by Kerry Kaya
Chapter 11
Gary stifled a yawn. The whole situation with Tommy laid out on his death bed was beginning to bore him. He glanced down at his wristwatch. He’d give it another few minutes for appearances sake, then fuck off, he decided.
“We need to take it in turns to sit with him.” Janet looked up at her sons. “Someone needs to be here for when he wakes up.”
Jimmy screwed his eyes tightly shut; his heart lurched inside his chest. Even he could see that that wasn’t going to happen, despite how much he wanted it to. “Mum’s right.” He gave Janet a reassuring smile. “One of us needs to be here with him at all times.” He glanced across to Gary and gave him a cold stare. Everyone, except Gary that was.
Gary returned the stare. “Well, you can count me out. I haven’t got time for all this shit. I’m going home.” He walked over to the door and paused. “One of you lot can give me a bell when he’s finally kicked the bucket.”
Lunging himself forward, it took the three remaining Carter brothers to hold Jimmy back. “Get fucking out,” he growled, as he curled his fists into tight balls.
“I’m going.” Gary could barely keep the sly grin from his face. He began to walk away, and glancing over his shoulder, he called out, “I’ll stop by the scrapyard on my way home, shall I? Pick up the deeds while I’m there.”
“Let him fucking go.” Jimmy shrugged his brothers away from him, kicked the hospital room door closed, placed his palms on the glass window pane, lowered his head, and took deep breaths. He had no concerns about Gary finding the deeds to Tommy’s businesses. He knew for a fact that his brother kept them in a safe at home, a safe which Gary knew nothing about.
With a shake of her head, Janet watched her third eldest son walk away. At times, she wondered how she could have even birthed him. He was so unlike his brothers, and she was growing sick and tired of making excuses for his behaviour.
“Come here, Jimmy.” She held out her arms toward him. What with everything going on, she hadn’t given him a second thought. He and Tommy were so close, he was bound to have taken this turn of events badly. With only eleven months between her two eldest sons, they had often been referred to as Irish twins when they were children. They were certainly as close as twins could ever get.
“I’m sorry, Mum, but he just gets underneath my fucking skin.” Jimmy was apologetic as he stepped into Janet’s arms.
“I know, son.” Janet pulled her son closer to her. “I know,” she soothed.
* * *
On tenterhooks, Bethany Johnson was waiting for Gary Carter to arrive at her home. Her eyes were trained on the living room window, and each passing car had her jumping up from her seat in anticipation. Finally, she watched his car pull up outside the house, and she ran toward the front door and flung it open.
“Well?” she asked, her voice husky. “Is he dead?”
Gary shook his head and entered the house.
“What do you mean, no?” Bethany’s mouth fell open as she stared after him. “How can he not be?” she cried. She slammed the front door closed with such force that it almost came off of its hinges.
“I don’t fucking know.” Gary threw up his arms. “But I’ve just spent the last three hours up the hospital with the rest of the fucking family crying over him.”
Unable to get her head around this new revelation, Bethany flopped down onto the arm of the sofa. “But, I could have sworn he was dead.”
“Apparently not,” Gary snarled.
She was deep in thought. Surely, no one could lose that amount of blood and still be alive. “What about the businesses? You need to get those deeds, Gary, and fast, before he kicks the bucket and they get shared out.”
Shamefaced, Gary took a seat. “I don’t know where they are. I couldn’t find them.”
Bethany narrowed her eyes. She could feel anger begin to rise within her and she battled to keep her temper in check. “You told me you knew where they were,” she growled.
“I thought I did.” Gary gave an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders. “The cunt must have moved them.” After leaving the hospital, he’d spent just over an hour tearing the scrapyard office apart, only to leave empty handed.
Incensed, Bethany’s cheeks turned pink, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Then you’d better start thinking, Gary. We haven’t come this far to fail at the last hurdle.”
“I bet that cunt Jimmy knows.” Gary stared into the distance and nodded his head. “Yeah, I bet he fucking knows.”
Throwing up her arms, Bethany began to pace the length of the living room, her high-heeled shoes clip-clopping with every step she took across the highly polished floorboards. “Well, that isn’t going to fucking help us, is it?” She turned to look at her son’s father. He was beyond useless. “You’ll have to speak to Jimmy; you’ll have to get it out of him.”
Screwing up his face, Gary sighed. That wasn’t going to happen. Loyal through and through, there wasn’t a chance in hell that Jimmy would divulge something like that, especially not to him. “I’ll try,” he finally answered to placate her.
“You’d better do more than try.” She stabbed her finger toward him, her cold green eyes staring intensely. “You’d better do more than fucking try, Gary,” she repeated, leaving the threat to hang heavy in the air.
Gary swallowed deeply. The last thing he wanted to do was make her angry, make her reject him all over again. “I will,” he said, a lot more confidently than he actually felt.
* * *
Resembling a caged animal, Jake Carter rocked backwards and forwards on his heels. Just the sight of his wild eyes, his limp greasy hair hanging loosely across his face, and the knife clutched tightly in his fist was enough to tell anyone with half a brain that he was a very dangerous individual.
Ronald’s mouth had fallen open as he entered the lounge. “What are you doing?” he growled. Quickly, he composed himself. His eyes darted around the room, looking for the knife he had taken out of the kitchen drawer and placed on the coffee table.
It didn’t take him long to realise the weapon clutched in the boy’s hand was the very same knife. He’d been careless. He’d clearly underestimated the boy. He glanced nervously toward the closed front door, estimating in his mind if he had enough time to reach it, before the boy was upon him.
His portly belly slowed him down as he made a dash for it. He was fast, but not fast enough. He could hear the boy’s footsteps behind him, and with beads of cold sweat breaking out across his clammy forehead, his fingertips were just inches away from the door handle when he cried out in fear.
The knife that plunged into his back, brought him to his knees, incapacitating him.
“You no good, dirty bastard.” Jake plunged the knife into Ronald’s flesh once again. “I’m a fucking Carter,” he roared, bringing the knife repeatedly downwards. “I’m a fucking Carter.”
He didn’t stop; he couldn’t stop. Over and over again, Jake stabbed and sliced, oblivious to the sprays of blood that covered him, the walls, and the ceiling. Rage spurned him on. Every moment of terror he had suffered at this man’s hands were his motive.
Finally, he threw the bloodied knife across the floor. His chest heaved heavily, and scrambling backwards, he leant his back against the wall. With his head bowed, his eyes closed, and his hands stained with blood, Jake Carter sat for hours.
* * *
Stepping off of the bus, Sadie looked around him and took in his surroundings. From his position, he noted that it would take just a few short minutes for him to walk to Ronald’s apartment. He pushed away the sickening sensation of fear that flooded through him. He wished now that he’d drank more than a whiskey or two for Dutch courage.
He hadn’t been in this particular area of London since the attack. He hadn’t been anywhere near Ronald’s home since the day the older man had plunged the knife deep into his stomach and thigh. Nerves were beginning to get the better of him and he faltered. Could he really go through with it? Could he just turn up una
nnounced at the man’s home?
Yes, he could, he decided; he had to. He needed to know that the boy was safe and wouldn’t rest until he knew for sure. He rounded the corner and looked up at the Victorian apartment building. Once again, a sickness began to flow through him.
Taking a deep breath, he crossed the road, pushed open the entrance door, and walked across the lobby. His shoes were loud across the mottled marble flooring, and the scent of lemon floor-polish filled his nostrils. His fingers gripped hold of the wrought iron twisted bannister rail, and he looked up the tiled steps. You can do this, he told himself, as he warily made his way upwards.
He came to a stop outside a highly polished black painted front door. In his hand, he held a brass key, a key that Ronald had given him years before. Looking down at the key in his hand, he hesitantly inched it closer toward the lock.
You can do this, he told himself once again, you have to. He slipped the key into the lock, and with his heart in his mouth, he turned it until it gave a loud click. Gingerly, he pushed the door ajar and stepped across the threshold into the dimly lit hallway.
The sight which met him caused his mouth to fall open, and his eyes to widen with shock. The hallway resembled a blood bath. He peered inside even farther and wrinkled his nose at the unmistakable scent of blood. With his back to the wall and his head bowed, sat Jake Carter. At his feet, lay the lifeless, heavily blood-stained butchered body of Ronald Browning.
* * *
Karen Carter had barricaded herself into her bedroom. Terrified, she had returned home, grabbed a carving knife from the cutlery drawer in the kitchen, ran up the staircase, and then pushed the bulky chest of drawers in front of the door. Underneath her mattress, and within easy grasp, she had hidden the weapon. She sat on her bed beside the far wall. Her heart felt as though it had broken into a million little pieces.
Telephone call after telephone call she had ignored. She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t hear the words she knew were going to come. She couldn’t bear to listen to her family tell her that her dad was dead. Somehow, she’d convinced herself that if she didn’t hear the words, then just maybe it wouldn’t be true.
She began to cry. Her eyes were red raw from the salty tears that ran down her cheeks. The problem was, deep down, she knew it was true. Her Uncle Gary and Jack, the man she now knew to be her cousin, Cameron, had shot him. She’d heard the gun shot herself and had seen her uncle’s car parked in front of her dad’s, with her own two eyes.
She jumped at the shrill ring of her mobile phone. She stared down at screen, her eyes wide with fear. It was her Uncle Jonny, her youngest uncle, the one who liked to tease her and play fight. She ignored the call.
She didn’t trust any of them anymore. For all she knew, Uncle Jonny could have been in the warehouse, too. He could have even been the one to have pulled the trigger.
* * *
Ever so carefully, Sadie stepped into the hallway. Careful of where he trod, he manoeuvred around the blood splatter and deep claret coloured pooled blood clots.
“Hello, my lovely.” He spoke softly, not taking his eyes away from the boy. Crouching down beside him, he called his name. “Jake.”
Still, he received no reply. Gently, he took the boy’s hands into his, and gave them a little rub. “Jake,” he repeated.
This time, Jake Carter looked up. His eyes were blank. He looked at Sadie with absolutely no recognition. It was as though he’d never seen him before.
There and then, Sadie’s heart went out to the youngster. He pulled him in toward his body and stroked the boy’s long, dark hair as he rested his head against his chest. “It’s okay, my lovely,” he said as tears filled his eyes. “It’s okay. Sadie’s here. I’ll sort all of this out.”
He looked around him at the devastation young Jake Carter had caused, and he bit down on his lip. There was only one thing he could do, and that was to take the blame. He would tell the police it was he who’d killed the fat bastard. There was no reason why they wouldn’t believe him. All they had to do was look back over his hospital records to see that he’d been attacked in the past.
His mind set, he cradled Jake to him. Why should two lives be ruined by Ronald and men like him? No, he decided, if he could save this poor little lamb from being sent to prison for the majority of his life, then he was more than prepared to do just that.
“It’s okay, my lovely,” he soothed as the boy began to cry. “That’s it, you let it all out.” First thing’s first, he needed to telephone the boy’s father and uncle. Someone had to come and collect him, before he rang the police and confessed to murder.
* * *
Taking the phone call, Jimmy’s face paled. He could barely take in what the caller was telling him. Massaging his temples, he growled into the phone. “I’m coming,” he said.
He switched off the call and looked over at Stacey. Walking forward, he crouched down beside her and spoke privately in her ear.
“I’ve found Jake,” he said. He watched her eyes widen, saw the tears that gathered there, and rested his hand on her arm. “I’m going to go and collect him now.”
“Thank you,” she smiled weakly. She glanced across to her husband, then back to her brother-in-law, and clutched hold of his hand in hers. “Thank you, Jimmy, for bringing my baby back to me.”
Jimmy gave her a small smile and inwardly sighed. From the phone call he’d just received, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be bringing back the same boy that Stacey knew and loved.
* * *
Jimmy climbed out of his car and looked up at the Victorian apartment building. Crossing the road, he quickened his pace, eager to collect his nephew and then get back to the hospital. He walked across the lobby and took the stairs two at a time, before banging his fist on the polished black door.
The door inched open.
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah.” Jimmy attempted to push open the door, only to find Sadie’s body blocking his way. “Well, move out of the fucking way then,” he growled.
Sadie shook his head, aware that Jimmy couldn’t actually see him, he began to speak, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Are you alone?”
“Of course I’m fucking alone.” Jimmy looked up and down the empty corridor as he spat out the words. His patience was being tested to the maximum. He wasn’t in the mood for Sadie and his hysterics, not today of all days. “Just let me fucking in.”
Cautiously, Sadie pulled open the door. He watched Jimmy step across the threshold, watched him lift his hands up to his head, and his eyes widen in shock, as he took in Ronald’s blood-stained body. He gave an involuntary shudder as he noted how quickly the man composed himself. His expression suddenly becoming unreadable.
“Where’s my nephew?” he barked.
Sadie hastily closed the front door, and turned to face Jimmy. “He’s through there. He’s a bit …” He paused, trying to find the right words, and stalling for time, he smoothed down his pencil skirt. “He’s a bit delicate, shall we say.”
“Delicate?” Jimmy could feel the blood drain from his face, and his eyes widened for a second time. There was nothing to suggest that Jake was delicate at all, if the damage he’d caused to the body on the floor was anything to go by.
“Yes, delicate.” Sadie led the way through to the lounge. “Jake, my lovely,” he called out. “Someone is here to see you.”
Jake Carter took one look at his uncle standing in the doorway, and scrambled to his feet. He looked around him, desperate for an escape route. “Stay away from me,” he shouted. His face was pale and his eyes wide. “Just stay the fuck away from me.”
“Whoa.” Shocked to the core at his nephew’s appearance, Jimmy held up his hands. Just one glance at Jake’s limp greasy hair, wide eyes, and blood-stained hands and clothing, was enough to tell him that Sadie was telling the truth and that Jake really had killed the man laid out in the hallway. “Come on, Jake, don’t be scared. It’s me, your Uncle Jimmy.”
“What did you tell h
im to come here for?” Jake screamed. He ran across the room, a sense of panic set in, and he made to barge past his uncle, desperate to get out of the flat and away from the big man.
With ease, Jimmy pulled his nephew into his arms and restrained him. “Calm the fuck down,” he growled, as he tightened his grip.
“Why did you phone him?” Jake repeated. Tears of frustration streamed down his cheeks. “He’ll tell me dad.” This way and that way, he wriggled his body, but it was no use. He couldn’t get out of the hold his uncle had on him.
Finally, he slumped forward and began to sob, barely able to catch his breath. He just knew that his Uncle Jimmy was going to tell his dad that he was here, and even more than that, he knew that he would tell his dad about Ronald, about the club, about the men. “Please, just let me go,” he cried.
His face sombre, Jimmy shook his head. “Not until you’ve calmed the fuck down.”
“Please,” Jake sobbed. His shoulders heaved with every breath he took. “Please, don’t tell me dad.”
Momentarily, Jimmy closed his eyes. The boy didn’t even know his father was in Intensive Care, barely clinging to life. “Just sit down,” he said, as he wrestled Jake toward the sofa. “Sit down and tell me what the fuck has gone on here.”
Jake shook his head and wiped the back of his hand across his face, wiping away the tears and snot that streamed from his eyes and nose. The fear he felt had caused his mouth to feel suddenly dry, leaving him unable to speak.
“His name is Ronald Browning, or should that be, was?” It was Sadie who spoke, and he tilted his head to one side as he thought his own question through. “Anyway,” he said, flapping his hand dismissively and turning his head toward the hallway to look at Ronald’s lifeless body, “the nasty, fat bugger deserved everything he had coming to him.”
