by Michael Wood
‘What are you doing in there?’ The eventual question came from Sara in the living room. The endless clattering was disrupting her viewing. She turned up the volume but was still irritated.
‘Nothing,’ he called out.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ he almost shouted in anger.
‘I can’t hear you.’
Finding what he needed, Hales put it inside his jacket and stormed into the living room. ‘For fuck’s sake; turn down the television and you may be able to hear,’ he shouted.
She jumped in her seat. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Hales finally had a reaction from his wife. She briefly looked at him with a heavy frown before turning back to the large plasma screen on the wall.
‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me.’ There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his breathing was erratic. His eyes were wide and he clenched his fists in an attempt to suppress the rage he was feeling. Who the rage was aimed at he wasn’t fully aware; Matilda for showing him up in front of his entire team, ACC Masterson for not trusting him enough to give him Matilda’s job all those months ago when she first went on leave, or his wife, his bitch of a wife, who just sat there every single day watching mindless crap on television and getting fatter with each passing year.
‘What are you doing home so early?’
‘No reason.’
Sara Hales hadn’t moved since he’d left the house at six o’clock that morning. That was more than eight hours ago. She was still in a baggy grey jogging suit, which was old, bitty, and out of shape.
With every passing year and every passing failure Hales loathed his wife just a little bit more. He had finally reached the point where he hated her. He hated feeling her body next to his in bed at night, the sound of her breathing, the gentle snoring, the lacklustre attitude for a life of her own; her baseless passion for soap operas, reality TV, and make-over shows; her constant eating and ever-expanding waist line. He more than hated her, he despised her, he resented her; he abhorred her with every fibre of his being.
‘Are you doing anything today?’ His voice was loud. It had to be. He was in competition with the television.
‘Like what?’
‘Oh I don’t know, clean the house maybe or perhaps you could go outside and get some fresh air.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Don’t you think you should?’
‘Why?’
‘Well you’re wasting your life just sitting there. You could do something; go out and get a job.’
‘Why? You earn enough for us all.’
‘How about for some self-respect? How about for some extra money so maybe we could have that conservatory I’ve always wanted or maybe we could have a holiday abroad instead of a week in Torquay every fucking year?’
‘What’s wrong with you today?’ She finally turned to look at him.
‘Can’t you see? I work my arse off for this family. I’m out all hours and what do I get in return? When was the last time we all sat down for a meal as a family? In fact, I can’t actually remember the last time you cooked. I can’t remember the last time I saw the girls, and every night when I come home you’re sat there in the same position I left you in with your eyes fixed on the TV like some demented old duffer in a nursing home.’
‘Ben, what’s brought all this on?’ Despite the wild ramblings of her husband, Sara did not raise her voice at all. This all seemed to be going in one ear and out the other.
‘I’m tired of being taken for granted around here. You and the girls see pound signs whenever you look at me as if I’m only here to dish out the cash. Well those days are over. From now on everyone has to contribute to the running of this house. Including you.’
‘What?’ An expression of genuine worry ran across her face.
‘You heard. Get off your fat arse, go out, and find a job. You may even lose some weight.’
The sound of raucous applause from the television temporarily distracted Ben from his rant. He turned to look at the forty-two-inch screen. Like everything else in the house he had paid for it, yet he couldn’t remember the last time he sat down and watched anything. He went over to the back wall, grabbed the set with both hands, and tore it from its housing. He jumped back as it tumbled to the floor and smashed at his feet. The room suddenly fell silent. Hales felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
‘What the hell…?’ exclaimed his wife.
He slowly walked over to the sofa where Sara was cowering. She was visibly shaking and looked horrified at the transformation of her husband. His face was barely inches from hers, their noses almost touching. He lowered his voice but the bitter hatred was still there. ‘Now you’ve no excuse. Get changed, get out, and get a fucking job.’
With that final outburst he stormed out of the living room and the house, slamming the front door behind him.
Chapter 45
In the space of an hour his whole life had changed, once again. Jonathan left the apartment building and was hit by the cold – it was well below freezing. The sky was clouding over and snow would fall before the end of the day. He wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck, buttoned his coat, and pulled up the collar. He couldn’t remember what he’d done with his leather gloves. He plunged his hands deep into his coat pocket, and with his head down, he slowly made his way down the steps.
He felt a strong urge to turn around and look at the building he suspected he would never return to, but he managed to stop himself. He continued to walk to the end of the street and turned the corner.
Jonathan was a man of simple means. All he wanted out of life was to be left alone. His parents, his brother, Maun Barrington, the police and, to an extent, Stephen Egan; they all seemed to want Jonathan’s life to alter from the state he was content with. Did it matter if he didn’t interact with other people? Who was he harming if he never spoke to another person again?
With his head down and a heavy frown on his face he walked to his own pace while his mind ran at warp speed: the night his parents were killed kept replaying in his head, the visit from his brother, and then having to view his dead body, Stephen being thrown into the air by a bitter Maun Barrington and then landing in a pile of broken bones and internal bleeding, and the police interview he had been subjected to by Acting DCI Hales in the claustrophobic interview room, followed by the internal examination by the kindly Dr Kean. His mind refused to switch off, refused to focus on one thing, refused to allow him a moment’s peace. It felt like he was rummaging through a ten-thousand-piece jigsaw searching for just one particular piece, which, when he found it, would bring the whole picture together and make perfect sense.
A car, driven at speed, swerved in front of him, mounting the pavement. The screech of the brakes echoed around the street.
‘Jonathan.’
His name was called as the window from the front passenger side lowered. Jonathan ducked down to look at who was driving. It was Acting DCI Hales. He looked angry. His face was flushed and despite the freezing cold, beads of sweat were forming at his hairline.
‘Get in the car,’ he said, indicating Jonathan should climb into the front passenger seat.
‘Why?’
‘I want to talk to you.’ Hales spoke quietly now, almost in a whisper, but his words were harsh and heavy. He meant business.
‘I don’t want to.’ Jonathan shook his head and slowly backed away, sensing danger.
‘I’m not asking you Jonathan. This isn’t a social call. Get in the fucking car.’
‘No.’
Jonathan turned and walked away, his strides longer than before. He didn’t look back and the scenes repeating themselves in his head were too loud to hear what was happening behind him. It was only when he felt a firm grip tighten around his arm and swing him around that he realized Hales had grabbed him.
They looked into each other’s eyes. Jonathan saw a determined, angry man on the edge.
‘If I have to pick you up and throw you in my boot I will do so
but I don’t want it to have to come to that. Now, get in the fucking car.’
Gripping his arm, Hales dragged Jonathan to the Audi, opened the front passenger seat, and pushed him inside. He even fastened his seatbelt to avoid him trying to jump out quickly while he ran around to the driver’s side. He slammed the door closed, put the car into gear, and drove off at speed down the road.
Hales failed to notice he was being followed and that his encounter with Jonathan Harkness had been witnessed.
DC Rory Fleming had pulled up a safe distance away and watched the scene play out in front of him. As soon as he saw Jonathan being manhandled into the car he pulled his phone out of its charger and called Matilda. She took a while to answer.
‘What is it Rory?’ she asked. She sounded tired and annoyed.
‘Hales has just kidnapped Jonathan.’
‘What?’ Suddenly Matilda was all ears.
‘I’m in the next street to where Jonathan lives. Hales just pulled up, grabbed Jonathan off the pavement, and practically threw him into the car.’
‘Follow him,’ Matilda shouted down the phone. ‘Put your foot down and follow him.’
‘What’s going on?’ Sian Mills saw the look of sheer horror etched on her boss’s face.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ she replied, struggling to get into her jacket.
DC Scott Andrews burst into the room. His face was red from running up three flights of stairs. ‘Ma’am, I think we’ve had a breakthrough.’
‘It’s going to have to wait Scott. Aaron, you’re with me.’
‘Uniform has found the car that knocked down Jonathan’s boss, Stephen Egan,’ Scott called out.
Matilda stopped in her tracks at the door. She turned on her heel. Sian pointed to her collar, instructing her to straighten out her rumpled jacket.
‘Where?’
‘Well they think they have. An abandoned car has been found on farmland right on the outskirts of Sheffield. There’s evidence it was involved in some kind of collision.’
Matilda thought for a split second before turning to Sian. ‘Get forensics at the scene, get it impounded, and brought back. I want every inch of it analysed. Scott, get traffic to check if any cars matching the description have been reported stolen and interview the person who called in; how long has it been there, did they see anything, the usual.’
She left the room with a spring in her step. A thought shot into her mind to make her stop; a thought she didn’t really want to contemplate: she wondered if Jonathan Harkness could drive.
Chapter 46
Matilda was halfway down the stairs before realizing she hadn’t told anyone where she was going. She fished her mobile out of her jacket pocket, finding a hole in the lining, and called Sian.
‘Hello.’
‘Hales has taken Jonathan…’
‘What?’ Sian interrupted. ‘Taken him where?’
‘I’ve no idea. Just listen. I want you to check his computer, see what he’s been working on that he’s kept close to his chest. I want to know everything he’s been up to. Also, tell the ACC what’s going on but don’t make out it’s anything too serious. I can handle it but not with her breathing down my neck. And I want you to give his wife a call; ask her how he’s been lately, if anything has been worrying him. Don’t give anything away, just general chatting. You OK with that?’
‘Sure.’
Matilda hung up before anything else could be said. If there was one person who could be trusted to get a job done to her specific requirements, it was Sian Mills.
By the time Matilda had finished dishing out her orders she was already strapped into the passenger seat and Aaron was slowly making his way out of the car park.
The weather was starting to turn. The sky was deep grey. Snowfall had been threatened for days and there was plenty stored up to release. If there was ever a good time for a high-speed car chase across the battered and broken roads of Sheffield, during an intense snow storm was not it.
‘Do you know if anything has been bothering Hales lately?’ Matilda asked. It wasn’t the ideal time to question a colleague while he was navigating his way through busy traffic with snow starting to fall but what else was she going to do in the passenger seat, window shop for Christmas gift ideas?
‘I’m sure that huge pole he’s got rammed up his arse is causing a bit of pain,’ he quipped, not taking his eye off the road.
Matilda suppressed a smile. ‘Apart from that.’
‘Not really. He’s not one for talking with the team is he? He’s a very private bloke.’
‘What about when you’re in the pub together? Does he ever let his guard down?’
‘Acting DCI Hales have a pint with the minions? You must be joking.’
‘What about when you’ve closed a case? Surely he joins you all for a celebratory drink?’
‘God forbid.’
‘But he should be buying the first round to congratulate you all on a job well done.’
‘Nope.’
‘Bloody hell,’ she sighed. ‘What about his home life, does that ever get brought up?’
‘No. I didn’t even know he had a home life. I know he’s married, but that’s about it.’
‘What about his kids; any problems with them?’
‘I didn’t know he had any.’
Matilda left the questioning there. It was obvious Hales kept his home and work life separate but this wasn’t a job you could switch off from at the end of the day. Surely he took his cases home with him from time to time? If a murder case was a particularly sensitive one his demeanour would be altered at home and if there was anything worrying in his home life, which is often the case when you work long and unsociable hours, it would tell at work too. Everybody needed someone to talk to, confide in; Matilda had Adele and, to a lesser extent, Sian. Who did Ben Hales have?
Matilda called for Aaron to stop when they reached Jonathan’s apartment block. Parked outside was Rory who immediately jumped out from behind the driver’s seat when he saw the pool car screech to a halt.
‘I thought I told you to follow them?’ Matilda called while wrestling with her seatbelt.
‘I did but I lost them.’
‘How?’
‘He’s in a bloody big Audi and I’m in a shitty Seat. He went through a red light and was racing down the street like he was driving away from the apocalypse.’
‘Where was he heading?’
‘I’ve no idea. I thought it best to circle back and meet you here.’
‘OK, don’t worry about it. What exactly went down?’
‘I don’t know. I was too far away to hear anything. Hales looked seriously pissed off though.’
‘And how did Jonathan look?’
‘Shit scared.’
Matilda turned to Aaron who was standing next to the car with his arms firmly folded across his chest trying to keep warm. ‘I want that car found.’
‘I’ll get on to traffic, get them to put his number plate through the ANPR and I’ll get all patrolling uniform to keep an eye out.’ He pulled his mobile out of his trouser pocket and turned away from the car to make the call.
‘Have you spoken to Maun?’
‘No. I thought I’d wait for you. I didn’t know if you wanted me to mention Jonathan being taken.’
‘No. Just ask her everything she knows about him from his childhood onwards. I want to know what makes him tick, has he ever spoken about his parents being killed, what other people say about him, if she saw anything on the night his brother was killed.’
‘Right,’ he said, still unmoved from the spot next to his car.
‘Would you like it in writing?’ she shouted. He apologized then turned away and headed up the steps to the apartment building.
Aaron ended his call just as Matilda’s phone started ringing. It was Sian. ‘Sian, hold on one second. Go on Aaron,’ she prompted, placing the phone to her chest.
‘Traffic is keeping an eye out. There are some mobile units with cameras
patrolling south Sheffield today so they’re going to be rerouted to look out for him.’
‘Excellent. Get in the car. We’ll have a scout round too. I’ve got a few ideas.’ As she scrambled back into the car she continued her conversation with Sian.
‘First of all, the ACC says the minute you hear anything to let her know. Secondly, I’ve just got off the phone with Hales’s wife and she was in bits.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Apparently Ben has been very hostile and difficult to live with lately. No offence or anything, but she says it got worse when you returned to work…’
‘None taken,’ Matilda scoffed.
‘He went back home earlier this afternoon and just started ranting at her about how lazy she is and how she does nothing for the family. He tore the TV off the wall and smashed it onto the floor. He called her names and threatened her. He stormed out of the house and he’s got a knife with him. She saw it in his pocket when he was having a go at her. She’s really shaken up.’
‘Jesus,’ Matilda sighed.
‘I’m going to go through his computer now. I’ve sent for someone from tech to give me a hand.’
‘Good idea. Ring me the second you get anything.’
‘What’s going on?’ Aaron asked once Matilda had ended the call.
‘Hales is unhinged and he’s armed.’
‘Shit.’
The stairs in the apartment block were wet with melted snow which had fallen off residents’ boots as they’d made their way home to the warmth and comfort of their homes. Rory tentatively took each step one at a time.
He knocked on Maun’s door with a hard rap, which resounded around the bare walls in the stairwell. He waited, head leaning to the door for any sound coming from inside. There wasn’t any. He knocked again, louder this time. He was just about to bend down to look through the letter box when the front door of the flat opposite opened and an elderly man peered around the smallest gap possible.
‘Do you have to knock that bloody loud? I can hear it in my living room.’ His voice was gruff and full of throaty phlegm.
‘DC Rory Fleming, South Yorkshire Police,’ he said, fishing out his warrant card with freezing cold fingers. ‘I’m looking for your neighbour, Maun Barrington.’
