by Caz Finlay
‘Hello?’ Siobhan answered the buzzer.
‘Siobhan, it’s me. Can I come up?’
‘Connor, I was just on my way to bed. Can it wait?’
‘Not really,’ he replied.
The door clicked open and he made his way inside.
Siobhan was waiting for him at the door of her and Jake’s apartment by the time he got there. ‘Come in,’ she said as he reached the door.
He followed her into the open-plan sitting room.
‘What’s so important?’ she asked him.
‘I heard your news.’
She sat down on the sofa and put her head in her hands. ‘Bloody hell, news travels fast. I only told Jake yesterday.’
‘Is there any chance it’s mine, Siobhan?’ he demanded.
She stared at him, her pale cheeks flushed pink, and shook her head. ‘No.’
‘No? You’re sure? How far are you?’
‘What? Why does that matter? This is Jake’s baby, Connor.’
‘Then tell me how far gone you are.’
‘Just a few weeks,’ she said as she pulled her silk robe tighter around herself.
‘So, it could be mine then?’ He shook his head and sat in the armchair.
‘We had sex once, Connor. This is Jake’s baby. Please get it out of your head that it might be yours. Don’t you dare ruin this for me.’
‘I don’t want to ruin anything for you, Siobhan. But I also don’t want any comeback from this.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, when this baby is born, I hope you’re not going to have some crisis of conscience and tell Jake what we did.’
‘I won’t. Me and Jake are going to get married. What you and I had … what we did … it was just a bit of fun, wasn’t it? There’s no need for anyone to ever find out.’
‘I’m glad we’re on the same page.’
‘We are. Now, can I go to bed please? I’m tired.’
‘Of course,’ he said, standing up to leave. ‘Take care of yourself, Siobhan.’
‘I will. Thanks.’
***
Siobhan waited to hear the front door closing before she picked up the cushion and screamed into it. The cheek of Connor Carter moralising to her! Did they all think she was bloody stupid? How she would love to tell them all that she knew about Jake and Paul’s disgusting little secret. God, she wished she could see the look on their faces. Well, one day she would tell them. But not until she had Jake exactly where she wanted him. He would regret taking her for a fool. They all would.
And how the hell did Connor know already? She supposed Jake had panicked and told Paul who’d then told his brother. Although perhaps Jake telling Paul was a good thing, she told herself. Maybe he had finally broken off their disgusting little affair. She hoped so. She needed Jake’s undivided attention now that she was carrying his child. She would demand it. If he thought he could go swanning off to be with his boyfriend any time he fancied, he had another think coming.
Chapter 85
Marcus Holden staggered out of The Goose and Duck in Stanley Street. He waved goodnight to the bouncers, who knew him well as he was a frequent customer. Not like the fella he’d just bumped into. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so bloody tragic. The man was a raging homophobe and there he was, peddling his dodgy ciggies in a gay bar. But that fact now paled into insignificance. As soon as he’d seen him, Marcus knew what he’d done.
Marcus had sat with Grace by Jake’s bedside when he’d told them about coming to in that warehouse. He’d been beaten up and bound but had managed to free his hands and he’d almost gouged out one of his attackers’ eyes. Marcus remembered the conversation so well because he’d almost vomited up his latte at hearing the vivid description and the image had been ingrained into his brain ever since. Sometimes he forgot that Grace was part of this other world that he knew nothing about. She had been such a sweet, naïve girl when he’d met her, and he still saw that in her. Maybe that was what he wanted to see.
Marcus cursed as he checked his mobile phone for a signal and realised his battery had died. That was what he got for taking selfies and posting them on Snapchat all night. His friends had left earlier but he’d hung around talking to the bar staff and some of the regulars whom he knew well. He’d be leaving for Harewood in a few days and wanted to soak up as much of the fabulous Liverpool nightlife as he could before he left. He wasn’t sure how much of a gay scene there’d be in Harewood. Maybe he would start one!
He looked around for a taxi, but it was the early hours of the morning and most of the clubs and pubs had let out hours ago, so there were no cabs to be found. It was freezing cold, but he’d had plenty to drink and the alcohol gave him a warm buzz as he started to walk home. He didn’t live far from the city centre and as soon as he got home he’d phone Grace and tell her he’d found out who really kidnapped Jake and Michael. He felt a little thrill of excitement at the thought of it. Who would have thought that he, Marcus Holden, would be the one to crack the case? Grace would be so proud of him.
Marcus was only two streets away from his flat when he heard the footsteps behind him. He’d been sure he was being followed but every time he turned around there was no one there and he’d put it down to adrenaline, alcohol and his over-active imagination. But he’d definitely heard those footsteps.
Spinning around on his heel, he saw him – the closeted homophobe himself. ‘Why are you following me?’ he slurred.
‘I wanted to buy you a drink, Marcus. Why did you dash off?’
‘I needed to get home. I’m tired,’ he replied.
‘Is that all?’ he said as he approached. ‘You ran out of there in a hurry when you spotted me.’
‘I was surprised to see you in a place like that.’ Marcus spoke nonchalantly, but his heart began to race. The alcohol was wearing off rapidly and he started to feel the biting cold through his thin shirt. The hairs on his forearms stood on end and he knew he was in danger. He wondered what Grace would do. She would brazen her way out of it. He could too. Fight or flight, Marcus, he thought to himself. What are you going to do? He knew this fella was a coward; Grace had told him so.
‘I know what you did,’ Marcus said.
‘Is that so?’ He frowned as he approached.
Marcus nodded. He wasn’t going to back down. He was half a foot taller than this vile scumbag and he was sure he could take him in a fight.
Marcus flinched as the other man moved to within inches of his face. Mentally chastising himself, he stood firm. He was going to front this out. It seemed his tactics were working as he watched his would-be assailant start to back away. But why was he smiling? This wasn’t funny.
It was a few seconds before Marcus felt the warmth spreading across his stomach. He looked down and was horrified to see his favourite white shirt was now stained crimson. He glanced up and saw the glint of the metal blade in the streetlight as his attacker pocketed it and began to run off into the darkness.
Suddenly Marcus felt weak and nauseous. He no longer had the energy to hold himself up and stumbled to the ground. Dear God, he’d been stabbed. He needed an ambulance. Fumbling for his phone, he managed to pull it free from his pocket.
‘Fuck,’ he spat as he saw the blank screen and remembered his dead battery. He tried to call out but felt like he was going to choke every time he tried. He could taste the blood in his mouth and wondered whether he was going to die in this dark alleyway. He could see his flat from where he lay on the ground. Help was so close, but so far away. He’d never been a believer in God, but he prayed anyway, that someone might find him before it was too late.
Marcus was drifting in and out of consciousness when he saw the figure coming towards him. Maybe there was a God after all.
Chapter 86
Michael stood in Grace’s living room with his hands in his pockets, and she stared at him as though he had three heads. Surely she’d misheard him. Because if she hadn’t, then he’d just told her that her best friend in
the whole world had been murdered. Stabbed in the stomach and left to bleed out in an alley like some stray dog.
‘Are you playing some kind of sick joke?’
Michael shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry, Grace,’ he said softly.
‘No. I don’t believe you. Whoever told you has got it wrong, Michael. There’s no way it could be Marcus. There just can’t.’ She started to stammer.
Michael walked over to her and placed his hand on her arm. ‘It’s him. I saw him myself.’
‘No, he’s moving to Harewood with me. We’re going to open a pub, Michael. We’re …’
Then Grace heard a terrible wailing sound and wondered where it was coming from until she realised it was from her.
This couldn’t be happening. After everything else. Not Marcus. She felt her knees buckle and Michael caught her before she hit the floor. He moved her to the sofa and pulled her into his arms. She clung to his jacket, her fingernails clawing the expensive material.
Her heart felt like it had been ripped from her chest. Marcus was gone. She would never laugh at one of his snarky comments or sarcastic quips again.
Grace started to weep then. Slow, silent tears, which ran down her face in a constant salty stream, dripping onto the sleeve of her jumper. When she could finally speak and the tears started to subside, she felt the anger surging in her chest.
She looked up at Michael. ‘Who did it?’
‘It was a random mugging, Grace. Probably some crackhead looking for his next fix. It was nothing to do with us. Let the police handle this one. You’ve been through enough.’
‘My best friend has just been murdered like a dog and you expect me to let the police handle it?’ she cried. ‘Are you fucking serious?’
‘The police will find whoever did it. He left his prints all over the scene,’ Michael said softly. ‘This one’s not on you.’
Grace blinked at him and realised he was being serious. Michael Carter, the voice of reason? The world really had gone mad.
She couldn’t bear to think about it any longer. Resting her head on his chest, she began to sob again.
***
Michael held onto a weeping Grace and felt like his heart was going to break. He had never seen Grace Sumner vulnerable in her entire life. She was always so stoic. The one everyone else looked to for guidance. The calm in a sea of chaos.
As she continued to sob, he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered.
He hated to admit that he enjoyed the feeling of protecting her, of making her feel secure. It was a powerful aphrodisiac. She clung to him then, like a limpet. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. Then he just held her there for hours until she was spent and he thought she must have no more tears left to cry.
***
Grace woke on the sofa. Her head felt like it was stuffed full of candyfloss and her eyes stung. For a glorious moment she forgot that Marcus was gone. Then it all came rushing back to her, her grief washing over her like a tsunami.
Voices from the other room distracted her and she remembered that Michael had stayed the night. He must have seen to Belle. It wasn’t just his voice she heard though, there was another too.
Grace walked into the kitchen and saw Marcus’s mother, Val. Grace had lost her best friend but Val had lost her son. Grace couldn’t even imagine what she was going through.
‘Grace,’ she said as she walked into the kitchen, her face wet with tears.
‘Hi, Val.’ She watched as Val’s face crumpled like yesterday’s newspaper.
Walking over to her, she pulled her into an embrace. ‘I’m sorry, Val,’ she soothed. She knew then that she had to be strong for her, and for everyone else. There was no more wallowing and feeling sorry for herself. She had loved Marcus Holden like a brother, but he was gone, and the world had to keep moving on.
She remembered Michael was in the room. Releasing Val from her embrace, she asked Michael, ‘Would you mind taking Belle for the day, please?’
‘No, of course not. I’ll keep her for as long as you need.’
‘Thanks,’ she said.
There was so much to do. The funeral would need to be arranged and Val wasn’t good in a crisis at the best of times. Grace would make sure that her friend had the best send-off Liverpool had ever seen. Then, as soon as his funeral was over, she was leaving Liverpool for good.
Chapter 87
Grace hadn’t seen DI Tony Webster for a long time. She hadn’t had cause to call on his services and the truth was she could hardly stand the man. There was nothing worse than a dirty copper. So she was surprised to see him walking up the driveway of her house.
She opened the door before he had a chance to ring the doorbell and disturb Belle’s afternoon nap. ‘What can I do for you Tony?’ she asked.
‘I need to talk to you, Grace. It’s about Marcus.’
Grace blanched at the mention of her friend’s name but she allowed Tony into her house and he followed her into the living room. She stared at him, waiting for him to tell her what he knew. The last she’d heard, they’d found Marcus’s killer. But she didn’t press him because she knew he enjoyed the illusion that he was in charge. He got prickly when she reminded him who really called the shots, and on this occasion he obviously had information that she wanted.
Tony cleared his throat. ‘The prints all over the murder scene didn’t belong to the murderer,’ he said.
‘What?’ she snapped. ‘Who did they belong to then? Why were someone’s prints all over the scene if they didn’t kill him?’
‘They belonged to some kid from the care home near town. He’d run away and was on his way back when he came across Marcus’s body. Seeing the possible opportunity to stay on the run a little longer, he went through Marcus’s pockets and took his wallet and mobile phone. He says he didn’t stab him.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘We have no reason to believe was lying.’
‘Well, not being done for murder is a pretty fucking big one, isn’t it, Tony?’
Tony’s face reddened. Despite being as bent as a nine-bob note, he prided himself on being good at his job. ‘What I’m about to tell you next is crucial to the investigation, Grace. But I thought you’d want to know.’
She blinked at him, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, she remembered that they were not friends. He wasn’t there as a favour to her.
‘How much?’ She smiled through gritted teeth.
‘The usual is fine,’ he said quietly. She hoped he felt embarrassed exploiting her grief but doubted he knew the meaning of the word.
‘Of course. I’ve got it in the safe. I’ll get it for you before you go.’
Tony nodded. ‘Marcus was still alive when the kid found him.’
‘What?’ she shrieked. ‘And he just left him there to die?’ Grace was furious. She knew that Marcus had lain dying in that deserted alleyway for hours before an amorous young couple had stumbled across his cold, lifeless body. ‘He deserves to go down for murder anyway.’
‘You know that’s not how it works. He’ll be done for theft from the person, but it’s not a crime not to seek help for someone.’
‘No, but it’s fucking reprehensible. All he needed to do was phone 999. The little shit could do with a good bloody kicking.’
‘He’s only thirteen, Grace.’
Grace shook her head in despair. She drew the line at going after kids.
‘So there goes your theory of a mugging gone wrong then! Anyway, what makes you so sure this kid didn’t do it?’
‘Two things. Although we found Marcus’s blood on his clothing, it was minimal. There were no blood spatters consistent with the attack. And more importantly, Marcus told him who his attacker was.’
Grace stared at him in disbelief. ‘What? Who?’
‘Reuben McBride.’
Grace felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. She fought the urge to vomit all over Tony’s designer shoes. Reuben Mc
Bride’s name was popping up all over the place and she wanted to know why. ‘Reuben? But why?’
Tony shook his head. ‘No idea. We haven’t lifted him yet. We only questioned the kid this morning. So you might want to get to McBride before we do.’
Grace nodded. She would get to him, and she would make him sorry he’d ever been born.
After pocketing his money, Tony turned to Grace as he was leaving. ‘The kid mentioned something else Marcus said. It doesn’t make any sense. He was probably delirious by then.’
‘What?’ Grace asked. ‘Anything might help.’
‘He said “eye patch”.’ Tony shook his head. ‘Mean anything to you?’
Grace shook her head. ‘Eye patch? What about an eye patch? Reuben had one?’
‘Don’t know. The kid said he never said more than that.’
Grace sighed. Tony was right, it wasn’t much help at all.
***
Grace made herself a cup of strong sweet tea after Tony left. She had to think. She needed to find Reuben McBride before the police did. She had to know why he’d killed Marcus. It didn’t make any sense at all. Reuben was a thief. He used guns when the occasion called for it – he didn’t just go around stabbing people for no reason. At least he never used to. His latest thing was hijacking lorries full of contraband before they could be delivered to their intended destination.
Grace couldn’t bring the Carters in on this one. The twins were in Essex on a job and things had been awkward between her and Michael since the morning after Marcus had been killed. She’d spent most of that night on her sofa in Michael’s arms but they had barely been able to look at each other since. He would never forgive her for hiding Belle from him, and she would never expect him to. Jake was still in hospital, although he was threatening to discharge himself with every day he grew stronger.
None of them could help her with this. But there was one man who might know where Reuben McBride was. Taking her phone from her pocket, Grace phoned him.
‘Hello, stranger.’ John Brennan’s voice was as bright and cheery as ever.