by Ryan Casey
He saw Hannah.
Davey.
Sam.
And then he saw himself kneeling here right now and not fighting. Not fighting for the truth. Not fighting for justice.
“You made the wrong call,” Brian said.
He threw himself headfirst into Will’s thighs and knocked him forward into the pantry.
The gun fell from Will’s hands as he tumbled to the floor. Brian climbed on his back, resisting the punches Will threw back at him.
Then he wrapped his cuffs around Will’s neck.
He tightened the chain. Kept on tightening as Will spluttered. And as he strangled Will, shouts and cries echoing outside the locked pantry door, he saw his family in his mind and he knew he was never going back to them. Not after this.
He felt Will’s shaking hand rest on his chest. He felt him stop struggling. He heard him wrenching, desperate for air.
And when it dawned on Brian exactly what he was doing, he pulled the chains of his handcuffs free of Will’s neck.
Will rolled over onto his back. He was weak, wheezing for air.
Brian rushed for the gun. Pointed it down at Will before he could move.
“I’ll tell…” Will said. “I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them what you did. To the officer. What we know. Who you killed.”
Brian took a deep breath and nodded. For a split second, he saw himself putting a bullet through Will’s head, burying his secret for good.
But then he saw the reality of what he had to do. “Not if I tell the truth first.”
When Annie helped Brian out of the pantry and backup finally arrived, Brian watched as Will Reed was escorted out of the house, pushed into the back of an ambulance, unconscious. He watched Karen Reed cry out as the police handcuffed her children—first Michael, then Sammi—and ease them out of the house.
He watched a family fall apart, and he knew he should feel sweeter about Elaine Schumer finally finding her justice. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
“You okay?” Annie asked.
Brian looked around at her.
Then he looked down at his hands, now freed from the cuffs.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Annie. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
Annie frowned as the police car doors slammed shut and took the Reed family away. “About what?”
“It’s about the chief constable. I know what happened to him.”
Forty-Seven
Brian sat at the opposite side of the interview room table to the one he was familiar with and prepared for the hardest interrogation of his life.
Outside this interview room, it was a warm June afternoon. The sun was out in full flow, and everyone inside the police station was incredibly stuffy and agitated. They were eager to get outside and back into the world. And on his way down here, Brian had been sure to take several deep breaths of that warm summer air and feel its gentle heat against his skin.
It was the last time he’d experience those sensations as a truly free man.
It was the last time he’d experience those sensations before the truth emerged.
The Reed investigation was well underway, and already many of the cases secrets were clicking together. A picture of what’d happened had formed. Michael and Elaine had met at Baker’s Inn a number of times. Sammi caught on to her brother’s new lover and got jealous. She started stalking Elaine, growing more and more obsessed, even changing her meds and advising her not to visit doctors. She was enjoying watching her best friend go insane, and it was sad to hear.
Michael wasn’t innocent, though. He’d been on the phone to Elaine in the shower before she bumped into Bobby Wisdom. Brian figured something had happened with Elaine and Bobby, which reassured him somewhat about Bobby’s death. He’d raped her, he’d got what he deserved.
That’d tipped Elaine over the edge. She’d started to leave, eager to meet Michael elsewhere.
But at that point, Sammi was already at the hotel.
When Michael got there, he’d made his way up the fire escape to the rooftop, where he and Elaine always met. Apparently, the controls weren’t as solid as Baker’s claimed they were, which shouldn’t have been such a surprise. But when Elaine didn’t show up right away, Michael got worried, so he climbed down to the top floor to meet her.
When he’d taken her back to the roof, he had no idea Sammi was already there, watching, waiting.
He hadn’t told the police much else. Apparently, he’d had a recording of the events as they unfolded, but he’d destroyed it. Why he’d been taking that recording when he had no idea what was going to happen, Brian wasn’t sure. There were a lot of unanswered questions. But the core facts of the case remained.
Sammi had killed her best friend.
Michael had covered for his sister in a fit of confusion.
But there was more to it than that.
It turned out the owner of Baker’s Inn, Martin Watkins, was a good business friend of Mr Will Reed. And neither of them were keen on their business relationship or their children being dragged through the dirt. So they’d taken the decision to copy a final bit of CCTV footage before Bobby Wisdom broke in and destroyed it. Some footage that they’d then planted outside the hotel in those old public toilets.
The footage of him entering Elaine’s room.
Just enough to put the spotlight on Bobby.
As for the rest of the CCTV?
They’d got rid of it.
It was safe to say that Martin Watkins and Will Read’s business relationship wasn’t going to survive much longer.
But anyway. That wasn’t Brian’s case to worry about right now.
The click of the recorder struck Brian from his daydream. He looked ahead and saw DCI Marlow opposite. By his side, DC Annie Sanders. A part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to look the likes of Marlow and Annie in the eye when he confessed the whole truth. He’d rather it be someone he didn’t know at all. That way, he’d be able to be honest more easily.
But he figured it was just the circle of life, in a way. It was just the way things went.
“Sorry for the formalities,” DCI Marlow said, clearing his throat before he spoke. The top two buttons of his yellow-white shirt were undone, and the interview room reeked of his sweat.
“I know the procedure.”
Marlow paused whenever Brian spoke. Brian had hardly been best mates with Marlow during his time at the police, but they’d worked together on a number of cases. Brian sensed regret to Marlow’s demeanour. Like he really, really didn’t want Brian to be guilty of what the Reads had accused him of.
He was a cop killer. A cop killing cop.
He was the lowest form of vermin in the eyes of the police.
Marlow leaned back into his creaky chair, which sounded on the verge of breaking away completely. He intertwined his fingers together. “Start from the beginning.”
Brian closed his heavy eyes. He wanted to get out of this room. To go back.
But he knew there was no going back anymore.
He knew he was doing the right thing.
Justice always prevailed.
“A year ago, I was SIO on the Ritual case.”
“The ritualistic murders that Joe Kershaw was charged with?”
Brian nodded. “My family were threatened. It became very clear to me that there was some kind of cover-up.”
“What sort of cover-up are you talking about?”
“The biggest kind.”
Brian didn’t have to elaborate for Marlow to know what he was hinting at.
“Anyway. The investigation closed. I wasn’t satisfied with the conclusion we came to, but I accepted it. That was until I was called in by Chief Constable Jerry Matthews one day. His ring. His ring matched the description someone told me about the Children of the Light.”
“And they are?”
“The cult who were responsible for several decades of ritualistic murders. Not only was the chief constable covering for them, he
was them.”
The colour had drained from Marlow’s cheeks. Annie didn’t look like she knew what to say.
“I wanted to let it go but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. So one day when Annie and I were called to investigate suspicions of possession of a dangerous weapon, I pretended I hadn’t found the gun.”
“And you had?”
Brian nodded. “I took it. I took it and I went to the chief constable’s house.”
“Fucking hell, Brian,” Marlow said in a whisper. It was like it’d just sneaked out without intention. He cleared his throat and resumed his professional manner as best as he could. “So you went to Jerry’s house with the intention of killing him?”
“I was angry. The Children of the Light just burned down my house when Hannah and Sam were inside. Both of them were wounded.”
“So you went to get revenge.”
“I went to confront about what I knew.”
“And you killed him?”
“Not there, no. I followed him.”
“Followed him? Where to?”
“To the River Edge Methodist Church.”
“The church that burned down last summer?”
Brian nodded. “I don’t know who did that exactly. I just know that there were lots of people there. And they were going to kill me. But I fought out. I fought my way out and I wanted nothing more than to just get back to my family and take them as far as I bloody could from this country. But Lilian Chalmers and Jerry Matthews caught up with me.”
“So that’s when you killed him.”
“I was shot at. Then I killed Lilian and turned the gun on Jerry. I didn’t want to shoot him. I didn’t want to end his life. But the threats he was making. The mockery he was making of the entire justice system. It just got to me. So I pulled the trigger.”
Silence followed Brian’s words. Nobody spoke for a while. The station itself seemed totally lifeless, totally quiet.
“What did you do then?” Marlow eventually asked, breaking his silence.
Brian didn’t like to think about the next part. “I put Jerry’s body into the car. They were looking for me, the rest of the cult members. All of them were looking for me. I… I hid. Then I managed to drive away. I took the chief constable to the docks and threw his body in the water. Then I contacted someone I arrested a long time ago. I paid him to clean up my mess.”
“You paid a criminal to clean up your mess?”
“I was worried about my family. I still am worried about my family. It seems like he’s not as trustworthy as I thought all along. He spoke out to the Reads about me. They found out my dirt. So I’ve no idea who else he’ll sing to.”
Marlow sighed. “So what you’re telling us, is that you killed the chief constable, disposed of his body, and left another man—a contract killer—to finish what you started?”
Brian nodded. “I’m not proud of it. But like I say. I was worried. And I’m here now, telling the truth. Justice catches up with all of us, one way or another.”
Marlow didn’t speak for a while. Neither did Annie or anyone. The tape went on, recording. Above, a fly head butted the bright light hanging down.
“How sure are you of the chief constable’s involvement in these ritualistic murders?” Marlow asked.
“Certain.”
“And how sure are you that your family are in danger?”
Brian didn’t like hearing those words, but he had to face up to them. “I’ve been worried about it for a year. I’ve barely slept at night. I’ve thought about leaving the country so many times. But now I know what has to happen. They’ve got to go into protective custody. The cult’s weak, but I doubt it’s totally destroyed. If they could infect the upper levels of the police force, I just worry what they’ll do next when the truth finally comes out about what I did.”
More silence followed. The ramifications of Brian’s actions overwhelmed him. But he’d done what he’d done. The past had caught up with him. Justice was being served.
Marlow looked at Annie. “Give us a moment please, Detective.”
Annie scraped her chair against the floor and stood. She looked at Brian as she left the room.
And when the door closed, Brian really got the feeling that he might never see her again.
Marlow looked across the table at Brian, and Brian looked back at him. Both of them looked like they were waiting for the other to say something. The tape recorder still rolled, recording silence.
“Are you going to stare at me all day, Marlow? Surely you’ve got better things to be getting on with.”
Marlow’s cheeks went red. Brian could hear him breathing from the other side of the table. “The person you paid to do your dirty work. What’s their name?”
Brian shook his head. “I can’t—”
“Their name, Brian.”
Brian lowered his head. “Stan Walker.”
“Fuck. Stan? You paid that incompetent scumbag?”
“He does a good job.”
“He does a sloppy job. But anyway. That might work in your favour.”
Brian narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marlow looked away from Brian now, staring at the interview room table. “We’re bringing Stan Walker in. We’re charging him with the murder of the cult members you mentioned. And for the murder of Lilian Chalmers. And for the murder of Jerry Matthews, too.”
Brian’s gut turned to mush. “You can’t do that.”
“I can. And I will.”
“But Kurt will just sing.”
“And let him sing,” Marlow said. “If he even survives long enough when we leak a few stories, of course. If this ‘Children of the Light’ are as strong and influential as you say they are, then perhaps they’ll do us all a favour.”
Brian couldn’t actually believe what Marlow was suggesting. “You’re breaking the law.”
“Jerry Matthews broke the law. If the truth comes out, then it’ll drag our name through the dirt. Not just a chief constable involved in one of the ugliest fucking conspiracies I’ve ever heard, but a police officer killing another police officer. It’s not a good ending for us.”
“It’s not for you to decide whether it’s a good ending for us or not.”
“Actually, McDone, it is. You did something rash. You committed an act of treason against your own establishment. But you did it because you believed it was the right thing to do. Because you believed it was justice.”
He closed his notepad and scraped his chair back. He stood and walked towards the door.
“The tape,” Brian said. “It’s all on tape anyway. The truth will come out.”
Marlow sighed. Then he walked over to the recorder and opened the lid.
There was nothing in there.
“Good job I’m a traditional bastard with my methods, eh?”
Brian didn’t know what to say.
“I knew long before this interview that we weren’t going to put you down for what’s happened, Brian. I just had to hear it from you first. I had to look you in the eye and know you’re sincere. And you are.”
Brian felt tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t sure how to feel. “Why are you doing this?”
Marlow half-smiled. “I’m doing this because sometimes, justice goes beyond the police. Sometimes, justice goes beyond these walls, this station.” He put a hand to his chest. “Sometimes, justice comes from here. From the heart. And I know what you did was from the heart.”
He walked further out of the interview room and held open the door.
“Now come on. Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Brian walked out of the interview room.
He walked down the corridor, the voices around him all merging together, the smells of coffee richer and more noticeable than ever before, the smiles around him beaming.
He walked out of the police station and into the sunlight.
When he felt it against his skin, he felt like he was experiencing it for the very first time.
/>
He listened to the passing traffic, the honking of horns, the footsteps of people walking by.
He took a deep breath of the warm summer air, and he smiled.
Justice wasn’t always moderated by the police.
Sometimes, justice really was personal.
He wiped his eyes and walked down the station steps.
He had a family to go home to.
Forty-Eight
Brian crouched opposite the headstone and stared at the letters etched onto it.
The sunshine of early summer had soon buggered off, cloudiness returning and suffocating the life out of Britain. All around, Brian heard the wind brushing against the trees, which made him feel relaxed. He always liked this churchyard. If he were to be buried anywhere, it’d be right here. Nice little spot in the middle of the countryside. Fields all around. Cows in the next field.
But the graves were filling up fast. The plots of land were rapidly diminishing.
And Brian wasn’t planning on dying yet.
He poured the water from the can onto the flowers in front of the grave. He didn’t come here often. Maybe once, twice a year, depending on how he was getting on. But this time was different. He wanted to spend a long time here because he knew he was going away for a long, long time.
He’d tried to fight it. He’d tried to resist the truth of what had to happen. He’d tried to deny the inevitability, and the people around him had tried to avoid it too.
But he wasn’t going to be visiting this graveyard for a long time after today. Maybe never again.
He rested the watering can on the side of the headstone and felt a lump in his throat when he read the words.
Cassy Peters.
Beloved Friend. Loyal Servant to the Public.
R.I.P.
“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “About what happened to you. I’m sorry how it all worked out. It never should’ve been you that died that day. It should’ve been me.”
Cassy didn’t answer. Brian just heard the breeze picking up and felt a shiver. This place always was a wind trap. Maybe he’d think twice about being buried here after all.
