Unspoken Truths

by Liz Mistry

  He waited till he heard the intruder move into the kitchen, closing the door behind them, before leaving his hiding place. As if sensing his presence, the intruder swung towards Gus. He was tall and skinny, dressed in black. A balaclava covered his head. It was clear that he wasn’t Daniel. Daniel was more stooped and carried more weight. Well, whoever it was, Gus was about to find out what this guy wanted breaking into Alice’s house. Gus fancied his chances. However, he hadn’t anticipated the speed of the other man’s reactions.

  As he moved forward, the other man lifted his hand to waist level and swung the bag he was carrying at Gus’ knees. Caught by surprise, Gus’ legs collapsed and he fell to the ground, landing on one knee. Pushing himself upright, the intruder grabbed his dreads and pulled his head forward, before kicking him in the face. The taste of blood was immediate as his nose burst, sending a gush down the back of his throat. As the intruder retracted his foot, Gus grabbed it and twisted, pushing upwards as he did so. The other man hopped twice before crashing to the floor, his arms catching the table and knocking a plant pot to the floor as he fell.

  Gus drew his sleeve across his bloody nose and propelled himself to his feet. Leaning over, he grabbed the intruder by the collar and, pulling back one arm, fingers fisted, he paused, breath heaving in his chest, heart pounding. With deliberate effort he relaxed his fingers and released his grip, allowing the other man to fall back to the floor, his head cracking on the tiles. Jaw tense, Gus released a slow breath and counted to five. ‘Get that fucking mask off your face and tell me what the hell you’re doing here.’

  The intruder pushed himself up on his elbows. When he spoke, it was in accented English. ‘Fuck you.’

  Gus stepped closer and leaned over the prone figure, wishing he’d slammed his fist into his face earlier when he had the chance. He reached out to the mask and grabbed it. It slipped off the man’s head at the same time as he raised a knee and connected with Gus’ testicles.

  ‘Fuuuck!’ The pain shot through him, his scrotum shrivelling into his belly. As Gus stumbled backwards, his hands cupped the aching area, barely able to control the nausea. The intruder, jumped to his feet, grabbed his tool box and dived towards the door. Wrenching it open, he ran outside into the blizzard, casting a backwards glance at Gus. In that moment, Gus saw that beneath his stubble, it was clear the man’s skin was tanned. His attacker looked like someone more used to Mediterranean climes than the snow they were having now.

  The blast of air, brought Gus round and he staggered out in pursuit, trying to push the pain to the back of his mind. His legs wobbled yet, despite the sweat on his brow, shivers wracked his body. Straining his eyes through the blizzard, Gus saw a shadowy figure disappearing through Alice’s back gate. He followed, knowing that any footprints would soon disappear in the blizzard. The snow sucked at his feet, and his legs, leaden, struggled to pull each foot from the snowy quagmire.

  He followed the figure through the gate and looked both ways. Barely discernible footprints furrowed the snow in both directions along the back alley. Looked like the fucker had the presence of mind to leave in the opposite direction from which he’d arrived, leaving Gus with a fifty-fifty chance of following the right route.

  Taking pot luck, Gus headed to the right, hoping that the masked intruder would double back towards Victoria Road. However, he’d barely rounded the bend when a growling engine heading up towards Bingley Road told him he was too late.

  Trudging back to Alice’s house, he thought over what had happened. The intruder was definitely not Daniel and from his accent he was not Bradford born. Which made him wonder exactly what was so important that he had to stage a break-in in the middle of the worst snowstorm Bradford had seen for years. He was convinced that the attempted burglary was about Izzie’s murder rather than Alice’s current position. When he reached the door, he scooped up a handful of snow, carried it indoors and grabbing a nearby tea towel, wrapped the snow in it. After securing the door, he headed back upstairs to Alice’s office, phoned for a CSI team and sat down welcoming the cool ice pack on his groin as he went over the evening’s events. What exactly had Izzie been up to?

  25

  04:15 Epsom General Hospital Surrey

  It wasn’t the dull but insistent throb in her breast that kept Alice awake. It was fear. Fear and worry, and anger and disappointment. Despite her best efforts to convince Gus of her complicity – her duplicity, the sadness in his eyes had curdled her heart. She’d never seen him look so disappointed, so betrayed. How she’d held it together, she would never know. The later visit from Sean Kennedy had been traumatic and painful, yet it hadn’t affected her like Gus’ had. Where Gus’ visit had torn her soul from her, Sean’s had lit a fire in her gut. If she ever got out of this mess, Sean Kennedy would be dead. Her fingers clutched the bed sheets and her lips tightened. Sean Kennedy better stick to his word and leave her parents alone. If he didn’t, she’d kill him. Hell, either way, she’d kill him. He’d pushed her over a precipice and there was no going back for her. Not now. Her sole aim was to get revenge. No matter how long she had to wait, that slimy bastard would pay.

  The only thing was getting through this. Till now she’d sworn Gus to secrecy, to keep her parents out of the loop. Now that she’d admitted blame, all bets would be off. Too many truths left unspoken. Would he phone her parents and let them know what she’d done? The thought of her mother’s frown as she tried to make sense of what her changeling baby had become broke her heart. Her father would try to be stoical in that tentative way he had. His specs would be taken off and put back on again repeatedly. They’d be ashamed of her. Their little Alice. The child they hadn’t expected to ever have. The child that, despite not fully understanding her, they loved so much. Would their love shrivel and die? Would they hate her?

  The trouble was she didn’t trust Sean Kennedy an inch and she had been forced to alienate the one person she could have trusted to help her. Now, she was on her own and her enemies were everywhere – Sean Kennedy had made sure of that.

  The door opened and Alice tensed. She could tell from the heavy footsteps that it was a different prison officer. Change of shift apparently. She recognised him. He was the one who’d turned a blind eye when Hairy Mary and her crew had got her in the showers, the one who’d stood back and let Baby Jane do her worst, so she knew he was in Sean Kennedy’s pocket. Gripping the plastic fork, she’d managed to swipe and hide under the blanket after Sean’s visit, she kept her hand under the sheet. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. She’d only be able to use it if he came close enough and she’d only use it if he was a threat.

  The footsteps paused and Alice held her breath, releasing it only when she heard him turn retreat. Thank God. He was only checking on her. Probably just getting a rise out of panicking her up, no doubt on Kennedy’s orders.

  Seconds later she heard the turning of the slats of the blinds that covered the small window on the door. She jerked round and saw that he’d closed them and had now turned towards her, a purposeful look on his face. Hoarfrost rushed through her veins as she saw him moving towards her pulling on his belt, a grin on his face. The final shred of humanity faded and her mind went into survival mode. Meeting his gaze, she used the freezing shock coursing through her body to focus. An image of a brittle icy superhero flitted into her mind and she smiled recognising the figure as herself.

  ‘You ready for me, bitch?’

  A wave of Millions aftershave drifted to her – her favourite – until now. Two steps closer, she could see his cock pushing against his boxers, smell the underlying musk of excitement. He was like a feral animal – the expensive scent not covering his skunk’s stench. With one hand in his boxers, releasing his erection, he slipped on a condom and flipped the sheet up from the bottom of the bed, revealing Alice’s tiny frame in her faded green hospital gown.

  Alice gripped the fork tighter. She was in no position to move. Wires sprung from her arms attaching her to the machine by her side. Should
she yell? No point. Bastard would have cleared it with his mate outside the door. As he climbed onto the bed, knees forcing her legs open, Alice tensed her lower limbs and made to raise her arm, but he gripped her arms, pressing his bulk onto her, making her immobile. Her entire body was on fire and under his weight she could barely breathe, never mind move.

  When he was done he collapsed onto her chest, breath coming in hard gasps, musk filling the air around her and released his grip on her arms. Alice, able to move now, lifted her arm and with a strength she hadn’t realised she still had, grabbed his hair with one hand. Before he had a chance to react she pulled her left arm from beneath the sheet and sunk the fork into his neck. He yelped and tried to grab her hand. She used her adrenalin to raise her head and fastening her teeth around his nose, she bit as hard as she could, all the while remembering Baby Jane’s triumphant look, when she’d bitten off her nipple. Alice fed on her anger and kept biting, ignoring his scrabbling arms and the iron taste in her mouth. She stretched her other hand to her side and pressed the emergency button, before releasing her jaws. Using the last of her strength, she tipped him, still whimpering, onto the floor.

  Within seconds the door burst open and Alice’s nurse rushed through. She stopped dead, looking at the prison guard, trousers round his ankle, flaccid penis still with a condom on, nose gushing blood and plastic fork stuck in his neck. Moving to stand beside Alice, she took her phone from her pocket and dialled.

  26

  05:15 Titus Street, Saltaire

  As he hobbled upstairs, Gus’ testicles throbbed like he’d been kicked by a shire horse. Going back into Alice’s office, he jammed the door wedge under the door with a force born of pain and frustration. The intruder had gone – he was sure of that – but no point in taking chances. At least if the door was open he’d hear any further break-in attempts. More importantly though, he’d be able to hear when the crime scene team arrived and head downstairs to meet them. He didn’t want them guessing he’d been searching through Alice’s stuff.

  His groin pain hadn’t diminished and the ice in the tea towel had no effect other than to leave a wet patch on the front of his jeans, as if he’d pissed himself. Just what he needed with the CSIs en route. Knowing his damn luck, it’d be Hissing Sid too. He could imagine the senior crime scene investigator spreading the word far and wide. Every crime scene from now on in would be a bloody fiasco. Tena Lady’s would be planted on his desk alongside portable urinals and men pads – Joy!

  Pulling himself to his feet, Gus vacated Alice’s office chair and wandered into what had been her bedroom. Surely Izzie would have a hairdryer or something he could use to dry his trousers. No way was he stripping off downstairs and putting them in the tumble dryer – that would be even more ammunition for Hissing Sid. Spotting a hairdryer, covered in fingerprint dusting powder, he plugged it in and tried to dry off his jeans, praying that Sid wouldn’t arrive till the patch was less obvious. Five minutes of heat to his balls did nothing to alleviate the pain and little to dry the patch, so he gave up and went back into Alice’s office. There on her desk was the Matchbox Mini he’d given her the Christmas before last. He’d had it custom built with a little blue light on the roof. When you pressed it, it played Alice Cooper’s – the real one, as Alice called him – No More Mr Nice Guy. Turns out that Alice Cooper rock star was probably more genuine than his Alice. He picked up the car and pressed the light, remembering Alice’s gleeful grin when she’d opened it. A lot had happened since then. A lot of shared memories, a lot of sadness, some joy, plenty of laughs. But above all a deep and, or so he’d thought, lasting friendship. One he would miss every day. He put the car back on the desk and hardened his heart. No more sentimentality. He’d had his fill of dirty coppers and if Alice was one, then he’d had his fill of her too.

  The thing was, Gus was honest enough to admit, if only to himself, it was personal to him. Her betrayal gutted him just when he was beginning to have faith in humanity again. Just when he needed her to be real, to be true. So, he did the only thing he could do and opened her drawers and began to search for something to either confirm or refute what she’d admitted to. Surely, she couldn’t have lived a lie like that for so long without leaving some evidence dotted around. He pulled each drawer out and slid his hand inside the gap, searching for concealed envelopes or any indication that Alice was hiding things, but it was to no avail.

  Truth was, deep down inside he was aware that it was a pointless exercise. If Alice had pulled the wool over his eyes for so long she’d be smart enough not to leave anything incriminating behind. Besides, her house had been searched before. At the back of his mind was the thought that Alice may have outsmarted them all and hidden something so well, it would be impossible for them to find.

  Giving up, he sat down and swivelled back and forth on the chair trying to take his mind off both Alice and the pain. Where the hell was the crime scene team? A tingle at his temple told him he was due one of his headaches. The ones that often signalled a series of palpitations and sometimes a major panic attack. He wasn’t surprised. After everything that had happened over the last few days, his worries over Alice and the rest of the team and now the kick to his balls, he’d been through the mill. He was only just holding it together. Since Sampson’s death before Christmas, a ball of spiky anger had settled in his chest, niggling him constantly. Getting sharper for no reason at the most inconsequential of things. He’d even yelled at his mother and that, in Gus’ book, was a cardinal sin. She, under no circumstances, deserved to be on the receiving end of his anger. It had made him edgy. He’d been cutting corners a bit, being less sympathetic at interview, keener to take on the bad guy role and somehow been more effective that he used to be. Nancy had told him that he was cloaked in coldness sometimes – he grinned, he was certainly cold now. Alice’s central heating was less than efficient.

  The doorbell rang and Gus jumped to his feet. That’d be Sid and his team no doubt. He walked to the door and tried to dislodge the wedge – no point in risking any questions about why he was there rather than downstairs in the relative comfort of the living room. The wedge wouldn’t budge. Fuck’s sake. In his temper earlier, he’d rammed it under the door so hard, that now the damn thing was stuck. He kicked it again, but still it wouldn’t move. The doorbell rang again, so he bent down and tried to prise it out with his fingers. As he squeezed it, it collapsed a little at the broad end. Cursing again, he yanked it harder and when it came out he saw that the back part had come loose. He frowned and lifted it up. There was something inside.

  The doorbell rang – an elongated ring now. Sid was getting impatient. Tipping up the wedge, Gus inserted two fingers and gripped the contents. For a second he looked at what he’d discovered and grinned. Gottya Alice! He popped it in his pocket and went downstairs and opened the door. ‘For God’s sake Sid, I was in the loo. Can’t you even wait for a couple of minutes?’

  27

  06:20 Best Lane, Oxenhope

  Mickey – glad that she’d invested in a four by four with snow tyres – had managed to get home in one piece. She’d had a few near misses and had crawled along at a snail’s pace. It had taken her nearly two hours by the time she’d abandoned her vehicle on the main street and trekked up to her home with its welcoming lights that had been set to timer. Since her husband had gone off with her best friend and her son had gone to uni, there was no one to make sure she came home to a welcoming glow behind the curtains. No, that was just another one of the many tasks she’d taken upon herself to ensure she didn’t feel she was rattling about in a mausoleum.

  Every bone in her body ached with the cold and her toes and fingers had taken ages to thaw. She’d poured herself a large gin and tonic and flung herself on the couch, wondering if perhaps she should have taken on the cat her neighbour had tried to force on her. At least a cat wouldn’t desert her for her best friend, or the appeal of a university so far away that she was limited to the occasional Skype call and the odd Whatsapp message. She pu
lled the fleece blanket over her legs and settled down for the night. The living room was cosy and the thought of warming up a huge king-size bed on her own fell far short of her hopes for her home life when she’d turned fifty. She would sleep on the couch like she’d done most nights for the past few months.

  She allowed her mind to wander, the soporific benefits of the gin and tonic making her drowsy. It wasn’t that she was lonely exactly. Her job kept her too busy for that, it was just that she felt betrayed by the men in her life. Whilst she’d focussed on her career to make sure they could afford a house in the country and private education for Freddie, her husband had been planning his grand escape with affair after affair. The thing is, she’d been too busy to notice and, truth be told, too much in love with her job to care. Now, here she was rattling about in a big house without even a cat for company. Who am I kidding? I’d forget to feed the cat and I’m never home anyway. No, a cat’s a bad idea – a very bad idea.

  When she woke it was still dark outside, although it was morning. She had an uncomfortable crick in her neck, a bitter gin aftertaste in her mouth and a faint sweaty smell filtered up to her nose as she flicked off the fleece. Barefoot she padded over to the window and pulled the string to open the curtains. Overnight the blizzard had obliterated her footprints and it looked like no one bar, judging from the prints, a three-legged fox had ventured out overnight. Cursing herself for making the journey home, Mickey wished she’d just bedded down at The Fort overnight. Now she was stranded. No way would Sandy Lane, between Oxenhope and Bradford, be passable in this weather. She turned over, flicked on the TV in search of the weather forecast, the results of which upset her even more. Calendar News.