Heroes and Villains
Page 29
Cullen felt her warmth through his fingers.
‘He was so determined, Scott, so convinced he was doing the right thing. We were getting somewhere with him, or so I thought, but then you hit the door. For a second it looked like anything might happen. You came in, let me go, but… but he ambushed you and, well, he knocked you out, didn’t he? And then he made off with you, saying you wouldn’t let him down. You’d understand. And I guess you know the rest. The uniform cops just missed him. Ten seconds, Scott. Ten. Seconds.’
Cullen made eye contact. ‘What?’
‘They helped me and Craig get free and… We didn’t know where he’d taken you. If they’d been ten seconds quicker, Bill would still be alive.’
‘He took me up Arthur’s Seat. Up there on the hill.’ Cullen waved his hand like he was pointing in the right direction. Pitch black outside and he couldn’t see the hill from here. ‘If those cops had saved me… They’d…’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Two people I’ve worked with for years died tonight.’ Cullen scraped back the chair, but didn’t get up. Just sat there, brooding. ‘Two idiots. Two complete idiots.’
‘One who took the law into his own hands, Scott. One who broke the law, helped the people we try to bring down.’
Cullen avoided looking at her.
She reached over but he pulled his hands further away. ‘Scott…’
‘Sharon, I don’t know what the hell to think.’
‘Look, I wanted to thank you. You put your life on the line for me. I’ll be the first to recommend you for a promotion or a commendation or whatever.’
‘I understand, Sharon. This doesn’t change anything between us. It’s still over.’
She nodded. ‘I know. I still like you, Scott. I just stopped loving you.’
‘I know the feeling.’ Cullen blinked back tears. ‘I’m sorry for all the bad shite I’ve done. I’m sorry for—’
‘Get over yourself, Scott.’ She was smiling at him, but tears glistened in her eyes. ‘You’re not that bad. I’m not either. We’re just different people from the ones who got together years ago, after we caught a serial killer. Maybe that was the mistake, maybe it wasn’t. But we had some good times. Some great holidays. And I want to still be friends.’
Cullen brushed the tears away. ‘I do too.’
‘Okay.’ Sharon pushed herself up to standing. ‘Christ, the Valium’s kicking in.’
‘Are you going to be okay getting back to the flat?’
‘Chantal’s giving me a lift. She’s just in with Craig now.’
‘I’ll see you around.’ Cullen watched her walk away.
Part of him wanted to rush after her, take her in his arms, kiss her like he used to, try to save their broken relationship.
But the rest of him couldn’t muster the energy.
It was over.
He just wished he’d been less of a passenger as it finished. Made things happen himself, been a man about it, not a boy. Taken control of things.
His phone flashed on the table. A text message from Yvonne, the contents hiding from the prying world. His breath caught in his throat, a butterfly flapped its wings in his stomach, and he slid his finger over the text icon.
‘Scott, I’m so sorry to do this by text, but I can’t get into anything with you. Need time to figure out what’s going on in my head. Yvonne X’
Cullen stared at the screen until his eyes hurt.
Then someone grabbed his shoulder and took the seat next to him. Hunter, smiling. Suit jacket, shirt, grey tracksuit bottoms. ‘Your turn to save me, eh?’
Cullen could only nod.
‘You okay, mate?’
Cullen cleared his throat, took a few goes to get rid of the tears he’d swallowed. Then he smiled, glad to see his friend. ‘I just want your couch and sweet oblivion.’
Saturday
18th February
45
It was still dark when Cullen woke up. Took a few seconds to get his bearings. He was on Hunter’s couch, the duvet kicked off onto the floor, still as tired as the minute he fell asleep.
Then his phone buzzed again.
He reached over to pick it up. Three missed calls, all from Methven, all in the last five minutes.
What the hell’s happened?
He jerked up to sitting, his fingers fumbling the commands. Trying to call him back.
But the phone flashed again with another incoming call. He answered it. ‘Sir?’
‘Get up, Sergeant! We have work to do.’
‘Sir, it’s Saturday.’
‘No rest for the wicked. And I know precisely how wicked you are.’
Cullen lay back on the makeshift bed and grunted.
‘Sergeant, I’m standing outside Craig Hunter’s flat and I sodding know you’re in there.’
‘She’ll still be in bed, won’t she?’
‘Hardly.’ Methven frowned at him. ‘The woman has two young children. And I know for a fact that she’s been up since six because she phoned me. Go on now, chap on the door, but I’m leading in there.’
‘You worried I might say the wrong thing?’
‘No, but you smell like you slept in your clothes.’
‘Speaking of clothes…’
‘Leather burns at roughly four hundred and fifty degrees Celsius. Luckily, I have access to a forge. A friend in Aberdeenshire who makes Pictish wedding rings.’ He yawned. ‘A long drive at that time of night, but well…’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Cullen avoided eye contact as he stepped up to the door and knocked.
The door opened and Angela stood there, looking as tired as he felt. ‘What’s up?’
Methven gave a gentle smile. ‘We need to—’
Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. ‘What’s happened to him?’
Behind her, two boys hared down the hallway, squealing as they swarmed around their mother’s long legs. She crouched down and whispered something. The older boy slapped the younger. ‘Tig!’ And they were off, racing through the house again.
Angela got to her feet and leaned back against the side wall, like she was bracing herself for the bad news. ‘Tell me. Everything.’
‘I’m afraid—’
Cullen stopped Methven, waiting for Angela to look at him.
I can’t let anyone else break the news. Bill was my friend, so this is my responsibility.
‘I’m sorry, Angela. Bill was involved in an accident late last night.’
She stifled a sob, but that was all the emotion she was letting herself show.
‘I was there. I know what happened. And I know what didn’t happen. And I’ll be here for you to talk about it all, if that’s what you want, but until then you need to remember one thing. Bill was a good man.’
She nodded for him to continue.
‘You’re going to hear a lot of things said about him in the days and weeks to come. That he killed a lot of people, including himself, but you don’t have to believe any of that. There’s no evidence.’
Methven stiffened, but gave a nod. ‘Absolutely. The murder inquiries remain open and DI Lamb’s death was a tragic accident. I personally attended the site to convince myself of that. I understand this won’t be of much consolation in this difficult time, but I will work with the Police Federation to expedite your widow’s pension and life insurance payment.’
She flinched.
Methven glanced back at his car, the smile waning. ‘Given what’s happened, the worst will be that even if it’s deemed suicide, Bill will be posthumously diagnosed with PTSD and… Well, we’re here for you.’
Angela maintained her smile for another moment. Then she nodded. ‘I appreciate it, sir.’
‘Well. I know this is a difficult time, but I can arrange for—’
‘I’ll be fine on my own. Mum’s coming over and…’ She covered a sob with another smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘Okay.’ Methven jangled his keys in his pocket. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.’
Methven started back down the path.
Angela was looking over at Cullen, and her eyes told him she had seen right through the lies. For a few seconds, he thought she would call him out.
Instead, she mouthed, ‘Thank you.’
Cullen stopped on the damp sand and stared out at the choppy waters, towards the island in the middle distance – the beaches and hills of Fife sprawling in the distance. The icy breeze started clearing his head as the sun rose above North Berwick to the east. He watched the faint yellow rays tinge the slate-grey February sky. Watched as they lit up the sky with a blue so fresh and light it made Cullen’s eyes water. As he wiped them dry, he felt the warmth of the colour spectacle spread to his face and couldn’t help but smile.
Life goes on.
He stood there on the beach, wind in his hair, salt on his lips, cries of seagulls in his ears.
And thoughts of rogue cops on his mind. Of whether anything could be done against them. Of whether anything would get done without them. Of when the means justify the ends. Of Lamb and Wilkinson.
Of heroes and villains.
And not knowing which was which.
Then his phone buzzed. Once.
A text.
‘Sorry about that OTT text last night. I panicked. Fancy going for a coffee? Yvonne X’
SCOTT CULLEN WILL RETURN IN
‘THE RADICAL ROAD’
(Scott Cullen Book 9)
Sometime in the future!
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Afterword
Sorry it took so long.
Book seven was released in August 2015. It’s October 2018 as I type this.
Sorry. But I hope it’s worth the wait. And you’ve had five Fenchurch novels and two Hunter books, which of course featured Cullen.
While I won’t promise the ninth will be along very soon, I promise I’ll try and get it out next year. I’ve got plans for “The Radical Road” and maybe even “The Black Isle” after it. I’ve got a few things to do before then — the sixth Fenchurch novel, the second Dodds and the final Hunter book in the trilogy.
Acknowledgments
Without the following, this book wouldn’t exist:
Development Editing
Len Wanner
Procedural Analysis
James Mackay
Line Editing
Len Wanner
Copy Editing
Allan Guthrie
Proofing
Eleanor Abraham
As ever, infinite thanks to Kitty for putting up with me and all of my nonsense.