Bad Sister

by Sam Carrington

  As she gave chase down the road and across the park, Lindsay heard sirens. Then she saw two other men in front of the suspects, at the opposite end of the park, running towards them.

  Her legs and arms pumped as she ran, but the gap was lengthening. She could make out that one suspect was slower, he was falling behind the other. She was catching him up. Her legs burned. The gap was closing. The faster suspect stopped abruptly and the two other men jumped on him. Excellent, the civilians had stepped in. Sometimes that was good, sometimes not. Today, Lindsay was grateful.

  Lindsay was vaguely aware of police vehicles screeching up at the perimeter of the park. Her eyes were on her goal. The slower man bent over, heaving for breath. She caught up with him, reaching out and grabbing his T-shirt. Both of them were immobile for that moment, both gasping for air.

  Mack ran up beside her, and, after shooting her a glare that clearly meant he was angry at her recklessness, apprehended the out-of-breath man.

  Now that Lindsay had recovered sufficiently enough to look at him properly, a thud of recognition hit her.

  ‘What a lowlife. How the hell can you call yourself a police officer?’

  Miles Prescott simply turned his head away from her.

  The other man, who’d been wrestled to the ground and pinned to it by the helpful public, was Aiden Flynn, as suspected. The relief that he’d been detained, that she hadn’t entirely messed it up, was huge.

  ‘Who do I have to thank for the excellent take-down?’ she said as she approached the police officers at the far end of the park. A curious crowd had gathered; there were people everywhere.

  ‘You’ll never believe me, Boss.’ DC Sewell emerged from behind the uniformed officers.

  ‘Go on. Surprise me.’

  ‘Our Mr Trevor Jones. Jonesy.’

  Lindsay didn’t know what to say. He did have a strange habit of being in the right place at the right time where Connie was concerned. As grateful as she was for his assistance, she made a mental note to keep an eye on him in future – a restraining order might be required.

  ‘Who was your have-a-go-hero partner, then?’ Lindsay laughed.

  Jonesy shrugged. ‘Not sure. I’ve seen him about, mind. Mostly when I’ve seen Connie, as it ’appens.’

  ‘Right, well he seems to have disappeared for now.’ Lindsay’s eyes scanned the area, but she couldn’t see him. ‘Thanks for your help.’

  Lindsay walked back to the police vehicle that now contained Aiden Flynn.

  ‘You don’t mind if I have a moment, do you?’ Lindsay motioned to the arresting officer, jerking her head towards the car.

  ‘Sure. He’s been cautioned.’

  Lindsay climbed in. She wanted to see the man who’d gone to such lengths for herself. Her mouth almost gaped in surprise. Aiden looked so young – his skin surprisingly soft-looking, plumped. Healthy. Not what she’d expected and in stark contrast to Brett Ellison’s. He didn’t appear innocent-looking, though. His face held an expression of smugness, not that he had reason to be, as far as she could see – he’d been caught after all. His dark eyes bore into Lindsay’s.

  ‘What you looking at?’ He thrust forwards. Lindsay flinched, even though she knew he was restrained. ‘Think you’re clever, don’t you?’ Spit sprayed from his mouth. Lindsay drew back slightly, then smiled.

  ‘We’ve got enough evidence to put you away, if that’s what you mean?’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ he sniffed and tried to wipe his nose on the shoulder of his grey T-shirt. ‘You might bang me up. But it’s not the ones on the inside you should worry about, is it?’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘No comment.’ He grinned, and then turned away.

  This, added to the things Connie had told her, made Lindsay think that this was bigger than Aiden Flynn. There were more people involved in whatever this was – would they ever uncover the whole truth and bring them all to justice? Probably not in her time. Lindsay left the car, and Aiden, behind. For now. She’d get her moment with him, but right now she had more important people to worry about.

  ‘Hey, Mack.’ Lindsay looked up at him, struggling to find clues to his mood on his weary face. ‘Any news about Connie’s condition?’ She held her breath, praying for the answer she desperately wanted to hear.

  ‘Being treated for shock, a few bruises, and ligature marks …’

  Connie sucked in air through her pursed lips. That sounded nasty.

  ‘I wonder what would’ve happened, if I hadn’t interrupted them?’

  ‘But you did. And as much as I’m angry at you for putting yourself and others in danger – because it could’ve ended very badly – you made a judgement call which turned out to be right. So, drinks are on you later.’ He nudged her and winked.

  ‘I’d best come and help you process these two.’ Lindsay searched Mack’s eyes, hoping he’d be kind.

  ‘Go on. I’ve got Clarke and Sewell. I can manage while you check on your mate. It would be better if it was you who took her statement anyway.’

  ‘Thanks, Mack. I owe you,’ Lindsay smiled and walked back to her car, her legs still unstable from the running. She wanted to be at the hospital to offer her support to Connie.

  She wanted to know her friend was okay.

  CHAPTER NINETY

  Connie

  Monday 26 June

  Everything ached. Connie wriggled, trying to get herself comfortable between the cushions Lindsay had positioned for her on the sofa – each movement sending a shooting pain down her left side where Flint had repeatedly kicked her. The doctors had tried to keep her in the hospital for longer, but once she knew she had no internal injuries, only bruising, there was no way she was staying in that place.

  Lindsay and Mack had collected her from the hospital and driven her home. The first thing she noticed when she walked through into the lounge was that it’d been tidied. The upturned furniture, the broken vase, the pictures he’d wrenched from the wall – all arranged as they had been, and a new, pretty, blue-coloured vase replaced the old one. The cream carpet had been cleaned – there was no sign of the blood which had burst from her nose when she’d been hit in the face. No one would have ever guessed anything untoward had occurred. A visitor would have had no idea Connie’d been bound and gagged, kicked and beaten on the floor of this room.

  Her mum and dad had been contacted – Lindsay made sure they were aware of the facts of what had happened. She hadn’t explained fully the ‘why’, saying that was best left to Connie. The phone lay on her lap – she was waiting for her dad to ring. She’d spoken to her mum, trying hard not to launch into an attack of her father, for the lies he’d fed them. How he was the one responsible for Connie’s current state – and she’d been fortunate to escape with her life. It would need to be discussed when she was feeling stronger. When she could better manage the hurt and pain of his betrayal. Her dad was lucky, in most ways. When he wasn’t merely giving ‘no comment’ answers, the evidence Flint gave the police was all circumstantial – nothing would stick in relation to her dad, she knew that. He’d taken care of all eventualities, no doubt.

  Lindsay was apologetic. Upset knowing she’d left Connie alone for that hour. No matter how Connie tried to reassure her the fault was not hers, she’d remained pensive. Lindsay had come to her rescue; hopefully she’d take comfort from that once the dust had settled and she could look at her actions objectively. It had been Connie’s fault for leaving the relative safety of her office and going home. Flint had let himself in her house, again – it had been him who had left the rat before. He said it was a reminder of her dad. He seemed to be one for leaving convoluted clues, with some deranged idea that he was clever. As it turned out, he hadn’t been as clever as he imagined, and he’d made mistakes.

  He’d been waiting in her lounge for her with a pretty annoyed, reluctant-looking Miles by his side. Seems as though the police retirement package hadn’t been enough for Miles. He’d become embittered with protecting criminals – helping them ma
ke a new life, getting away with the parts they’d played in breaking the law just by making a deal to testify against other, bigger players. Why should they get away with their criminality, gain money from it, when he’d worked within the law all his life and was going to retire on what he saw as a pittance in comparison to the money they were making? Being his last year in the police force, he thought he’d be untouchable.

  Connie’s initial shock at learning he’d been taking bribes was soon replaced with anger. How dare he leak confidential information about her and Steph? She held him responsible for Steph and Dylan’s deaths. His assertion that Steph had been lying all the time was likely to have been to cover his own arse. What else had he failed to reveal? What information had been manipulated where Steph was concerned? Whatever his involvement though, he clearly wasn’t impressed that Flint had dragged him further into his plans. The arguments between those two had bought her time when she was on the floor, awaiting her fate. It appeared that Flint had threatened to expose Miles’ corrupt practices unless he went with him to Connie’s, to help him make her suffer. Apparently, harming Connie had been a step too far, though, an act too low even for a bent copper. That was something. At least the man still had an ounce of morality and sense of what was right and wrong.

  Connie checked her mobile volume was turned up – she had a habit of forgetting to take it off silent. It was at full volume. She hadn’t missed a call from her dad. Was he afraid of speaking to her? She gripped the phone tightly. He ought to be.

  The irony was that justice had been done for Ricky Hargreaves, someone who in most people’s eyes didn’t even deserve it. The news, radio, and newspapers would run his story for weeks. He’d forever be remembered. Yet Steph and Dylan would be all but forgotten. Their story had been overtaken.

  Questions remained for Connie. Whilst she believed Brett’s story about the fire, there were other things that bothered her. She’d never know for sure, now. She’d have to accept she’d missed the signs that Steph was going to take her life. Maybe Lindsay and Mack were right, she’d simply had enough of hiding, running – enough of the guilt. For her, maybe there was only one solution. Connie had failed her. But trying to find a reason to stop her own guilt was not the best way to allow Steph to rest in peace.

  Finally, her mobile rang. The caller ID – Dad.

  She waited, taking a few deep breaths, then pressed the accept button.

  CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

  Connie

  Wednesday 28 June

  The bouquet of red carnations fluttered gently in the breeze. Connie bent to place her own on the mound of earth of the newly dug grave. A small wooden cross denoted who was buried beneath – Jenna Ellison, Dylan Ellison – written in black on a gold label. The dew and showers they’d had over the last week had caused the label to fade and curl at the edges.

  Who would place the headstone when the time came? Brett? Was he the one who’d left the carnations?

  A heaviness lay in the pit of her stomach. A feeling of incompleteness.

  If only Steph had felt able to come clean, confide in her. Perhaps Connie could have helped lift some of her guilt. They could have worked through it. Guilt was a destructive emotion, she knew that all too well. Connie’s dad had lived with it, though. With not much trouble it seemed. Those lacking in the ability to show guilt, or remorse, often presented with a personality disorder, or sociopathy. Did that describe her father?

  Her dad, the sociopath.

  Lindsay said she was being too hard on him, that he had his reasons for keeping the truth from her and her mum, most of which were not necessarily to prevent them from discovering he was to blame for Luke’s death, but to protect them.

  That hadn’t worked out well. Connie had hardly felt protected when she’d been tied and beaten because of his failures. Her dad was due from Manchester that afternoon; they were meeting at her mum’s in Shaldon. He promised to be open, tell them what had happened to Luke, and why.

  She wasn’t holding her breath for the whole truth to be told.

  Connie pulled her cardigan around her tightly, a shudder running through her body. Then heat travelled up her neck as she saw who was approaching.

  ‘Sorry, don’t get mad at me.’ Kelly put a hand up in a defensive manner.

  ‘Are you still following me?’

  ‘Er. On this occasion, yes.’

  ‘On this occasion, you have been on every one.’ Connie backed away from the grave and stepped on to the path, shaking the soil from her shoes.

  ‘I wanted to apologise,’ she said. Connie raised her eyebrows. Kelly Barton, apologising? That was new. She played along.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I meddled, as per usual, and by doing so I made your life more difficult than I intended. I’m sorry for that. And for following you – taking pictures. I obstructed the investigation, really, and I was lucky not to get charged.’ Her voice was high-pitched, excitement oozing. Connie almost laughed. The woman was incorrigible.

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘Oh, and also—’

  ‘Oh, great! There’s more?’ Connie was losing the will.

  ‘Yeah, I’m sorry for dragging Niall into my plan to get a good story.’ Kelly held both hands out, palms up. ‘I think that’s it.’

  ‘Did you get a good story? Was it worth it?’

  Kelly shrugged. ‘Yeah. I reckon so.’ She nodded, smiling. Connie got the distinct impression that Kelly knew more than she’d let on. Maybe the fact a photo of her father had been among the ones sent to the police was evidence of that – that she also suspected him of dodgy dealings. Kelly would probably never stop digging for a story.

  ‘Excellent. Now, if you don’t mind, Kelly, I’ve got a train to catch.’ Connie made to move, but Kelly put an arm out to stop her.

  ‘Wait a second, I wanted to give you this.’ She opened the bag she had with her and took out a large, brown envelope. Connie sighed.

  ‘Now who’ve you snapped me with?’ She held her hand out to take it.

  ‘Oh, it’s not like that. This is of the men that followed you – us – the other day. I downloaded it before the police took my memory card.’

  ‘I knew you’d do that.’

  ‘You’ll be pleased I did, Connie. I had it blown up. You’ll find it particularly interesting, I think.’ Her voice held a hint of smugness.

  ‘Perhaps we could keep in touch,’ she said, but didn’t wait for a response – turning her back and walking quickly away.

  Connie watched her disappear out of the cemetery gate. An uneasiness filled her as she slowly pulled the content from the envelope. Flint’s shape filled the forefront of the photo, his dark eyes matching the black hoody he wore. Behind him in the alleyway was the unknown figure who’d stopped Flint and fought him to the ground. The man who’d prevented Flint from continuing to follow Connie.

  Kelly’s zoomed-in picture perfectly captured the man’s face.

  And his piercing green eyes.

  CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

  Connie

  She’d demanded to meet with her dad before they were due at her mother’s. She needed to talk to him alone. Needed to shout, scream, tell him how much she hated him. She wasn’t sure how she’d react when she saw him because, right now, waiting on the strip of beach opposite her mum’s road, all Connie wanted to do was hit him.

  When she saw him walking towards her, his face was ashen. He lowered his head.

  He knew what was coming.

  Connie’s heart pounded, her fists were clenched in readiness.

  Before he got level with her, she launched forwards.

  His face crumpled as he caught hold of her raised hands, forcing them down. She screamed at him, but in that moment lost all power and sank into his chest, her large sobs muted as she wept into his shirt.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Connie.’

  Once she’d regained some element of composure, she let him talk. She didn’t interrupt him, forcing herself to listen to his attempts at e
xplaining what had gone wrong all those years ago in his business, as if that explained why these people had come after Connie now. He didn’t mention Luke once. She couldn’t bear to hear more of it.

  ‘I’m not sure you understand what exactly I’m so angry at. Apart from finding out that my father is a corrupt businessman, of course, which is bad enough. No, it’s the other lie that I hate you for, Dad. The biggest lie anyone could ever tell.’

  She watched his brow furrow deeper. His eyes widened as it dawned on him that she knew. He lowered his head – an attempt to prevent seeing the hurt in her eyes – or maybe so she couldn’t see the shame in his.

  ‘What you’ve done is unforgivable, Dad.’ Connie pulled the photo that Kelly had given her from her bag and thrust it into his hands. He took a sharp intake of breath, and stumbled a few steps backwards. He stood silently, shaking his head.

  ‘Don’t try and give me any bullshit, either. I know who that is. I’d recognise those eyes anywhere.’

  His chest heaved with a sigh. ‘He’s not meant to have had any contact with any of us – with his old life.’ His jaw slackened, the skin on his face seeming to loosen with the knowledge that his lies had unfurled. Connie turned away – not wanting to look at him – at the man she’d thought she knew. ‘That was the deal – his protection counted on it. I’ve no idea why he’s broken the rules now.’

  ‘Broken the rules?’ Connie shouted. ‘He must take after you.’

  ‘I understand your anger, but I did what I had to do.’

  ‘But only because you fucked up so badly with your dodgy work ethic that you had to then cover your back. I’m not just angry, Dad – I’m ashamed.’

  ‘Still, what’s done is done.’ His usual defences were coming up – his brusque attitude creating an armour. ‘He shouldn’t have come here, whatever the circumstances.’

  Connie was finding it hard to get her head around all of this. For twenty-two years Luke had been dead to her. Now, everything she’d once believed had been challenged – the shocking truth shoved in her face. How had Kelly even known to give her the photo saying it was ‘interesting’? Was it only Connie and her mum that were in the dark about Luke? Unless, of course, her mum did know, and it was just Connie left in the dark. No. Connie pushed the thought from her mind. There was no way her mum could’ve kept that to herself all these years.