Closer Than Blood: An addictive and gripping crime thriller

Chapter 4

It was dark when they finally called off the search. I stayed there on the wall, eyes searching the waves as lifeboats and a coastguard dinghy cut frothy white lines in the water.

Sometime during the evening a thoughtful police officer, one of those waiting nearby in case anything was found, had brought me a cup of coffee, but other than that I’d been left alone with my thoughts.

What I wanted, I realised, was closure. Even though Dad and I had given up hope, I realised now that a tiny part of me had never really believed that Jake was dead. Now I faced the same agony again, and I admitted to myself that I would rather know he was dead than spend more years wondering. Criminal he might be, but he was my brother and a part of me still loved him.

“Sarge?” The voice made me turn to see a young officer, face all but hidden in the twilight.

“What’s up?”

“They’re calling off the search, too dark.” He sounded apologetic.

“Thanks, I hadn’t realised how late it was.”

“You need a lift back?”

“No thanks,” I shook my head. “I’ve got a car nearby.”

He nodded and left. I stayed there a while longer, shivering slightly as the wind picked up, bringing with it the briny scent of the sea. Then, when the lights dotted along the top of the wall began to glow faint orange, I turned and made my way back to the car. I was dreading what I had to do next. I had two choices, and each one left me with a sour taste in my mouth. Did I tell my dad that Jake had been alive that morning, allowing him the false hope that that might still be the case, or did I stay quiet and lie by omission? What made it worse was that I couldn’t get his advice on the matter. Ever since I was young he’d been the one I turned to when I had a problem I couldn’t solve on my own, and I’d come to rely on his support the same way I relied on the fact there was air to breathe.

By the time I reached the Hospice in Woodingdean, a little under ten minutes’ drive from the marina, I still hadn’t made a decision.

It was beautiful, with sprawling red-brick buildings and gardens both sculpted and natural-looking, and it occurred to me that there were worse places to spend your last days. They had managed to instil an air of tranquillity, and as I climbed out of the car and walked towards the door I could barely hear the traffic passing on the busy road nearby.

I punched the code into the door and heard the lock release, letting myself in to be hit by the smell of roast beef and baked bread. Unlike the hospital Dad had been in until recently, the food here was excellent and right up to the point he’d lost his appetite he was constantly remarking that he hadn’t eaten so will since Mum was with us.

I waved at one of the nurses as I climbed the stairs to his room. Dad had only been here for a week but already I was a familiar face, coming as I did both before and after work every day. I paused outside his door and knocked loudly, hearing the muffled sounds of the TV through the wood.

“Come.”

I opened it and stepped inside, forcing a smile as he saw me and beamed.

“Dad,” I crossed to the bed and gave him a careful hug. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad, all things considered. Managed a bit of beef today.”

“That’s good.” I pulled up an armchair and sunk into it. He looked, for want of a better phrase, like death. Never a small man, despite his short stature, he had ballooned in the last few years. The only exercise he’d had since Mum passed away had been walking the dog, Lily. But when she too passed on Dad had done little more than potter around the garden. Now, his skin hung in yellow folds, drooping towards his jaw. Dark circles rimmed his feverish eyes, and he looked more frail than I had ever thought to see him. I turned away and stared at the TV.

“What you watching?” I blinked to bring the blurry figures into focus.

“Gardening programmes, mostly. Speaking of which, Sylvia from number 72 popped in to see me earlier, I’ve agreed to do her garden when I’m back on my feet.”

I looked at him, unsure what to say. Pancreatic cancer wasn’t the sort of thing you ‘got back on your feet’ from, and my father was not a stupid man, but there were times when he acted as though he had nothing more than a touch of the flu.

“I’m not stupid,” he said, echoing my thoughts, “but I’m hoping I’ll rally enough to get outside one more time at least.”

“I hope so, Dad, I really do.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see. Have you eaten? I’m sure they’ll feed you if you’re hungry, they always offer.”

The tears came then, and I couldn’t stop them. Here he was on his deathbed, still trying to look after me instead of the other way around.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice thick, “or you’ll start me off.”

“Sorry Dad, I just …” I reached out and took his hand, surprised at how strong his grip was even now.

“I know.”

I sniffed a few times and shook my head, then suddenly I reached a decision.

“Dad, Jake’s alive.” I blurted the words out before I could change my mind.

The grip, strong before, became iron.

“Say that again.”

“Jake’s alive, or at least he was this afternoon.”

Behind his glasses, Dad’s eyes grew wide. “What? How?”

“It’s a bit complicated.”

“Just tell me!” My fingers grew white from the strength of his grip. I sighed in relief as he finally released my hand and pushed himself up on his pillows.

And so I told him, relaying the whole thing from start to finish and leaving nothing out. By the time I finished, he too was crying, silent tears running down his cheeks to lose themselves in the folds of skin around his jaw.

“Gareth,” he said after a long moment. “You have to find him. I don’t care what he’s done, I need to know that he’s safe. Please, Gareth.”

“Dad,” I warned, “If I see him I’m going to have to arrest him. Anything less and I might lose my job or worse. Besides, he might not even be alive, there’s no guarantee he survived that fall.”

“He did, he must have done. Everything happens for a reason, my boy, and Jake reappearing now can’t be coincidence. And at least if you arrest him I know he’ll be safe.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start looking.”

“Really? I can already think of one place you might try.”

“Where?”

“You told him I was here, right?”

“Not where exactly, but I told him you were in a hospice.”

“Then he knows my place is empty. Where better to hide than somewhere you already know?”

The moment he said it I knew he was right. Jake might not want to bring trouble to Dad, but if Dad wasn’t there then the bungalow would be a perfect spot for him to lay low.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” I asked, standing reluctantly. Some tiny part of me was, I realised, jealous of the fact that Dad was so desperate to see Jake, despite everything he’d done. I pushed it away as he spoke, back into the darkness that spawned it.

“Gareth, I’ve never asked you for anything, have I? Well, I’m asking now and if it makes a difference you can consider it a dying wish. Find out where Jake is, find out what kind of trouble he’s in and for the love of God, if you can do it, keep him safe.”

Chapter 5

Dad’s bungalow was up a steep hill called, unimaginatively, Hillside, at the top of Woodingdean, a few miles to the east of Brighton. At the end of the road, the chalk hills of the downs curved away east and west, while from the garden you could see the sea to the south.

The road itself was quiet, the homes little more than slashes of light escaping from around drawn curtains to disappear in the dark evening. The evening wind had died down now, and as the darkness deepened it brought with it an oppressive mugginess that made even the short walk from the car to the house sticky and unpleasant.

I could see lights on in Dad’s place as I approached, although that could be the timer I’d installed to make it look as though someone was always in. I moved as quietly as I could along the side of the building, feet still crunching on gravel as I passed forlorn-looking plants that were usually so well-tended. As if the house was a reflection of Dad’s health, once hale and hearty but rapidly slipping into decay.

Taking out my keys, I searched for the right one by feel and slid it softly into the lock on the side door, hearing it bump gently against the tumblers. With a careful twist it opened silently. Even after all these years, I still expected Lily to bark as she ran at the door, but the kitchen was empty.

I closed the door in silence and crept across the faded lino towards the small hallway. Although technically a bungalow, the loft had been turned into bedrooms when we were kids, and so I headed up the stairs, avoiding the ones that squeaked with an ease born from years of midnight raids on the fridge.

The light was on in Jake’s old room, fingers of it creeping out from under the door. I placed my ear against it and heard movement within. Taking a breath, I put a hand on the handle and turned it sharply, bursting into the room to see Jake, now dressed in some of my old clothes, sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hands.

He was off the bed in a flash, fist flying towards my face. I ducked it easily, slamming an open hand into his chest and hurling him back onto the bed.

“Jake, it’s me!”

He paused in the act of scrambling back to his feet and I saw realisation dawn. He stood slowly, favouring his right leg and keeping the bed between us.

“Didn’t think you’d come here.” His eyes never left mine, as if I was a snake that might bite him if he turned away.

“Dad thought you’d be here.”

“You told him? Why the hell did you do that?”

“Because he deserves to know! He’s got days left, maybe a week at best, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him going to his grave not knowing what had happened to you. He wants to see you.”

“No way.” Jake shook his head. “I wasn’t kidding earlier. The guys looking for me are the worst kind. If they even get a sniff of where Dad is, they’ll hurt him just to draw me out. Tell him … tell him I’m sorry, and that I love him, but I can’t go. You try and make me and you’ll be hurting Dad as much as it hurts me.”

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, folding my arms.

“Then tell me who they are.”

“Look, I know you don’t leave shit alone, so the less I tell you, the better for all of us. These people won’t give a damn that you’re a copper, they’ll still leave you in a ditch.”

“Then surely I’m safer if I know what might be coming my way?”

“Gareth, leave it! This is not a problem you can solve. I pissed off the wrong people, and the only way I come out of this with my skin intact is by getting enough money for a new identity and a flight somewhere obscure. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Then tell me where you’ve been, at least. It’s been almost twenty years.”

“That long? Shit. I’ve been around, London and Glasgow mostly. I’m off the brown now, but I was on it for years. Nearly died a few times, from bad shit or too much, but now,” he paused and pointed to himself, looking slightly ludicrous in trousers that were too short topped with an ancient Christmas jumper, “I’m a respectable businessman.”

“Respectable?”

“Respected?”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow.

“OK, maybe not but I can turn a profit.”

“Which is why you’re so popular with whoever is after you, I guess.”

“Sort of.”

“Come on, if you can’t tell me who, at least tell me why.”

“I, uh, I may have borrowed some of their product.”

“You stole cocaine? You idiot. How much?”

“Six kilos.”

I stared at him, unable to find any words. He looked much as I remembered him, a little more meat on his frame perhaps. Like me, his dark curly hair was now suffering from the inevitable creep of grey, but his face was thinner than mine and his nose a little longer. Other than that our features were eerily similar, and no one looking at us could confuse us for anything other than brothers. It was like looking at a warped reflection, and I wondered if right now we both had the same haunted look in our eyes.

“Let me get this right. You stole six kilos of cocaine?” He nodded. “Who even has six kilos of cocaine?”

“Nasty bastards, usually.”

“Just how nasty are we talking, Jake?”

“Skin your face and rub it in salt nasty.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

I realised then that he had been right earlier. If I arrested him, he would be fair game for whoever was after him. The sort of people who had six kilos of coke lying around had the kind of clout that could get anyone killed, inside prison or out, with a click of their fingers. I wasn’t sure if I could keep the promise I’d made Dad, but arresting Jake would be the first step in the wrong direction.

I looked at him, standing there like a caged animal, ready to fly at the slightest provocation, and suddenly felt a tremendous wash of guilt. Jake was still my brother, yet all I’d shown him was anger and disappointment. Before he could react, I darted across the room and grabbed him in a bear hug, smelling the salty tang of the sea on his skin as I squeezed him tight.

“I missed you, you fucking idiot,” I said as he initially struggled to get free, then relaxed a little and began to pat me on the back. “Even with everything that’s happened, I missed you. Me and Dad both.”

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely. As I drew back I could see a glint in his eye that looked suspiciously like a tear. “Me too. Wanted to call pretty much every day at first, but the longer I was away, the harder it became and eventually it felt like it was too late.”

“It was never too late,” I replied gruffly, releasing him and stepping back as something made my own eyes sting. “We’re family, Jake, and there’s nothing closer than blood.”

He nodded and took a step towards the window, then winced and bent to put a hand on his knee.

“You OK?” I asked.

“You were right,” he replied, still rubbing his knee, “water was like concrete. Thought I’d broken my legs when I hit.”

“Speaking of which, how did you not get spotted by the life boats?”

“There’s loads of metalwork on the outside of the marina. I used it to pull myself around to the other side. Couldn’t get my legs to work at first, and then the sea caught me and sucked me down. I thought I was done for, but it pushed me against the wall and I grabbed hold of the first thing I found. While the boats were all searching for me on the east side, I was already halfway across the west. Only bit I had to swim across was the marina entrance and my legs had come back to life by then.”

“Bet your drugs didn’t like being dipped in the sea.”

“Don’t matter, the bag’s got a waterproof liner.” He reached over and hefted the bag with a grin. “I’ve still got six kilos of finest …”

The grin faltered as he remembered who he was talking to. “So what am I supposed to do with you?” I moved to sit on the end of his bed. The room hadn’t changed since Jake had left, and I stared idly at the ancient Manchester United strip that graced his duvet covers.

Jake sat on the far side of the bed, careful to keep out of reach. I guessed that years of living in the murky world of drugs had eroded his faith in anyone but himself. His eyes kept flicking to my hands, as if waiting for me to jump him, or maybe he was worried I’d try and hug him again.

“Just let me do my thing,” he said finally. “I only came down to Brighton again because the market here isn’t connected to … to the people looking for me. It’s one of the few places I can sell it without getting caught.”

“You want me to leave you alone so that you can sell drugs in my town and disappear?”

“Well, yeah.”

“No way. Tell you what. You leave now, walk out that door and don’t come back. Go wherever the hell you like, but you leave my city alone. I can’t and won’t protect you if you try and sell your shit here. There are plenty of other places.”

“You don’t understand, they’ve got eyes everywhere else!”

“Then tell me who the fuck they are!” I thundered, standing again to loom over my brother. “I can’t help you if you won’t tell me anything.”

“Fine.” Jake stood, shouldering his bag. “I’ll go. Say hi to Dad for me.”

He stormed out onto the landing and down the stairs. I heard the front door open and waited for it to slam shut. There was a moment of silence. And then something that sounded suspiciously like the smack of flesh on flesh, followed by a sharp cry and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Jake’s enemies, it seemed, had found him after all.

Chapter 6

I was moving less than a second later, barrelling out of the door and down the stairs to see Jake in a heap on the doormat. Above him stood a bear of a man in a black thigh-length leather jacket that strained to contain his biceps and shoulders. He looked up in surprise and then I was on him, one foot lashing out to catch him under the kneecap while my fists struck chest, cheek and jaw.

The man’s head snapped backwards with the force of the punches, blows designed to drop a man in his tracks. But then he shook himself and lumbered towards me, dark eyes flaring with anger.

He stomped on Jake’s arm as he came, and I heard the sound of grinding bone as I backed off to give myself some space.

The hallway was narrow. My opponent filled it from wall to wall as he raised his fists in a guard, elbows at eye level. Whatever the outcome, I had the distinct impression that this was going to hurt.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” I said, stopping as I reached the centre of the hall, a small square that led to all the other downstairs rooms, “but this is private property. I suggest you leave.”

My only answer was a meaty first, hurled at my head faster than I would have thought someone that big could move. I ducked to one side, grabbed the wrist and twisted his arm so that his elbow was pointing up, dropping my own elbow onto it with a force honed by years of kung fu and street fighting combined.

To my amazement, the joint cracked but didn’t break, causing the man to roar and shake me off before hammering a fist into my ribs that I was too slow to block.

I gasped as the pain hit, then felt a lazy grin forming as my body’s chemical cocktail kicked in, flooding my system with its mixture of endorphins, adrenaline and half a dozen other useful things. Concern over my brother, fear over fighting an unknown opponent who looked as if he could kill me, everything faded away but the need to beat him, to win.

You see, I love fighting, always have. Right or wrong, I relish the chance to slip the chains free and leap into the fray, testing myself against those who think they can best me. When the adrenaline flows it’s as if I’m a different person, playing by a different set of rules.

The bear came in again, throwing fast, sharp jabs that would have broken my nose and cheekbone if they’d connected. Instead, I slapped his fist past me with an open hand, pushing him off line, then spun and dropped to sweep his legs.

It half-worked. Given the limited space, all it did was throw him into the wall rather than take him off his feet, but he was disorientated and facing away from me, and so I leaped into the air and drove my elbow into the nerve point on the back of his shoulder, putting my full bodyweight behind it.

The big man collapsed, legs turning to jelly as his body lost control. I landed behind him, slamming a quick knee into his temple to make sure he stayed down.

The real world flooded back. The sound of my harsh breathing echoed loud in my ears, my hands shaking with the now-unneeded chemicals in my system.

I took a moment, breathing deeply, then dropped to my knees and put two fingers to Jake’s neck to check his pulse. I sighed with relief when I found it, rolling him over to see a large, purple bruise already forming on his jaw.

“Hey,” I slapped Jake gently and was rewarded with the sight of his eyes flickering open. “I need you with me, wake up.”

“What happened?” He sat up slowly, putting a hand to his head.

“That man-mountain over there hit you.”

He looked past me and his eyes widened.

“Oh shit. What have you done?”

“What have I done? I’ve gone and bloody saved your life is what, you ungrateful shit!”

“No, you don’t understand,” he shook his head and then hissed with the pain from his battered skull. “You can’t lay hands on these guys, no matter what. You do and the rest will kill you.”

“Oh come on,” I scoffed. “You’re expected to just let them do whatever they want without fighting back?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Bullshit. You know what? I’ve had enough of this. I don’t doubt that you’re in danger, but if this is the worst they can throw at you then I reckon I can keep you safe enough in custody.”

“No, Gareth, please.” Jake stood shakily, holding his hands out. “I promise you, they’ll kill me. Just let me disappear. If I get a few hours’ head start, I’ll bury myself so deep they’ll never find me.”

“And I’d forgotten how full of shit you can be. What was I thinking? Come on, let’s go.”

I grabbed him before he could protest, forcing him towards the door.

“I’m going to get you in the car, then I’m calling this in and coming back to make sure sleeping beauty there doesn’t wake up before the cavalry arrives.”

What I didn’t tell him was that my cuffs were in the car, and that he’d be wearing them before I left him alone for a second. I’d swallowed the story earlier, and I had no doubt that some of it was true, but Jake’s attempts to make his enemies sound like they were evil incarnate just seemed a little too farfetched.

Right up to the point that we stepped outside and saw the other two men, loitering at the end of the path with their pistols pointed towards the door.