by Ryan Casey
And nobody witnessed it, so it didn’t really happen. Even to Brian, he struggled to accept what he’d done, but it had been in the means of survival.
What Samantha Carter had done, whether justifiable or not, was in the means of self-interest.
And that fucking sucked.
“Oh, er, Andrew Wilkinson’s been released,” DC Arif said, as he stuck his hand in for another hard boiled sweet—his thirtieth of the day. “Still being trialled for witnessing the murder in Adrian West’s garage three years ago. But better than murder, right?”
Brian grunted. Walked away from the room where Jed Green was being kept. Made his way down the hospital ward.
“New Blue Brook’s under investigation too. Adrian’s room, we found Janine Ainscough’s earring there. No way that went under everyone’s nose. No chance. Same with Galaxy—under investigation.”
“Any word what was in that garage of Adrian’s?”
Arif shrugged. “Meeting place between Darren and Adrian? Place where he left him or his Galaxy cronies instructions so they couldn’t meet face-to-face, something like that. Bloody Tories and their privatisation. None of this would’ve happened if Labour were in power. Private services my ass, Mr Cameron.”
“Sure he’ll find a way to spin it,” Brian said.
They stopped when they reached the end of the ward. Nurses and surgeons rushed by in blue uniforms, all of them half-smiling at Brian as they passed, as if they all knew exactly who he was, what he’d witnessed, what he’d got out of.
“You’re a hero, you know?” Arif said. “That’s a positive, right?”
Brian turned around the corner into the next ward and looked over at the bed right by the window.
“Don’t feel like it,” he said.
All of the beds were empty and tucked in except for that one by the window, where Ainsley Pratt rested in his blue hospital pyjamas. His eyes were closed, and he was hooked up to all sorts of drips and wires. He had huge bandages around his torso.
But the little beeping of the heart monitor. That was all he needed to hear. All he needed to know Ainsley Pratt was alive.
Beside him were his mum and dad. His dad was skinny and black. Had a Nas T-shirt on which looked like it’d been in the wash a few too many times, baggy blue jeans. His mum was white and chubby, but pretty-faced, as she wore an inside out white T-shirt that she’d obviously just thrown on at the last second upon hearing about her son.
“Lucky you flew into Adrian when you did,” Arif said, as they stood by the entrance to Ainsley Pratt’s ward.
“Don’t feel all that lucky.”
“Yeah, well what you did took balls. Anything could’ve happened. You could’ve got killed. Ainsley could’ve got more than a slit tummy. And between you and me, I don’t think Adrian ever planned on slitting Ainsley’s throat. Woulda been too easy. He just held the knife there because he knew it’d deter you.”
“Geez,” Brian said, nodding his head at a short ginger nurse who wheeled some drinks past him and towards Ainsley’s bed. “Wish you’d been there to tell me that before I drove into the middle of nowhere.”
“You know what I mean,” Arif said. Popped another sweet into his mouth. “You did what you could.”
“We didn’t,” Brian said, the anxiety and stress of the entire case bubbling over from within. “Adrian West. How did we not know he was Damien Halshaw’s father? How could we not know that?”
Arif shook his head. “I… I don’t know. But we didn’t. There was nothing linking Adrian West and the Halshaw family. Not a thing. So we did what we could with what we knew.”
What we could with what we knew.
It wasn’t a good enough justification for Brian. Not a good enough answer. “Too many people have got away with things on this case. Too many people have gone under the radar. Yeah, we did what we could with what we knew. But what we could isn’t good enough anymore. We’ve failed these kids. Not just Beth Turner, Sam and Janine. We’ve failed all the kids Patrick Selter exploited. We’ve failed everyone Adrian West has ever hurt. We failed…”
He was about to say, “We failed Brad, and we failed Samantha,” but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge what had happened to them, not yet.
Arif simply frowned. Nodded at Brian. He understood what he meant. Understood completely.
Brian walked away from the ward where Ainsley was resting. Headed towards the lift area, the way out of this hospital.
“You’re going home, right?” Arif said.
The idea of going home still wasn’t right to Brian. There were still too many unanswered questions on this case. How Adrian had been sectioned, for one. What his real identity was. What had actually happened to the Halshaw family.
What was in the garage at the Halshaw household, and why Darren Hopps had been there.
“We’re talking about Ainsley Pratt as damage limitation,” Brian said.
He kept on walking.
“So?” Arif called.
Brian hit the button to call for the lift. Watched as the silver doors slid open almost immediately. “So it’s not right. We can’t treat three dead children as a victory just because we’ve saved one. I won’t settle until I understand.”
Arif looked like he was going to protest, and then he just nodded his head and sighed. “Your wife. She—”
“Girlfriend,” Brian cut in.
“Girlfriend, then. Go home to her. Take today off. Then come back tomorrow. We can speak to Jed then if he’s in a better condition. I’ll look into the Halshaws today. Get some more answers.”
Brian wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Arif to stop getting in his way. That he absolutely had to wrap this case up today or he’d go crazy.
But he was just too tired to argue anymore. And he knew Arif was right.
He nodded. Stepped into the drearily-lit elevator.
“Thanks, Arif,” he muttered.
The doors slid shut.
Brian was alone.
For the first time in a long time, he cried.
FORTY-TWO
Brian planned to take the entire day off, but then he got a call that Jed Green was available to speak with the police for thirty minutes, so he figured he could make allowances.
Jed looked in better shape than Brian expected considering he’d tried to kill himself the night before. He was sat upright in his hospital bed, a couple of plump pillows propping him up. The room he was in was windowless, and the white walls resembled a prison cell more than a hospital room. There were no other beds in here, just that one. Security watched through the door as Brian stepped around to the foot of his bed, and Jed looked back at him with complete confidence, complete composure.
“It’d be good if we could just skip through the niceties here and get straight to the point. We know you covered for Adrian West. We know you picked him up with Sam Betts and took him to the Whittingham Hospital grounds in your car. We’ve confirmed Sam Betts’ DNA in your car, and we’ve found CCTV putting you between Westhaven Road and the old hospital.”
Jed Green looked on. Slight smile at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t speak, he just listened. Watched and listened.
Brian placed some papers on the foot of the bed that Arif had provided him with. “We know Adrian had you under his thumb just like he had many people. Your past identity, Harry Bryden. The accusations of care home abuse, of child molestation. It’s all in there, Jed. The things a man lies about to protect his integrity.”
Again, Jed just looked on. Ignored the papers on his lap. Kept his eyes on Brian.
“You must’ve been really desperate. Helping Adrian murder a child. Keeping that a secret. You must really care about your career, mustn’t you?”
“Is that a legitimate question?” Jed asked, speaking for the first time. “Or are you just trying to goad me?”
Brian stepped around the side of Jed’s bed. Leaned against it, peered right into Jed’s beady brown eyes. The security guard peeked his head through the door, keepi
ng close watch on Brian and his inmate. “I’m not here to play games, ‘Harry.’ I’m here because I want to know how Adrian managed it. Why you sectioned him. Because I’ve got that on record too.” He tapped the papers on Jed’s lap. “Advised the board that Mr West was ‘a danger to himself.’ How much did he pay you to say that? How many kiddies did he—”
“Bobby Halshaw,” Jed cut in. “At least, that was his name before he met me. He came to me with an offer. Well, more like blackmail, really. He knew who I was. Knew my past, all thanks to those nosey goons at Galaxy. He wanted me to section him. If he did that, he’d have his friends look into replacement identity for me. Extra coverage, you know. I just had to sign the paper. Accept him as Adrian West. It was as simple as that.”
Brian frowned. “There’s a long leap from an identity change and sectioning Bobby Halshaw to aiding and abetting his killing spree.”
Jed sighed. Shook his head. His arms were laced with thick white bandages. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “Surprised what you find yourself doing when you’re in constant fear of your career falling apart. The abuse of care, and the children, they were just speed bumps. I’m a good man, really. But Adrian… he could be very convincing. I really thought he’d find a way out of this for both of us. Until you turned up at New Blue Brook last night and… well. That’s when I realised there was only one way out.”
He lifted his wrists. Raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
“No. There was another way out,” Brian said, patting Jed on his chest. “And you took it. Botching your suicide so you could spend the rest of your days in prison as someone else’s little bitch. I hope Adrian was worth it.”
Brian stepped away from Jed’s bed. Made for the door again, where security still peeked in.
“For what it’s worth, I was planning on paying the police a visit,” Jed called. “Planning on… on telling them. About Sam. But I knew Adrian or Bobby or whoever you want to call him would get me somehow. He’d take me down. He knew people. People on the outside. I’d watch your back if I were you. Watch your family’s back. Bobby Halshaw’s life doesn’t end with the death of the man himself.”
Brian stopped and looked back at Jed. He smiled. “I’ll take that on board. Thanks for the advice. Enjoy prison. I’ll make sure you get a cell with a view.”
He turned away from Jed and he stepped to the door. He knew what he needed to know now. Jed Green—or Harry Bryden as he was really called—had played his part in Adrian West’s killings. He’d been blackmailed by Adrian, by his so-called “friends in high places,” and he’d got scared enough for one thing to lead to another.
But he’d played his part. He’d chosen self-preservation over honesty.
“Sleep soundly knowing you personally signed the death sentences of Beth Turner and Janine Ainscough, Mr Bryden,” Brian said.
He closed the door. Caught a glance of Jed through the lead-lined window.
On his face, he swore he saw a flicker of guilt.
A flicker of fear.
He knew right then that he’d got what he wanted.
He left the hospital room and his shitty phone vibrated. A new one that Arif had brought along for him. Well, not exactly new. One of Arif’s cast-offs. It’d do for now.
He lifted it out—saw it was Finch.
“Finch? Got something for me?”
A pause on Finch’s end of the line. “We… we did a check. On those bones buried in the woods down where you were taken. Where Darren Hopps—”
“I know the bones you mean, Finch. And?”
Another slight pause. “I… We fast-tracked and matched some of them. Various street kids and runaways, like you thought. But… but two of them. Two of them matched Damien Halshaw. And his mum, Patricia.”
In that split second, Brian saw things from a whole new perspective.
“Thanks, Finch.”
He put the phone down.
He needed to speak to Andrew Wilkinson again.
Andrew Wilkinson was hesitant to let Brian into his house, but with a little push, he caved in.
His house was nice. Wide open spaces, antiques lining the shelves all around the kitchen. Smells of fresh flowers.
Brian sat opposite Andrew Wilkinson at the kitchen table. Watched as he rubbed his hands together. As tears poured down his cheeks.
“He … I went in there and I… I saw him. Saw—saw Damien’s dad, Bobby. He… I lied. About Damien. I… I was just scared. Scared when Bobby was still alive. Scared what he might do.”
Brian leaned in closer to Andrew Wilkinson. “What did you see?”
Andrew’s mouth quivered. “He… He was abusing him. Abusing Damien. And I… I got angry. I just felt this… this fury. Damien, he’d told me about his dad. About his mood swings. And I’d never wanted to get involved. But right there I… I felt I had to act. I needed to act. Because I cared. About Damien. And not in the way you think. I just… I just cared.”
He sniffed back some more tears, covered his eyes, as sunlight peeked through his wide kitchen windows.
“What did you do then?”
He moved his hands away. Looked Brian in the eyes. But a level of focus wasn’t there. He looked distant. Like he was revisiting a nightmare he’d known all along was real. “I… I went to tell his mum. To tell Damien’s mum, Patricia. But he… I told her and he… He took the knife from his garage and it all happened so fast. First Damien, then Patricia. And—and then he held it to my neck. Told me I… told me that I’d go down for this. That he—he was going to press charges. Press charges against me on behalf of his son. That—that if I didn’t allow that, he’d press for murder.”
Damien Halshaw’s charges that were suddenly dropped. No surprise, seeing as Damien wasn’t alive to press them.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
Andrew shook his head. More tears rolled down his cheeks. “I tried. Believe me, I tried. But… but when I got closest, that’s when… my daughter, my Annie. Those men came in and—and they hurt her. And that’s when my marriage broke down. My family broke down. They dropped Damien’s charges of course, but Bobby promised he’d get me one day. And—and then he disappeared. And it’s only when all this started that I…”
He stopped. Swallowed a visible lump in his throat.
“I’m going to go to prison for what I knew, aren’t I?”
Brian didn’t see any point in lying. He felt a little frustrated the way the justice system worked at times like these, but there was nothing he could do to defend Andrew Wilkinson. “You knew about a double homicide. You could’ve stopped the deaths of these three kids and many others years ago. You could’ve…”
He thought about saying, “You could’ve stopped the death of my police partner,” but best to keep emotions out of this.
Andrew half-smiled. A smile of defeat.
He held his hands out. Revealed the scratches across his wrists.
“I’ve been in prison for years, detective. Now it’s only fair I serve my time and pay for what I knew.”
Brian wanted to help Andrew Wilkinson. A part of him couldn’t help but sympathise. He’d been put in an impossible situation—a choice of keeping quiet about a murder or risking his family, his life, falling to pieces.
Unfortunately for him, everything had crumbled now.
Brian scraped his chair back. Smiled at Andrew, who cut a pitiful figure as he sat there shaking.
“We’ll be in touch,” he said.
He walked out of the kitchen and out of Andrew Wilkinson’s front door.
When he felt the warmth of the sun on his cheeks, heard the birds singing, he felt something like closure.
Hannah was waiting in the hallway when Brian got home.
His stomach sank a little when he saw her. He didn’t want any arguing tonight. He was too tired to have a serious discussion about their future, the kid, all of that.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever be awake enough to have a discussion like that again.
Sh
e stepped towards him. She was wearing a figure-hugging white T-shirt and tight blue jeans. She smelled of fresh daisies, a perfume that Brian had bought her last Christmas that he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of.
He hadn’t seen a lot of her lately. And he was sorry for that. But now wasn’t the time to argue. Now wasn’t the time to discuss. Now wasn’t the time to…
She wrapped her arms around Brian’s waist and rested her head on his chest.
The move took Brian by surprise. It felt nice, having her warmth right there. Although they’d hugged and kissed and been intimate these last few months, it truly felt like the closest they’d been in a long, long time.
He put his hand on her back. Brought her closer to him.
They stood there in complete silence for a while just holding one another, understanding one another.
“We should have a kid,” Brian said.
He wasn’t sure where the words came from. Somewhere deep within. That same place where he felt the warmth when Hannah held him. The same place that he felt love inside, just above his belly and below his heart.
She backed away a little. Looked Brian in his eyes. Brian realised then that she was tearful. “You mean that?”
Brian took in a deep shaky breath. “Well I… I’m a bit old. I’ll be in my sixties when he’s starting high school. Don’t you think that’s a bit weird?”
Hannah snorted. Smacked Brian on his chest. “If that’s your only concern then maybe I shouldn’t have a kid with someone as fickle as you.”
Brian smiled. Pulled her close again. Looked her in her eyes. “But yes. I guess I do want another kid.”
“And not just for you?” Hannah asked.
Brian shook his head. He knew what she meant. Having a kid with Hannah couldn’t just be another chance to redeem himself for the mistakes he’d made with Davey. It had to be because they both wanted a child. Because they were both ready to be parents. Because they loved someone enough to bring someone into this world.
