Dying Eyes (Brian McDone Mysteries)

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Dying Eyes (Brian McDone Mysteries) Page 18

by Ryan Casey


  Pembrokeshire Garage looked just like it did in Nicola Watson’s photographs.

  Rain lashed down as Brian rushed over to the metal gating surrounding the garage. A rusty No Entry sign dangled on the fencing outside. His boots splashed in the murky puddles as he ignored the sign and jogged closer to the garage, its blue paintwork giving way to an onslaught of damp and moss.

  “Pembrokeshire Garage: First For All You’re Motoring Needs”. To those who noticed it, the grammatical error of “You’re” had become a part of the garage’s urban allure back in the day. The owners weren’t the sort of people you’d want to point that sort of thing out to. Fat Steve‌–‌links with some of the major North West gangs. “Posh toff bastards,” he’d say. “We’ll say ‘your’ ‘owever we bloody want.” Fat Steve was right about one thing; he probably could spell “your” however he wanted, seeing as he was locked in prison these days. After his arrest, the business had collapsed. Fat Steve’s kids closed the place up, having decided running a small business was more effort than it was worth in this economic climate. Another place lost to the new world.

  Until Nicola Watson’s photographs. P.G. Michael Walters, sneaking inside. What did it all mean?

  When he reached the entrance to the garage, Brian pushed against the door, padlocked shut. Damn it. But the padlock was interesting. It shone in the rain, not a scratch on its surface. Newly installed.

  Somebody didn’t want anyone to see what was inside.

  Brian let go of the lock, sighing as he turned back towards the road. His phone vibrated against his leg. Unknown number. Someone selling something. They always called at this time. Ten-fucking-p.m. He hit the red button and tucked it back into his pocket before arching his neck to look over the top of the building, scanning for some sort of entrance.

  Down the side of the garage, he saw stacks of old tires, various tools, and a window. Small, but…‌could he fit through it? He wasn’t that big, was he?

  He rushed to the frosted glass window and looked over his shoulder as a car passed by, splashing rain up onto the pavement. Was he insane? He crouched down to pick up a rock, covered in woodlice, on the floor. He dropped it to the ground before tutting and picking it up again. Seriously, was he going to break in? What if somebody saw him? How would he explain that?

  He bit his lip and shut his eyes.

  Glass cracked in front of him.

  When he opened his eyes again, he couldn’t help but smile, like a child enjoying great success at a game of ‘Knock a door, run’. He’d made a pretty clean job of the window. He scanned the surrounding area again; no movement other than the rain in the yellow glow of the street lamps. When he saw he was clear, he clawed at the shards of glass spiking upwards from the window ledge, covering his hand with the bottom of his sleeve as he cracked them out of place.

  When the ledge seemed clear, he rubbed the back of his hand against the window one final time to check for any loose pieces before propping his head through the glass. The room was pitch black, with a smell of damp, old cardboard.

  Was he actually going to do this?

  Fuck it. Might as well finish the job.

  He groaned as he stuffed his upper body through the gap. In a moment of sheer terror, he thought he wouldn’t be able to pull his stomach through. What a sight that would be. It’d be on one of those video-sharing websites. Robbery Gone Wrong. A cop’s fat arse sticking out of a window, legs waving all over the place. Desperate not to let that happen, he thrust his body in through the gap and held his breath as he tumbled into the garage, landing shoulder-first on the dusty concrete floor below. He winced and clutched at his shoulder but breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the glow of light and rain outside.

  He was in.

  Finally dragging himself to his feet, Brian grabbed his phone, but the dim screen light didn’t reveal much. Cabinets with untouched folders stacked on top of one another. Dusty surfaces and cobweb-covered tyres. Movements, just out of sight. No. Nothing there. Just him. He held his hand out as he edged through the room, searching the walls for a light switch.

  When he finally found one, he pressed it, ready to be bathed in light.

  Nothing.

  Fuck. The electric‌–‌probably switched off years ago. Fat load of use he was. He had a torch in the car, too. Idiot. Absolute idiot.

  Then he remembered the app Cassy had installed for him. He thumbed the screen of the phone. You better not have bloody deleted it.

  “God, thank you.” He grinned in victory as the Flashlight app beamed to life on his phone.

  Maybe apps were all right after all.

  He squinted around the room. Nothing visible. More dust. More tyres. Folders and tools scattered around on the floor. Scrunched up papers. He stepped into the centre of the room, every footstep kicking up a cloud of dust.

  Something caught his eye near his feet. It glowed in the flashlight; it was small, hard, and unlike anything else around. He grabbed it and turned it over. An Action Man figure. The one with the spacesuit. Weird. Not the sort of thing you’d expect Michael Walters to be into.

  He gulped as he walked over to the desk and reached into the box of videotapes. Recess. Hey Arnold. Cartoon after cartoon.

  Then, handcuffs.

  And a camera.

  Brian’s body tensed up as he picked up the camera. The walls felt like they were closing in around him. His hands shook as he flicked the “on” switch.

  The camera booted up immediately.

  Brian threw it to the ground and collapsed to his knees, heaving.

  He wasn’t sure how long he had been on his knees. All he could think of was the pictures. The images.

  It could have been Davey…

  No. It wasn’t Davey. Don’t think of things that way.

  He reached for the camera again with his shaking hand and threw it back into the box of videos as if it was coated in venom. His head throbbed. Nicola Watson knew. She knew what Michael Walters was doing‌–‌what he was doing in the name of BetterLives‌–‌and he killed her for it.

  He needed to get out of here. He needed to call Cassy, call the police. Someone. Anyone. He needed to stop Walters, right now.

  Brian sprinted over towards the window, stumbling over the Action Man figure, and threw the video box out of the window before pulling himself up. Pain shot through his shoulder as adrenaline pumped through his arms. He winced as a shard of glass nipped at his hand. He tumbled right through the window, into the hard stones and puddles below. A group of nearby youths in hoodies laughed.

  “Top lad,” one shouted. “Fucking top lad!”

  Dicks.

  He had to ring Cassy. He had to warn her. He went into his contacts list and hit Cassy’s name.

  One ring.

  Come on. Answer. Answer.

  Two rings.

  This was serious. It was‌–‌

  “Hello?”

  “Cassy, I…‌You need to…‌Cas, just listen‌–‌”

  “Woah. Slow down, Brian. What’s going on with you?”

  Brian rubbed his eyes, the taste of metal in his mouth. His left palm streamed with blood. Shit. Vanessa would suspect him. The hospital would ask to see his arm, and they’d know what he’d been doing.

  No. Focus. Deal with that later. He needed to get this sorted. He needed to get the case solved.

  “Cas, it’s the case…‌Michael Walters. You need to get a team down there right now, because I’ll be there waiting‌–‌”

  “Wait,” she said. Brian heard voices and the clinking of glasses on the other end of the line. “I’m out at the moment, remember?”

  Brian pushed the metal gate to one side and jogged towards his car, his entire body drenched in rain and mud. Her date with Ryan. Of course. “Cassy‌–‌it’s him. He killed Nicola Watson. The pen drive that Scott dropped‌–‌it’s the information Nicola was trying to hide. She knew about him, Cas. She knew what Michael was doing, and he killed her because he couldn’t risk it coming out. He cou
ldn’t be found out.”

  “You still aren’t making sense. Do you want me to put you through to Price?”

  Brian sat back in his car and rubbed a hand through his wet hair. “Michael Walters was exploiting BetterLives to access various organisations. Children’s hospitals. Orphanages. He was doing nasty things, Cassy. Things no one should ever have to see. Cassy…‌I have the camera here. I have the evidence. He’s sick. Nicola knew. She knew all along. Just get someone down to Michael’s place right now.”

  The line was silent for a few moments. The sound of the rain pattering against the car’s windscreen rattled in Brian’s head.

  “Okay. I’ll have a word with Price right away.” She apologized to somebody close by. “Brian, you shouldn’t have done this on your own. You could have‌–‌”

  “Thanks, Cassy. I’ll see you there in ten minutes.” He cancelled the call. His brain pulsated in his head. The camera sat just a few feet away from him. He wanted to smash it up. Stamp on it and smash it up. But he couldn’t. He had to stay with it, just for now. He had to stay with it until this was over.

  It could have been Davey…

  Brian’s phone vibrated. “Cassy, I told you I’ll‌–‌”

  “Brian.” It was Vanessa. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the last hour.”

  Brian’s stomach sank. “What? Vanessa? It’s…‌Everything’s all right, isn’t it?”

  She sniffed.

  “Vanessa, tell me everything’s okay. Vanessa, what is it? Is it Davey?”

  “He’s been hit by a car. He’s‌–‌he’s hurt. We’re in the hospital. Brian, he wants his dad here with him.”

  Brian didn’t register the rest of the conversation. His cheeks were cold as he placed the phone onto his lap. His entire body shook. The whole world seemed to crumble around him.

  He stepped on the accelerator and followed the road. Michael Walters’ house or the hospital?

  He could only be at one place at one time, and there was only one place he wanted to be right now.

  Chapter Thirty

  Brian paced down the corridor. What did she mean, “hit by a car”? Faces buzzed past him, hazy and out of focus. Hospital equipment bleeped, and the smell of disinfectant was ripe in the air.

  “Sir?”

  A short, dark-haired nurse watched him as he bombed towards the reception area.

  “My son,” Brian said, struggling to stay on his feet. “He’s…‌Where is he?”

  The woman shook her head and accompanied Brian to a chair. He couldn’t sit down. Couldn’t focus. He jolted back to his feet again.

  “Just, please‌–‌tell me he’s okay.”

  The nurse tapped a pen against a pad she was holding. “Okay. You’re going to have to stay calm for me, sir. What’s his name? Your son?”

  Brian scratched his forehead. “Err‌–‌um, Davey. Davey McDone. He’s…” He stalled. “He’s been in an accident.”

  The nurse scanned her register. “You just wait here for me for two seconds, okay? I’ll go and ask around. But please, sir, stay here.” She scooted off towards the reception area, taking a sympathetic glance over her shoulder.

  Brian rubbed his hands against his legs and winced as his sore hand caught against solid mud caked on his trousers.

  The images. Michael Walters, and…

  It all seemed so distant. So long ago.

  “Mr. McDone?”

  Brian looked up to see a nurse staring over him, smiling.

  “Sorry about the wait. It’s just we‌–‌”

  “Is he okay?” Brian shot up from his chair.

  The nurse examined Brian’s muddy clothing and cleared her throat. “Davey’s been hit by a car, but he’ll be okay.”

  Brian exhaled a huge breath of relief and threw his hands onto his knees. Tears dripped from his cheeks. He’s okay. He’s okay.

  “Nothing more than a broken arm,” the nurse continued. “He’ll be a bit sore for a few weeks, but he’s a tough lad. Took quite a hit.”

  Brian’s eyes clouded with tears as relief washed over him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  “Would you like to see him?”

  Brian looked down the corridor in the direction of the wards. “Is…‌Who’s with him?”

  “His mother and her dad. They’ve been here since‌–‌”

  “It’s okay. As long…‌I wouldn’t want…‌We’re not together. I wouldn’t want to make anything awkward.”

  The nurse sighed and shook her head. Brian could tell she wanted to protest, for his sake. “Right. Should I tell the mother you were here?”

  Brian’s head buzzed with the adrenaline of it all. He needed a release. Needed to cool off. Something to make the pain surface then disappear…

  “Yeah, I‌–‌”

  “Brian!”

  Vanessa was power walking towards him. He tensed up and readied himself for the barrage of insults. She always said his name in that high-pitched tone when he was in trouble.

  “Where have you been? I’ve…‌I’ve been trying to…” She rushed towards him, black coat drooping at either side, eyes red and streaming.

  “I’m sorry. I thought…‌It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. I’m here.” He opened up his arms as she stopped in front of him awkwardly, an invisible barrier between them.

  “I…‌Thank you. Thanks for coming. You’re so…‌muddy.”

  Brian looked down at his trousers and shoes. “It’s a long story. But it’ll be worth it in the end. Can I see Davey?”

  Vanessa and Brian’s gaze held for a moment. Her watery eyes shimmered in the light. “Sure. Sure. He’s just this way.” She held her hand out.

  Brian smiled back at her as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He reached for it and cancelled the call before grabbing Vanessa’s hand.

  They walked down the corridor towards Davey’s room as his phone started to vibrate again.

  Davey sat upright against his pillow as Brian rushed into the room. A brace elevated his arm, and a clear drip poked out of his purple wrist. He was wearing his blue-striped pyjamas that Brian had bought him at Christmas.

  Brian grinned at him, his eyes stinging with tears. “Hello, soldier.”

  Davey waved his free hand as Brian crouched beside his bed. “Where have you been, Daddy?”

  Brian laughed. “I’ve been fighting monsters and aliens so I could find my way to visit you!”

  Davey’s gaze spun around in delight, his tongue poking through the gap in his teeth where two milk teeth had fallen out. A little red bruise above his left eye and a few scratches on his neck, but otherwise he looked in fit shape. “Were they really scary monsters, Daddy?”

  Brian sighed as the images clawed through his mind. “They…‌they were really bad monsters, Davey. But they are nothing to worry about now. Daddy’s sorted them.” He kissed Davey’s hand and leaned his head against the pillow beside him.

  “Granddad says he’s going to get you a copy of the Highway Code next Christmas, doesn’t he?” Vanessa held her elbows as she stood above Davey and Brian.

  “It was like…‌There was me and then, BOOF!” Davey held his hand in the air and moved it around in front of him, using his fingers for legs. “But it only hurt my arm, and it was like it didn’t happen, but it happened in a dream.”

  Brian brushed his fingers through Davey’s wispy blonde hair. “You don’t worry yourself about it too much, son. You just focus on getting back to strength. Get those bones strong again, right?”

  “And then will I be able to fight the monsters with you, too?”

  “I hope not,” Brian muttered. He approached Vanessa. Her arms were wrapped around her body. Brian put his arm around her shoulders. It felt awkward, like a first date in the back row of a grubby cinema. She seemed out of place. She didn’t slot into his chest like a missing piece of a jigsaw anymore, not like she used to.

  But right now, they needed to stick together.

  “Where is your dad?”
Brian asked.

  Vanessa grunted. “Don’t you worry about him. He left just before you got here. Otherwise we’d have to get another hospital bed set up for one of you.”

  Brian scratched his cheek. His hand tingled.

  “Jesus, Brian, what’s happened to your hand? You…‌It isn’t, is it? You should get that seen to whilst you’re here.”

  His hand‌–‌of course. Blood dripped from the deep, muddy cut right through the middle of his palm. The clot was having a hard time forming. How had he let himself forget about his hand? “It’s not what it looks like, okay? I swear it’s not what it looks like. I’ll…‌Yeah. I’ll go get it seen to quickly before I leave.”

  “Is everything…‌all right?” Vanessa eyed up the dirty patches on Brian’s trousers.

  Brian wiped his eyes and tried to keep a straight face. “Not really, Vanessa, no. I found…‌It’s the Watson case. I found…” He glanced over at Davey, who was pretending his fingers were little legs running away from a roaring monster. “I don’t really want to go into it right now.”

  “Then don’t.” Vanessa’s leg rubbed against his. They were so close.

  Brian’s phone vibrated.

  His cheeks grew hot, and his throat swelled up. Bloody phone. If only they could leave him alone for five minutes. They were perfectly competent officers. They had their orders. What was the problem?

  “I’ll leave it,” Brian said.

  “No.” Vanessa smacked him on the back. “You get back to your job, Detective Sergeant. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Are…‌Really? Are you sure?”

  Vanessa smiled. “We’re really glad you came, aren’t we, Davey?”

  Davey stopped his game and grinned. “Glad you beat the monsters!”

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Vanessa asked as Brian’s phone continued to vibrate.

  Brian kissed her on the cheek then scooted out of the room. He pressed the phone to his ear and waved at Davey as he left.

  “What is it?” he asked in the corridor.

  “Brian, where have you been?” Cassy.

  “Long story. Have you got him?”

  Cassy paused. Other voices accompanied her. “We’re at his house now. You’ll want to come down here as soon as possible.”

 

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