He nodded back, then peered up the stairwell to see if anyone else was coming out.
As soon as he looked away I went left instead of right, hugging the rear of the court and heading for the stairwell in the corner.
I expected a shout of discovery with every step, but I reached the welcoming darkness of the stairs without anyone challenging me.
I felt a surge of elation as I let myself out onto Edward Street, crossed quickly and lost myself in the over-warm darkness. But it didn’t last. I had what I needed to find Harrison, but compared to what I had to do next, my night-time foray into the nick had been a walk in the park.
Chapter 33
I should have guessed that they would double the police presence at the hospice. Two armed officers stood outside the main door, and in the hour I’d been watching, they had been replaced by two more who were now presumably patrolling inside.
A fifth officer, likely PSD, sat in a plain car further up the road, watching both his colleagues and the entrance to the hospice car park. For all I knew there were more I hadn’t spotted.
It made sense. Not only was Dad an easy target for the Russians, but he was also the one person I was guaranteed to try and visit. If they wanted to catch me, all they had to do was wait.
It felt decidedly odd, a fugitive from my own force. Not that I wasn’t confident that I couldn’t straighten it all out with some imaginative truth-bending, but the fact remained that my own colleagues would have no choice but to arrest me if they saw me.
Personally, I thought that PSD were going a bit far and a statement under caution would have sufficed. But I was the one who got away, and they probably had a picture of me up behind every desk in their office with a target on it. If I got arrested, they’d use their usual tactic of flinging as much shit as possible and seeing what stuck, and that wasn’t something I wanted to go through until this was all put to bed. Or at all, for that matter.
Pulling out my phone, I dialled the hospice. A polite female voice answered and I asked for Frank. A few moments later I was connected to the gruff-sounding nurse who was in charge of Dad’s care.
“Frank, it’s Gareth Bell. How’s Dad?”
“Worried sick about you. It’s not doing him any good, you know, not seeing you. And what time do you call this?”
“I know, I’m sorry. Look, work has been pretty frantic and they’re not giving me time off so I’ve had to sneak out. Do you reckon you could let me in the side door so I don’t have to put the officers there in an awkward position?”
“How long?” One of the things I liked about Frank was that he didn’t beat about the bush. He’d all but bullied Dad with refreshing bluntness into staying alive since he’d arrived at the hospice.
“Give me five minutes.”
“See you then.”
I rang off and climbed out of the car, walked casually down the hill and turned into the building next to the hospice car park. I could feel eyes on me until I got off the street, and I just hoped that they hadn’t recognised me or all hell would break loose.
No one challenged me as I hopped the fence and approached the side door, however, and after a short but nerve-wracking wait Frank opened it and ushered me inside.
“I’ve got one of them drinking tea in the kitchen,” he said quietly as he led me towards Dad’s room, “but they never stay long so get in quick.”
He held up a hand as we reached a junction in the hallway, disappearing around it first before his arm reappeared and waved me on. I moved quickly past him and into Dad’s room, shutting the door behind me.
The first thing that hit me was the smell. I’d become used to it during my daily visits, but now I’d been away for a little while it came back full force. It wasn’t overwhelming, but no amount of air freshener and polish can mask the scent of a dying man.
The curtains were drawn, their outline little more than a blur in the orange sodium light from outside. As I moved towards the bed a shaking hand snaked out from under the duvet and turned on one of the lamps sat to either side.
Almost lost in the pillows and covers, Dad’s face looked up at me, blinking.
“Gareth?”
I moved to the side of the bed and squeezed his hand, then passed him his glasses. It took him a few tries to get them on but I knew better than to offer to help. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better. Where have you been?”
“Work. It’s been, uh, difficult the last few days.”
“Jake?” How anyone could pour so much hope into one word I didn’t know, and the yearning in it made my resolve falter.
“He, uh, he … I don’t know where he is.” It wasn’t a lie, as such, but it still left a foul taste in my mouth.
Dad seemed to deflate, but his trembling hand patted mine where it rested on the side of the bed.
“You’ll find him, don’t worry. I just want my boys back together. When I’m gone, I don’t want you to be alone.”
The tears that had been lurking all day chose that moment to burst forth, streaming down my face like winter rain. Dad’s hand stopped patting and gripped my wrist, hard, and I wrapped my free hand around his as I began to sob, each sound bringing with it a sharp pain that went from the bottom of my chest to the top of my skull.
When they finally subsided, I rested my forehead against the fingers that still gripped my arm.
“Gareth, I need to talk to you about something.”
I looked up, hearing the urgency in his tone.
“What?”
He let go of my wrist, then faffed about with the covers until he was half-sitting up and could look me in the eye. I could tell by his frown that I was about to get a lecture, although I had no idea what about.
“Sally”. He pointed a finger at me. “You fucked up there, boy. That girl is something special, and you let things get bad enough that she divorced you. What the hell were you thinking?”
I stared in surprise, unable to gather my thoughts. Throughout all of my issues with Sally, Dad had never judged, never offered unsolicited advice, just listened and given me near-silent support until the dust finally settled.
“Why bring this up now?”
“Regret.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I sat there and watched you throw away the best thing that ever happened to you, but you were so deep in it I didn’t think you’d listen if I told you. I wish I had, but now that I’m dying I find I can’t be bothered to pretend anymore. Whatever you did, you need to undo it. She still loves you, you know, even if you’re too wrapped up in your own shit to see it.”
“And how do you know that?” I demanded, but without much force. I was too busy reeling at the sudden change from grief to confusion.
“What, you think she doesn’t talk when she visits? Do you remember what I said to her in my speech at your wedding?”
“Which bit? It did go on for about an hour.”
“Ha bloody ha. The bit about being the daughter I never had.”
“Yeah, I remember.” At the time it had brought a lump to my throat and tears to Sally’s eyes.
“Well I meant it, and she talks to me, always has. Last couple of days I’ve seen her more than I have you. She doesn’t talk about you much, but when she does you can see how she feels.”
“Thanks, Oprah.” I tried a smile but couldn’t make it fit.
“Stop it!” His voice was weaker now, and raspy. “Please Gareth, I know you don’t like talking about it but there’s no one else left to tell you the hard truth. I think I might have a few days at best, and after that you’re on your own. I know you’ll be OK, but I don’t want you to be OK, I want you to be happy. When the two of you first got together I thought I’d be spending my last years looking after my grandchildren, but instead I just had to watch from the side-lines while you grew apart. If you do anything in this life, my boy, then make sure it’s fixing what went wrong.”
He was right, I didn’t like talking about it. My first reaction was to bat it away with humour, a
nd my second to sulk like a stroppy teenager, but deep down I knew that was all just bullshit. I was to blame, but I had too many other things going on right now. It was just unfortunate timing, because the one person who might be able to help me find Harrison was in fact Sally, and now I had to ask her with all this on my mind too.
“You’re right,” I began, then stopped as I saw that Dad had fallen asleep. I reached out and took his glasses off, then folded them and placed them on the edge of the bedside table where he could reach them when he woke up.
I gave his hand a last squeeze and stood, then crossed the room, checked the corridor for police officers and slipped away, closing the door without looking back.
Chapter 34
The Audi A3 is a great car in many ways, but comfortable to sleep in it is not.
I woke a little after six with cramp in both calves and a knot in my neck the size of a politician’s ego, pulled back to consciousness by the sound of the building pre-rush-hour traffic.
I’d driven out to Peacehaven straight from Dad’s, a town on the coast between Brighton and Newhaven that had little to recommend it save for its proximity to those towns. It was where Sally had chosen to move to after we broke up, and although I’d never been to her new house, I knew where it was and so had camped up in a layby just down the road.
I pulled out my phone and stared at it for a long time without moving, willing my fingers to find her number and hit the dial button. They resisted for long enough that I nearly gave up and drove away. But that would make a mockery of everything I’d done so far, so I pressed the button and held the phone to my ear with my eyes closed, mentally gathering myself. I knew I was putting her at risk by calling, but there really wasn’t any other way to get the information I needed.
“Gareth?” She answered on the second ring, sounding worried. “What’s wrong? Is it Dad?”
“No, no. He’s, well, he’s OK. I’m sorry to call you like this, Sally, but I really need your help. Can we meet?”
“Not unless you can get to Peacehaven in the next few minutes. If I don’t leave in twenty, I won’t get to work on time.”
“As it happens, I’m already there.”
She was silent for a moment, and I could almost hear her working through the implications.
“You’re outside my house?” She sounded wary, and it hurt.
“Not quite, but close enough that I can be there in two.”
“Fine,” she sighed, “I’ll put the kettle on.”
By the time she rang off I’d already started the car, driving half a street to pull up again outside her house.
Despite my dislike of Peacehaven, I had to admit the part she’d moved to was quite pleasant. The road was a row of semi-detached houses on one side and a park on the other, the buildings almost peach-coloured brick with well-tended front gardens.
Half of Sally’s had been converted into a driveway, and seeing her little white Fiat 500 parked there made me inexplicably nervous.
“Come on, you pussy,” I muttered to myself as I walked to the front door. She had hanging baskets full of flowers on either side that gave the house a splash of vibrancy, and as I pressed the doorbell, I could hear bees happily buzzing around looking for breakfast. It should have been relaxing, standing there in the early morning sunlight, but instead I had a ball of nerves in my gut that felt like I’d swallowed a cannon ball. It was already hot, the air thick enough to cut with a knife, and in moments I was soaked in sweat that dripped down my back and turned my shirt sodden. I told myself it was just the heat, anyway.
When she answered the door the sight of her took my breath away, just as it always had.
“Sally,” I said, mustering a smile. “You look good.”
“You don’t,” she replied, crossing her arms over her white blouse. “You look like you’ve been scrapping with half of Brighton.”
“It has been a bad couple of days,” I admitted.
“And you smell like you’ve been dead a week.” She stepped back and waved me in. I passed her, hesitating for a moment when I should have leaned in and kissed her cheek. She covered the awkwardness by pushing me towards the back of the house.
“Get into the kitchen, I’ll make coffee. You look like you could use one.”
I went, grateful that the moment had passed. Now that I was here the nervousness was leaching away to be replaced with a longing I’d thought long-buried.
Sally’s house was immaculate. It looked lived in and felt like a home, but not a thing was out of place. Coats hung neatly on pegs by the door, everything she might need to take with her when she left the house on a small table just below them.
The kitchen was much the same. Despite the smell of recently-made toast, all the surfaces were clean and the sink was empty of washing up. It was about as far from my bomb-site of a flat as it could be, and I suddenly wondered how she’d put up with me for all those years.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” I said as she opened a cupboard and took out the coffee makings, “but I’m in a bit of trouble. I take it you’ve heard about Jake?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Your dad told me he was back. Have you found him yet?”
“He’s dead.” Speaking the words aloud hurt far more than I’d thought it would.
She looked up in shock. “What? How?”
“Someone shot him yesterday, while he was meeting with me. Did you not hear about it?”
“Oh God. Gareth, I’m so sorry.” She crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me. After a moment I returned the gesture and the sweet scent of her hair filled my nostrils. “I was off yesterday. If I’d heard I would have called.”
“I promised Dad I’d find Jake and keep him safe,” I said, fighting back tears. “I went to see him last night and I couldn’t tell him. I should have done, but I just couldn’t.”
“Don’t.” She pulled away and I let her go with no little regret. Even in that brief moment we fitted together perfectly, and the ache in my chest intensified. “Don’t tell him. We both know he’s not got long left, let’s not make it any worse.”
I nodded, leaning back against the counter and folding my arms to stop from reaching for her again.
“So,” she went back to the coffee with hands that I noticed were trembling slightly, “what can I do to help?”
“I need a phone tracked.”
“They can do that in Brighton, why come to me?”
“Because PSD have put a warrant out for my arrest. If I show my face at the nick they’ll stick me in a cell while Jake’s killers disappear.” She was half-turned away from me but I watched what I could see of her face carefully. It didn’t look pleased.
“This,” she said, turning and jabbing the spoon at me angrily, “is exactly the problem we’ve always had.”
“What?”
“The fact that you tell me half a story, or less, then expect me to be happy that you’re shutting me out! It’s like you think you’re protecting me, only I don’t need protecting. I’m a big girl, Gareth.”
I stared at her. “I don’t get what you mean.”
“PSD are after me and I know where Jake’s killers are if I track a phone,” she mimicked. “That’s like the tip of a bloody iceberg. You want me to even consider helping you, you take your bloody coffee, sit down and tell me the whole damn story. Or you can piss off right now and I’ll pretend we never had this conversation. Your choice.”
“Have I really always been like that?” I already knew the answer, deep down. Now that I was here, I could no longer deny the fact that I was still head over heels in love with this woman, and it hurt to think I’d been such a dick to someone who was supposed to be my equal in all things.
“Yes, Gareth, you have. Well, since PSD hauled you over the coals after Davey. You changed, Gareth. You were this ‘go get-em’ type of guy with passion and conviction, but after they’d finished with you it was like someone had replaced you with a cardboard cut-out. Going through the motions. I thought it would chan
ge, given time, but whatever they did to you left a scar so deep I don’t know if you’ll ever really come back.”
I was silent. I didn’t like to think back to that time of my life, it held too many unpleasant memories. Not only had I killed a man, but PSD had reopened the case no fewer than three times when they thought they had new evidence, each time suspending me and treating me like a criminal. It had been almost a year before they’d finally given up, and by that time I’d felt like a husk. I’d honestly thought that I’d come back from it, but if what Sally was saying was true, then I never really had.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then how about,” she said, passing me a steaming mug of coffee in an attempt to hide her embarrassment at the outburst, “we go sit down and you tell me what the hell you’ve been up to for the past week.”
“You won’t like it,” I said as she led me through into a small but pleasant lounge.
“Probably not, but if you want my help then I need to know everything.”
“Then everything it is,” I said, and laid out the whole sordid tale.
Chapter 35
“Shit.” Sally sat back and took a sip of her now-cold coffee. “Why the hell didn’t you report them coming to your flat? If you’d done that, you wouldn’t be in trouble now.”
“No, I’d be hiding in a safehouse somewhere while they ran around doing whatever the hell they like.”
“It may have escaped your notice, but you’re not the only copper in Brighton. I’m pretty sure someone else could have taken up the slack.”
“Who else stood more chance of finding Jake? Besides, they’ve shown they’re not shy about killing to get what they want. If something happened to you, Dad or one of the team, I’d never forgive myself.”
“That’s beside the point now. What we need to figure out is how to unpick this mess. You wanted me to try and track Harrison’s phone, right?”
“Yeah, do you think you can?” I felt a faint stirring of hope, quickly dashed by her next words.
Closer Than Blood Page 14