by SJI Holliday
Claire felt uneasy as she allowed Craig to push her into the room.
‘Is Scott—’
Gray held up a hand to silence her. ‘Never mind that. What’s going on?’
Craig and Claire looked at each other.
Craig spoke, his voice calm. ‘Gareth Maloney came into the shop. He had Jo’s watch …’
‘And we don’t know where she’s been for at least a day, Davie,’ Claire blurted, ‘and she told me that something happened to that man who went missing all those years ago … Michael Waters? He’s Maloney’s dad, and—’
‘And Jake is Maloney’s foster brother,’ Craig cut in. ‘At least we think he is, but Claire’s tried phoning him too, and there’s no answer …’
‘Wait. What? Your Jake, Claire? Your Jake knows this Maloney?’ He paused, rubbed his hands across his face. ‘You know what, I knew there was something. I went to see Maloney. Something was off about him. Something he wasn’t telling me …’
He was about to say more when there was a sharp rap at the door. The door opened and Beattie’s head appeared in the gap.
‘Sergeant Gray, sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone else here who needs to talk to you, it seems.’The door opened wider, revealing Sharon, her eyes rimmed with blurred black eyeliner, which had streaked down her cheeks.
‘I saw Jake,’ she said, quietly. ‘He was going nuts … I don’t know what’s going on, Sergeant Gray, but he scared me. He mentioned Jo—’
‘Jo?’ Claire said. ‘Does Jake know where Jo is?’
Sharon blinked, and a dirty tear slid down her face. ‘He said something about the woods—’
Claire gasped. ‘Black Wood?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sharon said. ‘I think so. You better get up there, Sergeant Gray. I’ve got a horrible, horrible feeling … It’s something bad. I think something really bad is happening up there …’
60
Slowly, I came to. My head throbbed from where I’d whacked it on the table, and I touched it gingerly, expecting to find a huge egg, but I hadn’t expected blood. It felt warm and sticky on my fingers and I realised that some had spilled down my face, leaving an uncomfortable trail on my skin. I wiped my hand on my dress, and my stomach turned at the sight of it.
There was no sound except for a rasping, heavy breathing. Finally, I looked out from beneath a corner of the tablecloth and saw Jake slumped against the fireplace.
Oh Jesus, Gareth … What have you done?
‘Jake?’ I whispered, not sure where Gareth was and reluctant to remind him of my presence. ‘Jake, where’s Gareth?’
A groan.
I sucked in a breath, relieved to get a response. Then I slowly pulled myself out from under the table and crept towards Jake.
He was half-sitting, half-lying like an old rag doll. His arms were by his sides, and in the centre of his T-shirt a dark-red stain was blooming like a flower recorded on time-lapse photography.
‘Jake, can you hear me?’
Jake’s head hung forwards onto his chest. At close range, the shotgun pellets had acted like a rifle bullet, not dispersing at all but hitting his chest with such impact that it had sent his body into shock.
‘Jake? Don’t try to talk, OK … I’m going to call for help. It’ll be OK. Just try and let me know – did Gareth go upstairs?’
Nothing.
I tried again. ‘Did he go outside, Jake?’
Another groan.
Ignoring the pain in my skull and the itchiness of the blood congealing on my face, I tried to think fast. Bolt the door … Call an ambulance … Stop the bleeding … I felt panic rising in my chest then, not knowing which one to do first. I grabbed a towel from the back of a chair, wrapped it awkwardly around his chest, pulled it tight behind his back. I lifted his hands and tried to get him to press onto the wound in his chest, but as soon as I let go, his useless arms dropped back to his sides.
‘Jake, please? Please try …’
I lifted his arms onto his chest again, and this time they stayed put. His breathing was coming out in sharp rasps, and the effort of keeping his hands in place seemed to make the breaths more ragged.
Don’t die, Jake, I begged, silently.
I stuck a hand into my pocket. Where the fuck was my phone? Then I remembered it being knocked off the table. I turned, leant down and lifted the tablecloth, and found it lying smashed to pieces on the stone floor.
Stupid mistake.
I felt his presence before I heard his footsteps. I turned slowly and found Gareth blocking the door, a horrible smirk on his face.
‘Lost something?’
I didn’t respond.
‘I took back what you stole from me, by the way. My little map. Good, eh? Have you worked it out yet? I was half expecting you to be knee-deep in mud when I arrived. You disappointed me, Jo. Hanging round with my stupid ex-foster brother hasn’t done you much good, has it?’
Jake’s breathing had turned quieter and I felt sick at the thought that I might lose him. Gareth had ruined my life once before. I wasn’t letting him do it again.
‘What were you planning to do, Gareth?’ I said, walking slowly towards him. I watched the confusion in his eyes, a brief flash, then the anger returned as he waited for me to continue. ‘Dig him up and take him home? What’s your mum going to think about that?’
He laughed. ‘She’ll be delighted. She’s spent twenty-three years convinced that my old man didn’t love her. I can’t wait to be the hero. Tell her the truth. Tell her that little runt she fostered killed the love of her life …’
Jake groaned. ‘You fucking liar …’
‘Still with us, eh, Jakey? Not for much longer I hope …’ He took a step towards him, swung his leg back and kicked Jake hard in the head. He toppled over, still clutching the bloodied towel.
‘Noooooooo!’ I screamed. I threw myself at Maloney, catching him off guard and knocking him into the open doorway. He fell flat on his back and I fell on top of him, hard. I think he hit his head on the doorstep, because there was a dull thud and a growl of pain, but it only dazed him momentarily.
He tried to shake me off, swiping at my head, missing, trying again. I was too quick for him.
I pressed down harder, trying to keep him there with my full bodyweight, while I slid my hand into my pocket and toyed with the knife. Turning it slowly inside the palm of my hand.
Maloney had stopped swatting at me. He didn’t seem to be moving at all; his eyes were closed and his breathing was very slow, barely making a sound. I squeezed him with my thighs.
Nothing.
I shifted my weight slightly, easing backwards. Was he dying? Had the bang on the head caused a bleed? I felt my heart hammering in my chest and I slowly stood up, bending over him slightly, trying to look at his face.
Still nothing.
I stood up fully, then took a step over him, out onto the doorstep. I moved slowly, carefully, still terrified that he was going to wake up.
Maybe if I had moved a little quicker I might’ve got away.
My right foot was hovering over his shoulder, a split second from passing over him, when he grabbed onto my ankle and pulled me hard. I cried out as I landed half on the step, half on the gravel of the drive as he twisted himself round, dragging me towards him.
I screamed, and immediately his hand was clamped over my mouth, the weight of his body crushing my legs as he pulled me further into him.
‘I missed my chance that day in the woods, but I’m not going to miss it again now,’ he spat. ‘You little slut!’
Pinning me down with a hand on my face and a knee on my chest, he took his other hand off the step to try to unbuckle his belt, and taking the only chance I would ever get, I shoved my hand back into my pocket and pulled out the knife.
‘Oi …’ he started.
But the hand holding the knife shot out of my pocket of its own accord. It lunged into the soft flesh of his stomach, and it twisted, lifted upwards. Opening up his stomach. I’d expected
it to be harder on a large animal, but really it was no more difficult than gutting a rabbit.
His legs collapsed from under him, the hand that was clamped over my mouth slid off and he fell over to one side with a thump, like a felled deer.
I lifted my hands to my face and watched as the dark, viscous liquid dripped slowly onto the ground beneath me, then I stood and walked back into the cottage just as the faint sound of sirens drifted in on the breeze.
‘Jo …’ Jake groaned.
I crouched down beside him, pressing my hands on the towel, trying to push his blood back inside of him.
The fire flickered and, eventually, went black.
61
Gray recognised the body of Gareth Maloney lying sprawled across the doorstep. Taking a pulse was a formality, considering most of the man’s innards were lying in a heap beside him. The stench was eye-watering.
Inside the cottage wasn’t much better. Jake was slumped in front of the fireplace. Blood seeping out from beneath him, a bloodied towel wrapped around him like an apron. A small-bore shotgun lay abandoned on the kitchen floor. The room was filled with the coppery tang of blood and a hanging cloud of gunsmoke.
Jesus …
Beattie stepped into the room behind him and immediately started to gag, throwing his hands up over his mouth. ‘What the f—’
‘Get back outside. Get the paramedics over here right now, then call CID. We need to do this right now, PC Beattie. Set up a cordon. No one comes in or out, except for me and the paramedics. Got it?’
Beattie stumbled back into the driveway and Gray could hear him retching as he staggered across towards the ambulance. Thank Christ the three of them had turned up at the station. Telling him about Maloney. About Jake. Everything had somehow slotted into place.
Jo.
It was all about Jo.
He’d hoped he would make it up here before it all kicked off, but by the looks of things he was about five minutes too late.
‘Jo? Can you hear me?’
He edged towards the girl, who was sitting pressed against the back wall. Her arms were linked around her knees, her eyes tightly shut. She was rocking, ever so slightly. Back and forth. Back and forth.
‘Jo? Are you hurt?’
Her hands were dark and sticky with congealing blood. Her once white dress looked like it had been tie-dyed. He crouched down in front of her and put his hands over hers, gently prising her fingers apart. Retrieving the knife. She gave it up without protest.
Behind him he heard the voices of the paramedics, assessing the situation. He shuffled over until he was in line with Jo, and sat beside her. She still hadn’t opened her eyes.
Oh, Jo … I promised your mother I’d look after you … Why did I not see this coming?
When he was sitting beside her, able to see her out of the corner of his eye while also able to observe the paramedics, he extended a hand – trying to get her to hold on to it. The rocking had stopped now, and she stayed with her arms locked tight.
Eyes blocking everything out.
He spoke to the paramedics. ‘Can you wait until the CID boys get here before we call the forensics, or do you need me to do it now?’
The blonde female of the two turned to face him. ‘First things first,’ she said. ‘This one’s still alive …’
Gray turned towards Jo and her eyes pinged open, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Vacant. Like one of those creepy blinking dolls.
*
I couldn’t help it. My eyes sprang open when the paramedic spoke. She was looking back towards me, her face neutral. Her partner, an older bloke with a perfect circular bald patch, was manoeuvring Jake towards a stretcher that was laid out on the floor. To my left, Davie Gray sat – his knees pulled up to his chest, mirroring my position. I could see him from the corner of my eye, but I didn’t move.
‘Jo,’ he said, ‘can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened?’ His voice was gentle, encouraging me to speak. I didn’t think I could if I tried. My throat felt thick, like something was wedged deep inside it. My lips felt like they’d been stuck together with glue. My head still throbbed from where I’d hit it and I had to clench my hands into tight fists to stop them from shaking.
Gray got the message. Didn’t speak again. We sat together and watched as the two paramedics hoisted Jake onto the stretcher, the female making soothing platitudes: ‘You’re going to be fine … We’ve got you now … Try to breathe normally …’
They’d placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. The older bloke had stuck some huge dressing across his chest like a giant plaster. Placed his hands back on top and urged him to ‘press as hard as you can, son …’
Outside was the crackle and hum of radios, voices. Footsteps crunching on gravel. The sound of another car bouncing over the potholes. The air in the room seemed to have been sucked outside.
I closed my eyes again. Felt myself drift away. I felt calm, finally. The presence I’d felt since that day at Gran’s grave seemed to have left me alone at last. The house felt still, at peace. As if balance had been restored.
Gray took my elbow and helped me to stand, and I followed without protest. I wondered, vaguely, if I’d have to step over Maloney or if he’d already been taken away.
62
‘How is she?’
Gray looked up from his notes, and frowned. ‘She still hasn’t said a word. She’s refused water, tea, a sandwich and everything else she’s been offered. She won’t even wash the blood off her hands.’
‘Christ. Is she catatonic?’
‘Of course not!’ Gray snapped. ‘She’s in shock. I’ve had the on-call doctor take a look at her and he wants to give her something to relax her, but she won’t open her mouth. He’s checked her over and dressed the wound on her head. He said it’s better to leave her be. She’ll have to talk eventually.’
Rob laughed. ‘I’m not so sure. I had a client once who refused to speak for three months. She had to be sectioned for her own good. She lasted three days in the Royal Ed before she broke her own neck with a twisted bed sheet and the metal bars from the headboard …’
‘For Christ’s sake, man. What do you want me to do? I’ve pulled Lorna back in, got her on constant monitoring duty, peering in through that bloody hatch. She’s got nothing in there to harm herself with … She just needs some space. I wanted to take her to the hospital, but the powers that be vetoed that.’
Rob waved a hand dismissively. ‘Fine, fine. Look, there are things we need to put in place. I know you want her questioned as soon as possible, but until she’s been properly assessed, she’s no good to you … and she’s no good here. I can call in a Section 2 and get her taken to the hospital?’
‘Not yet. I want to try again first. Then you can have a go …’
‘I’m not even sure she’ll want me to help …’
‘How did you even know she was here?’
‘Craig phoned me after he left the station. He said you were heading up to Black Wood Cottage. He wanted to see for himself. I told him to leave it alone. I said we could call you later, find out what happened – if anything. But he wouldn’t back down. He had Claire and Sharon with him too. Practically hysterical, the lot of them. So I drove us up there. Saw the place surrounded by police and ambulance. I’ve never had much time for the girl, but she’s Craig’s friend and … and, well, she needs help.’
‘She does need help, Rob. But I’m not so sure it’s psychiatric help she needs.’
‘Are you kidding? She’s killed one man and put another one in a critical condition …’
‘We don’t know that yet. At the moment, she’s our only conscious witness, and until she speaks to me, I’m keeping her here under lock and key, OK?’
Rob rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the blue plastic chairs in the reception area.
Gray watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started texting rapidly. Half of him was glad that the man had shown up, but on the other hand, everyone had heard the ru
mours about Jo and Craig. He was worried that Rob had an ulterior motive. Getting Jo locked up in a psychiatric hospital would definitely keep her away from his boyfriend. It was a small town; things spread like a disease, no matter how hard you tried to prevent them.
He left the solicitor sitting in the reception and walked back through to the cells. ‘I’ll take over for a bit, Lorna. Go an’ see if there’s any update from the hospital, eh? I want to know if DS Reid has managed to talk to Jake yet.’
Lorna gave him a sad smile and stepped back from the door. ‘If there’s anything you need, give us a shout, eh, Davie?’ She handed him the keys. ‘Oh, and … go easy on her, Sarge. I’m not sure she’s ready to take it all in.’
Gray took the keys and unlocked the cell door. Jo was down the far end of the narrow bed, arms wrapped round her knees, just like at the cottage. Gray wanted to throw his arms round her. Tell her everything was going to be OK. It wasn’t going to be, though. No matter what happened next, none of their lives would be the same again.
‘Jo?’ he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘Are you ready to talk yet?’
Jo lifted her head, stared into his eyes. He stared back, noticed the way the golden flecks shone in the light creeping in through the barred window. The irises were a deep brown, but the halos of amber speckles were what gave it away. She had her mother’s eyes, that was for sure.
He rubbed his hands over his chin, and the rough hair bristled beneath. He dropped his head towards his chest.
‘Did you love her?’
Gray’s head snapped up. He felt a chill run down his spine. ‘Who?’
‘You know who,’ Jo said. ‘She loved you, you know. My gran knew. She knew everything. She told me, just before she died …’
‘Told you what?’
‘About my dad. He saw you together, you know. That’s why he took her away. That’s why he … killed her …’
63
