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‘I said I was fine,’ snapped Jake, putting on the shades. Then apologised. ‘Please …’
‘Sure.’ Anything but the begging again.
On the way back to the station, he thought about telling Jake the news: the fingerprint and blood match. Then he thought better of it. That probably wasn’t the kind of thing you needed to hear just before seeing the person in question. So they rode in silence.
But then Jake suddenly piped up: ‘Has … has he said anything else?’
Matt looked across at his friend in the passenger seat. ‘Bobby? Only that he’s innocent. That he didn’t do it.’
‘Weren’t there any … I mean there must be CCTV footage of all this?’
‘There’s been a spate of vandalism attacks recently. The cameras were smashed in the square the previous weekend – haven’t been fixed yet.’
Jake let out a slow breath, then asked, ‘And what do you think?’
Matt faced front again, indicating left. He shrugged, thought again about telling Jake what they’d discovered, but didn’t.
‘You must have some sort of idea, some sense as to whether or not he did it. I mean … you’ve been doing this a while now.’
‘And I owe it all to you, right?’ Matt couldn’t help that one, picking up on what he’d said about people with records joining the force.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jake said again. ‘I was desperate.’
The truth was he probably did owe it to Jake. Not just because he took the fall for stealing that car, but because he set an example. Got himself together and worked his arse off when Jules had fallen pregnant with Jordan, which in turn had made Matt realise he needed to get his own act together. Jake might not have steered him towards the force, but he’d made him see that there was more to life than just dossing around. And on the occasion he’d seen them all together, it had made him want a family as well. Had been one of the things he’d had in common with Katherine when they’d eventually met. ‘I wasn’t just covering my own back, you know. I’m not sure you’re ready for this.’
Jake let out a bitter laugh. ‘When am I ever going to be ready for it?’
‘I just meant—’
‘Matt, yesterday I saw my daughter for the first time in God knows how long, and … and she was lying dead in the morgue. Today, I just want to understand. To know why.’
‘You won’t get that from just looking at him,’ Matt promised.
‘Maybe not. But it’s a start,’ Jake told his friend. ‘It’s somewhere to start.’
Matt thought about asking just what it was Jake thought he was starting here; after all, they were the ones conducting the investigation. If anyone was going to uncover the reason why this had all happened, it should be the police – and Jake had to trust them to do that. Had to trust him. Perhaps this was the first step in getting him to do that, a start in that respect as well.
And it had all been going so well.
Matt had got Jake inside, and in the cells – thanks to Sharpe’s assistance. Then Matt had opened up the metal slot in the door to Bobby’s cell, holding Jake back with one hand until he was sure it was okay for him to come forward – having made him promise not to do anything rash. ‘I’ll be there watching the whole time, and I’ll rush you out of there so fast your feet won’t touch the ground,’ he’d said to him.
To be fair, Jake had kept that promise. It hadn’t been him who’d caused the fuss. Bobby had been on his bunk, facing the concrete wall, dressed in a grey pair of sweats and top, having been relieved of his clothes the previous evening. He looked to be asleep – another person who’d had a bad night; the worst night … though not as bad as his victim, it had to be said. The timing for this little ‘visit’ couldn’t have been more perfect, in fact. Jake wouldn’t get to see his eyes, look into them as he’d mentioned, but he’d get to see the boy, and Matt would have fulfilled his promise to his old friend, not to mention built up that trust.
Matt looked at Jake and nodded for him to move closer, to look through the slot. Then he watched his friend, watching the boy. Sunglasses gone now, Matt could see just how bloodshot those blue-grey eyes were up close and personal like that, just how black the circles were that framed them. He looked like a shadow of the man he’d seen even yesterday, the toll of events – not to mention the alcohol he must have consumed – weighing him down. Jake’s eyes were wide, staring, taking in the lump on the bunk. But he didn’t say anything to draw attention, didn’t rouse the boy.
Just watched. As if being in his presence might tell Jake whether he’d done the deed or not, some sixth sense that could detect a person’s innocence or guilt.
And what do you think? You must have some sort of idea …
What did he think? Matt wasn’t entirely sure. Open-and-shut cases like this appeared to be were a bit too … neat for his liking. Katherine would have loved them, tying everything up with a bow on top. But, like Jake said, Matt had been doing this a long time, actually did have a sense for these things. One of the first things he’d done that morning had been to go through the background on Bobby, who’d been adopted at the age of 5 – so there could be something to that, he’d have to look into who the real parents were – but to all intents and purposes had been brought up in a stable home environment. Had parents who loved him a lot, going by the way they were trying to get back from their holiday abroad to come and see him after they’d been notified. So what had gone wrong …?
The noise interrupted his thoughts and he followed Jake’s gaze into the cell. Like his son the previous evening when he’d looked in on the kid, Bobby Bannister had rolled over when he sensed he was being observed. But unlike Eddie, Bobby had opened his eyes, had seen the figure peering into his cell, and he’d clambered to his feet.
‘You’re … I can tell, you … You’re her dad,’ said the boy, whose short black hair was sticking out at odd angles due to the way he’d been lying on it. ‘I can see her in your face.’
Jake’s eyebrows knitted together, breaths coming in short gasps. Matt looked down to see the man’s hands balling into fists, then opening again. Clenching and unclenching.
Bobby was stumbling towards the door now. ‘I didn’t do it, Mr Radcliffe, I swear! I didn’t do what they said I did.’
More heavy breathing from Jake.
‘Easy,’ Matt warned him, placing a hand on his shoulder which the man didn’t even notice.
Bobby wiped his nose with the back of his arm, eyes wet with tears. ‘It’s like I’ve been trying to tell them, we just arranged to meet, see? To go clubbing … I-I found her like that, I swear! I couldn’t have done that to Jordan. I honestly couldn’t.’
‘Jake …’ Matt was squeezing that shoulder, knew he should be getting his friend away from there. That he’d done what he could for now, what he promised. Jake had even got to look into the lad’s eyes.
‘I tried to … to pull it out, but there was so much … I thought I might make things worse. I was about to call an ambulance, I was. But then I heard sirens anyway, only … Only it was his lot. And … and I panicked, I ran. I knew how it would look, ’course I did!’ He stepped up closer to the open rectangle, voice rising. ‘But I swear—’
That was it: the third time Bobby swore that he’d had nothing to do with Jordan’s death was the trigger. Jake shrugged off Matt’s hand and tried to reach inside the space, barely able to get his hand in and yet he was able to grab Bobby by the collar. Matt, in turn, grabbed Jake’s arm to tried and wrench it away from the hole. But the man was stronger than he looked, even in his weakened condition, hatred and adrenaline obviously fuelling his attack.
How could he ever have thought it would end any other way, this encounter? How could he have been so naive as to think Jake just wanted to see the guy; obviously he was going to go for him, but as he was behind a thick metal door … At this particular point in time, though, Matt wouldn’t have put it past Jake to just ram down that barrier to get to Bobby. He was like a thing possessed, bucking and jerking to get a better angle, perhaps to try and wrap his fingers around Bobby’s throat and get his revenge. Snap his neck sideways with a satisfying crack.
Matt was tugging and tugging, but Jake’s grip on the boy was vice-like. In the end, what broke the spell, what broke into the moment, was the cry from behind them all. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ It carried weight that voice, authority, especially when it followed this up with: ‘What the actual fuck is going on here?’
They both turned as one, and Jake finally let go of Bobby, who retreated into his cell, still pleading his innocence. Needing Jake to see that he hadn’t done this terrible thing.
Matt and Jake stared at the figure of DS Channing standing there with his arms folded. You couldn’t tell how many teeth he had now, because the fake smile was gone – replaced by a look of condemnation. He wasn’t so much a PR person’s dream right at that moment, as a DC’s nightmare.
‘Sir, I can explain,’ Matt began.
‘Can you? Can you now …’ He unfolded his arms, leaned forward and cupped the side of his head. ‘Well, I’m all ears.’
‘Jake … Mr Radcliffe wanted to …’ Matt realised how ridiculous his explanation would seem, even as he was saying it.
‘It’s my fault,’ said Jake, looking down. ‘Don’t blame Matt. I talked him into it.’
Channing ran a hand over his face, then let it fall to his side. ‘I can’t believe this, I really can’t! Do you know what you’ve done here? We were this close.’ Now he held up that same hand, creating a tiny space between his thumb and forefinger. ‘This close to it all being over.’
‘It’ll never be over for me,’ said Jake.
Channing gaped at him, then waved his hand towards the exit. ‘Come with me, both of you!’
As they began to walk out, Matt could hear Bobby one final time back in the cell, his voice barely a whisper: ‘Wasn’t me … I swear!’
***
Channing took them to an interview room, the one with a two-way mirror running the length of one wall, and told them to sit down – though Matt remained standing initially.
‘I said sit down, DC Newcomb!’
Matt reluctantly did as he was told.
Channing proceeded to pace up and down in front of them as he spoke. ‘Now, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You, DC Newcomb, thought it would be a good idea to let the father of our victim – and yes, I do know who you are, Mr Radcliffe – have access to the person we believe to have committed the crime? Is that about the size of it?’
‘Well,’ said Matt, looking at his folded hands in front of him, ‘when you put it like that …’
‘When I …’ Channing banged on the table with his fist, causing them to start. ‘And this was, what, because he asked you to?’
‘Matt … DC Newcomb was just trying to help,’ offered Jake. ‘I needed—’
‘I don’t care what you needed,’ snapped Channing, face turning crimson. Then he saw Jake’s mournful expression and relented. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.’ Matt couldn’t tell whether it was because the DS was genuinely sorry, or he was just frightened of the repercussions; of what he’d said getting back to his superiors. ‘Of course I care, but you might just have ruined everything. We’re readying to nail that guy to the wall, but now he could bring charges himself for assault – and all while under our noses! All because of you, Newcomb.’ He rounded on Matt, jabbing a finger in his direction. ‘All because of some misplaced sense of loyalty to a friend.’
‘I’m … I’m sorry, sir.’
‘This could mean your job, you know.’
‘I know.’ It was what he’d told Jake when he’d been trying to persuade Matt; there was always a chance this could go south. That the ramifications would include his job, his career. Christ, how was he going to explain this to Katherine?
‘And it happened on my watch, so it could mean my neck as well. Okay, damage control … damage control,’ muttered Channing, concentrating. Then he stood up straight, leaning back. ‘What if … what if none of this had ever happened, eh?’
It sounded like he was asking their advice, like he had a time machine or a way to wipe out the last twenty minutes, and was sounding them out about whether they should use it or not.
‘I’m assuming there’s no footage of what took place back there. You’re definitely not that stupid, Newcomb.’
Matt said nothing, he didn’t want to get Sharpe into more trouble than he clearly already was.
‘So, it’s just the kid’s word against ours, right? Wouldn’t be the first time. It’s not like you were able to do any real harm … He’s been screaming the place down about his innocence since he got here, has had hardly any sleep, probably imagined the whole thing – wanting to apologise to the father or whatever. Only natural, right? Maybe he even heard you were in the building, Mr Radcliffe.’
Again, Matt didn’t say a thing; neither of them said a word.
‘Yeah, didn’t happen.’ Channing clapped his hands together. ‘And all is right with the world.’ He saw Jake’s expression once more, realised that his world would never be right again. ‘That is … Look, Mr Radcliffe, can I give you some advice?’
Jake remained silent.
‘I get where you’re coming from, I really do. But I’ve seen this kind of thing before. I’ve seen that look you had in your eye before, and it never ends well. It ends with people waiting outside law courts with guns to shoot the person they want punished. Ends with those people in jail instead of the ones who should be, the bad guys. Let things take their course, let us do our jobs. Punk kid like that won’t last long inside, particularly when they get wind of what he did. Killing a young girl? That’s a big no-no.’ Channing allowed his words to settle. ‘Let us do our jobs, Mr Radcliffe. We might not be known here for dealing with fancy high-profile cases, but we do get things done. What I’m saying to you is do us all a favour and leave it alone, okay? Please.’
Still no response.
‘Or the next time I might not be so understanding, you see. Now, I think maybe it might be best if you leave to have a think about things. I’ll have one of our uniforms drop you off where you’re staying. I assume you’re remaining here for the time being?’
Jake gave a slow nod.
‘And as for you,’ Channing continued, directing his attention towards Matt again, ‘I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you from now on.’
Matt swallowed, and also nodded, knowing he’d dodged the bullet … this time. As Channing opened the door again and called for a uniform to escort Jake, his friend looked back at Matt, still seated.
His eyes said he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant for him to get into trouble. But they also said something else. They still held that same look, the anger, the need to understand. A desire for revenge.
It told Matt all he needed to know. That there was no way he was going to just drop this, as Channing had told him to. Not that easily.
And Matt knew something else as well, that Jake, that all of this, was going to be on his own mind for some time to come.
Chapter 6
He just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about everything.
He’d let them drop him off back at the hotel, the couple of uniformed officers Channing had ordered to escort him ‘home’. But Jake hadn’t stayed there. Couldn’t face going back to that room he’d woken up in, feeling rougher than he’d ever felt in his life. Half-dead …
Better than totally dead.
Though it was also the place he’d decided enough was enough. That it was time to concentrate on his mission, on what he had to do – which was dig out Matt’s card and ring him. There were no two ways about it, he’d needed to see the boyfriend. He hadn’t meant to cause problems at the station – or thought about the consequences for Matt if they were caught – but when the guy had got in his face, Jake had just seen red.
It was almost like he was watching a movie again, someone else reaching out and grabbing the boy by the collar, dragging him to the door. Jake wasn’t a violent person, or at least he hadn’t thought he was … until that moment. He’d assumed that once he saw the guy, this Bobby Bannister, he’d know one way or the other about Jordan. Had wanted to look him in the eyes, he’d told Matt, but even just seeing him would be enough to know … But it hadn’t really worked out like that, had it?
Jake still didn’t know one way or the other whether this boy had actually committed the crime, although everything was pointing in that direction in spite of his claims of innocence. Claims that were actually pretty convincing. He should have felt something, sensed whether this was his child’s murderer, surely? Instead, he’d just felt an overwhelming hatred towards him. But Jake wasn’t just seeing his face, he was seeing all the faces of all the guys who – in his mind – had corrupted his daughter. Had turned her into something she really wasn’t, something she shouldn’t have been. Something that had got her killed.
And he’d snapped.
The rest, like a lot of things since he’d got that phone call the previous morning, was a bit of a haze. Matt trying to pull him away, Channing, the interview room. Jake was aware then of how much trouble he’d got his friend into, was sorry, but at the same time glad he’d got the opportunity – however brief it had been – to confront Bannister. It was only afterwards he’d thought about what that might have cost Matt: his job, his family … He hadn’t needed to stick his neck out for Jake, but had anyway. That was true friendship.
Luckily, Jake’s actions hadn’t landed him in too much hot water – Channing was more concerned about his own neck than anything. More than willing to cover things up.
Wouldn’t be the first time …
Which didn’t exactly inspire confidence, made you wonder what else they’d swept under the carpet in this town. Jake guessed he’d probably never know.
It would be awkward probably at work for a while, but things would calm down. Jake would make it up to Matt, somehow. He wasn’t sure how.
What if … what if none of this had ever happened, eh?
If only.
But it left him right back at square one in figuring this all out. Figuring out why it had happened. The cops didn’t seem that interested in the reason, they had their man (caught red-handed … yes, red as in Jordan’s blood). It was like Channing had said to him, they were so close to nailing him now.
What had really happened, though, that night? Why had Bannister done it, if he even had? If he never admitted he’d killed Jordan, then none of them would find peace. She would never find peace.
Jails were full of convicts claiming they hadn’t done it, swearing just like Bannister had sworn it.
I-I found her like that, I swear!
Nobody ever got to the bottom of those cases, nobody punished the truly guilty party or parties. Nobody really cared. There were people who cared about this one, though. Who had cared about Jordan. Who would find the truth, whatever that was.
Where to start, though? He had no idea. Where would Dave Harris have started? His old colleague from The Gazette … ‘A story starts at the beginning,’ Dave used to say. And even as he thought that, Jake saw a flash of Jordan as the happy little girl he’d known and loved (still loved, in spite of everything, but this was different). Before the world had swallowed her up, before social media, friends who led her down the wrong paths, boys. Back then, back at the beginning, things had been simple.
They probably hadn’t been, Jake knew that – people always looked back with rose-tinted glasses. But they’d seemed it. Easier, happier. Happier than later on. Happier than now, that was for damned sure! There had been hope, anyway – for the future. That everything would turn out okay.
When he’d set off from the hotel, Jake hadn’t really known where he was heading. He had some vague notion about buying a change of clothing, actually getting that toothbrush he’d told Matt he was after when whiskey was the only thing on his mind; plus a charger for his phone, as he’d left without one. And he’d done all that, found somewhere and purchased what he’d needed for now – had carried them around with him in plastic bags like somebody who’d just been to the sales. Or been made homeless.
But still he hadn’t returned to the hotel, he’d carried on wandering. Realised at some point that he probably should eat; again, he’d be no use to anyone – especially Jordan – if he simply collapsed. How would he get to the bottom of anything then?
It wasn’t the healthiest, but he grabbed a burger and some fries at a fast food place. Jake sat for a while just staring at the meal in front of him, felt like doing anything else in the world but this. The body was a machine, though, and like any other machine it needed fuel. So he picked up the burger, something he would have relished before, enjoyed on the hop between shooting gigs, and he forced himself to bite into it. Jake chewed mechanically, swallowing, fighting the sensations when he thought he was going to throw up again.
In the end, he wolfed the whole meal – he’d underestimated just how hungry he was – and washed it down with diet coke this time, alcohol the furthest thing from his mind.
Then he wandered once more, up and down streets so familiar to him but which now seemed alien and hostile. He barely noticed when the sun began to set; more darkness, which he could embrace. His feet hurt, but he kept going. Maybe if he walked long enough, far enough, he really could turn back time. Make it so this whole thing hadn’t happened.
Had it been the noise that attracted him, he wondered afterwards. Redmarket coming to life and doing what it did best, welcoming the lost souls to bars and clubs. The one thing it was known for now, legendary nights out – bucking the trend of other towns and cities that found their streets virtually empty since the recession started to bite. Instead, Redmarket had blossomed; he’d seen that start to happen even before he left the area. A reinvention for this former market town that had once been known for its meat more than anything else, hence its name.
Now there were meat markets of a different kind, where young men could hook up with young women on any given night of the week. Jake observed some of them off out that evening: gaggles of girls wearing shiny skin-tight dresses that barely came down past their waists, clutching tiny handbags, already clearly drunk (not that he could talk after last night), tottering on high-heels, wearing make-up the Joker would have been proud of. Similarly, the lads out on the pull: skinny jeans and shirts open to their belly buttons practically. All they were missing were the medallions and flares and it could have been the 1970s rather than this day and age.
Jake heard the music being pumped out, the thumping bass that would have made your internal organs vibrate if you were close enough to it. Saw the flashing lights, all the colours of the rainbow. Mesmerising, drawing people in as effectively as those sirens used to do to the sailors of old – and there’d be just as many crashes later on. Perhaps not on rocks, but people crashing into each other. Dancing to begin with, then later in alleyways and in flats; bodies crashing against each other in another way. Kids who hardly knew each other, screwing like it was some sort of hobby or pastime, a new sport.
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