by Liz Mistry
‘Can I come to see you? Tomorrow? I’m in Manchester – I came for Liam’s funeral and I’m spending a few days visiting the places he spoke to me about. Places we visited together before …’ Again his words trailed away.
Nikki gave him a few moments before prompting him. ‘Daniel?’
Sniffling, Daniel seemed to collect himself. Nikki imagined him straightening his spine and willing himself to be brave. Her heart went out to him. She knew all too well how he felt.
‘I drove Liam’s car … and … well, I found something. You said if I found anything that could help or was strange, to contact you … so I am.’
‘What have you found?’ Nikki suspected that whatever he’d found, it would be useless to the investigation, but the lad needed to feel he was helping to avenge his lover’s death.
‘He’d hidden it under the carpet covering in the boot – you know the bit that covers the spare tyre. It was bumpy – that’s how I noticed. It’s a file, with all sorts of weird stuff in it. Can I bring it to you tomorrow? Bradford’s not far.’
Wishing she could palm the boy off on another officer, Nikki shook her head, but against her better judgement agreed that she could give him a half-hour the next day.
‘Wonder what Liam Flynn was hiding in the boot of his car?’ Saj said trying to engage Nikki in a conversation that didn’t revolve around Downey, but Nikki shrugged and continued her perusal of passing faces until they got to their next port of call.
Chapter 76
The day had passed in a blur of activity for Nikki. With Saj as her chauffeur, beside her every step of the way, Nikki had pounded the streets, following up on all the interviews previously done with Downey’s colleagues and the little glimmers of information that Ali and his men had been able to extract from their sources. All to no avail. Downey had disappeared. Nikki had been unable to identify either the driver of the car that her mother had been in, or the man who’d held onto her phone whilst Downey made his escape. Neither of them showed up on Downey’s ex contacts list and Nikki began to wonder if he’d brought them from another city. Whatever the case, he’d left no fingerprints, so even a trace on those wasn’t an option.
Finally, she’d succumbed to Saj’s suggestion that she go and be with her family at her mother’s bedside. Lalita was out of surgery, on a ventilator, in an induced coma and although holding her own for now, her prognosis was uncertain. Nikki didn’t want to see her mother like that. The memory of her lifeless body was bad enough, but to see her immobilised and on death’s door at Bradford Royal Infirmary ICU was just too much for her to bear. However, she was aware that her kids needed to see their mum … and Marcus.
Walking through the corridors, accompanied by Sajid, like a faithful retriever, she felt grateful for his unwavering friendship. Not once had he railed against the ever-increasingly obscure leads that Nikki had insisted they follow up on. Not once had he flinched, when she got a little too heavy handed with some of Downey’s colleagues. Instead he’d followed her lead, supplying drinks that remained undrunk, and food that remained uneaten while they were driving from place to place.
The ICU nurse took her straight to her mum. Lalita, hair loose and spread out over a pillow like a halo, was still and silent. The only sound came from the machines that kept her alive. The whooshing of air through the ventilator, the heart monitor beeping and the gentle movements of the nurse who stood guard over her. Nikki hesitated by the door, her gaze taking in the frailty of the mother who today had demonstrated her true strength. In that moment, Nikki’s heart broke. Without approaching the bed or touching her mother, she turned and left the room.
Taking a few moments to compose herself, Nikki stood in the corridor, hating the antiseptic smell that pervaded the entire unit – it smelled like death to Nikki – it was death. With a final twang of her wrist band, she opened the door and walked into the waiting room. Her entire family was there. The kids, heads down on their phones, Marcus cupping a coffee, one leg bent over the other, his own phone in one hand, and Anika, pacing the room, wringing her hands.
For a long moment Nikki stood there, drinking in the scene. Taking strength from the proximity of those she loved most. Then Anika saw her. For a moment their eyes met across the room and then Anika lunged at Nikki, her hands stretched out, screeching at the top of her lungs, ‘You bitch! This is all your fault. Saint fucking Nikki! Are you satisfied now?’
Haqib and Marcus both jumped to their feet to pull Anika away from Nikki, but they were too late to stop her making contact with her older sister.
Nikki didn’t flinch as Anika’s fingernails raked down her cheek. Instead, she mumbled, ‘I’m sorry.’
Turning, shoulders slumped, Nikki stumbled from the room. I shouldn’t be here; I should be out catching Downey. I was wrong to come.
Halfway along the corridor, Nikki heard the waiting-room door open behind her and moments later she was engulfed by her children. Turning, tears in her eyes, she breathed in their familiar smell and then looked over their shoulders at Marcus, who stood, a forlorn smile on his lips. She kissed the top of each child’s head and then went into Marcus’s arms.
‘She’s a bitch, Mum.’ An involuntary smile tugged at Nikki’s lips. The Rubster was nothing if not direct.
Sunni, not wanting to be outdone, repeated his sister’s words, whilst wrapping his arms round Nikki’s waist. ‘Auntie Anika’s a real bitchbag cowface.’
Charlie moved closer to Nikki and got to the heart of the matter. ‘This isn’t your fault, Mum. None of it is. The only person responsible is Downey.’
Nikki looked at them. ‘You know, you four are my rocks. Truly you are.’
Marcus stepped forward and kissed her forehead. ‘Take the kids home, Nik. You’ve done enough for one day and they need to sleep. I’ll stay here with your mum and Anika and I’ll let you know as soon as there’s any change.’
Chapter 77
The taxi drops me off near City Park, but I’m not sure what to do. What happened back there? Where did that other bloke come from? I should have stuck to the plan. That’s why it all went wrong, because I thought I could forget the plan and act on instinct. I sit down on one of the benches near the mirror pool. The fountains aren’t working right now – thank God. The sound of the water would make me want to piss.
I shouldn’t have had those beers. Should have kept a clear mind. Shit! I shouldn’t have phoned a taxi either. At least that call was on my burner, and the bloke was probably not paying much attention to me. Still, that was a bloody mistake. Two mistakes in one night. Come on. Get a grip! You’re better than this. Stick to the plan and you’ll get it all done. There was no point in rushing things. I should never have done that. Tonight was to scope out the area – not to kill the target.
I groan as the repercussions sink in. The old bastard Moretti will probably be in hospital now and fuck knows how long he’ll be there. I open my rucksack and grab one of the cans from earlier. All my plans messed up and it’s all my own fault. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Hudson and my dad were right about that. Who was I kidding that I could be smart? I reconsider opening the can. The Wetherspoons is still open and I could do with a stiff drink. It’s been a traumatic night and I need a treat.
I head over there and order myself two doubles. As long as I keep my dark hoodie zipped up, no one will notice the blood that’s seeped through it onto my T-shirt. Besides, it’s too damn busy. I manage to find myself a stool near the bar – handy as I can just keep them coming till I decide what to do next.
Hunched over, I stare into my vodka and think. Okay, so Moretti has to be put on hold for now. I can move on to stage two. That’s the logical thing to do. All is not lost. I’m still in control. God, even the best of us killers have made mistakes. This was just a blip. Tomorrow I’ll regroup and move on with the rest of the targets. Then another thought comes to me. Who says all’s lost? Moretti might well be dead. It might all work out for the best. He’s an old geezer, after all. Must have a dicky heart or
something to be living in that old folk’s complex. I grin – maybe there’s cause to celebrate after all. I shouldn’t really – booze always makes me maudlin. What the hell. I raise two fingers with a twenty between them and signal for another two doubles.
Thursday 24th September
Chapter 78
By the time the kids had settled down – Isaac sleeping on the bottom bunk in Sunni’s room, the girls huddled up in the double bed in Charlie’s room, as if seeking comfort from each other – Nikki collapsed in her own room. She’d barely been able to find the energy to undo the laces on her DMs and kick them into the corner of the room, let alone take her clothes off. The bed felt too big without Marcus’s reassuring presence, so she grabbed his pillow and held it to her chest, her face buried into it, calming her as she inhaled his scent. At last, the tears that she’d held at bay all day were released, muffled by the pillow.
When her phone rang at 3 a.m., she had no recollection of drifting into sleep. Her eyes were gritty and swollen, yet she was alert and reaching for her phone before the third ring. ‘Yes.’
She hadn’t taken time to look at the caller ID and was surprised when the voice didn’t belong to Marcus. She’d assumed something had happened to her mum, but that wasn’t it … that wasn’t it at all.
‘DS Parekh, we’ve got your nephew down here in the cells. Drunk as a skunk and arrested for vandalism in the city centre.’
Nikki ran her fingers through her hair as she flung the covers back. Fuck, fuck fuck. What the hell is Haqib playing at? ‘I’m on my way.’
Stopping briefly before leaving to tell Charlie where she was going and why, Nikki raged internally at Haqib. As if they didn’t have enough on their plates right now. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t usually a drinker. Then, just as quickly, her anger left her. Contrite now, she acknowledged that the lad had been pushed to breaking point over the last few months. Perhaps what had happened to his Ajima was the last straw for the lad. Whatever his reasons, she’d have to sober him up before they talked about it.
Tiredness like she’d never felt before flooded her as she parked up and walked into Trafalgar House. If she could, she would curl up into a ball – a little cocoon – and wake up when it was all over. When her mum was well again, cooking in her kitchen, Isaac helping, and Nikki and the kids scoffing … but the reality was that that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. The thought “or maybe not at all” niggled at the back of her mind, but she dismissed it. That wouldn’t happen.
The officer who’d phoned walked with her down to the cells and filled her in on where they’d found her nephew. Nikki was glad they didn’t ask about her mum. She wasn’t sure she could deal with Haqib and talk about her mum in the same half-hour.
However, when she got to the cells, she frowned as the man locked behind the metal bars jumped to his feet, stumbling a little, grinning stupidly and headed towards her, slurring his words. ‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t my lovely little auntie. Auntie DS Nikita Parekh come to bail me out.’
Close up, the blood smeared down the T-shirt he wore under a dark hoodie and across his cheek was obvious. Stinking of booze and sweat, he made an attempt to grip the iron bars, missed and slumped to a heap on the concrete floor, before vomiting. As the odour of sour regurgitated alcohol hit her, Nikki turned to the officer. ‘That’s not my nephew, but I know who he is. Get him cleaned up, sobered up and keep him locked up till tomorrow. I’ll deal with this then.’
Chapter 79
On auto drive, Nikki headed back to Listerhills wondering why the hell Johnny Flynn had got rat-arsed in Bradford, vandalised a couple of benches in City Park, got banged up and then told the beat officers she was his auntie. There was something definitely iffy about it all and she suspected that if exhaustion wasn’t making her head fuzzy, she might be able to make some sense of it all. Blinking her eyes hard, to keep her alert, she pulled into her street and parked up. The Johnny Flynn thing was yet another thing she had to deal with the next day – another thing keeping her away from finding Freddie Downey.
Slumped behind the wheel, contemplating just sleeping there, Nikki picked up her phone from the passenger’s seat and speed-dialled. Marcus answered straight away, the hint of gravel in his voice telling her she’d disturbed his sleep. The momentary pang of guilt was soon replaced by a sense of calm when he spoke to her. ‘How’s my favourite DS?’
She smiled, allowing his voice to soothe her. ‘Fine. How’s Mum?’
‘No change yet. Anika’s with her. Haqib and I are trying to catch an hour’s sleep in the waiting room. Why are you up? Couldn’t sleep?’
Nikki told him why she was up and where she’d been. Like her, Marcus was too knackered to make sense of it. Saying goodbye, Nikki forced herself out of the car and went back inside, nodding to Ali’s men who were now positioned outside her house. She and Ali had spoken earlier and Nikki had been quick to reassure him that his men were in no way responsible for what had happened. Her mum had tricked them. No one had expected that.
Using the banister to drag her heavy limbs back upstairs, Nikki wanted nothing more than to settle into bed. She had a couple of hours before she needed to be up. But, within an hour, her phone rang again. This time she took a moment to check the caller ID – Williams!
‘Boss, didn’t know in the circumstances whether to tell you or not, but thought it best – you know, keep you updated like …’
Sensing that Williams was about to go into one of his long-winded explanations, Nikki cut through his excited chatter. ‘You got Downey?’
Sounding deflated as if realising that his news wasn’t the news his boss wanted most, he said, ‘Eh, no. No word yet on Downey. Springer has extended the search and one of the uniforms is now checking ferries and airports.’
As if realising that the news he was giving wasn’t reassuring for Nikki who wanted to get her hands on Downey in this country, he moved on. ‘Actually, it’s not Downey I’m ringing about. I was checking through the nightly incident reports – I’ve got into the habit, since Hudson’s death, of checking through them – seeing if anything sprung out. Thought maybe our killer might target someone else and I wanted to catch anything odd …’
Nikki couldn’t keep the weariness from her voice. ‘Williams.’
‘Ah, right. Well, Mr Moretti was attacked – stabbed at his home tonight by a hooded intruder – he’s in ICU.’
Moretti? Images of a cheery Italian man with an ice-cream van, handing her a cone with multicoloured sprinkles flooded her mind. Then it went to his daughter – an older girl who went to her school. ‘Shit, Williams. One of the girls on those photo packs you made was Mr Moretti’s daughter. I felt the face was familiar, but I couldn’t place her until now. My mum said Mr Moretti helped her and Peggy numerous times when Downey was beating her. It’s likely that he was the killer’s next target and, despite his denials, Downey is still in the picture for that and he has every reason to want revenge on Moretti. Maybe Downey hasn’t flown Bradford just yet. I’m on my way.’
All the way over to the hospital, something played on Nikki’s mind. Something just out of reach. Something she’d noticed earlier, but she was damned if she could bring it into focus.
By coincidence, Mr Moretti was in the next ICU room to Nikki’s mum, so after finding out that his injuries – two stab wounds – were similar enough to the other victims’, Nikki added him to the list of debts that Freddie Downey had to pay for. Mr Moretti had aged and, even allowing for the effects of being in an ICU bed with machines towering over him, he looked shrivelled and worn out. His hair, once so black, had turned grey and his cheeks were sunken. Beside him, his daughter Georgia sat. When Nikki placed a hand on her shoulder the face of the little girl in the photo pack looked up at her and anger exploded deep within Nikki. Not only would this woman, a couple of years older than Nikki, have to deal with the likely death of her father, but her childhood past would be dragged up whether she liked it or not. Unsure whether or not Georgia rec
ognised her, Nikki introduced herself, saying they’d been to school together. For now, she would leave this woman to tend her father, but soon, she – like so many of the girls exploited by Hudson, Downey and faceless other men – would be confronted by the demons from their past.
After the Savile case, many victims had been relieved to have the abuse brought to light, to have their claims ratified and in some cases to get the help they needed to move on with their lives. Others had suffered more by the thought that Savile had got off lightly and some had been overcome, all over again, by the entire process. Nikki wondered how all of this would affect the woman before her.
Whilst Anika was dozing in the waiting room, Nikki stole a moment or so with her mum, Marcus by her side. ‘Don’t you give up, Mum. Don’t you bloody let that bastard get the better of you. Not after all this time.’
Gently she pushed her mother’s hair back from her face, careful not to touch the multiple bruises that covered it. The machines whooshed and beeped, but Lalita Parekh was still and silent. The only thing keeping her heart beating was the ventilator. Where there were no bruises, Lalita’s skin was translucent, like all her blood had drained from her body, and in that moment Nikki knew she’d lost her mother. Nikki and Anika had both ignored the early indications shared by the doctors that her mother’s brain function would be impaired even if she managed to survive the internal injuries caused by the stabbing. Now, looking at her mother, Nikki knew that she was kidding herself. Downey had done what he set out to do. He’d destroyed her mum.
She placed her hand over her mother’s, bent over and kissed her, tears dripping onto her mother’s face. ‘You can let go now, Mum. We’ve got you.’
As she stepped back, her mother’s heart machine beeped louder, nurses ran in from all over intensive care and as Marcus pulled her away from the bed, Nikita watched as they pummelled her mother’s frail chest until finally, unable to stop herself, Nikki cried out. ‘No more … no more. Let her go.’