by Ryan Casey
He caught his breath. His chest was tight, and his heart was thumping at unsafe levels.
But he couldn’t give up.
He had to keep on going.
It was him or no one.
He kept on running down the road. His body told him to stop this, that he was being insane. Shit, how stupid he’d been. He should’ve called in about what he’d found right away. But how was he supposed to trust them? How the hell could he expect them to show any faith in him after the lack of faith they’d shown this entire case?
He kept on running, pushing himself harder and harder. He could be there in ten minutes if he really threw himself at it. But who was to say Michael would even be at home? What if he’d already gone? What then? He couldn’t exactly ask the Reads for a phone charger after he’d accused their frigging son of murder.
He ran further regardless. His knees were weak. His legs were like jelly. The more exhausted he got, the more the images of his past flashed in his mind.
Shooting the chief constable.
Ditching his body.
All of it came flooding back.
He felt a tightness in his chest. A sudden sharp pain erupted across his body.
His knees went weak and he fell face flat onto the pavement.
He tasted blood. He went dizzy. He heard cars slowing down. Nearby, someone asked if he was okay.
Brian clutched his chest. He knew this pain because he’d felt it before. The heart attack. He couldn’t have another, not now he was so close to the truth.
“Shit,” a passer-by said. “Think he’s had a heart attack. It’s alright, mate. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No,” Brian said, struggling to his shaky feet.
The man put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. Someone’s on their way.”
“No!” Brian said.
He pushed the man’s arm away and struggled to his feet. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t quite as acute. His legs were shaky, he had no energy, but he knew where he needed to be.
He couldn’t let Elaine’s death slip away without any justice being served.
He carried on his run, although he was a little sheepish now. His sweat felt cold. He was fully aware of how unstable he looked, how ridiculous he looked. He didn’t care. There were more important things at stake.
He battled through the pain in his chest. He kept on going and going until finally, he saw the Reed household in the distance.
He smiled. Ran up the driveway. He brushed back his hair and took a few deep breaths, eager not to look like he’d exerted himself too much. He lifted his hand and banged on the door.
Nobody answered.
Brian bit his lip and banged on the door again. Fuck. He hadn’t run all this way for there to be nobody home. He hadn’t got that pain in his chest for there to be no-one—
The door opened.
Sammi Reed peeked around it.
Her eyes were dark underneath. She looked pale, and like she’d lost weight in the days since Brian last saw her. “Can I help?”
“I’m the… I’m the detective. I’m…”
“Are you alright? Do you need a drink?”
“No.”
“What’s—”
“Your brother,” Brian said. “Michael. Where is he?”
Sammi’s eyes met Brian’s. She looked at him like she didn’t understand at first. Then the look changed, like they both had an understanding that they knew what this was about; like they both had a feeling.
“Michael’s not home,” she said.
Brian frowned. “Not home?”
She nodded. “He’s out. Probably with friends. I can get him to—”
“When did you last see him?”
“Well I don’t see him every day.”
“When did you last see your brother, Sammi?”
Sammi hesitated. That look of understanding and dread built up again. “He’s…”
“Sammi? When did you last see your brother?”
Her eyes clouded over.
Then, they refocused.
“He left for the train station,” she said.
“When?”
“Half an hour ago.”
Thirty-Four
Sammi closed the door and didn’t move a muscle.
She listened to the police officer’s footsteps echo further away from the front of her house. She leaned her head against the door, felt the cold wood soothe her scorching forehead. She felt sick. Sick, right to the stomach. She couldn’t stop shaking. She’d tried eating earlier, but she just couldn’t keep her food down.
All because of what she knew.
Her heart pounded harder as the police officer’s footsteps disappeared from her line of hearing. She kept her head rested against the door a little longer, not thinking, just letting her thoughts catch up with her.
Which they would. Her thoughts always caught up with her, haunted her, one way or another.
“Sammi?”
Sammi twitched and spun around. Mum stood opposite her, frowning.
“You okay, love?”
Sammi nodded. She half-smiled. “I’m fine. Just feel a bit sick.”
Mum tilted her head to one side and half smiled. She was drying a pan. She’d been good to Sammi since Elaine’s death. She’d made sure Sammi was well looked after, as Sammi had stayed there ever since news of Elaine’s death emerged. She’d been understanding. That was something Sammi liked about her mum. She always stuck up for her kids, no matter what. Sure, she wasn’t afraid to tell them if she thought they were wrong. But otherwise, she was like a one woman army, and her children were the fort she protected dearly. “Someone at the door?”
“Oh, um. Just a parcel.”
“A parcel?”
Sammi nodded and scratched the back of her neck.
“Who for?”
“For me.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s…”
Sammi didn’t finish speaking. She realised the error of what she’d done. She didn’t have a parcel with her. “It’s for your birthday. I’d rather you don’t look. If that’s okay.”
Mum tilted her head some more. The curiosity turned to a pitiful look of understanding. “Oh, Sam. You didn’t have to.”
“I did.”
“But with everything going on.”
Sammi forced a smile. “It’s helped me focus on something.”
Mum started walking towards Sammi, widening her arms to hug her. Then she stopped herself. Tutted. “Silly me. You’re wanting to keep my pressie secret, aren’t you? Well put it away so I can give you a hug.”
Sammi held her smile. “Looking forward to it.”
She watched her mum walk into the kitchen, heard her splashing around the sink and washing more pots. She wondered if Mum had really believed her.
Didn’t matter now. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
She pulled out her phone and headed upstairs.
She walked into her room and the mess struck her. She prided herself on being so tidy. But her bedroom was anything but neat right now. Clothes were strewn across the carpet. Unpacked suitcases rested in the corner of the room, more clothes flooding out of their sides. There was a slight smell of perspiration to the air, which reminded Sammi she needed to pick up some new deodorant.
But she wasn’t in a mood to pick up anything new.
She wasn’t in a mood to look after herself at all.
She looked down at her phone. She thought about unlocking it. But then, if she unlocked it, she’d only be getting herself into trouble. She’d never been in trouble with the law for a thing in her life. Sure, she’d done some illegal stuff—drugs, stolen a couple of things here and there. But she’d never been caught.
She especially didn’t want to make that call because of what it might mean for her studies. She was in the last few weeks of her university degree at the University of Central Lancashire in Preston. She’d spent three years studying Travel & Tourism, living wit
h Elaine. They’d clicked when they were so young, back when they were just seven, and that magic had never faded. Ever.
And now she was gone.
She was gone, and there were rumours she’d been murdered.
A sickly taste filled Sammi’s mouth as she realised she couldn’t just pass on this phone call. She had to make it. She owed it to make the call. Sure, she could lay low, keep her head down. But she worried what it might mean. She couldn’t just leave him to the wolves.
She turned over. Mum was still downstairs washing the pots. Dad was at work. Good. She didn’t want either of them to hear what she was going to say.
She opened up her contacts list and scrolled down to the temporary number saved under three hashtags right at the bottom. She held her thumb over it for a few seconds, questioning whether she really wanted to go ahead with this.
Shit. What choice did she have?
She hit dial.
She lifted the phone to her ear and listened to the dialling tone. The longer it went on, the more she thought about putting the phone down. The more she hoped that he wouldn’t answer. Because if he didn’t answer, she wouldn’t have to face up to reality. If he didn’t answer, then maybe, just maybe, he’d get what he deserved.
“Hello?”
His voice startled Sammi. She was half-expecting him not to answer at all.
“You there?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. Look, I don’t know where you’re at or what the hell you’ve done, but you need to lay low and get away from the station.”
“What I’ve done?”
“They’re onto you. The police. They’re coming for you.”
“You told them?”
“I panicked. I froze. I’m sorry.”
A pause on the line. Then, “Shit.”
“So what’re you going to do? Where are you going to go?”
“I’ll… I’ll find a way.”
“You’ll find a way?” Sammi said, her voice straining. “Michael, you need a plan. You need to get far away.”
“For you, or for me?”
The question threw Sammi. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer.
The line went dead.
When Sammi tried calling him back, the phone was engaged.
She looked up at the mirror at the other side of her bedroom and she questioned whether she was doing the right thing all along.
She looked back at her phone. Scrolled down to the number the police officer gave her. The one he told her to call if she found out anything else.
She kept her thumb hovering above it.
Then she tossed her phone onto her bed, fell face flat onto the mattress and squeezed her eyes together as the thoughts and fears invaded her mind all over again…
Thirty-Five
“You’d better have a damned good reason for hijacking my car, Brian.”
Brian pressed his foot down on the gas of Annie’s car. It’d been a while since he’d driven. He and Hannah had both got rid of their cars. Hannah worked from home, so didn’t rely on one. It was a bigger expense than it was worth. And he was trying to get healthy, so he walked to work every day.
Well, he got the bus sometimes, but he didn’t tell Hannah.
The afternoon sky was thick with grey cloud. Specks of rain fell against the windscreen. Brian gripped onto the steering wheel with his clammy hands and accelerated faster towards the train station.
“Brian?” Annie shouted. She was in the passenger seat beside him. “You’re not insured on this. You could at least tell me where we’re—”
“Michael Reed worked for Branagh’s Security. The same place as your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Well, whatever she is. I don’t really care right now. The fact is, he worked there. Now apparently Branagh’s sometimes do security at Baker’s Inn, when there’s special events, that kind of thing.”
“So there’s your answer. Michael was there on a special event.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Brian said. “There was no special event. However, Michael was working the gig that Elaine and Sammi were both at. The one Elaine attended before she died.”
Annie shook her head. She didn’t have any real arguments, other than the fact Brian was madly manoeuvring her car right now. “Seriously, I can drive.”
“No. I’m better.”
“You’re better? Charming.”
“Look, I saw footage of someone entering Baker’s Inn not long after Elaine’s arrival. Only he didn’t go in the normal way. He went up the fire escape.”
“So the fire escape really was open after all?”
“Not just that, but this guy took Elaine’s underwear from Bobby Wisdom’s back pocket. He took it away from him, went up the fire escape. And then he opened the door to that fire escape when Elaine was having her… her whatever it was outside the lift.”
“This still isn’t adding up. So you’re saying Michael Reed sneaked up the fire escape and then opened the door to lead Elaine up to the roof? How would he do that?”
“He’s working security,” Brian said, speeding past some annoying bikes that were taking up half the road. “I can’t imagine it’d be too hard for him to get hold of the codes. Hell, maybe Dan really did tell him while he was on holiday and just didn’t remember.”
“So after he kills her, if your weird theory is true—and I don’t believe it is, not for a minute. What does he do?”
“We don’t know for sure,” Brian said. “Peeping Tom got distracted by a couple fucking, and we can’t for the life of us get CCTV from outside of Baker’s Inn, either.”
“Wait. But I thought Bobby only destroyed the footage from inside?”
“That’s what I thought too,” Brian said, a smile stretching across his face as the adrenaline surged around his body. He handed his phone to Annie, tossing it to her like it was a hot potato. “Have a look at that.”
“The football scores?”
“No, not that. Just—just close that.”
“Peppa Pig? Didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, Brian.”
“Not Peppa Pig. Just open Safari.”
Annie opened up the internet and paused for a few seconds. “I don’t get what I’m supposed to be looking at.”
“The CCTV company, Ramsgate. They’re based next door to Branagh’s. They have the same bloody owners, Annie. And Branagh’s provide security for them.”
Brian saw the frown spreading across Annie’s forehead, and he started to believe that maybe, just maybe, she was finally buying into his theory. “But that still doesn’t explain why.”
“Why what?”
“Why Michael Reed would do something like this. I mean, it was his sister’s best friend.”
“And according to records, Michael had a very intriguing fascination with younger women.”
Annie tutted. “Elaine’s not that much younger than him.”
“We’ve had our eye on him in the past. Dodgy searches. Lots of weird social media activity. Seems like he’s a bit of a creep.”
“But that doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“It doesn’t make him a murderer. But it makes him a creep. As for the why. Well, that’s what we’re going to find out right now.”
Brian saw the train station up ahead. He sped past it a bit, noticing it was full, then indicated to turn onto the car park down the hill.
“You’re hoping to catch him at the station?”
“His sister says he left half an hour ago on foot. If we’ve made it here quick enough—which we should’ve done, thanks to my amazing driving—then we should be right on time to…”
Brian froze, then. He froze because he saw a man with his phone to his ear, rushing away from the station. He had dark, greasy hair, and a battered rucksack over his shoulder. A cigarette dangled from his lips.
“That’s him,” Brian said.
“Okay. Well bear in mind you’re off duty right now and—”
<
br /> “We have to bring him in,” Brian said, accelerating into the car park. “We have to speak to him.”
“We do, but we have to follow procedure.”
Michael saw Brian’s car approaching, the phone still to his ear.
And for a split second, Brian swore when their eyes connected that Michael looked right at him. Like he knew who he was.
“Brian!”
Annie’s scream startled Brian.
But he didn’t have any time to register it.
A black cab slammed into the passenger side of the car.
The car flew to the right.
Brian smacked his head against the side window, hearing the glass crack upon impact.
And as his vision blurred and the taste of blood filled his mouth, he saw Michael drop his cigarette and run.
Thirty-Six
Brian tasted blood on his lips, but he knew he couldn’t give up.
He heard the rain lashing down on the crumpled windscreen of Annie’s car. He looked around. Outside, he saw people running towards the car. He heard the taxi driver shouting that he didn’t do a thing wrong, that Brian just pulled out in front of him.
Hell. He was probably right. But he’d been doing a job.
Brian swallowed a lump in his throat as he turned to the passenger seat. He didn’t want to see Annie lying there unconscious, covered in blood. He’d already watched too many officers he cared about fall all because of his negligence. He’d got attached to way too many people in the past, and all of them got into trouble because of him. Always.
He’d let himself get close to Annie. He hadn’t even felt himself falling closer to her. It’d just kind of happened.
And now he sat in her wreck of a car which he’d been driving, he couldn’t look at her, because he couldn’t face the thought of what he’d lost.
When he turned and looked, he saw Annie lying there with her eyes open.
They weren’t focused on Brian. They were focused on the window beside him. There was a bit of blood rolling down her nose. Brian felt his stomach turn. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch someone else die.
