Stalkers (17 page)

He glanced after Deke again, but the guy was now out of hearing range. Meanwhile, a crescendo of angry voices was rising inside the wrecked pub. Heck moved to the car, and ushered Lauren inside. As they pulled away from the kerb, the beaten-up rabble, newly armed with staves and pool cues, came spilling out onto the pavement. Heck watched them in the rearview mirror as the Fiat cruised away. Glancing left, he spotted Deke sauntering down into an underpass, vanishing from view.

‘Who the hell was he?’ Lauren wondered.

‘Dunno. But he can kick arse like I’ve never seen. You okay?’

‘Yeah.’ She dabbed at her bloodied nostrils with a handkerchief.

‘Par for the course in the Royal Ordnance Corps?’

‘Not exactly. Chapeltown maybe.’ They pulled off the desolate estate and rejoined the main road network. ‘We going to this Gallows Hill place now?’

‘
We’re
not going anywhere.
You’re
going back to the railway station.’

‘In this state? They’ll think I’m a right yob.’

‘If the cap fits …’

‘I just helped you out in there! Big time!’

Heck couldn’t argue with that, so he didn’t try.

‘Look, Heck … it’s okay if I call you that?’

‘Yes, you can call me “Heck”.’

‘Heck … you can’t force me to go anywhere.’ She shook her head adamantly. ‘I don’t care what you say, this is a free country. You can’t make me get on a train to Yorkshire.’

‘Okay, that’s true. But if you’ve got no money and you’re not prepared to go home, where are you going to spend the night?’

‘I’m not exactly new to sleeping outdoors.’

‘Up to you. You certainly won’t be alone in this town.’ He drove on, circumnavigating a series of concrete roundabouts.

‘What about this Gallows Hill place?’ she said. ‘If O’Hoorigan used to buy drugs there, it sounds a bit rough.’

‘You’re telling me.’

‘So … are you going to call back-up?’

If only he could, he thought. As things were, he wasn’t even planning to report what had just happened. He wanted to; he knew he ought to. But the moment Gemma learned he’d been involved in a bar room brawl where civilians had been knifed, her kneejerk reaction would be to pull him back in. She might pull him in anyway, if the word reached her from other sources.

‘Well?’ Lauren asked again.

‘We’re not going to Gallows Hill just yet. I don’t fancy another fight straight away. Do you?’

‘Suppose not.’ She dabbed at her nose again. ‘So where
are
we going?’

Heck followed signs towards the motorway junction. ‘Somewhere we can get patched up.’

‘Who is this O’Hoorigan guy, anyway?’

‘He may know something.’

‘So we’ve
got
to speak to him?’

‘Correction.
I
have to speak to him.’

‘And while
you’re
getting patched up, what if he moves on?’

‘Then he moves on. It’s not like I haven’t learned anything.’

‘Eh?’ Lauren looked baffled.

‘You think we just got lucky Deke intervened when he did?’

‘He wasn’t being a good Samaritan?’

‘You don’t find many of those in that neck of the woods.’

‘He didn’t sound local, I must admit.’

‘More East Anglian, I’d say.’

‘Still doesn’t tell us much.’

Heck shook his head. ‘It tells us that we’re onto
something
. Trouble is, at the moment I’m not sure what.’

The house was on Cranby Street, a small terraced row, at least half of which had been demolished as part of some long-ago clearance scheme. It wasn’t exactly cobbled, but to Lauren’s eye it didn’t look as if it had changed since George Orwell’s day.

Every house was built from the same red brick, though a couple had received ‘stone-cladding’, much of which had now deteriorated, making them look grotesque. All their doorsteps had been fastidiously scrubbed, but here and there a lower portion of front wall bellied slightly. There was even a canal at the far end, with a lock-gate visible, and on the other side of that an area of reclaimed spoil land where playing fields had been marked out and rugby posts erected.

It was early evening and the street quiet, when they parked. The heavy cloud cover was in the process of clearing, much of it tinged pink by the setting sun. Both Heck and Lauren were now feeling their extensive cuts and bruises. The shock of the fight was seeping through them. Lauren climbed tiredly from the car as Heck approached the front door. Bradburn – from what she’d seen of it – was a typical South Lancashire backwater, but not massively different to many parts of Leeds.

Located twenty miles north of Manchester, it wasn’t the sort of place you’d even notice if you passed it on the motorway: a minor blot on a bleak, post-industrial landscape. Since the collapse of the coal and textiles industries, it had clearly tried to throw off its ‘muck and brass’ identity, but had found nothing to replace it with. Its central streets were now interchangeable with those of every other stagnating provincial town in the UK; lined with the same boring shops, delineated by soulless, monolithic structures of glass and concrete, which passed for malls. Its outskirts were even worse; a grid-work of uniformly drab housing estates, punctuated here and there by short rows of purpose-built retail units which usually consisted of a greasy chippie, a tanning salon and a boarded-up pub.

At least Cranby Street retained some old-time character.

Heck’s sister, Dana, lived at number twenty-three. She answered the door in flip-flops, cut-off jeans and a sleeveless blouse, an outfit which suited her. Aged in her early forties, she was very attractive, with long, dark hair and a slim, shapely figure.

Her eyes initially lit up at the sight of her brother, but then her mouth dropped open in shock. ‘Good God, what’s happened?’

‘Is Sarah here?’ he asked.

‘She’s … she’s in France with school.’

‘Good. That means we can come in?’ He shouldered his way inside, awaiting no invitation. ‘This is Lauren. She’s helping me with a case.’

Dana, still looking stunned, turned and followed him in. Lauren brought up the rear. They entered a small, neat lounge, where a television was tuned to one of the satellite movie channels and a half-drunk glass of wine sat alongside the remnants of a salad.

‘What happened to you?’ Dana asked, switching the TV off. ‘You had an accident, or something?’

‘We ran into a spot of trouble.’

Dana glanced at Lauren, who’d cleaned her face with her sleeve, but had found it impossible to hide the dried blood spattered down the front of her sweater.

‘You sure you aren’t better off at casualty? You both look terrible.’

‘If it’s any consolation,’ Heck said, ‘you should see the other lot.’

Dana shook her head as she went fussing into the kitchen, returning with a first-aid kit and handing them each a wad of antiseptic wipes.

Heck peeled off his jacket. ‘Don’t suppose you’re expecting company this evening?’

‘Yeah, by nine I’ll have gentleman callers queuing down the street.’

He nodded, ignoring the sarcasm.

‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ Dana asked again.

‘No.’

‘At least give me some clue. You never even said you were coming north this week.’

‘It’s nothing important.’ He handed her his jacket. ‘Trust me.’

She held it at arm’s length, gingerly. ‘This is ruined. In fact all your clothes are ruined. I can wash and iron them, but they won’t be ready by morning.’

‘Doesn’t matter, we’ve got spares in the boot. We were planning to be up here for a couple of days.’

‘And you weren’t going to tell me?’

‘There was no need to involve you.’

‘You mean until you got so beaten up that it became obvious a hotel wouldn’t let you past the front door?’ Dana glanced around at Lauren, who couldn’t meet her gaze.

The atmosphere was far more awkward than the ex-squaddie had anticipated when Heck had told her that they were going to his sister’s house. Okay, even where members of family were concerned, it wasn’t the done thing to turn up unannounced and battered to the point where you were almost unrecognisable. But there’d been no apology from Heck, or even a reasonable attempt to offer an explanation.

‘I don’t suppose it really matters,’ Dana said. ‘I’m guessing you’re staying over now?’

‘If it’s convenient,’ Heck replied.

‘At least I get to see you again. What’s left of you.’ She glanced back at Lauren. ‘Lauren, is it?’

Lauren nodded, smiled.

‘Nice to meet you. I’m Dana Black, Mark’s sister.’

‘Hi,’ Lauren said.

‘Why don’t you go and get yourself a bath?’ Dana
suggested. ‘There’s plenty of hot water, and fresh towels in the airing cupboard on the landing.’

Lauren nodded and moved gratefully into the hall. Heck followed her out. ‘Go on up,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the stuff from the car.’

When he came back indoors, carrying Lauren’s backpack in one hand and his own holdall in the other, Dana met him in the porch. ‘You two together?’ she asked quietly.

‘What?’

‘You know …
together
?’

‘Oh … no.’

She looked disappointed. ‘She a police officer too?’

‘A witness.’

Dana’s disappointment changed to visible concern. ‘And this is why you were attacked?’

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that.’

‘It always is.’ She followed him to the foot of the stairs. ‘Tell Lauren she can have the spare bedroom. You can use Sarah’s. But make sure you have a bath first. I don’t want her coming home from holiday and finding blood everywhere.’

He nodded and made to ascend, but Dana stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘Just out of interest, Mark … are you going to keep punishing me forever?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t give me that. Never responding to my calls, never getting in touch – not even at Christmas. You’re only here now because you’ve nowhere else to go.’

He gently detached himself from her hand. ‘I haven’t got time for this.’

‘No, you haven’t got time for anything. Not even your own niece.’

He’d put a foot on the bottom stair, but now swung around. ‘I always send Sarah a card and money on her birthday.’

Dana smiled cynically. ‘Correction. You
sometimes
send her a card and money. The years when you forget, I give it to her and say it’s from you. That’s why she still adores you … not that
you’d
notice.’

Heck shrugged. ‘I just don’t like living the lie that everything between you and me is okay.’

‘No, but you’re happy to live the lie that you’re right and everyone else is wrong.’

He grinned to himself. ‘Hell of a time to have this conversation, Dana …’

‘Well, you kind of limit the opportunities, Mark.’

‘What do you want from me, eh?’

‘I want you back.’ Her voice softened, became unusually plaintive. ‘I want my little brother back.’

‘If you want your little brother back, you should have been more of a big sister when he needed you.’

She looked shocked by that, and not a little hurt. ‘You think you’re the only one who’s suffered all these years?’

‘I’ve never said that …’

‘And you think you’re completely blameless for what happened? I’ve said I’m sorry, but you haven’t. And whose side do you think Tom would have been on?’

Heck had again tried to head upstairs, but once again turned sharply to face her. ‘That’s a low blow, Dana.’

Many faces from the past haunted Heck’s dreams at night: not just the dead ones, but the living ones too – bereaved spouses and families; the innocent victims of rape, robbery or violent assault, unable to make sense of or even comprehend the dreadful things that had been done to them. But none were quite like the face of Tom, his older brother, who the last time Heck had seen him, had been more etched with angst than it seemed possible for a human being to experience and survive – which, of course, Tom hadn’t.

When Heck spoke again, it was with shaking voice. ‘I did what I did to try and get justice for Tom.’

‘Surely it doesn’t surprise you that not everyone saw it that way?’

‘
What does it matter!’
he shouted, before realising that he was shouting and hurriedly lowering his voice. ‘We can’t change the past.’

She laughed. ‘Are you telling me you would if you could? I don’t believe you.’

‘Well … you’re right there, Dana. Because frankly, this crap has been going on for so long that I can’t imagine any other way of life. Which is why I’m not interested in having this discussion. Not now, not ever.’ This time he did head upstairs.

‘How noble of you, Mark,’ she called after him. ‘Accepting a lifelong penance. It’s less noble of course that you’re condemning me and Sarah to the same thing.’

On the upper floor, he heard the bath running. Lauren came along the landing, carrying towels, wearing only her vest and knickers. There were bruises on her arms and legs; sticky red trickles streaked her shin from the knee she’d hurt in the crash. By her agitated expression, she’d heard some of the commotion below.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ he asked.

She nodded, taking her bag from him. ‘If your sis would rather I wasn’t here, that doesn’t bother me. I can find a bed and breakfast.’

‘A bed and breakfast?’ He chuckled. ‘In
this
neighbourhood?’

‘I’d sooner sleep under a motorway bridge than somewhere I’m not wanted.’

‘Forget it. That rumpus was about something else.’

‘Don’t get on with her, eh?’

‘There’s a history there. But it’s nothing for you to worry about.’

‘I’m not exactly worried, Heck. But I’m surprised. Perhaps you don’t know how lucky you are.’

‘Come again?’

She eyed him coolly. ‘To have a sister you can still talk to. I’m guessing you’ve never lost anyone close.’

He returned her gaze for a long moment, and said simply: ‘You’re wrong.’

Then he carried his holdall into Sarah’s bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Lauren didn’t see him for another hour. First, she had a long soak in the tub, which was just what the doctor ordered. Once she’d put some fresh clothes on – a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, she checked her room out; it was neat but basic. Before going downstairs, she peered from the window.