The Goodnight Song: An absolutely heart-stopping and gripping thriller

by Nick Hollin

  ‘Richard will help me with that,’ he says, glancing down at the doctor, who is halfway up the stairs with a look of concern on his face. ‘If you two want to fight, then do it away from the crime scene. There might be answers here, answers you’re never going to find smacking lumps out of each other.’

  ‘If I find you had anything to do with this…!’ says Katie, jabbing a finger at Sam.

  Sam looks untroubled by the threat, but Nathan senses she’s having to fight to keep things under control. ‘I told you what happened to my sister. I found her. I found her like…’ Sam isn’t looking into the airing cupboard. In fact, she doesn’t seem to be looking at anything at all, her expression telling them she’s drifting back to the moment of discovering her younger sister.

  ‘Your stories seem far too convenient to me,’ says Katie.

  ‘Convenient?’ says Sam, and Nathan can see that she’s starting to break. There’s a rage in her eyes that scares him, that reminds him of some of the psychopaths he’s come up against in the past, but again he makes sure he’s blocking the space between the two women.

  Richard is alongside him now and peering into the cupboard.

  ‘Oh, Ben,’ he says softly. ‘We fought so hard.’ The misery in the old man’s voice seems suddenly to calm the situation. ‘Do we know for sure that he didn’t do this himself?’ asks the doctor. ‘We know he wasn’t coping well with his brother’s death. He was vulnerable.’ Richard glances across at Katie. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t have left him alone.’

  ‘This was murder,’ says Katie, looking horrified by the suggestion. ‘Or are you suggesting they came here, found him hidden away in a cupboard and just happened to have a page describing that exact death to release to the world?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ says Richard, lowering his head. ‘I was being foolish. I just prefer to think it was Ben’s choice. And that he didn’t suffer too much.’

  ‘We all wish that were the case,’ says Nathan. ‘And I’m sure Katie values your input as much as I do.’ He gives Katie a sharp look, which she matches in return. ‘There’s just a little too much emotion at the moment.’

  ‘I’m not going to offer any apology for that,’ says Katie, moving towards the stairs. ‘It’s fuel. And it’s going to fuel me finding out who did this and making them pay.’ Her eyes quickly flick to Sam. ‘I may have been away for a while, but I haven’t forgotten how to hunt down the truth.’ As she passes Richard, she leans in. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you,’ she says quietly. ‘And you were right.’ She casts one last look back at the airing cupboard, dipping her head and perhaps offering the promise of justice that Nathan’s seen her offer at so many other crime scenes. ‘We shouldn’t have left him alone.’

  Nathan and Katie sit on the back doorstep of Ben’s house. They can hear the press and members of the public gathered outside at the front, and all around them people are getting on with their jobs – taking photos, collecting samples, picking through the evidence of Ben’s tragic life. They’d like to be working themselves, at least to feel actively involved in finding justice for the Peters brothers, but the fatigue is such for both of them that they know they’d only go stumbling into something, perhaps losing a valuable forensic clue. Richard has patched up Nathan’s shoulder and Katie, too, is doing her bit to make him feel better by sitting close to him on the step and allowing him to rest his hand on hers. He can feel the tension in her body, and there’s obvious anger when she glares across at Sam, who’s fielding calls on the other side of the tiny, rubbish-filled garden.

  ‘You think I was being irrational, don’t you?’ she says through gritted teeth. ‘You think I completely lost control. But I think, given all that’s happened, I’m doing pretty fucking well in keeping things together.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ says Nathan, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘I think the only reason I’m coping is because I’ve managed to convince myself this isn’t real, that it’s just another one of my far too vivid nightmares. I keep thinking I’m going to snap out of it, wake up in a sweat back in Wales.’ He wants to add with you by my side, but there’s still an awkwardness between them.

  ‘Why Ben?’ Katie asks. ‘You think he saw Sam, maybe when she was following Mike?’

  ‘I think it’s more likely Mike told his brother about a woman with bobbed hair. Either way, we don’t know for sure it was Sam. And perhaps Ben’s death wasn’t to shut him up, but to ease his pain, an act of compassion.’

  ‘You think that was compassionate?’ asks Katie, pulling her hand away.

  ‘If they were following my words, if they understood why I wrote them,’ says Nathan, wanting to grab the hand back again, to feel that warmth. ‘Maybe Ben didn’t just happen to see the killer. Maybe he knew them.’

  ‘I told you before, nobody knew Ben. Just Mike and me.’

  ‘And Richard,’ says Nathan, smiling across at the doctor, who’s leaning against an old fridge. The doctor smiles back, but the smile looks as fragile as the rest of him.

  ‘Yes, Richard,’ says Katie, and Nathan can feel the tension grow.

  ‘What?’ he asks. ‘What’s worrying you?’

  ‘He seemed a little too keen to have us think it was suicide.’

  ‘He just wasn’t thinking clearly,’ says Nathan, convinced that Katie is doing the same. ‘He couldn’t see that it would have been too great a coincidence.’

  ‘Yes, coincidence,’ says Katie. ‘That’s my other issue. Don’t you think it’s strange that I became suddenly and violently sick in Wales, and had to go and fetch a doctor, the very same doctor that now seems to be involved in this case? After all, he’s known three of the victims – Mike and Ben Peters and Nigel Hartham. And don’t forget, Nigel Hartham had shared one of Richard’s secrets.’ She turns to look at Nathan, covering her mouth with her hand by pretending to be scratching her nose. ‘What if there were more secrets? What if he didn’t stop at letting people die on his operating table?’

  ‘You can’t seriously suspect him,’ says Nathan quietly, keeping his head down. ‘Besides, he was with us when Mike was killed. He was our alibi!’

  ‘They don’t know for sure when Mike was killed. Richard could have driven back from Wales…’

  ‘And Ben?’ says Nathan, looking over his shoulder and once again vividly picturing the body curled up in the corner of the cupboard.

  ‘Richard came here,’ says Katie, ‘with me. He heard what Ben had to say. Heard that there might have been more he wanted to say, but couldn’t remember it at the time. Maybe Mike had found out something about the doctor. Maybe that the doctor had killed Carl Watkins.’

  ‘For what possible reason?’

  ‘Revenge, for the damage his drugs have done. Richard worked with addicts. He was working with them at the end, when his PTSD was taking hold.’

  ‘Steven Fish?’ says Nathan. ‘You honestly think a seventy-five-year-old man is going to torture and behead a young man who happened to have been caught with a small amount of drugs on him?’

  ‘That young man was in some kind of relationship with Carl Watkins. Emotional or professional, I don’t know which, but maybe he ran into Fish while hunting Watkins down.’

  ‘And how did he do that?’

  ‘God knows,’ says Katie. ‘Maybe one of his former patients, a former client of Watkins, gave him some inside knowledge. Do I have to have it all figured out?’

  Nathan resists the urge to tell her he doesn’t think she has any of it figured out, moving on, instead, to his next question.

  ‘And what is Richard’s connection to my brother? Do you think they were living together?’

  ‘Is it so ridiculous? Your brother didn’t have a dad. Maybe he needed a father figure. Maybe your brother sought psychiatric help and they ran into each other that way.’

  Nathan tries to keep his voice calm and to remember all that Katie has been through. She can be excused a little madness herself.

  ‘And the video taken from the top of the hill where Carl Watkins was buried? How
exactly did Richard do that, when he was down at the bottom of the hill?’

  ‘For the very same reason it doesn’t clear Sam. If they were with your brother then they’re not your typical loners. They might have found someone else to help them out.’

  Nathan shrugs. ‘I can’t say I agree, but it’s good to be able to talk this through.’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Katie, kicking at a tiny stone and sending it flying across the small patch of practically grass-free lawn. ‘Just like old times.’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Nathan, picking at the tape on his broken fingers. He looks across at Sam. ‘I do agree that we’re not getting everything out of her.’

  ‘And you saw her reaction when I questioned the story about her sister,’ says Katie. ‘There’s anger in that woman.’

  Justifiable is the word that pops into Nathan’s mind, but he doesn’t share it with Katie for fear of bringing her own anger back. ‘Maybe this isn’t like old times,’ he says. ‘I mean, I’ve lost my ability to read people’s minds, and you’ve…’ Nathan fears he’s led himself into an argument, and so he’s relieved to see Katie smile.

  ‘I’ve clearly lost the plot.’ She stares across at the elderly doctor, bending awkwardly to sniff the flower of whatever unidentified weed is growing in the corner of the garden. Katie’s smile quickly vanishes. ‘Maybe my instinct has gone.’

  ‘In which case,’ says Nathan, glancing over his shoulder at some white-suited forensic officers moving methodically through the house, ‘we’re going to have to rely on science.’

  It’s another few hours before science helps them. Nathan is slumped awkwardly in a chair in the hotel room, unable to sleep because of the pain in his shoulder. Katie is lying flat on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Richard is in the room next door, and Nathan believes he can hear the old man snoring. It’s not a quiet room by any stretch, but the two of them still jolt when Katie’s phone starts ringing.

  ‘Hello?’ Katie answers, putting the mobile on speaker.

  ‘This is Miles.’

  ‘Hello, Dr Parker,’ says Katie, cautiously. Nathan knows that their relationship has become so strained over the years that he rarely calls her directly.

  ‘I’ve been instructed to ask you if you know a man called Thomas Shaw.’

  Katie’s eyes meet Nathan’s, and she gives him a look that sends a surge of excitement running through his tired, broken body.

  ‘Why?’ asks Katie.

  ‘Because we’ve found a couple of DNA traces at the scene of Ben Peters’ death. He’s come up on the system as having previous – plenty of it, in fact. Including attempted murder.’

  ‘That’s very interesting,’ says Katie. ‘Does the system happen to have an address?’

  As soon as Dr Parker has given it to her, she hangs up and is heading for the door, Nathan hot on her heels.

  ‘Should we wake the doctor?’ he whispers, as they step out into the corridor.

  ‘No,’ says Katie.

  ‘What about the team?’ asks Nathan, now starting to worry about the flush that’s rising to Katie’s face and the whites of her knuckles around the car keys she’s taken from Richard in case they were called away urgently. Nathan knows her well enough to sense that she still has her suspicions about the doctor and doesn’t want him going anywhere.

  ‘You heard the call,’ says Katie. ‘Parker was instructed to tell me. The rest of the team must already know.’

  ‘But did you tell them about Shaw, about the connection to Richard?’

  ‘I must have forgotten,’ says Katie, her annoyance seeming to shift instantly to horror. ‘Or maybe I dismissed what Richard told us. Jeez, if I hadn’t, if we’d gone straight to Shaw’s place, then might we have saved Ben?’ Without waiting for an answer, she barges open the door to the stairs. ‘Let’s not waste another second.’

  Twenty-Seven

  It’s getting late in the day now, approaching half past eight and already dark. The lights and the engine of the car are off and Katie and Richard are parked in front of the house they’ve come to see. It’s a large detached property with a white Range Rover in the drive. Katie can’t help but notice how different it is to Ben Peters’ tiny, run-down house. During the journey over Nathan has been asking plenty of questions, but Katie has barely heard them. All she can think about is getting to this man.

  She’s across the road, through the gates and up the drive in a matter of seconds, not caring that Nathan is still struggling to get out of the car. After she’s pressed the doorbell, she realises she should probably have taken a more cautious approach and that Shaw could easily be heading straight out the back, if he hasn’t disappeared already. She’s still considering this when the door is flung open.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ asks the man she takes to be Thomas Shaw. He’s crossed a pair of heavily tattooed arms and is planted in a broad, threatening stance. His hair is cropped short and he’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt that fits tight to his gym-honed body.

  Katie opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. The image from the photo on the mantelpiece of Mike and Ben has suddenly formed at the front of her mind and it’s all she can think about, those two brothers smiling, those two brothers dead.

  ‘Hang on a second,’ says Shaw, unfolding his big arms and jabbing a finger at the air in front of him, just inches from her face. ‘I know who you are.’ He’s seen her scars, and she’s feeling her scars, reminding her of what had happened the last time there had been any hesitation, the last time someone hadn’t done what badly needed doing to a violent psychopath.

  Shaw’s looking down to his left. She follows his gaze and sees a gun on the table just inside the door. She gives the big man a shove in the chest and he stumbles backwards. She moves in after him. Her arms feel as light as air, ready to swing, to make contact, to inflict pain. But he’s readied himself, too, and he grabs her by the hair and swings her down the corridor, sending her tumbling further into the house.

  As she slams into a doorway and slips to the floor, she catches a glimpse of a large glass table in the living room. On the table are several bags of white powder and more than one syringe. When she looks back up at Shaw he’s looming over her, a look in his eye that speaks not only of drug use, but also of an intense and uncontrolled rage. She knows she can match that, surpass it. She kicks out at his ankle, but it has little effect and she soon feels hands around her throat. She pulls at his fingers, but they’re locked in place and she can feel the air leaving her as he lifts her up off her back and onto her knees in front of him. What hasn’t left her is her desire to do this man harm, to bring an end to his life. She claws at his eyes and he lets out a high-pitched scream, but he doesn’t let go. She tries to dig her thumb into the corner of his eye, but he’s able to lean back from her and is out of reach, while maintaining the grip that she’s now certain will kill her. She moves to raise a knee to strike him, and manages to get a fingernail to his cheek, tearing at the flesh in the same way Christian’s knife tore at her cheek. Still he’s not letting go.

  This isn’t how she pictured it. She’s come close to death plenty of times before, but she’d always imagined she’d make it through to a natural end, quietly slipping away in a care home like her dad, or drifting off into a final sleep. Ever since she started to look with adult eyes at the world around her, she’s had a burning desire to make things right, to find justice and reason and to fight against anything that might get in the way of that, but the fight is finally leaving her and all she can think is that she’s leaving nothing behind – no child, no victory and no words of love.

  Everything slows. Her final few moments. There’s a calmness and a silence, despite all that’s going on outside of her mind. She’s drifting, drifting into nothingness, no heaven, no hell, just an end to thought, to pain, to feeling.

  And then a bang. Her senses have been fading fast, but there can be no doubt about that explosion of noise. Nor can there be any doubt about the change in the expression on Thomas S
haw’s face. Suddenly his eyes widen, then a moment later his fingers loosen and he falls forward. Katie falls under him, desperately trying to draw breath. He’s blocked her view of everything, and it’s only after she’s finally managed to refill her lungs that she can inch herself partly out from beneath his massive form.

  Nathan is standing a few feet in front of her at the entrance to the hall. He has a gun lying flat in the palm of his hand and he’s staring down at that gun with an expression of total disbelief.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she says with a rasp as she struggles to push Thomas Shaw off her. Shaw is gasping for breath in the same way that she is, but there’s a gurgling sound, too, and she can feel the blood dripping from his mouth onto her neck. Her strength is gradually returning and she finally manages to release herself from under him. She’s barely had time to rip open Shaw’s T-shirt and place her hand on his wound, before the big man’s breathing stops. Almost at the very same time she sees a shadow fall across them, something in the doorway blocking the security light. Katie thinks it must be Nathan, but when she looks up she sees that it is Sam.

  ‘We have to do something,’ Katie pleads, not having the time or energy to wonder what she’s doing here.

  ‘The ambulance is on its way,’ says Sam.

  ‘It’s too late,’ says Nathan blankly, as he continues to stare down at the gun in his hand. ‘Too late.’