewan’s shoulder at this point.
‘We are not here to replace your parents. And we would never dream of trying. You will always have them in your life, Ewan, regardless of what anyone says. You may not be able to see them anymore, but that does not mean they are completely gone. Never believe that. Never believe those that say such things to you.
‘Since you came to us, our lives have never been better, Ewan. We do not ever want to replace your most special people, but we cannot help but think of you as our son now. We love you so much, and I only did what I did because I was so, so worried. And I made a mistake, because I openly admit I’m a fool who is learning as he goes …’
Yorke wiped tears away and parked his car in his driveway.
He saw the lights were on in the kitchen. He turned the car engine off.
And then decided to run through his apology one last time before he went into the house.
Mark Topham was three drinks in and making eye contact with a handsome young man on the other side of the bar.
He then turned back to the barman and ordered a fourth Gin and Tonic.
Three drinks hadn’t quite taken the edge off an evening in which he’d just had to tell Holly and Ryan Mitchell that their son was dead.
However, the fourth drink, especially when he drank so quickly began to make his senses blur.
And it was more than welcome.
He didn’t have to order his fifth drink. The handsome young man had now stepped alongside him and ordered for them both.
When Patricia’s mother, Jeanette, stopped him at the entrance, Yorke was taken aback. Not by her being there, because Patricia had already alerted him to the fact that Jeanette was taking care of Ewan and Beatrice while she worked the crime scene at the farmyard, but because she practically manhandled him into the living room.
‘Okay.’ Yorke closed the door behind them. ‘I’m guessing this isn’t going to be good news.’
‘I have to tell you something,’ Jeanette said. ‘Patricia already knows because she found out before she was called away, but she knew she wouldn’t have chance to talk to you at work.’
‘Go on.’
‘Ewan was sent home from school today.’
‘Okay, why?’
Jeanette sighed. She brushed white hair over her ears. She took her glasses off and hung them from her cardigan. She seemed to be doing everything but get to the point …
‘Jeanette?’
‘He beat the living daylights out of someone.’
‘What? Ewan? … no way.’
‘He put them in hospital. Fractured the lad’s cheek and nose.’
Yorke started to move towards the door. He didn’t know if he was worried or angry. He assumed it was a mixture of both.
Jeanette’s hand shot out and grabbed Yorke’s arm. ‘Oi Mister, you just calm it.’
Yorke stopped, looked at her and took a deep breath. ‘I’m starting to see where Patricia gets her edge from.’
‘You better believe it! So,
before you charge off, you need the full story.’ She took her hand away.
‘Okay.’
‘Ewan has admitted it, and he has been excluded for a couple of days. He’s already told me why he did it.’
‘I think I can hazard a guess. Did it involve the word orphan by any chance?’
Jeanette nodded. ‘Among other things.’
‘What other things?’
‘In the changing room, they started to laugh at his scar.’
‘For pity’s sake,’ Yorke said, wondering whether to add, well they had it coming then, before he realised that it’d be the anger talking, and that he didn’t genuinely believe that. ‘Is nothing off-limits?’
Yorke heard the living room door open. He turned. Ewan stood there with a black eye and a cut lip.
Yorke glanced back at Jeanette, and then walked over to Ewan. ‘Did he hit you first?’
‘No. His mates did this to me. Afterwards. While they were pulling me away.’
Yorke went over and put his hands on Ewan’s shoulders. ‘This is not the answer. Not to anything. It never is.’
‘What is the answer then, Uncle Mike?’
Yorke shook his head. At this moment, he genuinely didn’t know. And the worse thing about it all was that everything he’d rehearsed on the journey home had disappeared out of his head.
Jake looked in his rear-view mirror at Tobias. He was perched on one of Frank’s booster seats. ‘Just let me do all the talking, okay?’
Tobias stared ahead with a blank expression. Jake figured that he had nothing to worry about there.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly and sweated. What the hell am I doing?
For a start, he was taking Lacey at her word. Shouldn’t he be verifying the existence of David Hewitt first? Was Jake really conducting an illicit affair with the wife of a gangster?
