‘PCSO Metcalf,’ Harry called over his shoulder. ‘That cut on the doctor’s forehead there. That look to you like it was the result of someone twatting him with a log?’
Jim leaned in. ‘No, Boss,’ he said. ‘No, it doesn’t.’
‘No, it doesn’t, does it?’ Harry said. ‘I’d say it looks more like a cut. A knife cut perhaps, or a scalpel.’
Harry watched the doctor raise his right hand to cover the cut.
‘I have no idea what it is you’re implying, but–’
Harry had had enough, and his next words fired from his mouth with rage hot as a furnace. ‘You killed Iveson and made me your alibi,’ he said. ‘Well, it looks like that’s all just gone to shit for you, doesn’t it, Doctor? Or should I call you James?’
Without warning, the doctor yanked Harry hard across his desk, heaving the detective from off his feet, then pulling his own hand free as Harry slid across the surface and over to the other side, onto the floor.
‘Bastard!’ Harry hissed, as the floor came up to meet his head, and he only just managed to bring his arms up in time to stop his skull from slamming into it. ‘Jim! Stop him!’
Harry heard the sound of a scuffle, Jim shouting for the doctor to stop, and when he pushed himself back up to his feet, he saw why.
‘You let him down now,’ Harry said. ‘You let him down, James, and come quietly, you hear? It’s over.’
The doctor had Jim by the neck, his thick, strong arm latched under the younger man’s chin, Jim’s feet barely touching the floor. ‘It’s not over,’ he hissed. ‘Not until they’ve all paid for what they did!’
‘Oh, it’s over alright,’ Harry said. ‘And this isn’t going to change anything.’
Jim croaked out the faintest of gasps and Harry could see that his face was turning a terrible shade of purple.
‘I’ve two left,’ the doctor said. ‘That’s all. And I’ll get them. I will! But you wouldn’t understand. You can’t!’
‘Oh, I can,’ Harry said. ‘I understand very well. Because I know all about it, James. Every little bit of it.’
The doctor’s face twisted with confusion. ‘What? No, you can’t! You’re just talking to stop me taking this officer as a hostage! And I will! That’s what I’ll do.’
‘I know all about Sally,’ Harry explained. ‘I know what happened in the snow, James. And you obviously faked your suicide, I’m guessing because you wanted to just forget everything and start again, am I right? A clean slate? I mean, if you’re a completely different person, then that’s what you’ve got isn’t it? A fresh start at things?’
Another choke came from Jim and Harry knew he had to do something sharpish.
‘And you’re wondering how I know, aren’t you, James? It’s bugging you now, because no one knows, do they? And I can’t have guessed all of this, can I?’
The doctor lifted Jim from off his feet.
‘Your dad, James,’ Harry said. ‘It’s your dad who confessed! He told us everything!’
A roar burst from the doctor, a primeval sound of pain and anger and desperation, and before Harry even had a chance to respond, he swung Jim at him, then crashed out through the door to his room.
The PCSO slammed into Harry, taking them both back down onto the floor of the consultation room.
‘Got off me!’ Harry roared, but Jim was in no fit state to respond, landing unconscious on top of Harry.
‘Jim? Jim! Damn it!’
Harry checked the PCSOs vitals and found that he had a pulse and was still breathing. Relief flooded through him, but was scorched away in a flash by the rage now firing through Harry’s veins.
Harry was on his feet and he charged out through the now open door of the doctor’s consulting room and into the hallway beyond. Doors flew open along the corridor as he raced along, worried faces of patients and doctors wondering just what the hell was happening in their quiet little surgery.
‘Stop!’ Harry bellowed, as he worked to push himself forward on legs simply not interested in running. ‘Just stop, man! Give up!’ But he knew that the doctor wasn’t about to stop, not yet anyway. People had two responses to threat: fight or flight. The doctor, clearly, was in flight mode. And he could shift, too, Harry thought.
Ahead, Harry saw the doctor smash through the doors into reception, trip over his own feet and stumble down onto his knees. But he was up again in the same moment and racing on.
When Harry reached the doors, they swung back to crack him in the skull, and he swore loudly, before kicking them open and charging through like a bull with a sore head.
The reception room, which had been a scene of sombre quiet and contemplation just a few minutes ago, was now alive with panic, shouting, and just enough screaming to cause even more panic. There were even a few children running around like headless chickens, their parents chasing after them.
Harry saw the doctor bound towards the main entrance. He’d almost made it outside and into the carpark. But no way was Harry letting him get away and he pushed himself on, hammering through the main doors.
Outside, Harry saw the doctor pause for just a moment, a deer caught in headlights. A car was in front of him, having just pulled into the carpark. In the driving seat, Harry saw Jenny, and next to her was old Mr Rawson. The old man was staring at the doctor. Behind him, one of the rear passenger doors was starting to open.
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Don’t . . .’ Harry said, walking slowly towards the doctor. ‘You’re done, James. It’s over.’
The doctor snatched a look back at Harry then shook his head and launched himself off left. Harry made to race after him when he saw the rear passenger door of Jenny’s car fly open and out of it came Liz. Then, as the doctor went to head off across the road, and despite the fact that cars were already screeching at the sight of the man sprinting towards them, Harry witnessed the other PCSO throw caution to the wind in a way that he would probably remember for the rest of his life. With a desperate yell, PCSO Liz Coates launched herself at the doctor, throwing herself up and into the air with wild abandon. For a moment, the scene seemed to play out in slow motion, with Liz flying through the air, the doctor turning around to see what it was that was making such a dreadful sound, the young PCSO coming towards him and then crashing into him, her arms clasping around the man’s chest, before the rest of her caught up, and they both tumbled to the floor, a mess of limbs and moans and swearing.
Harry was over to them both in a beat as the doctor kicked Liz away and jumped to his feet. At the same time, he saw Mr Rawson and Jenny climb out of her car.
‘Don’t do anything stupid!’ Harry shouted.
The doctor stared at Mr Rawson then turned his eyes slowly to face Harry.
‘How did you know?’
‘Know what?’
‘That he’s . . . that he’s my dad.’
‘To be honest, I’ve only just met him myself,’ Harry said. ‘But what happened at Jack’s place, that just didn’t add up, and it got me thinking that there was more to what you were about. He kind of just filled in the gaps for me.’
Harry watched as the doctor turned his attention back to the old man in the car. For a split second, he thought he was going to try running again, saw him tense up, ready to bolt, but then the man’s shoulders sagged, and he just stood there, his eyes wide with disbelief.
‘Don’t,’ Harry said, walking over to the doctor as Liz pulled herself to her feet, a pair of handcuffs already in her hands. ‘Whatever it is that you’re thinking of doing, just don’t, okay? There’s nothing more. You’ve done more than enough damage already. It’s over.’
Liz flipped the handcuffs onto the doctor’s wrists.
‘You okay?’ Harry asked, looking over at the PCSO.
‘Never better,’ Liz replied. ‘I grew up with ponies. Once you’ve chased one of those flighty bastards then a middle-aged man isn’t that much of a challenge.’
‘Still,’ Harry said. ‘That was quite something, what you did. V
ery dramatic.’
‘That wasn’t really on purpose, you know.’
‘Let’s pretend that it was, shall we?’ Harry said. ‘It’ll sound a lot more impressive when we tell Swift.’
Harry turned at the sound of the surgery doors banging open and saw Jim stumble out, rubbing his neck.
‘You okay, Jim?’
‘Just about,’ Jim said, ‘but I don’t think I’ll be wearing any scarves for a while.’
‘A shame that,’ Liz said. ‘I was going to get you one for your birthday.’
Old Mr Rawson shuffled away from Jenny’s car then over towards Liz to stand in front of the doctor. Behind him, Jenny jogged over to check on Jim.
‘James?’ Mr Rawson said. ‘It’s you, isn’t it?’ Then he reached out his arms and took hold of his son, bringing him close. ‘It is . . .’
The doctor leaned in, rested his head on his father’s shoulder, and sobbed, his arms locked behind his back by the handcuffs on his wrists.
Jenny walked over to stand with Harry, Jim still a little unsteady at her side. ‘You mind telling me exactly what the hell’s going on?’
‘Don’t look at me,’ Jim said.
Harry, having given the doctor and his father just a moment of privacy, closed the distance between him and them.
‘Doctor James Rawson,’ he said, gently reaching out to hold the man’s left arm with his hands, just in case he had any last minute thoughts about doing a runner, ‘I’m arresting you for the murder of John Capstick, Barry Hutchison, and Jack Iveson. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
‘I know,’ the doctor said. ‘I know, okay?’ Then he turned to his dad. ‘I don’t understand! Why confess? They would have all paid for what they did, dad! All of them! For what they did to Sally! To all of us! To mum! It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? It’s what they deserved! And how did you know it was me? How?’
Harry watched as the old man reached up to hold the face of his son in his hands.
‘How could it be anyone else?’ Mr Rawson said.
‘But you thought I was dead,’ the doctor said.
‘We all died, that day,’ the old man replied. ‘When Sally was found. Each of us, in our own way. But I don’t understand; why didn’t you tell me, that it was you?’
‘You didn’t recognise me,’ the doctor said. ‘You came into my surgery, into my room, and you just saw the doctor I had become, not the son that I had been.’
Harry saw tears start to slip down the old man’s cheeks.
‘Why didn’t you say?’ Mr Rawson asked. ‘Why didn’t you just come home?’
The doctor lifted himself up then, stepping away from his father. ‘I wanted to,’ he said. ‘But what happened, to Sally, it just got in the way. You didn’t know me.’
‘If only you had told me!’ Mr Rawson said, desperation in cracking his voice. ‘We could have worked it out! Together!’
Harry heard anger and hurt in the old man’s words.
‘I couldn’t, Dad! I just couldn’t!’ The doctor’s voice was a wet rasp now, years of pain flowing out. ‘Not until . . . for Sally! They had to pay! I owed it to her! To you! It had to be done! And . . . I couldn’t come home, until I’d finally done it. It just, well it just took so long.’
‘So why now, James?’ Harry asked. ‘After all that time? Why?
James seemed to shrink a little at his question, Harry thought, as though the weight not just of what he’d done, but the years now gone, were pressing down on him.
‘The cancer, dad,’ the doctor said, answering Harry’s question, but his eyes on his father. ‘I knew I had to do it, do something, do anything. For you. Before it was too late. I couldn’t let you die as well without them paying for what they did. I couldn’t!’ Then he whispered, ‘I’m sorry,’ and looked over at Harry and said, ‘Can we go now? Please?’
Harry gave a nod and led the doctor to the police car, but Mr Rawson reached out and held onto his son’s arm. Then he leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek.
As Harry eased the doctor into the back seat of Jenny’s car, closing the door gently once he was sat down and strapped in, Mr Rawson came and stood beside him.
‘I would’ve gone to prison for him, you know,’ he said. ‘I’m old, I’m dying, he’s still got years.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Harry replied. ‘But what you were saying, it just wasn’t hanging together. It couldn’t, not with the evidence.’
Mr Rawson let out a long, slow breath. ‘How did you know?’
‘Know what?’
‘That it was the doctor, that it was James?’
‘A few things,’ Harry said. ‘Not much though. We got lucky, but that’s often the way. And you said about his wrist,’ Harry explained. ‘When I first met him, I remembered that I went to shake hands, but he reached out with his left, instead of his right. Said he had an old injury.’
‘And that’s it? Nothing else?’
‘It was enough to have me suspicious,’ Harry said. ‘Then when I questioned you about what happened to Jack Iveson, and I said that you’d hit the doctor with a rolling pin, you just agreed.’
‘Caught me out, then?’
Harry shrugged. ‘I did. It was a log, except that it wasn’t. I think your son just nicked his forehead with a scalpel. Plenty of blood, you see. Nice and dramatic. Nearly worked, too. And he would have had me as the alibi. Clever. I doubt it was planned that way. He was probably going to off old Jack Iveson like the others, leave no evidence. But he changed his plans. Never a good idea.’
‘He was a good doctor, though.’
Harry said nothing, keeping his own thoughts on the matter to himself. Then, as Jenny made to head off to Harrogate, he raised a hand to stop her.
‘What?’ she asked, lowering her window.
Harry called Liz over. ‘I want you to go with Jenny,’ he said.
‘Me?’ Liz asked. ‘Why?’
‘You’re the arresting officer,’ Harry explained. ‘You caught him. You cuffed him. You get to take him in.’
Liz, Harry could see from her expression, was a little taken aback.
‘But, I mean, I’m a PCSO and, well . . .’
‘And well nothing,’ Harry said. ‘Now get your arse into Jenny’s car and I’ll be along in a while. And well done, PCSO Coates. Bloody well done indeed.’
Harry stepped back as Liz jumped in beside Jenny and then they were on their way.
Mr Rawson turned then to face Harry and despite the man’s age, Harry felt himself shrink just a little under the man’s piercing gaze.
‘Remember the cancer?’
Harry nodded. ‘Yes. I’m sorry about that. Awful, I’m sure. And with all this, too.’
‘Who do you think it was gave me the news?’ Mr Rawson asked. ‘Who do you think looked me in the eye and told me I had months left to live?’
Harry knew. And he didn’t need to say, so he kept quiet.
‘Imagine that,’ Mr Rawson said. ‘Imagine having to tell your own father that he was going to die and yet not being able to tell him that you’re his son.’
‘Revenge does funny things to people,’ Harry said. ‘It eats them up inside. Trust me, I know.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ Mr Rawson said. ‘But it wasn’t revenge that made him do it. Surely you can see that? Revenge could never drive someone to go to such lengths, to keep their identity a secret from their own family. It’s just not a strong enough emotion.’
‘Then what is?’ Harry asked.
‘Love,’ said the old man, then he turned on his heels and shuffled off back into town.
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘Love? He really said that? Well, that’s a right load of total bollocks, isn’t it?’
‘Bit cynical of you,’ Harry said, staring at Matt as he continued to shake his head in disbelief at what Harry had just told him.
‘I’m not being cynical,’ Matt said, ‘it’s just that, well, you know, to say it at all, like that, I mean? Well, it’s nonsense, like, isn’t it?’
Harry saw Jim wandering over towards them, his hands full with cardboard trays carrying disposable coffee cups. He handed them out then pulled out a bag of doughnuts. Harry went to grab one, but a hand slapped his away.
‘What would Jenny say, now?’ Gordy said with a wink.
‘Any news from her and Liz?’ Jim asked.
‘Not yet,’ Harry said, looking at his watch. ‘They’ll be there by now for sure, though.’
‘I still can’t believe it,’ Matt said. ‘Mike Smith? Everyone’s known him for years!’
‘Doctor James Rawson,’ Harry corrected. ‘Ah, he was a pretty good actor. Even his dad didn’t know, until the killing started. But even then, he had no idea who his son actually was, just that it was him that was doing it. Madness, really.’
Harry took a sip of the coffee, which stung his lips and burned his mouth. He didn’t care. Although the rain had eased, it was still a cold day, and the warmth was welcome.
‘Can you imagine it, though?’ Gordy asked, shivering as she sipped her own coffee. ‘Planning it for all those years?’
‘I’m not sure he was,’ Harry said. ‘I’d like to believe that he really did come home to be with his dad, to show him that he’d made something of himself, explain why he’d disappeared, faked his own death. Then, when he got here, and his own dad didn’t even recognise him? Well, I think that was just the start of it all eating him up from the inside again. Until, eventually, he just snapped.’
‘Well, I think that’s all very generous of you,’ Gordy sighed. ‘Which surprises me rather, I have to say.’
Best Served Cold: A DCI Harry Grimm Novel Page 23