Closer To Home

by Heleyne Hammersley

  ‘What?’

  ‘Before the cavalry arrive. You have called for back-up?’

  Hollis looked at his watch. ‘They’ll be here any minute.’

  ‘Doubt it,’ Rigby said. He nodded to an object hidden in the gloom on the bench. ‘You don’t think I’d leave home without my radio. There’s been no traffic in the last twenty minutes. Well, nothing of interest. Nobody knows you’re here. I was just seeing if you’d lie. That makes life a bit easier for me. Plenty of time then.’

  He grinned at them both as though he was welcoming them to a party and hoisted Ben higher so he could get a better grip on his neck.

  ‘Let him go,’ Kate said. ‘Whatever your problem is it’s not with him, it’s with me. Let Ben go.’

  ‘Ooh, didn’t have you down as the maternal type,’ Rigby mocked. ‘But no. Not yet. I want him to hear what a bitch his mother really is and why he’s had to suffer.’

  ‘I’ve never done anything to you, Drew. I don’t even remember you. Or is your ego so fragile that this is about me turning you down the other night?’

  Rigby laughed.

  ‘You. Pretty boy. On the floor over there.’ He pointed with his knife to where he wanted Hollis to sit, away from the door against the brick wall. Hollis stood his ground.

  ‘Now!’ Rigby yelled, jabbing the knife into Ben’s neck.

  Hollis took two steps and sat.

  ‘Better. Easier to keep an eye on you.’ He relaxed his knife hand and Ben slumped against his chest.

  ‘Okay Detective Inspector Kathy Fletcher. Let me tell you a little story.’ He shifted position until he was resting against the bench, using it to support his own weight and that of her unconscious son.

  ‘You remember the strike, right? When the miners downed tools and the government crucified them for it? Well, some people couldn’t afford not to work, some people didn’t get any money from the miners’ relief funds, and so they got bussed to other parts of the country where people didn’t know them. When the strikers found out they called them scabs and chased them out of their homes. Sound familiar? My dad had to go back to work. My mum was in pieces after our Tracy died and she’d been seeing an expensive psychiatrist. We even had a car so Dad could drive her to her appointments. She could barely go out of the house without him.’

  Kate shrugged, unsure of where he was going.

  ‘Some people were in a different union, like your daddy, and they kept working. They didn’t suffer at all. Some people tried to say that they were scabs but they didn’t care. They were all right. Only it didn’t seem very fair, did it? So, I tried to even the score a bit. Do you remember the notes Kathy? The ones telling you to die. That was me, sweetheart. I didn’t want people to find out about my dad so I diverted attention on to you.’

  ‘So?’ Kate said. ‘That was years ago.’

  ‘Long memory, me,’ Rigby said with a grin. ‘Little Kathy couldn’t keep quiet about it though. Had to go to the teachers and tell tales. Only she didn’t know who wrote the notes and the wrong lad got expelled.’

  ‘Rob Loach.’

  ‘The one and only. When Rob found out that it was me and I’d let him get kicked out for it he got some of his mates to lock me in here for a day. And Pisspants was born. They made my life hell for those last two months, the names, the punches. If my mum hadn’t got married again and moved us away I think I’d have probably ended up like my dad. It was torture. Just like the torture you’re feeling now because you don’t know what I’m going to do to little Benjy.’

  ‘So,’ Kate said, trying to stall him. ‘Aleah’s aunties bullied your sister into getting stuck in the tunnel so you killed their niece. That’s a bit of a tenuous link, they’re not even blood relatives. Not the greatest plan. Why not go after their kids?’

  Rigby laughed.

  ‘I thought about that. Carla lives abroad and Joanne doesn’t have kids. Then I found out who Aleah’s grandad was. It was perfect. He was another one of the bastards that killed my dad. Jumped him twice and got others to have a go as well.’

  ‘And Callum Goodwin’s grandfather refused to help your dad when he was on strike?’

  ‘That Goodwin bastard told him that if he could afford to run a car he wasn’t getting a penny from the union.’

  ‘Which forced him back to work, only he couldn’t live with the shame. Jesus, this is really fucked up,’ she laughed. ‘Who’s next? The children of those kids who laughed at you for crying in class when you told them the story about your sister? There were plenty of them, weren’t there, Andy?’

  Rigby scowled at her.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Kate saw her son’s mouth twitch. He was aware of what was going on. He was awake and he was trying to stand up. His feet were firmly on the floor and she could see the strain in his face as he tried to ease himself upright. She needed to get Rigby to focus on her, to goad him into making a move and letting her son go.

  ‘Don’t I?’ she said. ‘Poor little Andy, telling his sad story and all the boys laughed at him. I know all about it. Karen remembers you, and what a little wimp you were. Jesus, there’s no wonder your dad killed himself, having a little spineless little shit like you for a son. And you’re no better now are you. Killing kids. Must take guts that.’

  ‘You fucking bitch!’ Rigby dropped Ben and lunged at her.

  ‘Get Ben!’ she yelled at Hollis who leapt up and grabbed the boy by the collar of his T-shirt. He stumbled through the door, virtually dragging Ben after him. Kate turned to check that they’d got out and felt the knife slice through the forearm that she’d thrown up to defend herself.

  ‘Shit!’ she hissed, grabbing the wound with her other hand. Rigby was staring at her like a trapped animal. She was between him and the door but she needed to stall him to give Hollis time to get Ben away and call for help.

  ‘You know you’re done, don’t you, Drew? You can’t walk away from this mess.’

  His eyes darkened.

  ‘I don’t care. I never expected to walk away. I just wanted it done. I wanted other people to suffer like I did. I never meant to kill Aleah. I was just going to keep her for a bit, to torment the family. But she struggled and I had to get rid of her. And then you turned up. Kathy Siddons. It was like an omen. You even told me all about your son. I knew that I had to keep on, to get revenge on the lot of you. After I killed Aleah, then the other one was easy. I’d have done your boy as well. Made you watch.’

  ‘So now what? Slit your own throat. Take the coward’s way out like your dad?’

  She was taunting him, hoping that he’d lose control again and make a mistake, something that she could use to get herself out of this mess.

  ‘Don’t talk about him. You’re not fit to even mention his name.’

  ‘What about you? You didn’t keep his name. Who was Rigby? A stepdad? Or just a random name so that you could hide who you are?’

  He shook his head and actually grinned at her.

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk. What’s with Kate? I’m not the only one who wanted a fresh start and a new name am I? You stuck-up cow. So much better than the rest of us. Detective fucking Inspector Fletcher. Who did you have to sleep with to get that job?’

  ‘Not you. And for that I’m eternally grateful. Give it up Drew. Drop the knife and let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Shut up, bitch!’ His eyes fixed on hers and she could see that he was considering his options. There is no way out, Kate thought, he must be able to see that. He could kill her, but he’d be caught, or he could kill himself, but all he had was a knife.

  ‘I need you to get out of the way. I’ve got somewhere I can go.’

  ‘No. Put the knife down.’

  The radio crackled into life. Hollis must have found somebody to ring for help. The dispatcher gave their location and a summary of the situation. Rigby grinned when he heard himself described as ‘armed and dangerous’.

  ‘Hear that?’ Kate asked. ‘They’re co
ming for you. Give me the knife and make it easy on yourself.’

  Rigby shook his head.

  ‘I told you to get out of my way!’ he yelled.

  ‘No. You’ll have to go through me.’

  He stared at her, his face contorted with fury.

  ‘Right. Have it your own way you bitch!’ He lunged forward trying to shock her into moving but Kate stood her ground, still blocking his exit. She didn’t feel the knife at first, she thought he’d just hit her in the side. Then she saw the blood. As though the red somehow triggered her pain receptors, a stab of hot agony pierced her abdomen and she doubled over, grasping at the wound with both hands. Rigby pushed past her, out into the sunlight. He was getting away and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

  The cool brick wall was somehow comforting as she allowed herself to slide down into the darkness. She could hear noises from outside but they seemed far away as though she was underwater. Voices. Shouting. Somebody yelling her name.

  She shifted to her uninjured side and started to drag herself through the door. It took all the strength she had to just get her head outside so that she could see what was going on. Two figures were locked together on the gravel in front of the boiler house. One was clearly Rigby and he was in pain. The other, sitting on Rigby’s back, pinning him face down, was Garry. For a second, Kate thought that she might be hallucinating until her ex-husband turned to her.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Kate shook her head and raised a bloody hand.

  ‘Shit, Kate. What do I do?’

  ‘Hold him there until somebody with some handcuffs arrives. Then ambulance for me. Is Ben…?’

  He’s fine,’ Garry said, tightening his grip on Rigby’s upper arms. ‘I could kill this bastard.’

  ‘No. Police. They’re on the radio.’ She knew that she wasn’t making sense. She just hoped that Garry understood.

  The last thing she heard before she closed her eyes was sirens coming closer.

  Epilogue

  It was a terrible day for a funeral; muggy and grey with the ever-present threat of a thunder storm. The mourners gathered around the grave were wilting in their sombre black and the minister was breathing heavily as he said a final prayer.

  Kate scanned the faces that were peering into the small hole in the ground. Family, friends and a few representatives from the police force. Tatton was standing discreetly behind Jackie Reese, and Hollis was somewhere on the periphery. She had no way to understand the pain that these parents were feeling. Her son was fine. He’d recovered quickly and was looking forward to a holiday in France with his father before the new term at university. She had thought that she might lose him but, in her heart, she’d never believed that he was gone. Even when she’d seen him limp and lifeless in Rigby’s grip she hadn’t truly believed that he was dead.

  She shifted her weight to her other leg and winced as her stitches caught on the dressing under her blouse. Still a few days before she could have them removed. She’d been told that she’d been lucky; another inch either way and the knife would have completely penetrated one of her major organs. A slight nick to her colon was nothing much to worry about.

  Movement in the main group caught her eye. Jackie and Craig were throwing soil into the grave. Dave Porter stepped forward and took a handful of earth. He stood on the edge of the grave, hesitated and then mumbled something that Kate didn’t hear. Jackie turned and smiled sadly at him as he threw the soil in a damp clump. His mother grasped his hand and pulled him back into the crowd. As she stepped back she looked up and caught Kate’s eye.

  ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed, with a nod.

  Kate nodded back, then she turned and walked towards her car. Overhead thunder cracked and the first spots of rain fell on the grey cement driveway of the cemetery, turning it black as they seeped into the dry surface. The summer was ending with another downpour.

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  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank the team at Bloodhound Books for continuing to have faith in my writing and especially Betsy for her patience with me during the cover design process. I’d also like to thank the other Bloodhound authors for encouragement, sound advice and quite a few much-needed laughs.

  I’m grateful to Clare Law, my editor, for her helpful suggestions and for her patience with my terrible habit of comma splicing. I’m an English teacher so I should know better.

  My brother Graeme was a big help in confirming or correcting some of my memories of ‘Thorpe’. It’s strange to write about a place I know so well and still find that some of the things I remember are actually not quite accurate.

  I’d also like to say a big thank you to everybody who has bought, read or reviewed either of my previous novels. The support is much appreciated.

  And finally, as always, thanks to Viv.