Tearful, she nodded as she looked up at Brady, still hopeful that he could bring her daughter home, alive. The mascara from the day before was smeared under her dark blue eyes and her long blonde hair hung dishevelled and uncombed. Brady was uncomfortably aware of the striking similarity between mother and daughter.
He noted with interest that Simmons who was irritably waiting for him to leave was very together, especially compared to his wife.
Brady tried his best to give Louise Simmons a reassuring look before turning and leaving the kitchen.
Simmons followed and cornered Brady once he’d reached the front door.
‘You know something, don’t you?’
‘No sir,’ Brady replied evenly.
‘You’re lying,’ Simmons hissed, not wanting his wife to overhear.
‘I’m really sorry. I understand this must be very difficult for you.’
‘The hell you do!’
Brady didn’t answer.
‘You want to tell me what’s going on at Potter’s Farm?’
‘Sorry?’ Brady questioned, trying his best not to let his unease show.
‘Your lot are out there. Have been for the past few hours. The farm’s been sealed off and you’ve got police officers crawling all over the place.’
‘I’m afraid that’s confidential, sir.’
‘I’m not an idiot, Detective Inspector Brady. If something’s happened to … to Sophie …’ Simmons stopped himself short.
‘Like I said, let me get back to the station and see what I can find out,’ Brady offered.
Brady waited until he heard the door closing behind him before he took out his mobile to ring the station. He needed to arrange for two family liaison officers to come out after uniform had delivered the fatal blow. He was no good when it came to dealing with people’s grief. He was good at causing it, according to his ex-wife, but when it came to dealing with it, he was always the first one out the door. He aggressively kicked a stone and watched as it rolled along the pavement towards the Saab.
‘Tom? Yeah, it’s Jack. I’ve got a new development regarding the murdered girl.’ Brady looked back at the house.
It was a comfortable, four-bedroom semi-detached, in a quiet, respectable neighbourhood. Yet, less than a hundred metres away a horrific murder had been committed.
Brady gave the details he needed to and then cut the call. He walked over to the Saab and climbed in.
‘This is connected to the murder, isn’t it?’ Conrad asked as he took in Brady’s sallow, drawn complexion.
Brady nodded as he looked for a cigarette.
‘I had a hunch that we weren’t looking in the right place,’ Brady said after lighting a cigarette.
Conrad shot him a questioning look.
‘The victim,’ answered Brady. ‘I decided to drop the minimum age from eighteen down to fifteen.’
Conrad still looked puzzled.
‘You know kids today, especially girls. They seem to grow up so damned fast that I decided to widen the search. And,’ Brady paused as he inhaled, ‘it seems my hunch was right.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘As sure as I can be. The parents have to identify the body first—’ Brady faltered, realising what an ordeal that would be.
‘How old was she?’
‘Fifteen, Conrad. Fifteen years old. She was just a kid,’ Brady replied quietly as he looked back at the house.
‘Conrad, do me a favour and get me as far away from this bloody place as possible.’
He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to shut everything out. But there was one name he couldn’t get out of his head, and that was Matthews.
Chapter Fifteen
‘I just need five minutes to clear my head,’ Brady said before slamming the car door shut.
In fact, he needed to make a call. One he didn’t want Conrad overhearing. He walked over to the steep steps that led down to Tynemouth beach. It was deserted; the bleak, black sky and grey, solitary sea were enough to dissuade the usual dog walkers and lonely joggers. Brady stood and looked across the dark, empty vastness before him. And then he saw it; violence at its purest. There it was, brooding, blood-black violence. He stood transfixed as the thunderous waves spewed out venomous froth all over the beaten sand.
Conrad studied Brady’s figure from the safety of his car, and wondered what was going through his head. He accepted that with Brady you had no chance; more so when even the police psychologist couldn’t figure him out. He watched as Brady took out his mobile phone, curious about who he was calling.
‘Where the fuck are you?’ Brady demanded.
‘It’s better you don’t know.’
‘I’m serious. Where the fuck are you, Jimmy?’ Brady repeated.
‘You heard me the first time. Leave it, Jack, you don’t understand.’
‘Don’t be a bloody fool! Let Gates sort this out before you end up losing your job,’ Brady warned. ‘Or worse.’
‘Don’t you think I already know that? I have no fucking choice.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Jimmy. You’re talking shit. Look, you need to come in. We’ve identified the body. It’s only a matter of time now,’ Brady warned.
‘Are you crazy?’
‘Jimmy, let’s talk this through face to face, yeah?’
‘What the fuck aren’t you getting here, Jack? I don’t want to involve you … not in this …’
‘In what for Chrissakes?’
‘Fuck it, Jack! Why do you think I’m lying low?’
‘Because she was a fifteen-year-old girl that you drove home on the night she was murdered. Who also happened to be your daughter’s best friend! Shit, Jimmy! It’ll be obvious to Gates that you recognised her.’
Matthews let out a low, maniacal laugh.
‘If only that was all I had to worry about.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Jimmy! What’s going on?’
‘Madley.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah, I expected that response from you. Why the fuck do you think I didn’t want to say anything?’
‘Oh shit, Jimmy! Tell me you’re not involved with Madley?’
Brady shook his head. CID had been trying to get Madley for years. But no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn’t get anything on him. He was the local mafia boss, feared by all for his unforgiving nature. But, he was also revered for his drug money rumoured to run into the millions. He had a huge house on Marine Avenue, one of the many surprisingly affluent streets in Whitley Bay which would have set him back close to a million, not to mention another two-million-pound farmhouse set in one of the most stunning parts of Northumberland.
Brady had seen it for himself, a staggering eighteenth-century farmhouse with outbuildings, stables, paddocks and thirty acres of wild fields hidden behind rows and rows of trees. Once past the electronic gates, the gravelled drive was dominated by trees on either side for the mile or so it took to get to the imposing building and its original cobbled courtyard. Behind the farmhouse the Cheviots stood, proud and majestic, and to the south Northumberland National Park lay spread out for miles and miles. For a lad from the Ridges, even Brady had to admit that Madley had done well for himself.
Add to that the three nightclubs; two in the city centre and one in Whitley Bay. Brady had also heard that he had recently bought the Royal Hotel on the sea front, right next door to his nightclub, The Blue Lagoon. CID still couldn’t touch him.
‘Jimmy, whatever mess you’re in with Madley, I can help,’ Brady offered.
Matthews’ silence said it all.
‘You don’t understand …’ Matthews mumbled, more to himself than Brady. ‘I… I fucked up. I… I owe Madley more money than I could ever pay in a lifetime. You’ve got no idea how much. But I thought I’d got him to trust me … I mean he’s had me working for him for the past few months to pay off what I owe him and then I fucking blow it.’
If there was one thing Brady was certain of, that was that Madley trusted no one; not even
his own mother.
‘Listen, Jimmy, if you’re scared, go to O’Donnell.’
‘Yeah?’ Matthews questioned sceptically. ‘It won’t do any bloody good, Jack. You’d be surprised at who’s controlling Madley.’
‘Go on?’
‘Who does O’Donnell share drinks with after golf? And who is it that’s been financing all of the Chief Superintendent’s new projects?’
Brady didn’t reply. He already knew the answer: Mayor Macmillan. Brady knew the recently elected Mayor was involved in all sorts of shady deals but even he was struggling to accept that Macmillan had power over someone like Madley, let alone the Chief Superintendent.
Brady had known O’Donnell for years; way back when the Chief Superintendent was just a humble DS. If it hadn’t been for O’Donnell literally grabbing Brady off the war-torn streets of the Ridges, and offering him a chance at a different life, then he wouldn’t be stood where he was now. Brady had been an angry adolescent, one who had every right to be pissed off with his life. And he had started to get a reputation on the streets for his suicidal ‘couldn’t give a fuck’ attitude. If O’Donnell hadn’t cornered him one night about the brutal murder of a young male from Wallsend, then he would have ended up like Madley. Somehow, O’Donnell had got through to him. Even though Brady had never talked about who had killed the kid, O’Donnell still took him on. Admittedly, it didn’t happen overnight, but O’Donnell had seen something in him as a teenager, enough to put his career on the line to risk helping Brady get out, never knowing whether Brady had in fact been involved in the murder. They had an unspoken agreement never to talk about it. It was part of Brady’s dark, troubled past and that was where O’Donnell had chosen to leave it. Brady had stood back and watched as O’Donnell excelled through the ranks, going on to become a boss feared by everyone, including the likes of Jimmy Matthews.
‘So tell me, Jack, who the fuck’s going to be able to get me out of this?’ questioned Matthews.
‘Gates, Jimmy. He’ll sort this. You know him, he’s straight. Take what you’ve got on Madley and Macmillan to him.’
‘What evidence? I’ve got nothing,’ Matthews hissed. ‘And fuck! Do you think Gates can protect me? Shit! This is Madley we’re talking about here. If he thinks I’ve crossed him then my career with the force is over with and … and I’ll lose everything … the house … Kate, Evie …’ Matthews faltered.
‘Listen, they’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it. All right?’
Silence.
‘Jimmy? Jimmy?’
‘I stole from Madley, Jack. I saw an opportunity when I was in his office last night. His safe was open and I couldn’t resist … I … I … owe money everywhere and I … Shit! I thought this might give me some power back against him but …’
‘Fuck.’ There was one thing he knew about Madley, and that was he didn’t tolerate anyone crossing him. He knew Madley wouldn’t kill Matthews, he was a copper after all which made things messy. But as Matthews was now aware, Madley could destroy the life he had built in an instant and leave him with absolutely nothing. And for a man like Matthews, that would be a fate worse than death.
‘Shit, Jimmy! What the fuck did you take?’ Brady demanded, worried.
He listened to silence.
Matthews had already hung up.
‘Fuck it, Jimmy!’ cursed Brady as he stared at the deserted beach.
It was sublime; nature at its most beautiful. The black, thunderous North Sea raged relentlessly against the craggy, treacherous rocks. Brady looked down Tynemouth’s stretching, naked sands towards the haunting Priory. Raised high on a cliff top, the ruin dominated the horizon, overlooking, as it had done for centuries, the ravaging, wild sea.
In the halcyon days, he and Claudia had spent endless weekends discovering hidden beaches from Lindisfarne down through to Alnmouth and Bamburgh. They’d discovered desperately remote beaches brutally exposed to the harsh North Sea, so remote it was easy to forget civilisation. But stood now, watching the furious waves rant and rage against the jagged cliffs and rocks, Brady knew that there was no other beach along the Northumberland coastline that could be more dramatic and breathtaking than this one.
For a second he thought about calling Claudia. He needed more than ever to hear her voice. He stood for a moment and watched the ominous black clouds close in towards him.
Before he could talk himself out of it he had already got her number up and had pressed call.
He held his breath as he waited, not sure whether she would answer. He didn’t know how many messages he had left on her voice mail in that first month. But it was enough for her to think he was mad. He would find himself drinking bottle after bottle of whisky to forget her and then before he even realised what he was doing he would call her, unaware that it was three or four in the morning. She never once answered, forcing him to leave painful, awkward messages, pleading for her to just talk to him.
And then he got it. He suddenly realised that he was acting like a crazy stalker. So he quit. And for the past month he hadn’t attempted to contact her. That was, until now.
‘Jack?’ she hesitantly answered.
He held his breath, not knowing what to say. He had waited for this moment for six months and now he was lost for words.
‘Jack?’ she repeated.
He could hear an edge of worry in her voice.
‘Yeah, I’m here,’ he replied softly, not sure what else to say.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, suddenly sounding cold and professional.
‘I … just want to talk to you,’ Brady answered, unsure of what it was he wanted from her.
‘Don’t you think we’re past talking?’
Brady swallowed hard. He closed his watering eyes and covered his smooth, olive-skinned face with a trembling hand.
‘I … I … just needed to hear your voice,’ he answered honestly.
She didn’t reply.
‘I miss you,’ he said impulsively.
He waited, but she said nothing.
She was making it as hard as possible for him.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ he asked quietly.
‘I heard,’ she answered.
‘Don’t you miss me?’ he asked, feeling more vulnerable than he had ever done in his life.
‘Jack, this is pointless. You screwed up, not me. So stop turning this around. I didn’t destroy our marriage, you did. And it’s about time you accepted that. And as for missing me, you don’t miss me. You miss the idea of me.’
‘That’s unfair.’
‘Really?’ asked Claudia.
‘Yes,’ answered Brady quietly.
He listened to the heavy silence and wondered what she was thinking.
‘I still love you,’ he said.
He heard her give out an exasperated sigh.
‘It’s too easy to say those words. Actions are what count, Jack.’
He dropped his shaking hand from his face and opened his eyes.
‘What more can I do?’
‘Until you know the answer to that, then there’s nothing for us to talk about.’
‘Wait, Claudia?’ Brady asked, desperate for her not to hang up on him.
Silence.
‘The job offer with O’Donnell?’
‘What about it?’ she asked, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation.
‘Why aren’t you taking it?’ Brady asked.
‘You know why,’ she coolly replied.
‘Claudia, look … can we arrange to meet up to at least talk about things?’
‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea, do you?’ she answered.
He didn’t reply. He couldn’t because all he wanted was another chance.
‘Look, Jack, I’ve got to go. I’m kind of busy right now.’
‘Sure, of course you are,’ answered Brady inaudibly.
He heard the line click as she hung up on him without even saying goodbye.
He watched, unable to move as the waves thrashe
d against the rocks on the beach below him. He breathed out slowly as he tried to steady himself. He felt wounded and didn’t know how to stop the actual physical pain he was feeling in his chest.
All too aware that time was getting on and that he had to get back to the station, Brady tried to get his head together. He rubbed his eyes roughly before glancing cursorily at the solitary, haunting, black outline that was the Priory. Then he turned and walked back to Conrad who was still sat with the engine idling, patiently waiting for him.
Chapter Sixteen
It was nearly midday and Brady was sat in his office going over what Matthews had said to him about Macmillan being behind Madley. Worse still, having the Chief Superintendent O’Donnell in his pocket. He knew O’Donnell and was certain that this could never be the case. Matthews must have got it wrong, that was all there was to it. He also had serious doubts about whether Madley was working for Macmillan. The other way round was more likely. Madley was a law unto himself, plain and simple.
Brady had been watching Macmillan, a corrupt politician, for the past year. He had recently been elected as Mayor. But the public didn’t realise the kind of man they had representing them. The police and the press were well informed of Macmillan’s dodgy past. Even Rubenfeld, a snitch for a local paper, couldn’t get his razor-sharp teeth into him despite Macmillan having a burglar for a brother and a prostitute for a younger sister. Both had a drugs habit to support and consequently, both had spent time in the station’s holding cells. But neither of Macmillan’s siblings’ illegal transgressions ever made the local paper’s front page.
And as for Macmillan, Brady knew his hands were dirty; but trying to prove it was another matter. The night Brady had got shot he had been staking out a new drug dealer, who his sources had told him was working for Macmillan. But before Brady could get something on Macmillan, some bastard had blown his cover; literally.
Brady knew when to keep his mouth shut, more so after Gates had told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested unless Brady had concrete evidence against the man. And that was the problem with Macmillan, he made sure he socialised with the right kind of people. Even his penchant for prostitutes, the younger the better, was never reported at the station, let alone in any of the papers.
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