by Ben Cheetham
He jerked the binoculars back towards the park’s entrance. A woman was standing where Emily had been a moment ago – a long-haired, buxom blonde in a pink jacket, miniskirt and heels. Maybe ten minutes earlier, he’d seen the same woman heading in the opposite direction past Emily’s foster carers’ house. Her heels were so high that she’d walked with a peculiar bandy-legged hobble. Her hair hung in thick curtains, so that all he’d glimpsed of her face was the point of her nose and her chin. She had her back to him now. And he was struck by how broad her shoulders were. How manly…
Jim’s heart was suddenly thumping like an out of control piston. ‘Shit,’ he hissed as the blonde started into the park.
Still clutching the binoculars, he sprinted for the stairwell. He jumped into his car and accelerated hard in the direction of the park. Moments later, he slowed the car softly at its entrance. He peered through the binoculars again. The blonde was maybe a hundred metres away, tottering awkwardly across the grass. Roughly the same distance further on, Emily was visible by the glow of the moon and the city as a vague black shape. Snatching out the Taser, Jim left his car. He angled towards a clump of trees to the right of the blonde. Once he was in amongst them, he quickened his pace, trying to overtake her and get a proper look at her face. But the trees ended before he could do so. A short distance away there was another small thicket. He lost sight of Emily as, ascending a gentle slope, she passed behind it. The blonde made her way up the slope too. He forced himself to wait until she was far enough away that he could follow without being noticed.
He skirted around the upper edge of the thicket, attempting again to get ahead of the blonde. Emily hadn’t emerged into view, suggesting she was walking parallel to the slope in line with the trees. Either that or she’d stopped for some reason. His pulse and feet moved faster at the thought of what that reason might be. When he reached the far end of the thicket, he pressed himself against a tree. Twenty metres or so beyond the trees a fragmentary hedgerow split the park in two. Emily was standing in a gap in the hedge, facing away from him. She had her back to the blonde too. The blonde was moving slowly, warily. Her hand slid into her jacket and withdrew something. And suddenly Jim didn’t need to see her face to know who she really was. The blade glinting in the moonlight told him everything.
He tensed his muscles to move and take the blonde down, but before he could do so two men emerged from the hedge. Jim’s first thought was that he’d been right, there was a covert operation under way. But then he saw the steel baseball bat one of the men was carrying. Baseball bats were hardly police issue weapons. Neither did the men look like police. One was built like a bull, with a bald pear-drop head and a close-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. The other was also bald, but slimmer and clean-shaven with a hard-bitten, broken-nosed face. They were both wearing black leather jackets and blue jeans. Heavy gold rings glimmered on their fingers. And they were smiling. Not friendly smiles.
‘Well hello, darling,’ the bull of a man said to the blonde in a broad Brummie twang, slapping the bat into his meaty palm.
His broken-nosed companion gave a sandpaper laugh. ‘My, my, look at you. What a pretty sight you make.’ He had an identical accent.
The blonde retreated several rapid steps and stumbled on the high heels. The hair fell away from a face almost unrecognisably daubed with crimson lipstick, blusher, mascara and electric-blue eyeshadow. But there was no disguising the eyes. Jim would have recognised Gavin Walsh’s eyes in a room full of nothing but eyes.
Gavin scrambled to regain his balance, jerking up the knife. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ he demanded to know, putting on a high-pitched female voice.
This time both men laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t recognise us,’ said the bull, an expression of mock hurt on his big, grinning face. He pointed to his stomach, then his head. ‘I know we’ve got a bit more down there and a lot less up there, but compared to you I’d say we’re looking pretty fucking good.’
The broken-nosed man jerked his thumb at Emily. ‘Why don’t you ask your daughter what we want? She’s the one who contacted us.’
As if on dramatic cue, Emily wheeled towards Gavin. There was no fear in her eyes. Only hate. ‘I want you dead!’
‘How fucked up is that? Your own daughter wants you dead. And luckily Patrick and me are more than happy to oblige her.’
The realisation hit Jim as to who the men were. The bull was Patrick McLean and the other was Kieran. They were the older brothers of Jody McLean, the girl Gavin had been accused of raping in ’87. They’d been wrongly suspected of murdering him back then. Now they had their chance to do the job for real.
Gavin suddenly kicked off his high heels at the brothers and half turned to run. Kieran whipped out a handgun. ‘Stay where the fuck you are. And drop the blade.’
Gavin stared at the gun a moment, his tongue darting over his crimson lips. Reluctantly, he let the knife fall from his hand. Kieran gestured for him to step away from it. Then Patrick stooped to pick it up. His eyes moved from the glimmering blade to Gavin, hooded with menace. He was no longer smiling. ‘Is this the knife you held to our sister’s throat as you forced your dick inside her?’
Gavin raised his hands, palms outwards. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, still clinging futilely to his put-on voice.
There was a whistle of air as Patrick swung the baseball bat. It connected flush on the side of Gavin’s head with a hollow metallic thud, knocking him off his feet. He rolled several times down the slope, coming to a stop on his back, arms extended upwards to ward off any further blows. Blood ran from beneath his dishevelled wig. Patrick loomed over him, facing away from Jim now. ‘Say that again!’ he exploded. ‘Go on, fucking say it and I’ll open your skull like a coconut.’
‘No,’ Emily put in anxiously. ‘You can’t kill him yet. You promised me you’d find out where she is first.’
Who’s ‘she’? wondered Jim. He knew the answer even as he asked himself the question. There was only one person she could be – Jessica Young.
‘We’re just gonna tenderise him a little bit,’ Kieran assured her. ‘Get him ready for the real fun.’ He gestured towards the park’s entrance. ‘I don’t think you want to hang around and see what happens next.’
Emily was silent a moment. Jim could see her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. ‘Yes,’ she said, almost whispering, ‘I do.’
Kieran gave a shrug as if to say, Suit yourself. He followed it with a nod towards his brother. Patrick swung the bat again. ‘Hel—’ Gavin started to cry out, but the word turned into a gasped oomph as the bat slammed into his abdomen. He tried to roll out of reach, but another expertly aimed whack curled him up into a winded ball.
With each successive bone-crunching blow that rained down on Gavin, Jim saw the solution to the case moving closer. He saw himself obtaining the photos and videos. He saw himself putting the cuffs on Villiers. But he saw too the look on Emily’s face. Although her expression was grimly set, her big blue eyes glistened wetly in the moonlight. She flinched every time the bat hit home. She was dying, he knew. Part of her – the innocent, loving, trusting part – was being beaten to death just as surely as Gavin.
With a trembling effort, Gavin sat up, one hand extended towards Emily. ‘I love you,’ he mouthed breathlessly through bloody teeth.
‘I hate you,’ she spat back.
Hate. The word seemed to echo in Jim’s head. If Gavin died this way, Emily would never be free from hate. It would poison her whole life. No matter what, he couldn’t allow that to happen.
He advanced rapidly towards Kieran and fired the Taser, aiming for his exposed neck. As the prongs bit home, the shock caused Kieran’s finger to twitch on the trigger. A shot rang out as he crumpled to the grass. Patrick whirled around, wide-eyed. Jim bent to wrench the gun from Kieran’s grasp and took aim at Patrick. ‘Drop the bat!’
‘Who the fuck are you?’
Emily answered before Jim could do so, her
voice shaking with surprise. ‘He’s the policeman I told you about.’
Jim kept his steely gaze fixed on Patrick. ‘Drop it.’
The big man lowered the bat, but kept hold of it. He jerked his face towards Gavin. ‘That cunt raped my sister.’
‘That doesn’t give you the right to beat him to death.’
‘Bollocks it doesn’t.’ Patrick flicked his eyes at Emily. ‘What about her? If you stop us, she’ll never find out what he did to her mum.’
Jim retreated a few steps so that both Patrick and Emily were in his line of vision. Gavin was groaning and struggling to get to his feet. ‘Stay down,’ ordered Jim. ‘Lie flat on your face with your hands clasped behind your head.’
‘But, officer, I’m not who they—’ Gavin began in his almost comical mock-female voice.
‘Do it!’ broke in Jim. ‘Or I swear to Christ I’ll take great pleasure in putting a bullet in you.’
Gavin cringed back to the ground. Jim glanced at Emily. ‘Is this really what you want? Can you live the rest of your life with his blood on your hands? Because if you can I’ll walk away right now.’
Emily’s forehead twitched. Her lips trembled as if to speak, but nothing came. With a shudder, she remembered something Gavin had said to her in the motorhome. Life is a web that holds us all, Emily. What you’ve got to decide is, are you a spider or a fly? I know which one I am. What about you? She recalled too the retort that had rung out like a warning shot in her mind. I’m whatever you’re not!
Her gaze fell away from Jim and she shook her head.
Relief surged through him. He’d meant what he said. He knew the only way to save the part of her she’d come so close to destroying was to give her the choice. His gaze returned to Patrick. ‘You can either go home or to prison. It’s up to you. If you want to go home, toss the bat and the knife.’
Suspicion narrowed Patrick’s eyes. ‘You’re not going to arrest us?’
‘If I arrest you, I’ll have to arrest Emily. And I don’t want to do that.’
Patrick eyeballed Jim a moment longer. With a ‘fair enough’ shrug, he tossed aside the bat and reached to retrieve the knife from his jacket.
‘Slowly,’ warned Jim.
Patrick drew the knife out by its blade and sent it the same way as the bat.
‘Help your brother up.’
Kieran groaned as Patrick pulled the Taser barbs out of his neck and lifted him to his feet.
‘Now get out of here,’ continued Jim. ‘And don’t let me see you again tonight. Because if I do I’m not even going to try to arrest you, I’m just going to start shooting. Am I making myself understood?’
The brothers nodded. Kieran shot Gavin a savage glare. ‘Don’t think you’ll be safe in prison, motherfucker, because you won’t be.’
Returning his stare, Gavin pursed the fat red slugs of his lips and made a kissy sound. For a second, Kieran looked as if he might lose control and spring at Gavin’s throat, but Patrick caught hold of his arm and drew him towards the hedge.
‘Walk where I can see you,’ said Jim as the brothers passed back through the gap. He watched until they faded from sight. Then he moved quickly to kneel on Gavin and handcuff him. He turned to Emily. She still couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Gently, he put his hand under her chin and lifted it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, tears spilling down her cheeks.
‘There’s no need to be. Go home and don’t ever speak about this to anyone.’
‘I don’t have a home.’
‘Yes you do.’
Her eyes slid past Jim to Gavin.
‘You don’t need to worry about him any more,’ said Jim. ‘He won’t ever be able to hurt you again.’
With a sudden, trembling breath, she wrenched her gaze from Gavin. She looked at Jim for a brief instant as though there was something else she wanted to say. Then she turned and ran towards the park’s entrance.
‘I love you, Adaryn,’ Gavin called after her. ‘Nothing can keep us apart. Not prison. Not socie—’ The air whistled from his lungs as Jim pressed a knee into his back again. ‘You’re hurting me,’ he wheezed.
‘That’s the idea,’ said Jim, scanning his surrounds. The park was deserted but for themselves. Or at least what he could see of it was. The McLean brothers had chosen the spot for the ambush well. The trees, hedge and slope concealed them from view on three sides. ‘Don’t move and keep your gob shut.’
Jim collected up the baseball bat, knife, high heels, Taser and its spent wire. He stuffed everything but the bat into his pockets. Then he hauled Gavin to his feet. ‘I can’t breathe properly,’ grimaced Gavin. ‘I think some of my ribs are broken.’
‘I told you to keep your gob shut.’ Jim none too gently guided him towards the park’s entrance, listening and watching for police, aware that someone might have heard the gunshot.
‘I need a doctor. I know my rights, you have to take me to—’
Gavin’s words turned into a groan as Jim jabbed the baseball bat into his ribs. He doubled over, but Jim grabbed the scruff of his neck and dragged him onwards. When his breathing allowed him to speak, Gavin muttered, ‘I’ll have you for brutality.’
‘That wasn’t brutality.’ Another jab. Harder this time. Gavin’s mouth gaped in mute agony. ‘And neither was that. But keep talking and you’ll find out what is.’
The remainder of the walk to the car passed in silence, with Gavin darting malignant glances at Jim. Putting one hand on top of Gavin’s wig, Jim shoved him into the front passenger seat. ‘Remember what I’ve got in here,’ he warned, patting the pocket with the gun in it. He uncuffed one of Gavin’s wrists, fed the bracelet through the hand hold above his head and recuffed him. Shooting looks around himself, he hurried to get behind the steering wheel. He headed for the outskirts of Nottingham, driving fast but not conspicuously so.
‘You’re taking me to Sheffield, aren’t you?’ said Gavin. ‘I know all about you, Chief Inspector Monahan.’
‘You know nothing about me,’ growled Jim.
‘I know that my good friend, Freddie Harding, killed your wife.’
Jim’s voice tightened a fraction. ‘She wasn’t my wife.’
‘Maybe not, but you loved her. She’s not gone, you know. She’s been reborn. Life, death and rebirth are the eternal cycle. You can be with her again. I can show you how. All you have to do is open your heart to Cernunnos and he will—’
Jim drove his elbow into Gavin’s jaw, bouncing his head off the window. ‘You’re a slow learner, Gavin.’
Gavin’s head lolled, a thread of bloody spittle dangling from his lips. His eyes rolled back into focus and hoarse laughter grated from his throat. ‘Freddie phoned me from prison one time. Do you know what he told me about your wife? He told me she begged for her life, said she’d do anything if he let her live. Suck his cock. Anything.’
Jim slammed on the brakes. He glared at Gavin, his nostrils flaring with barely restrained rage. Gavin returned his gaze, smirking. ‘I’m not afraid of you, Chief Inspector. My eyes are open. I see the truth of you. You’re a coward.’
Jim blinked away from the taunting eyes. He stared out the window, not seeing the street, but seeing Margaret’s dead face. ‘You may well be right,’ he murmured and resumed driving.
‘I know I’m right,’ goaded Gavin. ‘You’re a coward and a liar. You lie to everyone, yourself most of all. That’s why your wife is dead. And that’s why you couldn’t see Detective Geary’s betrayal.’
‘Go on, keep talking.’
Gavin laughed again. ‘First you try to silence me, now you want me to talk. You’re even more confused than you look. I pity you. You don’t know what you want. You don’t know anything. You think you’ve saved Emily, but you’ve condemned her. I could have shown her a world without boundaries, without guilt and hypocrisy.’
‘Like you showed Alison Sullivan and that girl we found at your cottage. Like you showed Jessica Young.’
‘Every time you open y
our mouth, ignorance flows from it like a river from a tunnel. I could never show Jessica anything. She was my Goddess.’
‘Was your Goddess?’
‘Was, is, will be always and forever more. We were different parts of the same being. We brought balance to each other. Alison and that other girl were confused. But not like you. They were aware of their confusion and came to me for help.’
‘And you helped them by killing them.’
‘I returned them to the womb of nature so that they could be reborn. I gave them new life.’
Jim gave Gavin a narrow glance.
‘You look at me as though you’re trying to work out whether I’m insane,’ said Gavin. ‘But the truth is I’m the only one here who sees things as they really are. To deny yourself what you want, that is the one true crime.’
‘I’m not sure your victims would agree with you.’
‘There’s no such thing as a victim. No innocents, no guilty. No good, no evil. There is only truth and non-truth.’
‘Truth and non-truth,’ Jim repeated quietly. ‘So what’s the truth about Jessica Young?’
‘I’ve already told you, but your ears are as closed as your eyes. If we had more time, maybe I could help you open yourself up to my words. But we’ll be in Sheffield soon.’
‘I never said we were going to Sheffield.’
Small cracks of surprise broke the surface of Gavin’s makeup. ‘So where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
Jim’s reply silenced Gavin. They headed north on the M1 for a few miles, before turning east into a countryside of dark lanes and silent villages. The landscape became hillier, more isolated. Rolling expanses of moorland rose and fell on either side of the road. ‘I used to love it out here when I was a child,’ said Jim. ‘I don’t any more. People like you ruined places like this for me. You turn everything that’s beautiful into something ugly.’ He pointed towards a hump of heather. ‘About ten years ago a dog-walker found a body over there. A young woman. She’d been beaten to death and buried in a shallow grave. Turned out her husband had done it. They’d only been married a month. He never said why he killed her.’
