Making sure the answerphone is on, I switch my mobile off, take it to the bin outside, lift the lid and throw it in.
I return to the bar and pick up the newspaper that has been left behind by a customer, I pour myself a pint and start to read the newspaper. I’m a couple of pages in when Sean returns.
‘Oh, make yourself at home why don’t you? You’re supposed to be working, not dossing around.’
I laugh, but I can’t tell if he is serious or not.
Sean continues. ‘Take off if you want Joe, have a couple of hours to yourself as you’re working tonight.’
I thank him... ‘to be honest Sean, I’ll just work right through if that is okay?’
I don’t want to go anywhere in case I need to distract him away from my planted note, and hidden suitcase.
Sean looks happy shocked. ‘That’ll do me kid,’ he says, ‘I’m going down to The Printing Press to get a few early door drinks in before the boys arrive, if you need me, the landlord's number is by the phone.’
Relief washes over me again. ‘No problem, I’ll see you after closing tonight.’
‘You’ll be lucky, we’ll probably go to a club in town afterwards so if I’m not back Joe, lock up and I’ll see you in the morning!’
‘Consider it done,’ I say.
Sean takes his shopping upstairs and then a few minutes later he is back down and leaving through the front door.
By quarter to seven both Lucy and Dale have arrived and are ready to start their shift. I stay with them, helping behind the bar, collecting empty glasses from the tables, chatting to the locals.
A couple of hours later I decide, this is the time. It’s not a decision I’m taking lightly, for the second I step out of the front door I will be a dead man walking.
My heart is thumping and I feel light-headed, once I leave that’ll be it. I won’t be able to come back, I won’t be able to go to my aunt and uncles, I have no money to travel here in the UK, let alone to be able to afford the journey back to the states. I have no home, no money and I’ll be on the run from one of the most violent underworld gangs in the country, but it will be no different if I stayed, so the reality is, I only have the one choice. I keep my head together as I laugh and joke with the customers whilst making a last trip around the pub collecting the empty glasses from their tables. I stack the empty glasses on the end of the bar, then I make my way through the hatch and into the back bar.
I collect and then wheel the bin through to the main bar, ‘I’ll just dump this, I’ll be back in a minute,’ I say to Lucy as I pass her. Once outside I inhale deeply through my nose before exhaling through my mouth, I need to stay calm, it is critical I slip away unnoticed.
I half tip the wheelie bin into the larger outside bin, slowly, one by one the bottles fall until the suitcase is revealed. I tip the wheelie bin back and remove the suitcase, I lower the suitcase down so it is concealed behind the bins, then I take the empty wheelie bin back and return it to its position underneath the back bar.
I linger until Lucy and Dale are busy serving customers and everyone is engaged in conversation, slowly I make my way to the front door, down the steps and across to the bins. I push them apart, collect my suitcase, take a final look at the pub... and that is it, as fast as my legs will carry me, I’m off, down the cobbled street. At the bottom of the street I cross another road and make my way into the Industrial Estate. It’s like a ghost town at night as all the activity takes place during the day. I need a place to plan my next move and somewhere to bed down overnight.
Eventually, I find an empty industrial unit, on the side there is a well concealed door, I force it open. Once inside I do my best to jam it closed again. The air is musty, thick with the smell of stagnant water, damp brickwork and oil. It brings back childhood memories of the old derelict brickworks we used to play in. At the far end I can see the street lights through an office window, I make my way towards the office, inside there are a couple of desks, I push them together, I slide my suitcase underneath and lie down on top. I turn onto my side and gaze out of the window. After some time, I’m not sure how long, a Police van appears, slowly it creeps along the road outside and then stops, I fear that I have triggered a silent alarm and the Police have come to investigate.
It becomes apparent, very quickly, that I haven’t triggered an alarm, the van stops and the driver gets out and lights up a cigarette, he is only here for a break. The PC paces up and down by the side of his van, finishes his cigarette, climbs back in and drives off.
Now I’m all alone, the only light is from the glow of the amber street lights outside, the only sound is a repetitive drip of water from a leak in the roof onto the concrete floor outside the office door.
I plan my escape. I need to stay away from built-up areas and roads, certainly until I’m out of the Greater Manchester area. The river runs at the back of the Industrial Estate, that would be an ideal escape route, I can’t turn left as that would take me back to the town centre but turn right and I can walk along the riverbank all the way to Liverpool. That will be my plan, walk towards Liverpool when I get to the M6 Motorway I’ll walk along the boundary fence on the embankment to Lymm Truck Stop and hitch a ride on a long-distance HGV. It won’t matter if it is North or South if it puts miles between me and this nightmare.
I need to be up at the crack of dawn so I close my eyes, despite the eeriness of my surroundings I manage to fall asleep, and, stay asleep.
The following morning, I wake at first light, I’m stiff as a board, cold and hungry. There is nothing I can do but start my journey. It is Saturday and thankfully there is no one around, I make my way out of the industrial unit, towards the woods, Wildgoose Heys and the river.
Chapter 33
I leave the Industrial Estate and make my way along the path at the bottom of the woods. The early morning mist is now quite dense almost as if it is trapped between the hedgerow and the trees. Just ahead of me I can make out a man and a woman walking their dog, they look almost ghost like. I start to gain on them, then suddenly the man veers off to the right into the trees. I laugh to myself; he’d better be careful that whole area is riddled with excavations. There used to be an old Victorian pottery dump there and for years people would come and dig, mainly for the codd-neck bottles to sell. As kids we were more interested in the glass ball in the neck of the bottle to use as substitute marbles, if only we knew then that those bottles were worth money!
Eventually, the excavations were stripped of everything of value and just a heavily gouged out landscape remained. Over time it became hidden as nature reclaimed the area.
The man is still missing in the undergrowth and as I approach the woman, she is stood still, gazing ahead with her back to me and I can just about make out a German Shepherd dog bounding towards her.
I don’t want to startle her, or her dog, so I shout ahead of me, ‘Morning!’
Slowly she turns to face me as the dog sits down at her side.
I stop dead in my tracks, every muscle in my body contracts especially in my chest, my heart feels like it is being crushed, my blood runs cold, a chill runs up my spine. In fear, I am rooted to the spot unable to move an inch.
The woman stood in front of me in the early morning mist is... Jill.
The man calls out... ‘Bronson, come here’ the German Shepherd stands up, runs and disappears into the undergrowth.
I cannot speak, I cannot move, all my senses are shutting down.
The sun breaks through and a gentle breeze picks up. Jill and I just stand there staring at each other as slowly, the mist dissipates and as it does the surrounding area reveals itself. We are stood in a meadow of golden grass. Jill walks towards me, I am still paralysed. She circles me once coming back to the front of me again, as she does, she smiles at me, that warm, loving smile that could melt the coldest heart.
Then she speaks, ‘stop beating yourself up Joe, you couldn’t do anything to stop my death, we all have our time, no matter how wrong or unfair it se
ems.’
Two children run past us through the long grass, the sun is warm now on my skin, and birdsong fills the air.
‘Recognise them, Joe?’ Jill nods to the girl and boy running through the meadow. ‘It’s us, the last day we spent together in our childhood on Wildgoose Heys. We should have died that day along with our Dad, the plan was to murder the three of us, but it didn’t happen that way.’
My eyes slide to the right so I’m looking at the undergrowth. Jill follows my gaze.
‘Yes Joe, Dad is still there, until he is found his spirit cannot be released.’
Then with tears in her eyes, Jill turns back to face me and takes hold of my hand. ‘We’ll meet again Joe, I’ll be waiting here for you when it’s your time you’ll find me here in the meadows by the river.’ She lets go of my hand and takes a step back.
‘It’s time you went back Joe... you need to go back Joe... go back now Joe... do you hear me Joe... can you hear me Joe... Joe can you hear me...? Come on Joe, open those eyes, come on...’
Everything is black, I can hear muffled voices but I can’t open my eyes. Slowly I regain clarity in my hearing but still have no sight.
I hear a female voice, ‘Right, that’s the end of the process, he should start to regain consciousness quite quickly now, you need to stand clear as he is likely to vomit once fully awake.
I can feel and hear everything, but can’t see or move anything.
A male in the room speaks, ‘so how much damage is done?’
The female voice is calm and authoritative, ‘very difficult to tell at this stage when he first arrived his CT and MRI Scans had shown a fractured skull, bleed on the brain, major trauma to cervical spine and pelvis plus haemothorax, basically he has been smashed up internally hence the internal bleeding within the skull and chest. But, that said, he’s still here, he’s been drained and patched up. He’s been in an induced coma for a month so that will have helped with the recovery process, as to long term damage, I can’t tell you for another hour or so. He could be fine; he could be in a vegetative state.’
I hear the beep of the heart monitor quicken.
The female speaks again, ‘here we go, he’s coming around, elevated heart rate, crash team ready?’
I hear a series of medical terms being used, instructions or drugs maybe? There seems to be more urgency in her voice now, she tells the male she was talking to, to leave the room immediately.
The female turns her attention to me. ‘Come on Joe, open those eyes, come on...’ she is gently slapping my face as she’s talking to me.
I’d love to open my eyes; I’m consciously telling myself to wake up but my thoughts are not at one with my body. I can hear the heart monitor beeps racing away.
She speaks again, not to me this time, but to her team. ‘Send him back under and let’s see if that stabilises him, Rachel take his bloods please let’s see if that gives us any clues, Jack - arrange a CT scan asap, I want to make sure we haven’t missed anything.’
The heart monitor beeps start to slow.
‘Hold, everybody – vital signs stabilising in all areas.’
After a couple of minutes, she speaks again, ‘Confirm VSS at 12:20 hours on the notes, turn him on to his side.’
I feel cold metal, first on my back, before being rolled flat again, then cold metal on my chest, a stethoscope possibly?
‘Well it all sounds good, let’s see how he copes on his own, pulse oximeter only please.’
I feel a clip being placed on my finger and the cold stethoscope on my chest again. From different parts of my body I can feel little pinches on my skin and the rip of plasters. At last my eyes start to open, I’ve been willing them to do so for what seems like forever, but finally they are responding.
‘There he is, afternoon Joe... blink if you can understand me.’
Everything is blurred, I’ve managed to open my eyes but conscious blinking on demand is still not happening.
‘Okay, maybe a little soon yet, all teams to stand down. My core team to remain, but take ten minutes break.’
I feel a thumb under my eyebrow lifting my eyelid followed by a bright light first on the left eye, then on the right.
‘Excellent, pupils reacting, direct and consensual response both look good.’
The female moves away from me, everything is still blurred, there is a bright light to my right, possibly a window? Cold blood runs through my veins, pins and needles start - first in my arms, spreading down throughout my whole body. I can hear small talk amongst the remaining staff in the room. Slowly the lights on the ceiling come into focus, I turn my gaze to the right to the window and outside it across the road is the unmistakeable Town Hall. I’m in the Infirmary, my thoughts now turn to how I got here.
My stomach suddenly contracts and my throat fills with vomit, chairs in the room are quickly pushed back and staff appear on all sides of me.
‘To me... one, two, three...’
A grey cardboard disposable vomit bowl is thrust into my face, removed and replaced two more times before I’m allowed to rest on my back again.
‘Better?’
I nod my head.
‘Good, try talking...’
At first my words are jumbled and slurred, but slowly I start to make some sort of sense.
‘Can you tell me how you got here Joe?’
‘It’s a bit fuzzy.’
‘That’s okay, I’ll start you off and hopefully, it’ll prompt your memory back into action. You were found in the Peak District at the bottom of a ravine in a stream spread out over several large rocks after a forty, maybe fifty feet fall. Have a think about the events leading up to your fall. I don’t need to know the details it’s just an aid to getting your memory back.’
She turns and makes her way to a desk in the corner of the room, slowly my memory returns. I remember hearing that I’ve been in an induced coma for a month as I started to come around.
I do remember what happened before my fall, all too vividly I remember and with no witnesses who will ever believe that it wasn’t me?
I hear a knock on the door.
The female who has been talking to me answers. ‘Come in.’
Two men in suits enter the room.
‘Right Joe, let me do some introductions here,’ she says, ‘I’m Ms Smith, your Consultant here in the High Dependency Unit. This is DS Walsh to my left and DCI Myddlewood over to your right. Do you feel up to answering a few questions or do you need some more time?’
Still a little dazed I ask for more time.
DS Walsh speaks first. ‘That’s understandable, can we just ask one thing of you, Joe?’
I hesitantly reply, ‘yes.’
DCI Myddlewood produces a photo of a man and holds it up so I can see it. ‘Just this one question today Joe, do you recognise this man?’
I stare at the photo, I know the man, but where from? I look to DCI Myddlewood and reply, ‘I do but I’m not sure where from.’
DCI Myddlewood continues, ‘like you, he is from the States, does that help?’
Then it comes back to me. ‘Yes, I do remember, we were on the same flight.’ I search my memory before continuing, ‘he freaked me out a bit because he kept staring at me, yes it’s definitely him without a doubt.’
‘... and that flight was from Newark to Manchester on Wednesday the 19th of April 2000?’
‘Yes, it was,’ I reply
DS Walsh pats my shoulder, ‘excellent Joe, we’ll come back when you feel up to answering more questions.’
The two detectives turn and walk out of the room.
Ms Smith the consultant closes the door behind her. ‘Right Joe, let’s have a look at you.’
She performs a series of tests on me, all seems to be well, or at least as well as can be expected.
‘Excellent, not too bad at all considering the trauma your body has been through, now there are two things; one, do you feel up to starting physiotherapy and two are you up to talking to the police?’
&
nbsp; ‘I’m good for both.’
‘Are you sure I can put both off for a while if you want?’
‘No, thanks I’m okay, I need to get back on my feet again.’
‘Good, I’ll arrange that asap, would you like me to arrange counselling as well, after all you’ve been through.’
I shake my head and turn to look out of the window again. Ms Smith sits on the bed.
‘You know these are different times, there’s no need to be all macho about your feelings especially as you’ve witnessed the murder of your friend, you’ll need to get that mental trauma out of your brain or one day when you least expect it, it will rear its ugly head.’
I still find the events of that day too vivid, they are stored in a very dark part of my mind and visiting that dark part of me isn’t something I want to do at the moment. I continue to stare out of the window. I feel nothing, just numb and empty. Ms Smith stands back up and makes her way out of the door.
The next day DS Walsh and DCI Myddlewood return.
DS Walsh leads, ‘We’ll just take a quick statement Joe then we’ll explain what’s happening.’
An hour later and we’ve finished, the two detectives start to pack away, once they have, DCI Myddlewood takes over the conversation.
‘Right Joe, here’s what we know so far. The man you have identified, along with another couple who were at the ruins of the old hall when the murder took place, is Alex Grinshill, the ex-partner of Jill Breathnach. It turns out he was stalking Jill since their break-up.
Whilst Jill was dating him, she had used his computer to access her emails, but she never logged out, so he had full access to messages in and out of her account.
From what we can gather he saw the emails from Jill to you, and, your replies. He gleaned all the information from those emails and he mirrored your actions. He travelled on the same flight, he took the same train from the airport, he even stayed in the same hotel as you. He hired a car on the Thursday...’
The Truth We Chase Page 23