Dying Eyes (Brian McDone Mysteries)

by Ryan Casey

  “Wait,” Brian interrupted, goose pimples spreading across his skin. “A driver?”

  Luther shrugged. “Yeah. It seemed like the sensible thing to do. Get her home and get her warm. If only I’d known.”

  Brian’s stomach rattled with adrenaline. “Did you see the driver?”

  Luther scanned the room. “No…‌I assumed it was all right. Besides, you’ve checked the drivers‌–‌”

  “We didn’t check the drivers. We…” Brian remembered Price’s words when he’d asked Luther to show him the rota. “Final straw, Brian.“ Then, nothing more said of it. Nothing more investigated.

  “You don’t think…” Luther started.

  “Where can I see that rota?”

  “It should be on my desk, like it always is.”

  The room swirled as the realisation started to dawn on Brian. He tried to process stimuli as he shook Luther’s hand and left the cell. Luther said things to him, asked him questions, but it was pointless.

  “Come on, you,” the guard said as he pulled Brian into the corridor.

  The world buzzed around him.

  They were so wrong about all of this. All this time, and they’d been looking in the wrong place.

  The guard slammed the cell door shut, sour after the disrespect Brian had shown him. He held Brian’s arms and pushed him along the corridor like a criminal. Brian thought about apologising for the exchange, but that was no use. If the guard wanted to, he could go away, throw darts at pictures of Brian’s face‌–‌whatever guards did to let off steam.

  Price was waiting for him at the other end of the corridor, shaking his head. Cassy was by his side. “Detective Sergeant, do I need to remind you what I told you five minutes ago?”

  “Price, I was right. There’s more to it. There’s‌–‌”

  “You’ve gone against policy, Brian. You’ve committed a very serious offence, not just against this police department, but against my trust.” He snatched the keys from the guard’s hands and stuffed them in his pocket. “Is there anything you have to say for yourself?”

  “I want some officers down at the Watson household. Right this second.”

  Price frowned. “What d’you mean?”

  Brian yanked free of the guard’s grip. “First, I want you to check that rota of Luther’s. Y’know, the one you made me dismiss? Is there anyone at BetterLives right now?”

  “Well, we can‌–‌” Price started.

  “Call them. Now.”

  Price’s cheeks flushed. Typically, he would’ve reminded Brian of their ranks, but he lifted the phone to his ears nonchalantly. “Pete. Yeah, yeah. We have an officer asking about Luther’s driver rota here. Got any eyes on it? Yeah, he…” Price shrugged, uncertain of what he was looking for.

  “Ask him who’s on the rota from twelve to one.”

  “Who’s‌–‌Oh, you heard that? Good. Wh…‌Oh. Yeah, I…‌Thanks.” Price moved the phone from his head. “A driver-for-hire. Sometimes, BetterLives bring outside drivers in. They’re a voluntary company, so they don’t have much funding for cars.”

  “Get the cars ready and get a team down to the Watsons’ house right now. We need to speak to Scott again,” Brian said.

  Price’s stare followed Brian as he zipped up his coat.

  “And in the meantime, I want some more officers down at BetterLives investigating every one of their vehicles. You coming with me, Cassy?”

  She waited for Price’s approval.

  “Wait a second,” Price said. “What’s going on here?”

  “McDone!” DC Carlton bounced down the corridor with a proud smile, holding a pasty in the air. “McDone! I found a gluten-free!”

  Price eyed DC Carlton up and pulled a disgusted face. “Get into my office right this second, Carlton, you dumb piece of shit.”

  DC Carlton’s eyes welled up as he looked at the officers with confusion. He slumped and walked towards Price’s office, the prize pasty still in his hand.

  “Are you going to explain yourself, McDone?” Price said. “Because if you don’t, then I have very good reason to‌–‌”

  “The driver, Price. The driver. Scott Watson was working the town the night his sister died. He was off his face on drugs. Price, Scott Watson is a driver. I have reason to believe the last person Nicola Watson saw was a driver.” He bit his lip as adrenaline poured through his fingertips. “Price, I think Scott killed his sister.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Brian pressed his foot against the accelerator and shot down the road, the rest of the traffic wary not to get caught by the speed cameras. They placed the cameras so tactically these days, giving drivers a nice, empty stretch of road to speed down, only to catch them. It was all a trap. But security had to make their money somehow.

  “Can I confirm your position?” Brian shouted into the walkie-talkie.

  “We’re outside the house,” DC Thompson said. He rarely got off his arse, but he was a decent enough officer when he had to be.

  “Wait for my signal. We want to be smooth about this. Don’t want to go in there doing anything rash.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Thompson said. The radio fizzled out. Cassy scratched her knees in the passenger seat as Brian stepped harder on the accelerator.

  “You don’t have to worry about how fast I’m going.” Brian noticed her gaze wander towards the steering wheel. She winced as he jolted around corners. “Been doing this for years.”

  “Right.” She inched back in the seat. “Hardly reassuring, but whatever.”

  Two police cars waited as he spun the tires onto the pavement and crept towards the Watsons’ driveway. He stopped the car, the engine still running, and raised his hand in greeting at the car on the opposite side of the drive. A hand rose, and a woman dressed in full uniform stepped out of the car.

  Brian took a deep breath and reached for his box of paracetamol. He tilted it into his hand, but nothing fell out. “Could’ve sworn I had a few left.”

  Cassy rolled her eyes and reached for the door handle.

  “Ah-ah, not so fast. DC Thompson and DC Forbes go to the door first. Then we follow.” He glanced at the cars in front. Thompson and Forbes moved towards the door, Forbes’ blonde hair dangling from underneath her police hat, Thompson as sour-faced as ever.

  “Since when did you start settling for backup?” Cassy asked.

  “Just gotta do what you’re told sometimes.” Brian gritted his teeth as Thompson and Forbes approached the front door. Thompson stuck a thumb up at Brian and raised his hand towards the door, knocking three times against the frosted glass.

  “Didn’t know you were a man to do what he was tol‌–‌”

  “Right, come on.” Brian pulled himself out of the car and slammed the door, then raced towards the house. Cassy barely had time to register his movements as she scrambled in her seat and stepped out of the car, struggling to hit the lock button on the keys.

  “What’s up?” she shouted.

  DC Forbes was messing around with her phone outside the Watson household, DC Thompson nowhere in sight.

  “Has he done a runner?” Brian asked.

  DC Forbes nodded as she continued to shout things down the phone. “Yes. Yeah…” She looked at Brian. “Follow DC Thompson. See if you can flank him out. He must’ve just now jumped over the fields. Can’t be far. Quick!”

  Brian’s heart raced before he’d even had the chance to run. “Come on, Cas,” he said as he broke into a jog.

  They ran around the side of the house and towards the partly open gate in the back garden, still swinging from recent use. The little shit must’ve seen them coming. He threw one leg in front of the other, trying to build up speed as he waddled out of the gate and onto the field area. In the distance, he saw Thompson, and then another figure, slightly further ahead. They were too far to bother catching up with.

  Brian, panting at the edge of the garden, rested his hands on his knees. Cassy almost stumbled over him when she saw him there, gasping for
air.

  “Aren’t we gonna carry on?” she shouted. “We can’t just let him‌–‌”

  “Get back to the car,” Brian shouted, struggling for breath. “We’ll…‌we’ll try and‌–‌and get ‘round the back. Only…‌only place he can end up is the old water works. Nowhere to go.” Sweat dripped from his forehead.

  “You really need to get some proper exercise, mate.” Cassy patted him on the back and jogged to the car.

  The specks of DC Thompson and Scott Watson grew ever smaller in the distance.

  Brian waddled back to the front of the house. He fumbled around for the door handle and shook his head in disbelief as he dropped into the passenger seat.

  “Why aren’t you driving?” he snapped.

  “Because I was waiting for‌–‌”

  “No time for waiting around, Cas. Get your foot on that pedal and get down to the water works.”

  Cassy slammed her foot on the accelerator. Brian jolted backwards, wincing as his teeth pierced his tongue.

  “I don’t mind waiting around for a moment,” Cassy said. “I’m a better driver than you, anyway.”

  Brian, forgetting he’d accidentally bitten it just moments earlier, bit his tongue in anger and yelped in pain. His cheeks flushed. Fuck. Totally shown up. He wiped his head and held his breath as Cassy swung the car onto the main road and tore towards the old water works.

  “Thompson, any updates?” Brian shouted into the walkie-talkie. The feedback buzzed at him momentarily before Thompson responded.

  “‌–‌Gone into the water works. Just‌–‌can’t get far now‌–‌can‌–‌”

  Something exploded in the microphone. Everything went silent.

  “Thompson?”

  “What was that?” Cassy asked.

  “Thompson? Are you there?”

  The speaker continued to rattle and whine. Brian was totally silent as Cassy slowed the car down, approaching the water works.

  “Brian? What is it?”

  Brian, wide-eyed and in a haze, plucked at his seat. Memories flooded back into his head. “Brian, are you there, Brian? Stay with me, Brian.”

  Then the long lie-ins. Vanessa and Davey leaving. The razor blades and the fake alcoholism.

  Nicola Watson.

  “Brian?”

  Brian snapped out of his trance and looked over at Cassy, who leaned against the steering wheel. “What is it? Are you coming?”

  Brian attempted to crack a smile. “Sure. Sure. Let’s go get him.”

  The water works weren’t so much water works anymore, more a collection of unused pipes under which the homeless and the junkies hid. Plenty of spots for a criminal to flee to.

  Rain lashed down on Thompson, his hood tightly wrapped around his head. He rushed over to the car as Brian and Cassy arrived. “Sorry about before,” he said, biting at his nails. “Dropped my blooming radio, didn’t I?”

  Brian sighed. He was okay. He’d just dropped his radio, that’s all. “It’s okay. Any sign of him?”

  Thompson puffed his cheeks and glanced around the derelict wasteland of rusty pipes and mounds of concrete. “One second I was on to him, the next, nada. But he can’t have got too far, you wouldn’t think. Skinny lad like that. He’ll be round here somewhere. Probably hiding in one of the pipes or something.”

  Brian moved around the pipes as more rain poured down from the concrete-grey sky. Stacks of empty beer bottles and broken glass filled the interior of the pipes‌–‌an absolute haven for drug addicts. The pipes provided shelter and security, at least for a short while, anyway. He walked forward, Cassy and Thompson following, the waterlogged gravel drenching his shoes.

  Clatter.

  He swung around to face the abandoned pipe up ahead.

  Clatter.

  Somebody was inside.

  He gestured over to the other side of the pipe. Thompson nodded and flanked left, while Brian crept towards the right-hand side. He rested his hand on the side of the pipe. All he could hear was the rain hitting the ground and his pulse racing in his head. He looked over at Thompson, who leaned against the opposite side of the pipe, and held three fingers up.

  Three, two, one…

  The pair of them swung round and turned into the pipe.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Thompson said.

  Three crows feasted on a dead rat, their sharp beaks scraping against the interior of the pipe. Clatter. Clatter.

  “Bloody hell,” Brian said. “Sick of these bloody animals.”

  “Brian! Thompson!”

  Brian swung around. Cassy pointed to the other side of the water works. He squinted and tried to see what it was.

  “He’s there,” she whispered.

  Brian’s eyes adjusted. Cassy wasn’t pointing towards the other side of the water works, but in fact was pointing to the pipe entrance just a few feet away.

  Scott Watson was completely static. He stood in front of the pipe. His distant gaze wandered around, unfocused. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  Thompson turned, and his jaw dropped as Scott emerged from the pipe behind him. Scott had his hands above his head. Tears poured down his cheeks as he snivelled in the rain. He had something in his hand. Something small. Something dark.

  Brian reached for the cuffs. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Scott sniffed as Thompson threw himself towards him and tackled him to the ground as if he was in a rugby match, knocking the wind out of Scott’s lungs. The black object flew out of Scott’s hand and into the mud.

  “Scott Watson, I am arresting you on suspicion of‌–‌”

  “It isn’t true,” Scott shouted, waving his hands around manically. “It’s all because of the ring…‌One big mistake…”

  “‌–‌I’m arresting you on the suspicion of the murder of Nicola Watson on January 3rd. You do not have to say anything‌–‌”

  “Just, please, just check it. Check what she found. I was scared. I thought…‌I’ve been smoking. I’ve been smoking, and I ran because I thought you…‌Please.”

  Thompson smacked Scott’s back and twisted his hands behind him. He slipped Brian’s cuffs around his wrists and dragged Scott, who continued to rant and rave, towards the van.

  “Just…‌just check it, please. Just check‌–‌” His cries were drowned out as Thompson threw him into the back of the car, in which Forbes had just arrived, and locked the door. He nodded at Brian and walked towards the front, tossing the key into the air.

  “What d’you think he’s on about?” Cassy asked.

  Brian crouched down and reached into the mud for the object that Scott Watson had been holding above his head. It was a SanDisk pen drive, no larger than a small key ring. He slipped it into his pocket and smiled at Cassy.

  “He’s stoned as hell, but it looks like we’ve got our man.”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  By the time the police car had taken Scott Watson back to the station, it was already too late to begin questioning. The sun had set, which didn’t take much, thanks to the glorious British weather. Scott had been granted an eight-hour lie-down due to the high levels of marijuana pumping through his system. When he sobered up, he’d have a rude awakening to deal with.

  Brian gritted his teeth as he trailed behind Price. “Is there no way you can rearrange so we can talk to him tonight? Just switch a few things around, and‌–‌”

  “Brian,” Price said firmly, turning to face him. “Go home. Get some sleep. We’ve got him. Officers we sent down to BetterLives have done some digging and confirmed that Scott drove for them at various times, including that night at the time of his sister’s murder. And some very interesting reports got back to me that you’ll be pleased to hear. Scott Watson’s fingerprints are all over a BetterLives vehicle that was out between twelve and one. And to boot, that weed running through the little stoner’s system? It looks like it’s the stuff Molfer’s investigating. Which means that hopefully, we’ll get a nice little word on where he got it. Tw
o birds with one stone, Brian. We’ve got him.” He planted his heavy hand on Brian’s shoulder and attempted a friendly smile. It didn’t suit his face. “Good job.” Then he turned around and scooted down the corridor.

  Brian looked towards the holding area where Robert Luther was kept. All going to plan, Robert Luther would be back out in the open again tomorrow, free of charge. A formal apology, then off he went. Another day of not knowing. Another day of the press following another lead.

  “You okay?” Cassy stepped to Brian as he stood helplessly in the corridor.

  “Just want to get it all sorted now. Had it up to here with this fucking case.” He pointed towards the top of his neck. “You?”

  Cassy sighed and diverted her gaze to the floor. The black edges of her mascara trickled onto her cheeks. “It just…‌it just all seems so…‌anti-climactic, you know? Like…‌I just don’t understand why. If it was Scott Watson, I don’t understand why.”

  A lump grew in Brian’s throat. A lump of inevitable dissatisfaction that came at the conclusion of any big case. He set his hand on Cassy’s shoulder. “Let me drive you home. I know the feeling, I promise.”

  Cassy pursed her lips. Maybe they’d have a few drinks. Get warm on the sofa. He could do with some company.

  “It’s all right,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

  “No, really,” Brian said softly. “Let me take you back. We’ll have that game of cards we spoke about. If you’re in the frame of mind for losing, that is.”

  Cassy laughed and, shaking her head, looked towards her feet. “It’s um…‌it’s all right. I’ve‌–‌I’m seeing someone tonight.”

  “Who…‌What do you mean seeing someone?”

  Cassy rolled her eyes. “I mean seeing someone,” she said. “Meeting a bloke. Having a drink. Maybe see where it goes. Remember what that felt like, Granddad?”

  Brian tried to grin as Cassy smiled back at him. Some bloke. Some lucky fucking bloke. “Well, he‌–‌this bloke, he’s…‌he’s all right, isn’t he? What’s his‌–‌his name?”