by Jack Probyn
Was he on the hit list?
Like any good criminal, he needed to make sure he had an alibi at all times. And the last person he’d ever expected to be his was Jake. After they’d finished their call, The Farmer and his crew had bolted out of the house and raced back to their unmarked black van.
Odd.
Something didn’t seem right. They’d been in and out too quick – too quick to kill a man at least. No screaming, no ear-shattering sound of bullets. Not even enough time to kill a man and dress it up to make it look like suicide – as they were wont to do.
Drew needed to inspect. Needed to know what they would be dealing with.
He opened the car door and slipped out, recced the area for any signs that he was being followed and then headed towards the house. Keeping his head low, he skipped across the road and up onto the pavement, jogged towards the front door and then donned a pair of forensic gloves.
The door had been left ajar.
Drew hesitated as he crossed the threshold into Richard’s house. He listened and waited for any sign of life, any sign of movement, any sign of someone – or something – being there that he didn’t want.
There was nothing. Just his paranoia playing tricks on him again. And, by now, the drugs in his system had worn off and he was running on pure paranoia, rather than the drug-induced type that he’d been accustomed to since he’d started using again. It wasn’t his fault he was slowly becoming addicted. It was the pressures of the job. The stresses of his home life. The non-existent relationship he had with his wife. He hadn’t even seen her in six weeks. For all he knew she could be halfway across the world and he wouldn’t even know. She was probably being fucked by someone right now. Wouldn’t be the first time. The stupid little bitch.
Before he knew it, the stairs stopped and he was standing in the mouth of Richard’s bedroom, where he’d been less than an hour before. He poked his head through but saw nothing, and then moved down the hallway into the bathroom.
He paused as soon as he noticed the puddle of water by the door, and swallowed. Gently, already afraid of what was on the other side, he pushed.
Richard Maddison was lying there in the bathtub, his body submerged under the water, his arms resting atop the surface. There were two incisions on his wrists, and blood was flooding out of them like they were holes in a dam, staining the water a dark crimson colour.
Drew took a step back to observe the room. The taps were turned off and there was water overflowing the lip of the tub. Rivers of red dribbled down the side of the plastic to be absorbed by the bath mat. On the walls, fingerprints and smears stained the white tiles. Richard’s wet and matted hair floated as his body lay perfectly still.
Drew tried to process what had taken place, but no immediate answers presented themselves. Had The Farmer and his associates slit Richard’s wrists and then run out? Had he bled out in the time it had taken Drew to enter the house and find his body? Or had he already killed himself, and The Farmer had simply stumbled upon him? Was there a tussle? Had Richard tried to defend himself?
The thoughts were deafening, screaming in his ears. A tremendous pressure pushed down on his head and he clutched the sides of his skull, squeezing the pain away. But he soon realised it was there to stay, like the wedding ring stuck round his finger because he was too much of a pussy to confront his own wife about her adultery.
Soon after, the pain gave way and opened the avenue for a torrent of paranoia to flush through his mind. Richard Maddison was dead. And he was next. No doubt about it. He didn’t know how, nor why, nor when. He just knew that he was next.
He turned on the spot, keeping his arms down. The last thing he wanted was to incriminate himself by planting his own DNA all over the scene. There was no amount of procedure that would protect him from that – especially if The Cabal became involved somehow.
Just as he was about to turn his back on the bathroom, a figure appeared out the corner of his eye.
‘Jesus fucking shit!’ Drew yelled.
‘Easy, mate,’ said Garrison who was standing at the top of the steps with his hands in his pockets, looking like Drew was the one in the wrong. ‘Only me.’
‘The fuck you doing here?’
‘Making sure everything’s all right.’
‘Well, it ain’t,’ Drew replied. ‘Richard Maddison’s fucking dead, Pete. And I don’t know if he killed himself or if he was killed. But, either way, you and I need to start looking out for each other. We’re in this together, right?’
‘Of course mate,’ Garrison said. ‘Of course we are. Which is why I’m going to need you to do exactly as I tell you.’
CHAPTER 37
ARRIVAL
By the time Jake arrived at Richard Maddison’s property, the emergency responders who’d been called to the scene were just beginning to set up their forward control point at the inner and outer cordons. A small portion of the street had been cordoned off, and the neighbours were beginning to gather like blowflies, buzzing for the latest in street gossip. At the foot of the porch was a forensic van. Jake hurried over to it, grabbed a full forensic bodysuit and donned it. Just as he was about to slip through the cordon and into the house, one of the uniformed officers called him back.
‘Have you signed in?’
Jake replied sheepishly that he hadn’t and quickly scribbled his details on the page before entering the house.
The building was swarming with scene of crime officers. Each SOCO was wearing the same oversuit, and it quickly became difficult to discern anyone from anyone. He relied on his knowledge and intuition of Drew’s height, build and stance to find his colleague. Fortunately, he was a small man, which narrowed down the field somewhat.
Jake moved through the house, stepping on the footpads that the SOCOs had already laid down, and climbed the stairs.
He found Drew at the top, hovering by the bedroom door frame. Jake tapped him on the shoulder. His colleague spun around and his body jolted as he recognised Jake before him.
‘Scared the shit outta me,’ Drew said.
Jake chuckled. ‘Sorry, mate. What’s happened?’
‘Richard Maddison’s dead. Suicide. Slit his wrists in the bathtub. Bled out in the tub and onto the floor.’
‘Jesus…’ Jake felt at a loss for words, but then he realised where he was and who he was in the company of. ‘How does this… how does this affect us?’ He kept his voice low as he spoke, lest any of the SOCOs overhear.
Drew pulled him into the bedroom. There was a SOCO rummaging through the contents of the wardrobes, taking dozens of photographs of the clothes in situ and documenting the evidence. Drew ordered him to leave.
‘It’s fine,’ he said as soon as the scene of crime officer was gone. ‘If anything, it’s perfect. Pukka. Sorts us out nicely. Him killing himself makes it look like his guilt was too much.’
‘Did you get a chance to plant the evidence?’ Jake kicked himself as he realised he’d made the same mistake again and forgotten to record the conversation. His mind was in a whirlwind – still reeling from the news about Danika – and it was difficult for him to think clearly.
‘Kiddie porn on his laptop and cement dust on his clothes.’
Drew pointed to the laptop and the washing basket that had been removed from the wardrobe. Jake noticed a piece of paper with scribbles on it on the floor beside the desk chair. He said nothing.
‘My guess is he found the evidence and then realised there was no way out. Now we make it look like his guilt compelled him into committing suicide. You said yourself he’s got a history of depression, and we’ve got a link between him and Danny. Everything’s pukka.’ He gave Jake a slap on the back. ‘I knew you’d come true. I should have always had faith.’
Drew winked at him and then left the room, leaving Jake alone.
He was in shock. His body turned cold and a fat knot formed in his stomach, crippling him. His worst fear had just come true. The thing he didn’t want to happen just had. And Drew had confi
rmed it. He’d helped murder Richard Maddison and helped Liam, Drew and Garrison get away with it.
All thought escaped him. His mind turned blank and he stared at the clock on the wall, wishing he could roll back the hours, days, months, years and change everything.
A knock on the door distracted him.
It was Garrison. He was squinting, and the lines around his eyes looked like dark ravines.
‘You all right, pal?’ Garrison asked.
‘Stellar,’ Jake replied.
‘You wanna see the body?’
Jake shrugged. ‘Might as well,’ he said, getting back into character again.
Garrison stepped out of the way and allowed Jake through. He made a left turn into the bathroom next door, the sound of his overshoe protectors squelching on the floor and bath mat. Richard Maddison’s head was surrounded by bloody water, resting beside the tap. The colour had drained from his skin, and his arms were resting on the side of the tub. The incisions he’d made to kill himself were two inches across and at least half an inch wide. The knot tightened and made Jake gag. That he’d been partly responsible for pushing this man to the edge made him want to vomit.
He swallowed it down.
Jake surveyed the room, searching for any abnormalities, anomalies. And then he remembered what Drew had told him: that a group had stormed into Richard’s house moments after Richard himself. Maybe there was more to this than he thought. Maybe it was a cover-up. Maybe The Farmer and his associates had slaughtered Richard and made it look like a suicide. Maybe they’d made a mess and left signs of their presence without realising it.
Jake searched the walls and scrutinised everything he saw. To his left was a towel rack. Beside it, facing him, was the toilet. And that was it. Nothing untoward about any of it.
But then he saw it. How wrong he was.
A footprint, muddy, on the floor, on the corner of the bath mat. And it looked as though it hadn’t been spotted by any of the SOCOs. But there was another problem – Garrison. The man was standing directly behind him. If he was going to secure it as evidence and overturn their suicide theory, then he couldn’t do it with Garrison there.
‘Must’ve been a horrible way to go,’ Jake said as he spun on the spot to face Garrison.
‘There’s no easy way…’ Garrison replied.
As Jake moved closer to the door, something in the corner of his eye struck him. It was a blood smear, and the indentations of the fingerprint were thick and clear. He couldn’t believe it. He had a muddy footprint and a bloody fingerprint where it shouldn’t have been.
He was onto—
‘Jake! Garrison!’ a voice called from the stairwell.
‘What do you want, Drew?’
‘We gotta go,’ Drew said as he came into view halfway up the stairs. ‘Guv’s called a meeting.’
Fuck.
‘All right, we’ll be done in a sec,’ Garrison replied and started towards the landing.
Double fuck.
There was no opportunity to photograph or examine the fingerprint closely. But he had an idea: the SOCO working in the bathroom. Yes. She could do it.
Jake snapped his fingers, caught the SOCO’s attention and then pointed at the mud on the floor and the smear on the door.
‘Jake!’ It was Garrison. ‘You coming or what?’
Jake snapped his head towards his colleague. ‘Yeah… Yeah… I’m coming… Yeah.’
He gave one last look at Richard Maddison, as if to offer penance for being responsible for his death, and then left the bathroom, hoping the scene of crime officer had understood what he was talking about.
‘Guv’s called us back to the office,’ Garrison told him as they stepped out of their forensic suits.
‘Any idea what it’s about?’
‘He’s probably gonna have a little bitch fit. His press conference didn’t go so well.’
‘Oh?’
‘Apparently that Oliver Penrose bloke turned up unannounced so they shut the whole thing down.’
‘Oh dear…’
Jake was grateful that he had his own car to go back to where he could collect his thoughts on the drive back to Bow Green, though that was easier said than done. There was so much going on that he didn’t know what to focus on first. And before he’d finally settled on something, he was back at the station.
As the three of them entered MIT, nerves began wracking Jake’s body. They were amplified by what he saw in front of him.
Seated in the vacant desk opposite his was a woman that he didn’t recognise. She was dressed smartly in a suit with the sleeves rolled up. Beneath the suit, she wore a blouse with navy-blue anchors on it. She had wavy blonde hair and wore thickly rimmed white glasses and had a complexion to match.
‘Hey!’ she said, smiling ebulliently. She advanced towards them, holding her hand out.
‘Who might you be?’ Garrison asked as he and Drew stood either side of Jake.
‘My name’s Charlotte. I’m from Croydon. Part of the Major Investigation Team there.’
All three of them stared at her blankly.
‘Has nobody told you?’ she asked.
‘Told us what?’ Drew took his turn to speak.
‘I’m the new DI. I’ve been seconded to help with your investigation. I start tomorrow, but I just wanted to introduce myself today while all the paperwork’s being finalised.’
Jake’s mouth fell open. It was as if the stars had aligned and a weight had lifted from his shoulders. For once he didn’t feel like he was alone anymore. He knew exactly who Charlotte was and the reason she was there.
She was going to help him convict Liam, Drew and Garrison.
CHAPTER 38
INTERFERENCE
Jake’s mouth was wide open – caught in the middle of a yawn – as he attempted to spoon a mountain of cornflakes into his mouth. On a normal day, he would save himself for when he arrived at the office and ransack the canteen on the ground floor – where he’d pick up his favourite of scrambled eggs on toast with a strawberry yoghurt for dessert. But today wasn’t any normal day. Nor was there any time for him to fit that in.
Charlotte was joining the team. And he wanted to be ready for her arrival.
Since seeing her standing there, in the station, looking happy and excited to be there, he’d been unable to focus on anything else. It was like he was a child at Christmas, only focused on the presents. What surprised him most though was just how fast the DPS had managed to deploy a fully operable undercover officer. Less than twenty-four hours. Some sort of record, he thought.
Jake just hoped she was well prepared and had been briefed with as much detail as possible. That she had her legend in place. He knew what Liam, Drew and Garrison were like when it came to newcomers. Tenacious. Hell-bent on breaking apart every facet of whatever backstory her handler had created for her.
Charlotte’s presence created a minefield of potential pitfalls for him too. With the rest of the team watching her every movement suspiciously, how would he make initial contact? Outside of work or in? What if he risked blowing her cover and got her taken off the case – or, worse, killed – just like he’d been responsible for what had happened to Richard Maddison?
It was a lot to think about.
Fortunately, he was greeted with a welcome distraction in the form of Elizabeth. She was dressed in the purple gown that hugged the contours of her body, her hair flowing down to the small of her back, and as she wandered into the kitchen, she rubbed her eyes and attempted to stifle a yawn with her hand.
‘What’re you doing up?’ he asked as she moved towards the kettle. ‘Why aren’t you sleeping with the kids?’
‘Good morning to you too.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant.’ Jake set the spoon down in the bowl.
‘Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me. And when it feels like the morning is the only time I get to see you, I don’t know how to take that. I hardly ever catch you now, Jake.’ She grabbed a mug and put th
ree heaped spoonfuls of instant coffee into it, followed by two spoonfuls of sugar. After she finished, she faced him, resting her back against the kitchen surface. ‘I’m worried about us.’
‘Why?’ Jake pushed the bowl into the middle of the table. He didn’t feel like eating anymore.
‘You’re never here, and when you are, I’m always too tired, and so are you. These hours you’re working are unforgiving. I’m exhausted from looking after the kids all day. I don’t have any time to unwind and relax and focus on my photography like I want to. And then we’ve got all of these bills that just seem to be mounting and mounting and mounting. And I don’t know when it’s just going to—’ She paused, looked down at the ground and inhaled sharply, like she was preparing herself to deliver the final powerful blow. ‘It’s just… it’s happening all at once, and I feel like it’s beginning to put a strain on our marriage.’
Jake opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He wanted to run over to her and hug her, embrace her, hold her, comfort her, support her – do anything that would allay her fears and put her mind at ease. They’d never argued like this, and he’d hoped they never would.
But there was something she’d said that had annoyed him.
‘Funny you should say that…’ he began.
‘What’re you talking about?’
He pointed to one of the letters on the island in the centre of the kitchen.
‘When were you going to tell me about this one?’
It was the car insurance bill that had come through a couple of weeks before, telling him that he owed over a thousand pounds. The letter beside it was from the same company, thanking him for the recent payment.
‘I don’t remember paying that off,’ he said sternly. ‘So who did?’
Elizabeth fell silent; even the sound of her breath was muted.
