by Nick Hollin
Twenty-Eight
‘What have I done?’ says Nathan, as he rocks back and forth uncontrollably. He’s slumped in the back seat of a police car, tucked around the corner from Thomas Shaw’s house. Thomas Shaw, the name that he will carry with him for the rest of his life, along with the moment he held up the gun and pulled the trigger, which is currently playing on a loop in his mind. Nathan is in a paper suit, having had his clothes taken for forensics. He presses the injuries on his back into the seat behind and the pain is extraordinary, and yet still he pushes harder, certain it’s the very least that he deserves.
‘You’ve saved your partner’s life,’ says Sam. ‘You’ve most likely also avenged the death of your friend, Mike Peters.’
‘I could have stopped him another way. I could have talked to him.’
‘Not with DI Rhodes as she was. She wasn’t talking to anyone.’
‘You heard her,’ says Nathan. ‘She knocked on the door, he recognised her as police and he went for the gun, so she shoved him back.’
‘I wasn’t there for the first bit,’ says Sam. ‘But that’s certainly the story you should stick to. Of course, in reality I think she would have gone for Shaw anyway. It was guaranteed from the moment she received the call from Dr Parker. And that, by the way, is why I believe Dr Parker called her directly. He hasn’t admitted as much, he claims he thought it was the right thing to do given the personal nature of the case, but I think he knew she would go charging over there. I reckon he hoped she might do something reckless.’
‘No way,’ says Nathan. ‘The two of them don’t like each other, but he’s not going to put her life at risk.’
‘I think it might have been her career he was hoping to put at risk. He had no way of knowing that Shaw would have a gun and be doped up to the eyeballs, willing to do anything to protect the pile of drugs he had in his living room. But we could all have predicted Katie would step outside of professional lines.’
Nathan draws in a long breath and tries to regain his focus, or rather to redirect it to something other than the crime he’s committed. ‘Is there any connection between Shaw and Carl Watkins?’
‘Not that I was ever aware of,’ says Sam, losing his gaze and staring out of the window. ‘But I’m starting to doubt I knew Carl as well as I thought I did.’
‘So Shaw could have killed Watkins?’
‘He looks to be the most obvious candidate. But then it’s not clear how Carl died. There’s not an awful lot of him left.’
‘You went to see the body?’
‘That’s where I was when you were at the hotel.’
He’s trying to piece things together again, build a timeline, find some sense, but everything seems to be spiralling around him. ‘But then how did you get here? How did you even know to come here if Dr Parker only called us?’
Sam hesitates, her eyes narrowing, as if trying to decide whether she should tell the truth. ‘I followed you,’ she says eventually. ‘I tracked the phone I gave to Katie. I’d just got back into town and I could see you were on the move. I hoped you might have a lead, one that you were once again not sharing with me. I came straight here.’
‘And arrived just too late,’ says Nathan, falling back against the seat again and losing himself in the pain.
‘Do you trust your partner?’ asks Sam. She asks it in such a casual way that the significance of the question doesn’t hit home for Nathan at first. When it does finally register, he can do little to hide the anger in his voice.
‘Of course I do. Why?’
‘Because she’s not in a good place at the moment. You saw that for yourself back at Ben Peters’ house, when she tried to attack me. From what I understand she’s not been herself since Steven Fish died and you ran off to Scotland.’
‘She had a lot to think about,’ says Nathan, sounding as defensive as he feels. ‘Her dad was ill.’
‘I know about her dad,’ says Sam, in a way that makes Nathan wonder if she really does. And not just the story reported by the press, but the whole story. His suspicion is strengthened by what she says next. ‘We know she’s capable of unrestrained rage. But do you think she’s capable of murder?’
‘No,’ says Nathan quickly, before realising that just half an hour ago he would have said the same of himself.
‘What if she believed they were guilty of murder, maybe several murders, and yet they’d managed to get away?’
‘You’re talking about Carl Watkins?’ Nathan makes the connection instantly. ‘You think Katie killed Carl Watkins?’
‘I think she wanted to. I imagine you think that, too.’
‘Desire and reality are two very different things. Nobody knows that better than me.’ The image of Thomas Shaw’s body flashes up again in Nathan’s mind, the blood spreading across his white T-shirt. ‘God, this is the rubbish we had to put up with at the start of this nightmare. Now we’ve got to the end, have we come full circle?’ He presses the heel of his palm into the centre of his forehead, then suddenly looks up. ‘Unless you don’t believe it’s the end?’ He’s searching for answers in Sam’s face, but she’s lowered her mask again, keeping him out. ‘Do you not think Shaw was guilty, after all?’
‘I’m sure he killed your friend Mike Peters and his brother Ben. Scientific evidence certainly seems to support the latter.’ Sam rubs her temple with the knuckle of her thumb. ‘But I can’t help thinking that the murder of Carl Watkins felt different, somehow.’
Nathan considers her words and, despite himself, is willing to accept there’s truth in what Sam’s saying. There had been something different about the Watkins murder, a different intensity of emotion on the part of the killer, perhaps. But what about Katie? He had been away in Scotland. Katie had been back in London, and by all accounts had been losing control, drinking and sleeping around. He knows only too well how much she had hated Carl Watkins for escaping justice time and again and how much she wanted to see him punished for his crimes. Might she have taken that next step, the one he had considered himself on many occasions?
‘Have you ever killed anyone?’ he asks Sam.
She faces him, taking her time before answering. ‘I’ve thought about it. I’ve dreamt about it. Perhaps not as vividly as you, but there was plenty of intent. And I’ve done things that I’m not proud of to get to the truth, things that some would consider morally questionable. But no – no, I have never taken a life.’
Nathan looks at his hands again, rubbing at the palm with his thumb as if it might be dirty. He wants to go back to the hotel and scrub his whole body, to rid himself of several layers of skin on the outside, in the hope that it might help the churning mess on the inside.
‘That’s not to say I never will,’ Sam continues, turning away. ‘In fact, in the right circumstances I would definitely kill.’
‘Protecting someone you love?’ asks Nathan, thinking of the sight of Katie having the life squeezed out of her by Thomas Shaw.
‘Or avenging them,’ says Sam, quietly, wrapping her hands around the steering wheel.
It’s the following day before interviews have been completed and Katie and Nathan have a chance to talk. And yet when it comes down to it, Nathan feels like he can’t talk, not about the man that he has killed and not about Carl Watkins, the man he so desperately hopes Katie hasn’t killed.
‘But you’re doing all right?’ she asks him, placing a hand on his arm. They’re sitting in a borrowed, unmarked police car, parked up down a dead-end street where they can’t be seen.
‘I don’t think it’s sunk in yet,’ he says. ‘It’s something I’d always imagined doing. Then it was an impossibility. And now…’
‘He deserved it,’ says Katie sharply. ‘That’s what you have to remember.’
‘Still,’ says Nathan, ‘it would have been good to have a chance to talk to him, to find out why.’
‘That’ll come out soon enough, when they’ve been over his house and through his past.’ Katie tips her head to one side and adds hesitantly, ‘Could your br
other have been gay?’
‘My brother could have been anything,’ answers Nathan, truthfully. ‘And he absolutely could have kept it hidden from me.’
‘Well, if he was gay, then perhaps that’s a link to Steven Fish.’
‘And Carl Watkins?’
‘I know Sam said she didn’t know of a link between Shaw and Watkins, but there were a lot of drugs at Shaw’s house. And he was clearly making a good living somehow. I’m sure if we dig around…’
Now it’s Nathan’s turn to hesitate. ‘But the Carl Watkins murder felt different to me. Did it to you?’
Katie looks at him, clearly trying to figure out where he’s hoping to take this conversation.
‘I haven’t had a chance to consider the evidence,’ she says. ‘All I’ve seen is the top of his skull. Have we even had it confirmed a hundred per cent that it’s him? I mean, I know Stocks talked about the gold teeth, but Watkins was always the most slippery of characters. I’m sure he’s capable of faking his own death.’
Nathan stares back at Katie, considering Sam’s earlier words about his partner. It feels like a betrayal to even consider the accusation that she might have taken Carl’s life, but there’s comfort there, too, he can’t deny it. Nor can he deny the reason for that comfort. His brother, his twin, had said it himself, had talked about the desire to feel less alone. He and Katie could be killers together. The very thing that Christian had wished for himself.
‘Sam has gone to see what’s left of the body. She seems happy to accept it’s Watkins.’
‘And yet I’m still not happy to accept that woman’s view on anything,’ says Katie. ‘Certainly not on Carl Watkins.’
‘Well, even if it is him, we don’t have anything to link it to the murders of Mike and Dr Hartham. I mean, we have no reference in the journal, not that we know of. We do have the link to the murder of Steven Fish, who, coincidentally or not, was killed just before Watkins disappeared.’ Nathan swallows hard and measures his words. ‘Maybe Watkins was killed as revenge for Fish. Maybe whoever took Watkins’ life mistakenly believed he was responsible. After all, he had got away with two murders before.’
Nathan considers the timeline. Fish had died, Nathan had run, Katie had started to go off the rails. He’d always believed it was purely down to his leaving and her dad’s illness, but might it also have been guilt?
He shakes his head and hears himself saying no.
‘No what?’ asks Katie. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘It’s nonsense,’ he says. ‘I’m overcomplicating this. There’s only one killer for Watkins, Hartham, Mark and Ben. It’s Thomas Shaw.’
Katie lifts a hand to her neck where the bruises are starting to show. ‘I bear the evidence of how crazy he was.’
‘But why do you think he attacked me?’ asks Nathan, lifting his broken hand. ‘And yet didn’t kill me?’
‘Now that does feel different,’ says Katie. ‘And according to Dr Parker, your wound doesn’t quite match those on the backs of Mike and Steven Fish.’
‘I’m not sure I trust anything he says anymore.’ Nathan hesitates, wondering if it’s wise to share another of Sam Stone’s accusations. ‘Sam thinks Parker phoned you because he knew you’d rush over to the Shaw property, and he hoped you’d do something stupid.’
‘And Sam might be right on this occasion. Parker’s loathing for me is getting beyond a joke. We need to watch him.’
Nathan nods and runs his good hand through his hair, wondering if there’s anyone he trusts anymore. He looks hard at Katie and finds his answer. He will not doubt her. She could not hide her guilt from him.
‘We need to watch everybody,’ he says. ‘And everybody will be watching me. Can you imagine the press coverage this is going to get?’ He can; he can picture the headlines very clearly. For so long they’ve painted him as a killer, and now he’s proved them right.
‘Forget the press. We just need to focus on the job.’
‘I doubt I’m going to be able to do any investigating for a while. There’ll be another inquest. At the very best I’ll be suspended.’
‘Taylor and Stocks will pull a few strings. Maybe Sam Stone will, too. You’ll be back on the team soon enough.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ He’s not convinced. He’s not convinced he wants to be back looking for killers, not now that he only needs to look in the mirror. He knows there’s a difference, can rationalise the intent and the need to act, but still…
‘I don’t suppose I could drop you off at the hotel?’ he asks, realising he needs time and space to think things through. ‘Richard can drive you if you need to go anywhere.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Somewhere to try and get my head straight.’
‘Fine,’ says Katie, starting up the engine. ‘I’ve got plenty to try and get my head around, too.’
Twenty-Nine
BLOG: Seeing Red
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* * *
The relief is overwhelming. The moment I heard they’d got the guy and that he was dead, I don’t mind admitting I had a little cry. It’s not that I felt in any kind of danger – once the paranoia of the drugs had worn off – but it’s been a lot of pressure being a spokesman for The Plagiarist. I see the papers have started to use my nickname for Thomas Shaw. I guess that means I’m having the last laugh.
There are still questions, though, connections that haven’t yet been made. Why, for example, was Nathan attacked but left alive? Was it purely because he taunted Shaw when he spoke to the press? Was it because he then went back to the place where Steven Fish was killed? Was it because Shaw had some kind of connection with Nathan’s brother, Christian? I mean, obviously there was a connection, because Shaw had the torn-out pages from the journal, the very pages he’s been sending to me, but I don’t know if he just found them somewhere – perhaps at the houseboat that people are saying belonged to Christian – or whether there was some kind of relationship between them. Maybe he just hurt Nathan because Nathan is friends with Dr Evans.
I didn’t know who Richard Evans was until the journos dragged out that old court case. I knew he’d been in Wales with Katie and Nathan, and I guessed he might have had a link to Mike Peters’ brother Ben, but I had no idea he’d been charged with negligence. Sounds like he got away with it, too, or rather the hospital did, putting an old guy in the front line who clearly wasn’t up to it. That’s not to say Thomas Shaw should have sought his own justice for the death of his dad, but I lost my dad coming up for two years ago, and I know how much it hurts.
Ben Peters. There’s someone else I didn’t know about. There’s somebody that no one in the world knew about, from what I’m hearing. He only ever left his house for food and drugs. Not that I’m criticising. I don’t exactly get out much, other than to go to work.
Speaking of work, I have to admit it’s been good being there during the day and hearing all my colleagues talking about The Plagiarist – they’ve been using that name, too! – and even about my blog, never knowing that it was written by me. I’m pretty good at pretending, you see. It’s what’s kept me out of trouble over the years, writing things that the authorities don’t want to hear. Knowing things that I probably shouldn’t.
I guess I was the perfect choice for Thomas Shaw. He knew I’d give you the unedited truth, unlike the police, who I bet are already trying to work out the best version of that truth to give you. Central to that will be how they deal with Sam Stone. I’ve done my research, I know about the drugs rings she broke to rise within the National Crime Agency. I also know she, like Katie Rhodes, like all the police, never managed to get Carl Watkins. There’s plenty more to her story, I bet you. But I also bet you’re never going to hear it.
I’m worried about Nathan. I was worried for him before, when I heard his testimony in court, when I heard about his attempts to take his own life so that he would never take anybody else’s. And now that’s happened. He’
s done what he’s always feared he would. He has killed somebody. From the speculation in the press, I understand it was totally justified. He was protecting Katie, and that’s good, that’s great, that’s hopefully a sign that things are defrosting between the two of them, because there’s also been speculation that things have been strained. But I can only imagine how Nathan’s suffering at the moment, coming to terms with being a killer.
I just hope that Nathan doesn’t do anything stupid. I feel like I’ve been through so much with him, watching him suffer, watching him struggle against himself, and I really couldn’t bear it if he gave up now. So if you’re reading this, Nathan, stay strong. And if you’re a colleague of his and you get a chance, do please keep an eye on him.
Thirty
Nathan has his feet pressed together, as if standing to attention, and there’s certainly that kind of stress in his body. He has his hands behind his back, the good hand playing with the tape on the bad hand, pulling at the fingers, teasing the pain. He’s cold, although he knows it’s not the only reason that he’s started to shiver.
He can picture the body under the ground in front of him. A skeleton by now, stripped of everything that had made his father look real: the eyes, the mouth, the muscles, the hair; although he knows that the hair had gone before death, a sign of the fight against the illness that had taken his life away. He thinks of the page from his journal so recently shared with the world. Would it have been better if he had been able to help his dad slip away? It wouldn’t, as it turned out, have made more than a couple of weeks’ difference to his dad, but it could have taught Nathan an important lesson, about how it feels to take a life, and how he never wants to do it again.
He turns to his mother’s grave just a few feet away. Her headstone is covered in flowers and kind words, left by those who loved her books. But there are also things left by those who blame her for what Christian did, those unable to believe she was blind to the monster that her son was becoming, accusing her of being complicit in some way. The only comfort he takes from her suicide is that she didn’t have to see where her son’s darkness would lead. Unless she’d somehow known all along. Unless that had been the real reason she couldn’t continue.
