The Rock (14 page)

‘Sir, be careful!’ Calbot shouted over.

Broderick moved forward, kneeling down on the outcrop and reaching forward to get some sort of grip on the rope. At last he achieved his aim and begun the surely impossible task of pulling the hanging man back up to safety. Below him, Laytham’s screams and pitiful cries of pain pierced the evening air. Lying on his stomach now, Broderick managed to get another hand to the rope and began to pull in earnest.

Bit by bit, inch by inch Broderick heaved heavily on the slippery rope. Each pull brought a new scream of pain from below, but there was no help for it. For a short while Broderick persuaded himself that his actions might actually save the life of the cruel and callous psychopath at the other end of the rope’s length. But then reality kicked in. To his right, Broderick noticed that the roots of the tree stump that was securing the line were beginning to come loose of the ground. Upping his efforts to superhuman levels, Broderick quickly realised that he was fighting a losing battle. Even though he could now see Laytham hanging just a few metres below, time was running out. Laytham was looking up at him in utter desperation, like a animal caught in a vicious trap. This was the worst possible way to die for a controlling, meticulous psychopath. A death that Laytham could not control and dominate to the final breath.

Suddenly the tree jerked free of its hold upon the ground and the rope whipped out of control through Broderick’s now bleeding hands. Below him Laytham saw what was about to happen and began to kick out with even greater fury. But nothing could stop the force of gravity as it propelled his wretched crippled body downwards to its painful, splintered fate on the rocks below. Broderick and his fellow officers looked helplessly on as Laytham fell screaming to his painful ignominious end.

‘May God have mercy on your soul!’ Broderick whispered under his breath. Then, realising just how close to experiencing a similar fate he was himself, Broderick called across to Calbot.

‘Calbot? I think I’m going to need some help getting back from here.’

Sullivan looked at her boss questioningly.

‘He got it all wrong, you see.’

‘I don’t understand’ Sullivan said.

‘Gregson thought his father loved him and that his mother had made his father suffer. But I’ve read the full report from the archives which included his father’s statement after the arrest. I also made a few enquiries elsewhere. It seems that Gregson Senior was the big philanderer. He was a well- known womaniser here on The Rock. Treated his wife very poorly, by all accounts. Gregson’s mother eventually began to take retaliation on him by having her own lovers. The young boy was only privy to his mother’s behaviour. His father carried on his affairs elsewhere.’

‘But to have your father carry the can for a murder you yourself committed? That must have been what turned Gregson into a madman.’

‘Yes, he truly believed that his father had sacrificed himself so that he the son could live without blame. However, the man’s statement suggests another story. Gregson knew it was his son that had killed his wife and according to his statement, didn’t hesitate in offering the police that information. One line of that statement has stayed with me. He said, “Don’t think that boy isn’t capable of murder. He is a calculating brat and should never be trusted. It wasn’t me. It was him.” Not exactly the words of a loving father wishing to protect his only child.’

‘Dear God.’ Sullivan stopped in her tracks.

‘The police dismissed his version out of hand. So, Gregson’s father hung himself, not to protect his son, but to avoid the shaming and disgrace of the murder himself.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him when you had the chance?’ Sullivan asked.

‘Gregson had a knife at your throat, if you remember? I thought it best not to aggravate him further. The truth for him, you see, may well have been more horrific than the fantasy.’

Sullivan took a moment for this to sink in. Broderick thought it time to change the subject.

‘So, at the end of your first couple of weeks on The Rock, do you have any observations, assistance or advice you’d care to give me?’

‘Come to think of it, one of each, sir. I
observe
that your collar is twisted at the back, so I’ll
assist
you by straightening it out.’ she said, smiling as she did so. ‘And my
advice
would be to go home and pour yourself a large scotch.’

‘And to think you came all the way from London just to tell me that. Almost a waste of valuable police resources’

‘Oh, that’s just for starters, sir. I can waste a lot more than that.’

Broderick smiled as he moved off across the lawn to his parked Mercedes. Sullivan watched him go. Without looking back, Broderick called to her.

‘You need a lift, Detective Sergeant?’

‘Yes,please, guv’ a surprised Sullivan answered.

‘Well get a bloody move on, then!’

Sullivan smiled to herself and looked up at The Rock towering high above her. It had been there for a million years and more, but tonight, as she headed across the lawn of The Captain’s House to Broderick’s waiting car, that simple fact gave her an unexpected and much needed sense of comfort.