Trial by Execution

by T. M. E. Walsh

Raja had seconds to decide what to do. She could make it over the fence but the police would be on her as soon as she made for the main roads out of here.

  She heard Claire’s voice, closer now, calling her name, telling her to give herself up.

  Raja eased herself back down.

  Easier to take a chance and hide in the reserve.

  She ran back through the trees, and followed the walking trail that headed up the sweeping hill that led to the top of the great ravine.

  *

  Claire heard the commotion near the boundary, and saw the flash of torchlight through the trees.

  The she saw the movement ahead, off to her right; the back of Raja, legs pounding up the incline.

  Claire ran.

  Feeling the sweat run down her forehead, stinging her eyes as she reached the top of the path that ran up the ravine, she slowed as she reached the very top.

  She looked to her right, and leaned as close as she dared to look down over the edge. She knew there was a drop of around fifty metres to the lagoon below.

  Aiming her torch ahead, she arced the light slowly over the uneven ground, until the light reflected back from a pair of eyes.

  Raja got to her feet from her position curled up among the bushes.

  ‘There’s no way out,’ Claire said, breathless. ‘This place is being cordoned off, officers everywhere.’

  The rumble thundered through the air, and the wind picked up, stirring the branches of the trees around them.

  They both turned their eyes to the sky.

  Claire saw the Eurocopter in the distance, deployed after all.

  Raja looked down to the lagoon, could just about make out the figures on the bank.

  Devon and a body on the ground – Janet.

  ‘Is she dead?’

  Claire paused. There had been a lot of blood. ‘It didn’t look good for her.’

  She saw the way Claire was staring at her. ‘I can’t go to prison,’ Raja said, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. ‘I won’t go.’

  Claire’s face didn’t convey an ounce of sympathy for her. ‘No one will shed a tear for Raymond Knox,’ she said. ‘You broke the law, Raja, and anyone would’ve been able to see the circumstances that drove you to it, but now…?’ She shook her head. ‘Larry Ellis and Sergeant Roy Swanson. Thought you might like to know the names of the two people you murdered at the hospital just to get to Skye.’

  Raja swallowed hard but didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

  ‘They had families, both of them. There are a lot of people that will live with what you’ve done for the rest of their lives, Raja.’

  They heard the barking of dogs, and they both looked down towards the other side of the lagoon. That side of the reserve was crawling with officers now, along with the dog unit.

  ‘Come with me now, Raja,’ Claire said, turning back to look at her too late.

  It took mere seconds for Claire to register what was about to happen. Instinct drove her as she leapt forward.

  She saw the flash of dark clothes, pale face, black hair flailing in the wind – Raja running past her at speed.

  She hit the ground hard, jarring her shoulder, screaming Raja’s name as the woman leapt off the edge of the ravine.

  Claire scrambled forward, looked over the edge, and heard the noise as Raja hit the water below.

  *

  The impact on the water made her feel like she was being consumed whole by the wreckage of a car crash. Raja sank deep down, the lagoon seemingly bottomless.

  She felt her body slow.

  The water was cold, dark, crushing against her chest.

  Raja opened her eyes, as she sank into the abyss.

  CHAPTER 72

  48 hours later

  Claire stared at her computer screen, reading the headlines that had gone to press in the early hours of that morning. Raja’s death was all over the news, local and national. Her dark secrets were laid bare to the world, but it wasn’t that which had attracted Claire’s attention.

  Claire finished the article she was reading on the Heart of Haverbridge website.

  Falsely Accused: My Story.

  She stared at the name under the headline.

  Adam Crowley – reporter.

  Stefan knocked on her office door, and stepped over the threshold. ‘Donahue wants to see you.’

  She looked at him. Nodded.

  ‘You all right?’

  She gestured to the screen. ‘Crowley’s certainly making a name for himself now.’ She paused, brow furrowed. ‘At least someone’s getting something positive out of this,’ she said, pulling a scornful smile. ‘I heard a rumour Laura Clarkson is doing an exclusive with him.’

  ‘Sean’s daughter?’

  ‘Yes. She must be mad.’

  Stefan perched on the edge of desk, and saw the website she was on. He gestured towards it. ‘Have you heard from him yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’ She clicked off the internet. ‘Give him time, though.’

  ‘Have you heard from Simon since…?’

  Claire shot him a look, raised her eyebrow.

  ‘That part of my life is over, done with. I’m finally in a place where I feel happy… well, happier anyway. The ghosts of the past,’ she said, thinking of her father’s grave in Scotland, ‘are well and truly buried.’

  *

  Donahue’s office was hot and stuffy when Claire entered and took a seat in front of his desk. He looked tired.

  They all did.

  Barely forty-eight hours had passed since they’d all been in the thick of the chaos.

  ‘I’ve heard from the hospital,’ Donahue said. ‘Janet Casey’s going to be okay. The wound to her throat,’ he said, sucking in a deep breath. ‘She’s lucky it was more superficial than was first thought. A fraction deeper and it would’ve been fatal.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. She’s been through so much.’

  Donahue raised his eyebrows. ‘She’s going to face charges, conspiracy to murder. Or have you and the general public forgotten so soon?’

  Claire smiled, sadly. ‘Hardly, Sir.’

  ‘John Beckett and Devon Hemmings, too.’

  Claire frowned when he mentioned Devon. He was one of those people who had done wrong, served his time and would’ve carried on the rest of his life a changed man, but free, rehabilitated. He was one of the good ones, deep down.

  ‘Don’t shed a tear for him,’ Donahue said, reading the look on her face. He started to write something down on his notepad.

  ‘He also helped to save Janet’s life.’

  Donahue looked up at her.

  ‘That going to count for anything, do you think?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not down to us, regardless of our opinion on it.’ He returned to writing. ‘Now, I wanted to tell you that the search for Raja Clarkson’s body will soon be called off.’ He looked at her, gauging her reaction. ‘You don’t look surprised. That’s something at least.’

  ‘I’ve learned to manage my expectations in this job.’

  ‘The costs involved-’

  ‘Yeah,’ she cut in. ‘How many times do we hear that?’ She sat forward, face serious. ‘We have no body, Cliff.’

  ‘Divers have been working flat-out.’

  ‘And still no body.’

  He stared at her, eyes sharp as flint. ‘The water is deep, vast. It was never going to be easy.’ He looked down at his notes, started adding to them. ‘I know what you’re thinking, Claire,’ he said, not looking up at her. ‘But no one could survive that fall.’

  Claire remained silent until he looked at her. ‘I know…’

  Donahue sighed, set down his pen and clasped his hands together. ‘It’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last time a body has been lost to the water. Lakes, rivers… lagoons. I don’t have to explain to you what happens when a body sinks in water.’

  ‘It will resurface eventually, I know that.’

 
‘Well,’ he said, almost triumphantly. ‘There we are. This won’t be the last we see of her. She’ll surface sooner or later.’

  Claire looked at him, her face serious, silently arguing with him in her head, and he knew that expression on her face better than anyone.

  Donahue was exasperated. ‘The reserve has been sealed off since she jumped. Where would she go? She has no one. Her parents are being monitored in the Ukraine, her bank accounts have been frozen, passport cancelled. Her image has been circulated to all airports, train stations and ports…’

  Claire didn’t answer him. Maybe he was right.

  ‘There’s no coming back from that fall.’

  CHAPTER 73

  She hadn’t been completely honest with Stefan when she’d said the ghosts of the past were buried. There was still one more thing she had to do before she could properly move on.

  So many of her problems had stemmed back from 2012. That murdered priest investigation. It started then, and now she had to put it to bed once and for all.

  As she headed to her car, a familiar figure was walking towards her.

  ‘You’ve not been returning my calls since you bailed on me.’

  Claire stared at Simon as he came to a standstill in front of her, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.

  Claire shrugged. ‘What did you expect?’

  Confusion crossed his face.

  ‘Come on, Simon, I know you told Adam Crowley about me, about what happened to my father. Why he killed himself, and his phone call to me that day. You obviously got inside information, using your old contacts.’

  He barely flinched. ‘I won’t insult you by trying to deny it.’

  She shook her head. ‘What he did, his blaming me…’ She felt a lump rise is her throat. ‘It nearly destroyed me, hearing his voice. Everything he wanted to do to me in that moment… well, he succeeded. It’s taken me over two years to finally admit and accept it, and you told a fucking journalist about it?’

  His resolve didn’t soften; he just nodded.

  ‘Why?’

  He shrugged. ‘Anything to get him off my back,’ he said coldly.

  He saw the pain in her face.

  ‘Hurts to be betrayed by someone who you thought cared about you, doesn’t it?’

  Claire shoved past him to get to her car.

  ‘Go ahead, walk away. You’re good at that.’ He followed her. ‘Did you know I’d spoken to Crowley before we went to the quarry?’

  Claire stared at him, silently giving him the answer.

  ‘Why ask me to the quarry, go through all that, yet bail on me later?’

  She smiled, smug. ‘Hurts to be betrayed, doesn’t it?’ She unlocked her car, opened the driver’s side door.

  ‘I had no one else to ask. I couldn’t risk Fletch getting into trouble because of me.’ She slung her bag onto the passenger seat. ‘I saw the look in your eyes when you picked me up to go to that quarry, same as when we found about Janet Casey. You weren’t there for me, only yourself. This was my investigation, Simon.’

  She saw the hard edge to his face. He was refusing to give anything away, she could tell. She remembered that look well enough.

  ‘You will always be the man who caught Raymond Knox – no one can take that away from you. But this was the next chapter and it belonged to me and my team, not you, and that’s something you can’t stand – the case that made you all those years ago was going to end with me.’

  He watched her get into the car.

  ‘That, and that fact alone, will stay with you,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘Always.’

  CHAPTER 74

  The light was fading, but Claire wasn’t going to let the altercation with Simon put her off. She’d been delaying this visit since the day she got the call from her father. The call he’d made after he’d slit his own wrists.

  She hadn’t wanted to remember that dark day and, in the years that had followed, hadn’t felt the need to come back to this place.

  Today was different, though. Today she felt drawn to it.

  She walked the memorial gardens of Harwood Park Crematorium. They were peaceful, a place to come and remember or to feel comfort in some small way.

  Claire stopped at the memorial to the left of her, and looked down at the plaque that was covered in a film of grime.

  The words were still intelligible. The name she’d never forget. The good and the bad thoughts it brought back to the surface from the murdered priest investigation.

  Today she’d remember the good for a little while.

  She stared at his name etched into bronze, let herself experience the welcome feelings they once stirred in her.

  ‘Do you think he knows you come here still?’

  The voice came from behind her. Claire spun round on her heels.

  She stared at the mischievous eyes, and the candid smile.

  ‘Piss off, Crowley,’ she said, and buried her hands inside her coat pockets. ‘Are you following me now?’

  He laughed, and walked towards her. He looked down at the plaque. ‘Don’t you want to know why I’m here?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Come on, Claire.’

  She threw him a dark look.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, sheepish. ‘DCI Winters.’ She ignored him, returned her thoughts to the name on the plaque.

  ‘I never did get the chance to say I’m sorry.’

  She looked at him again.

  ‘I shouldn’t have got myself so involved with your investigation.’

  ‘You’ve gained some morals since your time in custody?’

  His face grew serious then. ‘What happened with Rupert Knox,’ he said, glancing at the memorial plaque in front of her. ‘I’ve had time to think. I was wrong.’ He glanced at her. ‘Going to Simon and finding out about your father, what he did when he…’ He trailed off. ‘I know you did what you thought was right, like I did.’

  ‘Not quite the same thing.’

  ‘I know, but what I’m trying to say is…’

  She gave him a knowing look and he stopped mid-sentence. ‘It’s always about the story, remember? Had you your time over again, Crowley, you wouldn’t have done anything differently.’

  He smiled. ‘I wouldn’t have been so rash and I would have respected you more. After what you did to find that bunker, what you did to save Janet Casey – that took guts, and that’s why I’m here.’

  She turned to face him full-on then. ‘Oh, this ought to be good.’

  ‘What I mean to say is, if ever we cross paths again,’ he said, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, nervous. ‘I hope to work with you, not against you.’

  She searched his face for any hint of bullshit. He seemed genuine for once.

  ‘That’s a first,’ she said.

  He looked confused.

  ‘For once, I think I may believe you,’ she said.

  He smiled at her and looked at the plaque.

  ‘I read about that case,’ he said, staring at the name. ‘He meant something to you. Despite everything, he still does.’

  Claire shifted, uncomfortable. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack if she uttered another word.

  ‘You come here to remember. It gives you strength, when you don’t feel like you have the fight left in you any more.’

  She looked at him, her face serious.

  He eyed her back. ‘Oh, I’ve lost people, believe me. I get the pull to a place like this, to someone like him.’ He nodded at the plaque. ‘It does get easier.’

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I came to tell him goodbye, actually.’

  Crowley raised an eyebrow at her.

  ‘I needed to bury my past demons, redeem myself for letting my father down. I had a real chance to save someone this time with this investigation, that’s why I went after Janet… Sometimes holding on to the past is like living in those bad places every day, and I can’t carry the weight of what happene
d around with me any more. I am a different, and much better, person without it.’

  A strange silence hung in the air between them both.

  They stayed there, standing next to each other like two sentries on silent watch.

  Finally, Crowley shifted away from her. ‘I’ve got to be going. Stories to follow up.’

  ‘Lives to screw with,’ she said, a wry smile on her lips, as she gave him a sideways glance.

  He gave a nervous laugh. ‘Yes…’ He stuck out his hand.

  She looked at it.

  Then her eyes flicked to his and he raised his hand closer to her. Another few seconds passed before she accepted it.

  ‘It’s good to spar with you, DCI Claire Winters,’ he said. ‘I’m a better journalist going forward. Better for knowing you… Don’t ever change.’

  EPILOGUE

  Heathrow Airport – four months later

  She walked into the terminal of the airport with confidence in her step. She pulled her suitcase behind her, but carried little inside it of any worth.

  She saw the man waiting for her among a throng of passengers – a tour group of sorts – sitting on the chairs before they checked in, paying no attention to the man sitting quietly among them.

  He folded his newspaper when he saw her approach, her blonde hair cut with a sweeping fringe across her forehead.

  She lowered her glasses as she approached and smiled when the penny dropped and he realised who it was.

  He got to his feet and drew her to him in a bear of an embrace. He looked almost the same as she remembered when he pulled back and she got a good look at him.

  ‘Been a long time,’ he said, voice heavily accented.

  She stared at his thick, brown hair, longer than she’d ever seen it before. His dark eyes were still comforting to her. His face had more lines than she remembered, but they added to that charm of his.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said.

  She nodded, smiled.

  ‘You’ll want these,’ he said, passing her a small A5 notebook. She glanced inside, saw the passport, passes and everything else she’d need on her one-way trip.

  He then handed her another piece of paper. ‘Use this to get in touch with me if you need anything else.’