“Your brother’s regained consciousness though he’s still very groggy.”
Linton groaned with relief.
“That’s the good news. The bad is that once he registered where he was he said he wanted to discharge himself.”
“What? He can’t do that, can he?”
“Theoretically yes, but I doubt he could stand up on his own let alone walk out of here. The police are on their way back. You need to persuade him he should stay exactly where he is.”
Linton nodded.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Is it possible he was trying to kill himself by taking the overdose?”
“What? Oh God. No… Yes… Maybe.”
“It’s just that he not only insists he didn’t take the heroin, he says he’s never taken it. I think he could be telling the truth about that. What mood was he in when you last saw him? Was he upset about something?”
Shit. “We had a row. I came home yesterday after three months away to find Dirk had moved in without permission. The place was a tip. I yelled at him. I told him I…didn’t want to see him again. You think he took an overdose deliberately?” Guilt ate at Linton’s stomach. Then something occurred to him. “Did the police find drug paraphernalia? He’d need a needle, right? He left my place with his clothes, his guitar. Where are they?”
“I have no idea. The police didn’t find a syringe or they’d have brought it in. There are no track marks on his body.”
“Right.”
“That doesn’t mean to say Dirk didn’t shoot up somewhere else for the first time before he was attacked. Maybe he stole the heroin. Addicts are experts in manipulation. It could be this was a cry for attention, though if that was the case, it was risky. He might have died. He was lucky he was found in time.”
When Linton approached Dirk’s bed, Dirk became visibly agitated. “Go. Away.”
“Dirk, I—”
“Fuck. Off.” Dirk forced out the words.
A nurse beckoned Linton. “Let him have a moment. Go and have another coffee.”
Linton retreated to the visitor’s lounge. He didn’t blame Dirk for wanting him gone. The police turned up, stayed for ten minutes, then left. Linton waited. And waited.
He was dozing when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Mr Williams?”
“Yes.” Linton stood up.
“I’m Dr Khan. Psychiatric registrar. I’ve just been talking to your brother.”
“How is he?”
“Insistent he doesn’t take heroin, which fits with our observations, though that’s not what he told the police.”
Linton frowned. What?
“He wants to talk to you.”
“When he’s better, he can stay with me. I’ll look after him.”
“Living with you probably won’t work. He says he wants to stop taking drugs and that’s great, but the moment he leaves the hospital, probably even at this moment, drugs are the one constant on his mind. He’s addicted to cocaine. He’ll lie, steal, cheat, do anything he can to get it. If you really want to help him, you have to get him professional help. Long term support.”
“You mean send him to rehab?”
The doctor nodded. “Addicts can be helped through the NHS. Heath service support is usually arranged locally which means he can be near family, near you, but staying in the vicinity of everything he knows, everyone he can twist and manipulate, with access to his supplier would mean the chances of him failing are high. Plus it takes time to organise our health service into providing what’s needed. I’m not sure you have that much time. He’s on a downward spiral.”
Linton could feel his world imploding. “So what are you suggesting?”
“If you can afford it, private rehab. Residential. A long way away from London. He can be admitted much faster than we can manage. Though he still has to want it. Really want it. If he doesn’t, you’re wasting your money. I’ve only had a short chat with Dirk, but I felt he did want it.”
“Do you know how much it would be?”
“The cheapest would be around a thousand pounds a week. The good places five or six thousand a week and more.”
Bloody hell. “How long would it take?”
“At least three months, though he’d need support for longer than that.”
Linton didn’t even do the calculation. He had savings but barely enough to pay for three months of treatment at the lowest priced place.
“What’s the difference between the expensive centres and the cheaper ones? Something other than swimming pools?”
The doctor gave a short laugh. “The more that recovering addicts have to distract them, the better. You’re paying for the staff-patient ratio, better qualified employees, a room with a view, more facilities, good food and yes, probably a pool. Those admitted are more likely to stay for the full term if they like the place. You don’t want to give them any excuse to leave. Even food can be a deal breaker. Addicts can’t be made to stay. They have to want to.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“He won’t be kept in here for long once he’s stabilised. He’ll be transferred to a ward later today. The sooner you find somewhere that can take him, the better.”
“I understand. Can I see him now?”
The doctor nodded.
As Linton approached the bed, Dirk turned to look at him, his dark grey eyes looking huge in his wan face.
Linton sank onto the chair and took Dirk’s hand, rubbing his thumb over calloused fingertips. “How are you feeling?”
“Absolutely fabulous.” Dirk’s voice was croaky and the effort of speaking made him cough.
“What the hell happened?”
“I fucked up just like I always do.” Dirk screwed up his eyes, pinched his lips together and clung to Linton’s hand.
Linton knew Dirk was trying not to cry.
“Let me help you unfuck things,” Linton said quietly.
Dirk opened his eyes and stared at him. “You told me you didn’t want to see me again.”
“And yet here I am. I’ve cleaned the flat. I’m not pissed off anymore.”
Yes he was.
“Yes you are.”
Linton huffed a laugh. “Okay. Yeah I am but you’ve managed to distract me. I’d rather it hadn’t been like this, but…”
“I’ll sort myself out. I can do it. I’ll go to meetings. Find a job.”
“And stop taking drugs?”
“I’ll stop.”
“And the drink? Cigarettes?”
“I’ll try.”
Linton sighed. “Heroin?”
Dirk shook his head. “I didn’t take it. I don’t take it.”
“That’s not what you told the police.”
“I know. I had to tell them that. But I didn’t take it. I get that it sounds crazy to say I wouldn’t touch heroin when I would take almost anything else. I have taken almost everything else, but I had a friend who was a heroin addict. His teeth rotted and his lungs were shot. He had hepatitis and HIV. And he was… He died. I’m not a heroin addict. I just take coke and G and a few other things. I know I take too much coke. I won’t take it anymore. I promise. Just get me out of here.”
“You’re not well enough to leave.”
Dirk groaned. “When I am well enough then. I can’t stand it in here. I can’t breathe. I need to leave. I won’t mess your place up again. If you could just give me money for a train ticket, I’ll go to Cornwall. I can find somewhere to kip. Please. I just need this break.”
Linton wanted to believe him but he knew better. Dirk would likely be the perfect brother for a while, until he took another drink, more drugs.
“You don’t believe me,” Dirk whispered.
“I believe you mean it. I know you’d try. I think you’d fail. I don’t want you to fail. Not again.”
“I have to leave London.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Not for the reason you think.” Dirk swallowed. “I owe money.”
&nbs
p; “Who to?”
“A drug dealer called Budak.”
Oh shit. “Was that who attacked you?”
“I can’t remember what happened.”
Linton wondered if that was the truth. “Were you raped?”
Dirk shuddered. “I don’t know.”
Christ. “Where did you go after I threw you out?”
“To a pub. One I’d never been in before. I didn’t know where else to go. I started drinking. Budak came in. I don’t know how he knew I was there. I gave him a hundred and fifty quid, but I owe him a lot more than that.”
“How much more?”
Dirk averted his gaze. “Over ten thousand pounds.”
“What?” Linton gaped at him.
“I arranged to sell some coke for him,” Dirk whispered. “But three weeks ago I got robbed. I lost everything, the coke I hadn’t sold and the money. I knew the hundred and fifty wasn’t going to satisfy him but he said he’d give me more time. He promised. I left the pub, headed toward the West End and two guys jumped me. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up here.”
Linton felt as if he’d walked into some TV show. What the hell was he supposed to do? “You need to tell the police.”
Dirk gave a short laugh, then groaned. “Budak would kill me if I said anything.”
Linton gulped. “He almost did kill you.”
“But I…don’t think it was his guys. He said he’d give me a chance to get the money. He promised.” Dirk swallowed a sob. “But I still owe him and now you’re back, he might come after you for the money.”
“How does he know about me?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve fucked everything up, you’re right. I’d be better off dead.”
“Don’t say that.” Linton had enough money to pay off this drug dealer, though he didn’t want to, but that left him no money to help Dirk.
“Where can I get hold of this guy?” Linton asked.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Budak won’t listen to you.”
“I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to pay him what you owe.”
Tears seeped from Dirk’s eyes. “I thought you’d tell the police.”
“I’ve watched too much TV. I’ve seen what happens when people renege on debts. You’re in hospital. You could have died. If you had died, maybe you’re right that he’d come after me. If you disappear to Cornwall, then maybe he’ll come after me. I’m involved now.”
Dirk groaned.
“I want this guy off your back. I’ll pay him, but in return, you have to do something for me.”
Dirk clutched at him. “I’ll stop drinking. I’ll stop taking G and coke. I promise. I want to get my life straight.”
It would be so easy to believe him. In a way, right at this moment, Linton did, but even without the doctor’s warning, he knew he couldn’t trust Dirk. Not yet.
“I want you to go somewhere to get well,” Linton said, though how he was going to arrange it, he had no idea.
“Where?”
“Rehab.”
Dirk opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“Not going to argue? Tell me you can stop on your own?”
When his brother shook his head and looked up at him with tearful, soft grey eyes, Linton thought his heart was going to break.
“You always tried to help me and I threw it back in your face every time,” Dirk said. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve better than me. I didn’t do enough to help you when you were younger. I’m going to make up for it now. I’m going to find somewhere safe for you to stay. Okay? You’re going to get well. You’re going to make something of your life and I promise I’ll help you.”
Linton wrapped his arms around Dirk and his brother’s frail body shook in his hold.
I will not let you down. I promise.
Chapter Five
Thorne gritted his teeth as he climbed into the back of the car. Orlando glared at him. The driver waited for Thorne to fasten his seat belt before he set off.
“The lawyer’s meeting us at the police station,” Orlando said.
Thorne flinched. “Why do I need a lawyer?”
“Because you’re a fucking suspect. I said you should have walked away.”
His stomach lurched. “How the hell can I be a suspect? I saw the guy lying there and did what anyone would do, called for help.”
“But you’re not just anyone are you? You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
Thorne couldn’t believe he was hearing this. When he’d had the call from the police to ask him to come to the station, he’d assumed it was just to give details about what he’d seen last night. He hadn’t thought they might wonder if he was complicit.
“At least you did the right thing in phoning me.” Orlando patted Thorne’s knee.
“Why would I have called the emergency services if I’d done something to the guy?”
“Out of guilt because things got out of hand? Because someone saw you?”
“There was no one else around apart from the two guys I saw kick him. They glanced back at me, but they didn’t recognise me.” I don’t think.
“How can you be fucking sure?”
Thorne was anxious now as well as irritated. “You’re acting as if you think I did something to him. I didn’t.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Nothing. I was just on my way home.” Thorne curled his toes inside his shoes.
“You’d walked past the closest underground station, past a taxi rank. You have a driver you can call 24/7. You were in the heart of fucking nowhere.”
“I fancied a walk.”
“You live fucking miles away.” Orlando sucked in his cheeks. “And in the other bloody direction.”
Thorne had wondered if Orlando would notice. Thorne hadn’t been thinking of where he was walking until that jolt of reality in the doorway.
“You just disappeared from the party.”
“I was tired. I told you.”
“Not then. Earlier. I was looking for you. When you reappeared you were swaying.”
Thorne pressed his lips together. Damn.
“How are you going to explain that missing hour or so?”
“I—”
“Shall I try? You found some guy to provide you with drugs. Nipped out to meet him. Fucked him. He argues about price. You tussle. He ends up in a doorway. You come back in, tie unfastened, get your alibi in place, then leave. Is that what happened?”
“No it fucking isn’t,” Thorne snapped. “I had nothing to do with this. I did the right thing and I’m not sorry I did it.”
“Okay, okay.”
“It’s not okay.” Thorne burned with fury. “How could you think I’d be involved? Because I’m bisexual? That makes me fucked-up, does it? Well fuck you.”
“You’re a few feet up the ladder, Thorne. You could climb the whole fucking thing but you’re this close to falling off.” Orlando held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
“I didn’t touch him.”
“He’d been fucked. Hard.”
Christ. Thorne didn’t bother asking how Orlando knew.
“Are they going to find your DNA on him? Because we’re done if they do.”
“Piss off, Orlando. I did nothing to him.”
“You swear to me?”
“Yes, I fucking swear.” Thorne curled his toes in his shoes. “I held his hand. Talked to him. I should have cleared his airway and put him in the recovery position.” But he hadn’t been thinking straight enough to do that, just straight enough to do something to avoid coming to the attention of the police. “All I did was reassure him help was on the way and tell him he was going to be fine, and then I heard sirens and I crossed the road and hid, and when the paramedics arrived, I scarpered. And I feel bad about that. Is he okay?”
“He’s still alive. He overdosed. When the police ask you a question, don’t be too quick to answer until
the lawyer tells you that you can.”
“Jesus.”
“He’s not going to save you. I can, but only if you tell me the truth. Where were you when you disappeared from the party?”
Thorne hesitated.
“Don’t you dare think about not telling me,” Orlando snarled.
Thorne told him everything.
“Martin Mason—the fucking evil cunt.” Orlando spat out the words. “What is he up to?”
“He just wanted a f—”
“Course he didn’t. He and his pal raped you.”
Thorne stopped breathing.
“Don’t act like you don’t know that’s what they did.” Orlando lowered his voice. “They spiked your drink, then did what they wanted to you.”
“I wanted…”
Orlando glared at him. “You didn’t know what you wanted. You were fucking drugged. Tell me you wouldn’t have walked out if you’d been able to.”
Thorne swallowed hard.
“It was rape. Do you want to tell the police?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
Thorne nodded.
“Well now I’m going to fucking rape them.” Orlando took out his phone and scrolled for a number. “Keep quiet. I’m calling Mason’s agent.”
Thorne closed his eyes and rested his head against the window.
Orlando screamed down the phone and was still on it when they arrived at the station. He pointed a guy out to Thorne. The lawyer was a tall thin man in a sharp suit with a sharp nose to match. Thorne got out of the car and went up to him.
“I didn’t have—” Thorne began.
“Keep quiet. Let me do the talking.”
“But I didn’t do—”
“Don’t tell me what you did and didn’t do. Only speak when I tell you to.”
Thorne bit his lip and followed the lawyer into the building.
When they emerged, Orlando was waiting.
“It’s fine,” the lawyer said.
Thorne hadn’t even caught his name.
“Well, fine assuming he didn’t do anything.” The lawyer glanced at Thorne. “If evidence emerges to the contrary, we’ll have to think again.”
“Get in the car,” Orlando snapped at Thorne.
Back to the heartless bastard again? Thorne climbed in the back. He almost wished he had walked past the guy last night. But if he came across the situation again, he’d do the same thing. He might be a bit of a fuckwit at times but he’d not ignore someone who needed help. He’d told the police exactly what he’d witnessed and done. They were very interested in the two guys Thorne had seen and Thorne had good recall on faces. He’d know them again. They wanted him to come in and look at photos.
Dirty Games Page 5
