Hush Hush

by Mel Sherratt

  So Elliott couldn’t afford not to work for Leon Steele. No one from his family knew, but he’d started going to the boxing club again on his release. He’d always admired Leon from afar. He found out he paid good money to fetch and carry, money Elliott couldn’t turn down. Nor could his mate who had given him the tip-off.

  He’d known that Annie worried about him going inside again, but he wanted to provide for his family. She hadn’t been too happy last night when he’d told her he’d been doing some jobs for Leon, to bring some money in. Elliott knew he shouldn’t, as the Woodmans didn’t really mix with the Steeles, but his family were useless at making money.

  Elliott’s grandfather, Len, had been in prison with George Steele. They had fought to become top dog, neither of them winning outright, and ever since there had been a rivalry between the two families. The recent murders had been the talk of everyone. His family had been mentioned more than once, but Elliott knew it couldn’t be any of them. They might be handy with their fists, but they weren’t murderers. He was glad about it too.

  Feeling hungry once he’d smelt his order in the car, he decided to eat his burger there and then. A dollop of tomato sauce dropped down his front. Cursing, he wiped at it but only made it worse. Annie would be mad at him for ruining another white T-shirt.

  Afterwards, he screwed up the paper and put it on top of Annie’s food. Then he set off again, turning the music up, banging a hand on the steering wheel in time as he negotiated the roads.

  Minutes later, he pulled up outside his home. There were several blocks of flats in a small area, each having three storeys. They weren’t much to look at, but some of them were being refurbished. He liked that they were near to the shops and pubs in Hanley.

  They lived on the ground floor of Dane Walk, which was just as well now they had a pushchair. The stairwell had mostly stunk of piss when he’d first moved in, but once the tenant opposite had been evicted, things had improved. Annie had set their home up real smart. He was so proud of her and hoped one day to marry her.

  A black 4×4 screeched to a halt a metre in front of him. He just had time to look up as blinding lights came at him.

  ‘What the …’

  Four men in balaclavas got out of the vehicle and raced towards him. Elliott scrambled to put the lock down on his door but was too late. He was dragged from the seat and out on to the tarmac.

  He put up his hands in a vague hope of protecting himself, realising he couldn’t take them all on. A kick to the face made him groan out loud. In fear of what was to come, he tried to curl up. Four pairs of boots and fists were bad enough, but when he spotted a baseball bat raised high, he knew he didn’t stand a chance.

  The first hit took two of his teeth with it. The second perforated his right eardrum. The third crashed onto his head as he tried to crawl away. In too much pain to defend himself, he sank to the floor.

  The last thing he thought of before slipping into unconsciousness was Annie waiting inside the flat with Ethan. Beautiful Annie. Darling Annie.

  She would be as mad as hell that he’d got himself into bother again.

  FIFTY-ONE

  Once home after seeing Jade, Grace closed the car door and went to retrieve her bag from the boot. A figure stepped out of the shadows and Grace jumped.

  Eddie.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she snapped.

  ‘We need to talk.’ He grabbed her arm.

  She tried to shrug him off. ‘I’ll scream if I have to.’

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m not going to hurt you.’

  They stopped at his car.

  ‘Get in,’ he demanded.

  ‘I don’t think so!’ she countered.

  Eddie opened the passenger door. ‘I only want to talk, sort some things out.’

  With a sigh, Grace climbed inside. She might as well find out what he wanted, and there was no way she was letting him into her home. That was her sacred place, away from the Steeles. And nor did she want to chance him being too much like his father. His looks still startled her at times, memories rushing back about George Steele raising a hand to her behind closed doors.

  Eddie got into the driver’s seat and turned to her. For the first time since she’d met him, she could sense his anxiety.

  ‘These murders. I need to know what we’re up against.’ He paused. ‘Is there anything you can tell me?’

  She glared at him. ‘Nothing more than the general public know.’

  ‘Don’t give me that crap. I know they’ve all been stabbed in the heart.’

  Grace couldn’t hold in her fury and she banged a clenched fist on her thigh. Where had he heard that? Who the hell at her station was giving out classified intel?

  ‘Who told you that?’ she demanded to know.

  ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not going to confirm anything for you.’

  Eddie threw her an icy stare. There was silence in the car before he spoke again. ‘I need someone I can trust at the station.’

  Grace laughed, and then her mouth dropped open. ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You think you’re untouchable, don’t you? If I have to pull you in, then I will.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘What?’ Grace couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice.

  ‘I can pay you – weekly if you like. All you need to do is keep us in the loop about what’s happening – you know, anything that may be detrimental to us. We can also look after you, see no harm comes to you. After all, no one will touch a Steele.’

  ‘I’m not listening to any more of this rubbish.’ Grace reached for the door handle.

  The central locking clicked down, trapping her inside the car.

  ‘Don’t think I won’t arrest you for obstructing an officer,’ she said firmly. ‘Let me out.’

  ‘I’ll release you when I’m good and ready.’ Eddie shook his head. ‘You are one stubborn cow.’

  ‘Have you really not worked out that I can’t stand you, or your precious family?’

  ‘Oh, that cuts me to the bone, Gracie.’

  ‘It’s Grace.’ She turned her head sharply. ‘No one ever calls me Gracie. It’s always plain and simple Grace.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Eddie started up the engine. ‘You need to think about what I said.’

  ‘Whatever you want me to do, it’s not going to happen,’ she repeated. ‘I’m not for sale and I never will be.’

  ‘A certain someone at your station always gives me what I want.’ He turned to her. ‘Ah, you thought I was joking before, did you?’

  Grace wasn’t about to admit to him that she’d had doubts about one of her colleagues already.

  Eddie shrugged. ‘I’ll leave that for you to work out. All I want you to do is think about the offer I’m making. I need someone else on the inside, and you and me could be good working together. Let’s call it a family partnership.’

  ‘Over my dead body.’ Grace glared at him. ‘I know what you’ve done in the past. I don’t doubt that you’ve been involved in lots of things we’ve yet to find out about as well. I could never condone that. And I won’t allow you to dictate to me either.’

  ‘You do the maths, little sister.’ Eddie released the locks on the doors. ‘Things are going to continue the way they are with or without your blessing. You need to think about where your loyalties lie. Is it better to be protected, or live with the fear of attack?’

  ‘I’ll tell you again, no one threatens me.’ She glared at him. ‘I have the law on my side.’

  Grace hid the tremble of her hands from him as she got out of the car. Eddie had gone before she had time to put her key in the front door. Once inside, she slid across the bolts and turned all the lights on downstairs.

  In the kitchen, she took a bottle of water and drank from it quickly, gasping for air as she did so. That man had some nerve turning up at her home. Why would he think she would ever take bribes from him? She had never been corrupt a
nd that wasn’t about to change. And what did he mean by someone in the station?

  She flopped into a chair. She wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon, adrenaline was pumping around inside her.

  But she would get to the bottom of things, because she wouldn’t be working for Eddie Steele, or anyone else on the wrong side of the law. She might feel vulnerable at times, but she was strong. And that was the side of her that Eddie Steele would always see.

  Grace was halfway through a run on her treadmill, having been unsuccessful in getting to sleep for three hours. It was now two a.m. She pushed the speed up to the maximum she could manage, wanting to punish herself, to stop her from thinking too much.

  Who in her team would be a grass? Was it Alex? Well, she still didn’t trust him and she obviously had her suspicions but nothing concrete. Sam? No, despite her being quiet at first, she was coming around now and joining in conversations with Grace. So was Perry. They both seemed to be getting used to life without Allie Shenton by their side.

  Being threatened by Eddie had upset Grace more than she liked. If he knew her address, it could have been him that delivered the toys.

  A sob stuck in her throat and she coughed it away, slowing the machine a little. This was when she missed Matt most. At the end of the day, she would come home, exhausted but exhilarated at the chance of getting a conviction. She would talk things through with him, brainstorm the details she could share. Two heads were always better than one. She would sleep on something he had mentioned and her brain would go to work on it. In the morning, she’d often had more answers, joined a few more dots.

  She’d told him what she knew about George Steele, about what he’d done to her and her mum, and explained about the Steele family. Now, she only had herself to listen to, no one else to talk with, and sometimes that was dangerous. She had to be careful not to get too emotionally involved with Jade, but she was a link to her family, and her past.

  If Matt was here, he would have told her what to do about the Steeles. He would have grounded her, chastised her if necessary, surrounded her with his love. The feelings of overwhelming loss still came back to her when she thought she couldn’t cope with what life was throwing at her. Of course, she was used to being on her own, but it didn’t stop her from aching to be with Matt again; of what could have been – what would have been if there had been more time.

  There was no doubt she had put him on a pedestal on occasions. Not everything had been perfect between them. Sometimes he’d hated her job. His work as a graphic designer had been mainly home-based, so he’d spent a lot of time in a spare room they had converted into an office. She’d often said this was the advantage they had over other couples. If he’d had set hours in an office, they would have been ships passing in the night, they might never have seen each other.

  But everything had worked for them.

  She wondered if meeting Simon had perhaps started this off. She’d seen him again that afternoon. He’d been walking past the car park as she had been getting into her car and she’d gone out to chat to him. It was just general chit-chat. Nice stuff, still talking about meeting up when they weren’t too busy.

  The treadmill came to a halt as the workout finished. She reached for Matt’s hoodie and wrapped herself in it. Then she picked up her weights. She would do a few curls, exhaust herself, try to clear her mind. It might make her sleep.

  Tomorrow was going to be an early start and another long day.

  FIFTY-TWO

  Then

  ‘Come on, you know you like orange juice,’ George said, bringing the glass up to her lips. ‘I want you to drink it all down.’

  She did as she was told, spilling it out of her mouth in her haste. Quickly, she wiped at her chin where it had dripped, hoping he wouldn’t tell her off for being messy.

  But he didn’t. He just smiled at her.

  ‘That’s right,’ he encouraged. He filled the glass again. ‘A little more.’

  She didn’t want any more, could feel her tummy complaining about all the liquid, but she couldn’t refuse to drink it. So she drank that quickly too.

  ‘I’ll be back soon. If you’re good, I might have a treat for you.’

  She frowned. What did he mean by that? She was always good!

  A few minutes after she had been left alone, she began to feel drowsy and lay back on the bed, covering herself with the blanket. She hoped she wouldn’t have to stay here too long. She was still in her school uniform. He’d come to her as soon as she had got home.

  When the door opened twenty minutes later, she saw her father standing in the doorway, but there was someone behind him. Another man. They both came into the room.

  She sat up hurriedly. The room began to spin. Were there two men or four? She couldn’t quite make it out.

  What was happening to her?

  ‘I don’t … I don’t feel well,’ she slurred.

  ‘Come out from under there. We want to see you,’ her father said.

  She flopped back onto the bed.

  In frustration, George grabbed the cover and threw it to the floor.

  ‘How old is she?’

  Was that someone else’s voice? Her eyes refused to focus, the room spinning violently this time. She was afraid she was going to be sick. He wouldn’t like that!

  ‘Twelve,’ George answered. ‘She looks young. Especially in that uniform.’

  There was someone else there. She tried to focus, could only see a flash of red hair. Hands came at her. She slapped them away, but they grabbed her, holding her arms above her head.

  Someone sat on her legs. A hand ran up her thigh, over her stomach, her breasts. She squirmed.

  ‘Yeah, she’ll do,’ the stranger’s voice said after a moment. ‘As long as she’s compliant.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I have plenty more orange juice, to start with.’

  Laughter rang in her ears as she was left alone again. She tried to sit up once more, but the room span out of control this time. Had there been something in the orange juice? Was she drunk?

  This time she vomited all over the threadbare rug. The smell was ghastly, but not as bad as the cheap aftershave that was lingering in the air.

  FIFTY-THREE

  SUNDAY – DAY 13

  After less than two hours’ sleep, Grace woke to a phone call. It was Nick telling her about an attack the night before.

  ‘His name is Elliott Woodman. Can you go to the hospital and speak to his parents? Find out what went down?’

  ‘Me?’ She sat up in bed. ‘Can’t one of the others do it?’ She had never pulled rank before and felt uncomfortable doing it, but even so. It was a DC’s job.

  ‘I want you to go.’

  ‘But it isn’t connected to our case.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  She paused. ‘So, you’re taking me off Operation Wedgwood?’

  ‘Of course not. I’m just letting people think I am.’

  Grace ran a hand through her hair in frustration. ‘I get that, but I want to work with my team.’

  ‘No questions, Grace. Just keep your mind on Operation Wedgwood but look as if you are working on the Woodman case.’

  Grace disconnected the call and swore loudly.

  Before she went to visit Elliott Woodman, Grace stopped off at the scene of the crime. She walked around the area, talking to a few people who were rubbernecking, and getting to know Elliott’s background before she met his family.

  She stayed for a while before heading off to the Royal Stoke Hospital in Hartshill. The hospital wing that the High Dependency Unit was located in was a new block that had been recently finished. The building, with its efficient self-service log-in centre and its state-of-the-art computers, could be a challenge to negotiate, but at least there was someone there to assist people. She asked for directions at the reception and then followed signs to the visitors’ area of HDU.

  There had been so many hospital visits with Matt that she’d lost count. She recalled walking along corridors lik
e this one, alone and frightened, visiting him or leaving him. Not knowing what to expect. Always dreading the worst; sometimes getting it, sometimes not.

  After sanitising her hands, she pushed on the door. The room was eerily quiet. Grace glanced around. There were people sitting together in three separate groups. A nurse in a blue uniform sat behind a hatch in the wall. Grace crossed over to it and held up her warrant card.

  ‘I’m looking for the family of Elliott Woodman.’

  ‘Over here,’ a man said.

  Grace turned. It was the larger group of the three, a couple in their mid-fifties and a teenage girl. A young baby was sleeping in a car seat on the floor next to them.

  ‘DS Allendale.’ She held up her warrant card again. ‘Mind if I sit down, or would you rather go somewhere else?’

  ‘Here is fine,’ said the older woman.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about Elliott’s attack. We’ll do our very best to get to the bottom of who did this to him,’ she told them. ‘How is he?’

  ‘It’s touch-and-go for the next twenty-four hours. He has swelling to the brain,’ the man replied. ‘His skull is fractured in two places, so is his jaw, and his eye socket is smashed. Whoever did this to him set out to harm him good and proper.’

  ‘Are you his father?’

  ‘Grandfather, Len Woodman.’ He pointed to the woman across the way. ‘She’s his grandmother, Helen. That’s his girlfriend, Annie.’ He pointed to the woman in her late teens. ‘His dad has gone home for an hour after being here all night.’

  ‘Have you any idea why he was attacked?’ Grace sat down next to him. ‘Can you think of someone who might have done this to Elliott?’

  ‘No. He’s not long been out of prison – got into a bit of bother – but no one would dare touch my boys unless they wanted to deal with me afterwards. When I find out who it is, I’m going to …’ He seemed to remember where he was, and who she was, as his words faded out.