‘No!’ Bradshaw’s shout was instinctive and the outstretched hand grasping at the air between them was a useless reflex action, but Annie Bell was already on her way down. By the time Ian Bradshaw reached the edge of the building and peered helplessly over, she’d already hit the concrete.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Tom Carney needed a drink, badly. He’d had several by the time Ian Bradshaw joined them in the pub. His eyes looked a little wild, thought Bradshaw, but he couldn’t really blame the guy. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to pan out. They had engineered a way to box Annie in and had hoped to resolve everything when she saw no way out. They had entertained images of Richard Bell being freed from captivity while Annie confessed. It wasn’t meant to end like this.
Bradshaw managed to get hold of Helen at the newspaper and quickly told her what had happened. It was left to Helen to break the news to Tom. They had gone to the pub to wait for Bradshaw to complete a mountain of paperwork before he could meet them there.
The two of them listened silently while Ian Bradshaw gave them the details: ‘Annie Bell calmly walked into an office block, took a lift to the highest floor then climbed a staircase, pushed open a fire exit door, stepped out onto the roof then phoned me on her mobile phone. She sat down on the edge of the building, waited for my arrival so she could say a few last words then launched herself off the edge.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Helen and sat down heavily, ‘did she do this because of us?’
‘Because of me, you mean?’ snapped Tom and he took a big swig of his drink. ‘You’re saying it’s my fault she killed herself?’
‘No.’
‘I think that is exactly what you’re saying. Do you imagine I’m not asking myself that too? But what was I supposed to do? We decided to bring her to justice.’
‘Yes but is this justice?’ asked Helen.
‘In the old-fashioned sense it probably is.’
‘You don’t really believe that,’ protested Helen. ‘She threw herself off a building.’
‘We didn’t make her do it.’
‘Didn’t we?’
‘She killed someone, Helen. She planned it meticulously, then carried it out. Annie Bell was guilty of premeditated murder and she couldn’t face prison, so she killed herself. That’s a choice she made, not us.’ To Helen, it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself not her. ‘And it’s a choice her husband was denied. He’s stuck there now, doing life, which is the way she wanted it.’
‘Don’t you think he is in any way culpable?’ she asked.
‘No, I don’t!’ Tom was angry now. ‘He cheated on her, so what? No biggie. Rebecca Holt cheated on her old man too, so that’s four unhappy people stuck in two crap marriages. They should have all just gone their separate ways, but instead one woman decided to murder another. I’m surprised your sympathy lies with the one wielding the hammer, not the one who had her skull bashed in. Rebecca could have had another fifty years if Annie had just hired a solicitor and divorced her husband instead of hunting her down.’
‘My sympathies are with both women. Rebecca Holt didn’t deserve what happened to her, but neither did Annie.’
‘You’re saying he drove her to it, is that it? That it’s still down to Richard Bell that his wife murdered his lover. I might have known all this would be the bloke’s fault.’
Helen knew he had been drinking but she wasn’t going to let that go unchallenged. ‘I’m not saying that! It wasn’t all his fault, but you seem to think he was blameless! You think Annie Bell should have just calmly announced she was divorcing him and got on with her life like nothing happened? She spent ten years with him and they had two children. How do you think she felt when she found out what was going on behind her back?’
‘We know how she felt,’ he reminded her, ‘and what it made her do.’
‘I don’t even know why we’re arguing,’ she said, sounding incredibly weary all of a sudden, ‘since we’re on the same side.’
‘Are we?’ He sounded hurt then.
‘Of course,’ she said, ‘and we both agree it’s a tragedy.’
‘Did Annie Bell mention me?’ asked Tom suddenly.
Bradshaw looked at him. ‘When?’
‘On the roof.’
‘I don’t think I want to try and recollect everything Annie Bell said before she …’ He left the sentence unfinished.
‘She didn’t leave a note?’
‘They haven’t found one at her home or office. She left the kids with her father, kissed them goodbye like there was nothing out of ordinary and …’
‘Threw herself off a building.’ Tom took another swig of his drink. ‘So who did she blame before she jumped?’
‘Why would she blame anyone but herself?’
‘No reason,’ said Tom sharply, ‘apart from the fact I secretly recorded her confession and threatened her with a life sentence in prison. She was doing just fine till I happened along.’
Bradshaw’s mind was racing and he wanted to buy himself a little time.
‘So,’ said Tom, ‘what did she say before she did it? She must have said something.’
‘It was mostly keep back and don’t come any closer.’
‘That all she said?’
‘I was attempting to talk her down,’ answered Bradshaw, ‘trying to get her to see sense,’ and he sighed. ‘I feel guilty too, if it’s any consolation.’
‘What have you got to feel guilty about?’
‘I should have called in a professional instead of going it alone. I made a half-arsed attempt to talk a woman out of suicide and she chucked herself off a roof. Whatever I said, it didn’t work.’
‘Your job isn’t to talk people out of suicide.’
‘Sometimes it is, Tom,’ said Bradshaw firmly, ‘I have colleagues who’ve managed it, but I couldn’t.’
‘Maybe Annie Bell just didn’t see any way back, Ian? I don’t think it would have made any difference what you said – a woman like that wasn’t going to accept prison and I should have seen it. I was too busy trying to get her husband out of jail to realise she was never going to take his place.’
‘An innocent man was rotting in jail before you stepped in. It’s not your fault she couldn’t accept the consequences of her actions.’
Tom wouldn’t let it go. ‘But Annie thought killing Rebecca Holt was fair. Someone had stolen her toys and she wanted them back, so Rebecca had to go, but whose fault was it? Certainly not Annie’s, I’m betting. She wouldn’t blame herself.’
‘No, she didn’t. The woman was crazy though, wasn’t she; at least enough to smash someone’s skull in, so what difference does it make what she said?’
‘Because I need to know!’ Tom thumped his fist down on the table, hard. ‘So would you please stop stalling and give me a straight answer for once?’
Bradshaw straightened. ‘She did apportion blame.’ He saw how intently Tom Carney was watching him then. ‘To her husband,’ he said. ‘It was all his fault apparently, for cheating on her, I assume. Richard was the reason she was up there on that roof, according to Annie.’ And that was exactly what Bradshaw had put in his statement. He hadn’t lied about that exactly, just omitted Annie Bell’s mention of Tom. He had been the only one to hear it and now Annie was dead, so what good could possibly come from including it? What purpose would it serve to blame the young reporter for her death?
‘Was that all?’ asked Tom. ‘What about me?’
Bradshaw realised Tom Carney needed to know the truth. He wanted to hear that Annie Bell blamed him for everything so he could satisfy his own suspicions. Only then could he hope to try and take some sense of responsibility for her actions; for the pressure he had placed Annie under in an effort to exonerate her husband, who may have been guilty of many things, but was innocent of murder. He needed to hear it was his fault, so he could add this to the list of things he’d pretend not to give a shit about; even though he was half drunk already. A suicidal woman had blamed him for making h
er children motherless. He wanted to argue with the ghost of Annie Bell in his head, tell her he was only doing his job and that it was her fault for killing Rebecca.
Bradshaw knew it wasn’t that simple. He had once been exonerated for an act he blamed himself for but, deep down, he still wondered every day what would have happened if only he had done things differently. That thought still tortured him and would until his dying day. But Tom Carney was his friend. He wanted to hear the unvarnished truth and there was no disputing he had the right to it.
‘Well?’ asked Tom.
‘I’m sorry to be the one to break the news to you, mate,’ Bradshaw said, ‘but you didn’t even get a mention.’
Chapter Forty-Eight
You only get one life. That was what he told Annie Bell before she jumped, but she wouldn’t listen. He believed it though. Ian Bradshaw was not a religious man. He didn’t expect to come out the other side and be ushered up to the pearly gates. He was more pragmatic than that. When it was over it was over, so you had better have made the most of it in the meantime.
Watching Annie Bell go off the side of that building affected him deeply. What must have been going through that woman’s mind to compel her to go over the edge like that? Every time he thought about it made him feel physically sick. Though he had not had as many drinks as Tom, he’d sunk enough. He was drunk and knew it, but also somehow clear-headed.
He was sitting at home on the couch when he heard the key turn in the lock. It was Karen back from the gym. ‘What’s up, babe?’ she asked when she saw him sitting there.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he told her and his face showed Karen he was serious.
‘What’s happened?’ She was next to him then, looking concerned for his well-being, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted from his purpose.
‘Nothing.’ He was dismissive. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Then what do you want to talk about?’
‘This,’ he said and she looked around the room for a clue.
‘What?’
‘This,’ he said. ‘Us.’ And when she still seemed confused, ‘You and me.’ Reluctantly he admitted it. ‘I don’t want this.’
Tom was hammered. Helen knew it and so did he. ‘Whoops,’ he said as he tripped on the doorstep and fell down on his knees in the hallway. ‘Sorry.’ He staggered to his feet and into the front room then virtually fell onto the couch. ‘I’ll be fine here,’ he slurred, so at least he spared her having to share a bed with him in this state.
‘Are you okay?’ Helen had drunk a lot more than usual and Ian had matched her, but Tom had drunk twice as fast as them both that day.
‘You think I’m a bad person.’ His voice was thick with the effect of the alcohol and he was forced to enunciate his words slowly and carefully to avoid slurring them too much.
‘No, Tom, I don’t,’ she assured him, ‘I really don’t.’
‘I didn’t mean to kill her,’ he said and a part of her heart broke for him then.
‘You didn’t kill her,’ Helen told him firmly, ‘she killed herself. Annie couldn’t live with what she had done. I feel bad about it too but she is responsible for it, not us.’ She picked up a cushion and popped it behind his head and let him fall gratefully back onto it.
‘Thanks,’ he said and he looked incredibly tired. Simultaneously he closed his eyes and reached out his hand to take hers in it. ‘Love you,’ Tom said softly, then he immediately fell asleep.
Helen blinked at the sleeping figure below her and wondered if she had heard him correctly. Did he just say …?
‘Love you too,’ she told him quietly, knowing he couldn’t hear her.
Bradshaw hadn’t necessarily intended it to be a break-up conversation or a break-up row, which is what it very swiftly became. He just wanted to slow things right down and not go straight to the moving-in-together option before they’d had more time, but it soon became clear that, in Karen’s eyes, this was make-or-break, love-me-or-leave-me. To his surprise, Bradshaw actually felt quite good about that.
He wasn’t enjoying the argument though and he hated to see her so upset. On one level he understood that what he was doing to his girlfriend, who he was already beginning to think of as an ex-girlfriend, was a bad thing. There was nothing nice or particularly noble in giving her the news this way when she wasn’t expecting it, but surely it was far better to do this now than years later when they were both trapped.
‘Well, thank you very much,’ she told him, ‘so I make you feel trapped? What am I supposed to do?’ she wailed when the argument had been raging for a while. ‘I’ve given notice on my flat! All my stuff is packed up or here already. Where am I supposed to go?’
‘Your parents’ maybe?’ This suggestion just elicited a groan of frustration from her. ‘But you can stay here as long as you need to. I’ll sleep on the couch,’ he added quickly, ‘obviously.’
‘Don’t be bloody stupid!’ she shouted. ‘I’m going to Mum and Dad’s and I’m going there right now, you arsehole!’ Bradshaw was mightily relieved to hear that.
She made for the door, then turned back and gave him a withering look.
‘If you had doubts you could have told me before,’ she bawled at him, ‘you fucking coward!’
And Bradshaw had to concede she was absolutely right about that.
‘Are you alright?’ Helen asked him as she drew back the curtains. Tom winced at the morning sunlight as it streamed through the window, then he groaned.
‘God, my head.’ He brought a hand up to his forehead. ‘How much did I drink?’
‘A lot, but that was understandable.’
‘I don’t remember coming home,’ he said and she had to assume he also didn’t recall saying ‘Love you’ either, so it was the drink talking – but did that make it more or less true? She banished that thought before it had time to take hold.
‘I’m off to work now but I’ll be back later and I’ll bring those photographs you asked for.’
Tom managed to sit up. He twisted his face. ‘The whole room is spinning.’ Then he seemed to register what she had said. ‘Don’t you think we’ve done enough damage for one week?’
She rounded on him then. ‘No, I do not! Listen to me. I know you are upset about what happened to Annie Bell. Ian is too and so am I, but this is different. We have to help those girls at Meadowlands and that means finding this man and stopping him. So you need to get a shower, make some coffee and sort yourself out, because tonight we are going to find Callie again.’
Tom held up a hand to placate her. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m getting up now. I’ve got things to do too.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Well, I have to go and see Richard Bell for starters,’ he told her, ‘and I’m not exactly looking forward to that.’
The governor had already informed Richard Bell of his wife’s suicide, so at least Tom wasn’t forced to break the news to him. Because she had chosen to throw herself off a tall building in front of a police officer, there was little room for ambiguity. Tom had driven there in a state of high anxiety made worse by the colossal hangover he was enduring. He had been so shocked by Annie’s death because, whichever way you looked at things, it was largely due to his actions. The only coping mechanism he could think of at the time was alcoholic oblivion. That was fine yesterday, but now he had a burning stomach, a severe feeling of nausea and a pounding headache that showed no sign of abating.
By the time Tom arrived at HMP Durham, Richard would have had hours to digest the news about Annie, but when he walked into the room it didn’t look as if he had been able to accept it.
‘I’m very sorry about your wife,’ Tom told him.
‘What did you say to her?’ Bell was ashen-faced and looked like he was in deep shock. Had he taken Tom’s apology as some form of acknowledgement of responsibility? ‘What did you say to my wife?’
‘I told her what I found out, Richard, that’s all. I did what you asked me to do,’
<
br /> ‘What did you say to her!’ He roared the words this time.
‘Hey!’ shouted the prison guard. ‘Calm down, Bell,’ he warned but did not take further action, presumably cutting the grieving widower more slack than usual for his loss.
‘The truth. I told her the truth. I said to you when you started this that I might uncover something you didn’t want to hear.’ Tom hesitated while he tried to find the right words but ended up choosing the most direct approach. ‘She did it, Richard. Annie killed Rebecca and I can prove it.’ He went on to tell the disbelieving man everything. Bell didn’t speak for a while. He just listened but his face was a picture of disbelief.
‘I can’t accept this.’ He shook his head. ‘You say you’ve got all this on tape?’ Tom nodded.
‘We can use this. I’ve given my recording to a Detective Sergeant Ian Bradshaw. I’m certain they will reopen your case. I think, Richard, that it could even be enough to get you out of here.’
Surely that would bring the man some comfort.
‘Jesus Christ,’ mumbled Bell and he began to cry. Tom couldn’t tell if it was relief or sadness at first, then Bell mumbled, ‘What difference does it make?’
‘What difference? I thought this was what you wanted. You’ll be freed. You’ll see your daughters again …’
‘And how am I ever going to explain to them their mother killed herself because of me, because of something I did? I don’t care anymore. Don’t you get it? This is all my fault. Rebecca died because of me. Annie is dead … because of me. Oh God.’ And he wept once more.
Tom could think of nothing to say to console the man, for he knew exactly how he was feeling. Only Richard Bell’s guilt was magnified because he had the deaths of two women on his hands, not just one.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Callie stopped in her tracks when she saw Helen standing in the street up ahead of her. ‘I told ya I don’t do girls.’
‘Please get in, Callie,’ urged Helen. ‘We can help you, we really can.’
Callie snorted, ‘Yeah right.’ Whatever had happened since their last conversation, it seemed the girl was having second thoughts about cooperating.
Behind Dead Eyes Page 34
