Eye Snatcher (29 page)

Jed Green looked on. Slight smile at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t speak, he just listened. Watched and listened.

Brian placed some papers on the foot of the bed that Arif had provided him with. “We know Adrian had you under his thumb just like he had many people. Your past identity, Harry Bryden. The accusations of care home abuse, of child molestation. It’s all in there, Jed. The things a man lies about to protect his integrity.”

Again, Jed just looked on. Ignored the papers on his lap. Kept his eyes on Brian.

“You must’ve been really desperate. Helping Adrian murder a child. Keeping that a secret. You must really care about your career, mustn’t you?”

“Is that a legitimate question?” Jed asked, speaking for the first time. “Or are you just trying to goad me?”

Brian stepped around the side of Jed’s bed. Leaned against it, peered right into Jed’s beady brown eyes. The security guard peeked his head through the door, keeping close watch on Brian and his inmate. “I’m not here to play games, ‘Harry.’ I’m here because I want to know how Adrian managed it. Why you sectioned him. Because I’ve got that on record too.” He tapped the papers on Jed’s lap. “Advised the board that Mr West was ‘a danger to himself.’ How much did he pay you to say that? How many kiddies did he—”

“Bobby
Halshaw
,” Jed cut in. “At least, that was his name before he met me. He came to me with an offer. Well, more like blackmail, really. He knew who I was. Knew my past, all thanks to those nosey goons at Galaxy. He wanted me to section him. If he did that, he’d have his friends look into replacement identity for me. Extra coverage, you know. I just had to sign the paper. Accept him as Adrian West. It was as simple as that.”

Brian frowned. “There’s a long leap from an identity change and sectioning Bobby Halshaw to aiding and abetting his killing spree.”

Jed sighed. Shook his head. His arms were laced with thick white bandages. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “Surprised what you find yourself doing when you’re in constant fear of your career falling apart. The abuse of care, and the children, they were just speed bumps. I’m a good man, really. But Adrian… he could be very convincing. I really thought he’d find a way out of this for both of us. Until you turned up at New Blue Brook last night and… well. That’s when I realised there was only one way out.”

He lifted his wrists. Raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“No. There was another way out,” Brian said, patting Jed on his chest. “And you took it. Botching your suicide so you could spend the rest of your days in prison as someone else’s little bitch. I hope Adrian was worth it.”

Brian stepped away from Jed’s bed. Made for the door again, where security still peeked in.

“For what it’s worth, I was planning on paying the police a visit,” Jed called. “Planning on… on telling them. About Sam. But I knew Adrian or Bobby or whoever you want to call him would get me somehow. He’d take me down. He knew people. People on the outside. I’d watch your back if I were you. Watch your family’s back. Bobby Halshaw’s life doesn’t end with the death of the man himself.”

Brian stopped and looked back at Jed. He smiled. “I’ll take that on board. Thanks for the advice. Enjoy prison. I’ll make sure you get a cell with a view.”

He turned away from Jed and he stepped to the door. He knew what he needed to know now. Jed Green—or Harry Bryden as he was really called—had played his part in Adrian West’s killings. He’d been blackmailed by Adrian, by his so-called “friends in high places,” and he’d got scared enough for one thing to lead to another.

But he’d played his part. He’d chosen self-preservation over honesty.

“Sleep soundly knowing you personally signed the death sentences of Beth Turner and Janine Ainscough, Mr Bryden,” Brian said.

He closed the door. Caught a glance of Jed through the lead-lined window.

On his face, he swore he saw a flicker of guilt.

A flicker of fear.

He knew right then that he’d got what he wanted.

He left the hospital room and his shitty phone vibrated. A new one that Arif had brought along for him. Well, not exactly new. One of Arif’s cast-offs. It’d do for now.

He lifted it out—saw it was Finch.

“Finch? Got something for me?”

A pause on Finch’s end of the line. “We… we did a check. On those bones buried in the woods down where you were taken. Where Darren Hopps—”

“I know the bones you mean, Finch. And?”

Another slight pause. “I… We fast-tracked and matched some of them. Various street kids and runaways, like you thought. But… but two of them. Two of them matched Damien Halshaw. And his mum, Patricia.”

In that split second, Brian saw things from a whole new perspective.

“Thanks, Finch.”

He put the phone down.

He needed to speak to Andrew Wilkinson again.

Andrew Wilkinson was hesitant to let Brian into his house, but with a little push, he caved in.

His house was nice. Wide open spaces, antiques lining the shelves all around the kitchen. Smells of fresh flowers.

Brian sat opposite Andrew Wilkinson at the kitchen table. Watched as he rubbed his hands together. As tears poured down his cheeks.

“He … I went in there and I… I saw him. Saw—saw Damien’s dad, Bobby. He… I lied. About Damien. I… I was just scared. Scared when Bobby was still alive. Scared what he might do.”

Brian leaned in closer to Andrew Wilkinson. “What did you see?”

Andrew’s mouth quivered. “He… He was abusing him. Abusing Damien. And I… I got angry. I just felt this… this fury. Damien, he’d told me about his dad. About his mood swings. And I’d never wanted to get involved. But right there I… I felt I had to act. I needed to act. Because I cared. About Damien. And not in the way you think. I just… I just cared.”

He sniffed back some more tears, covered his eyes, as sunlight peeked through his wide kitchen windows.

“What did you do then?”

He moved his hands away. Looked Brian in the eyes. But a level of focus wasn’t there. He looked distant. Like he was revisiting a nightmare he’d known all along was real. “I… I went to tell his mum. To tell Damien’s mum, Patricia. But he… I told her and he… He took the knife from his garage and it all happened so fast. First Damien, then Patricia. And—and then he held it to my neck. Told me I… told me that I’d go down for this. That he—he was going to press charges. Press charges against me on behalf of his son. That—that if I didn’t allow that, he’d press for murder.”

Damien Halshaw’s charges that were suddenly dropped. No surprise, seeing as Damien wasn’t alive to press them.

“Why didn’t you go to the police?”

Andrew shook his head. More tears rolled down his cheeks. “I tried. Believe me, I tried. But… but when I got closest, that’s when… my daughter, my Annie. Those men came in and—and they hurt her. And that’s when my marriage broke down. My family broke down. They dropped Damien’s charges of course, but Bobby promised he’d get me one day. And—and then he disappeared. And it’s only when all this started that I…”

He stopped. Swallowed a visible lump in his throat.

“I’m going to go to prison for what I knew, aren’t I?”

Brian didn’t see any point in lying. He felt a little frustrated the way the justice system worked at times like these, but there was nothing he could do to defend Andrew Wilkinson. “You knew about a double homicide. You could’ve stopped the deaths of these three kids and many others years ago. You could’ve…”

He thought about saying, “You could’ve stopped the death of my police partner,” but best to keep emotions out of this.

Andrew half-smiled. A smile of defeat.

He held his hands out. Revealed the scratches across his wrists.

“I’ve been in prison for years, detective. Now it’s only fair I serve my time and pay for what I knew.”

Brian wanted to help Andrew Wilkinson. A part of him couldn’t help but sympathise. He’d been put in an impossible situation—a choice of keeping quiet about a murder or risking his family, his life, falling to pieces.

Unfortunately for him, everything had crumbled now.

Brian scraped his chair back. Smiled at Andrew, who cut a pitiful figure as he sat there shaking.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said.

He walked out of the kitchen and out of Andrew Wilkinson’s front door.

When he felt the warmth of the sun on his cheeks, heard the birds singing, he felt something like closure.

Hannah was waiting in the hallway when Brian got home.

His stomach sank a little when he saw her. He didn’t want any arguing tonight. He was too tired to have a serious discussion about their future, the kid, all of that.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be awake enough to have a discussion like that again.

She stepped towards him. She was wearing a figure-hugging white T-shirt and tight blue jeans. She smelled of fresh daisies, a perfume that Brian had bought her last Christmas that he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of.

He hadn’t seen a lot of her lately. And he was sorry for that. But now wasn’t the time to argue. Now wasn’t the time to discuss. Now wasn’t the time to…

She wrapped her arms around Brian’s waist and rested her head on his chest.

The move took Brian by surprise. It felt nice, having her warmth right there. Although they’d hugged and kissed and been intimate these last few months, it truly felt like the closest they’d been in a long, long time.

He put his hand on her back. Brought her closer to him.

They stood there in complete silence for a while just holding one another, understanding one another.

“We should have a kid,” Brian said.

He wasn’t sure where the words came from. Somewhere deep within. That same place where he felt the warmth when Hannah held him. The same place that he felt love inside, just above his belly and below his heart.

She backed away a little. Looked Brian in his eyes. Brian realised then that she was tearful. “You mean that?”

Brian took in a deep shaky breath. “Well I… I’m a bit old. I’ll be in my sixties when he’s starting high school. Don’t you think that’s a bit weird?”

Hannah snorted. Smacked Brian on his chest. “If that’s your only concern then maybe I shouldn’t have a kid with someone as fickle as you.”

Brian smiled. Pulled her close again. Looked her in her eyes. “But yes. I guess I do want another kid.”

“And not just for you?” Hannah asked.

Brian shook his head. He knew what she meant. Having a kid with Hannah couldn’t just be another chance to redeem himself for the mistakes he’d made with Davey. It had to be because they both wanted a child. Because they were both ready to be parents. Because they loved someone enough to bring someone into this world.

“For both of us,” he said. “But mostly to redeem myself.”

She giggled again. Smacked him in the chest. “Just as well I didn’t really start the abortion process, then.”

Brian’s stomach dropped. “Wait—what?”

Hannah raised her eyebrows. “I’m almost two months pregnant.”

Brian backed away. “Shit. When were you going to tell me?”

Hannah shrugged. “I dunno. I was kinda hoping you’d just think I’d got fat.”

Brian shook his head. His whole world seemed to be spinning around him, only not with the negative energy of the Eye Snatcher case, not with the negativity of everything that had happened. “Shit,” was all he could say.

“Is that a ‘yes’ then?”

“Don’t think you’ve left me with much of a choice really.”

Hannah stepped up to him again. Gave him a lipstick-tasting kiss right on his lips.

“Look on the bright side,” she said, as they embraced again. “At least you won’t be quite as ancient a daddy.”

The graveyard looked nice in the low winter sun, but it always took Brian back to that day when he’d said his goodbyes to Cassandra Emerson.

It was a chilly day. Brian could see his breath frosting out of his mouth. There were crowds of people around, all dressed in black. More people than Brad Richards had ever let on to knowing.

Shit. Brian might have to admit that Brad was actually more popular than him after all. He would’ve loved that one. Thank God he’d never have to.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and watched the priest read out words that blurred through Brian’s ears, went over his head. It was strange, watching these people say their goodbyes to Brad. A week had passed since his death, and still it didn’t quite seem real. Brad always seemed to be one of those guys that pulled through, no matter what. He’d battled through depression. Fought through a frigging suicide attempt. Come out the other side, just like Brian.

Maybe that’s what scared Brian about Brad’s death the most. Maybe that’s what brought home the reality of it. Brad wasn’t too different to him, not really. They were similar in their world views, their outlooks.

Brad was just another person, another human being, another police officer.

Someone who had lost their life.

It could so easily have been Brian.

He noticed a few people were looking at him. A woman with dark curly hair, mascara running down her withered old cheeks. She half-smiled at Brian, and Brian nodded back at her. An auntie, maybe. Or an old friend of the family. Brad didn’t seem short of them. He was never one to talk about his personal life much. But one thing was for certain. Just looking at the sheer number of people at this graveyard, Brad was a well-liked person. People mourned him.

He was going to be missed.

Brian felt the breeze brush against him. Hannah’s hand was in his, warming him up. He was pleased she’d been able to make it. Pleased she’d come along with him. She’d only met Brad a few times, but she always said what a decent guy he seemed. And that’s exactly what he was—a decent guy. A thoroughly decent human being.

A thoroughly decent human being who’d had something terrible happen to him. Who’d lost his life on duty.

Members of family stepped forward. Tossed dirt down onto the coffin. A little kid, no older than eight for sure, threw a handful of soil, blubbered as he looked down in the ground. Truth was, Brian had felt some guilt for Brad’s death. If he’d never got out of that car, Brad might have survived. If he hadn’t gone searching the woods opposite the Hoppers rugby club, perhaps things would’ve been different.