Truth Lies Bleeding drb-1

by Tony Black

  The minister stayed calm. ‘What proof do you have of that?’

  Brennan was incredulous. He leaned over the minister. ‘Your daughter told you he raped her, she was pregnant — what more proof did you need?’

  The minister turned away. His voice was flat, bereft of emotion: ‘Is this what you heard from Lynne Thompson, a teenage girl who heard something around the town and repeated it?’

  ‘No one in the town knew Carly had a child — you did a good job of covering that up.’

  ‘This is all hearsay.’

  ‘Sproul’s record wasn’t hearsay. He killed himself in your daughter’s room.’

  The minister shook his head. ‘This is helping no one. Why have you not found my granddaughter yet?’

  Brennan stepped away from the edge of the desk, spoke: ‘I wondered when you were going to ask about Beth.’

  The mention of the baby’s name seemed to poke a spear into the minister. He laced his fingers and placed them on his thighs.

  Brennan said, ‘We had a good response from the television news item.’

  ‘Another two people killed — is that what you call a good response, Inspector?’

  He didn’t bite, closed down the minister: ‘We need to give this case a public face. We need to put out a plea and I want you to do it, today.’

  The minister rose from the seat. ‘That will not be possible.’

  Brennan got up, faced him. ‘Why? Think it’ll play havoc with your prospects of getting the Moderator’s job?’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘I thought you’d say so.’ Brennan picked up the telephone, buzzed the switchboard. ‘I’ll take you to meet our media people. They’ll coach you through what you’ll say at the press conference.’

  Chapter 40

  Melanie McArdle had given up on her husband coming home any time soon. She had waited for him the night before to bring home the list of things she’d given him for the baby, only to be disappointed to see him carrying in tins of Carlsberg Special Brew for himself and nothing else. She had grown tired waiting and upset herself listening to the hungry child’s screams. Melanie knew she was disobeying her husband to go out with the child, but she also knew she had no choice.

  In the garage she fitted the baby carrier that they had bought a few years back. It was at the time Melanie had fallen pregnant. She remembered those days as she strapped it into the back of the four-by-four; she had been so happy. McArdle had never come round to the idea of her having the child — he’d accused her of trying to trap him and then he’d denied it was his. When the bump started to show he didn’t want to look at her and that’s when the real trouble had started.

  Melanie bit her lip as she stepped away from the back seat of the car. She looked over the baby seat and checked it was in place but she couldn’t help the tears starting to come now. Every time she thought of the child she had lost she started to cry. Alcohol usually stopped her mind from reaching such lows but she couldn’t drink when she now had a baby to look after.

  She wiped away the tears, went inside. The child was lying on its back where she had left it in the sleeper. She reached over, tickled its tummy. ‘You poor lamb. Hungry?’

  The baby smiled a broad toothless grin.

  Melanie picked her up, put her on her shoulder as she went out to the car. As she fastened the baby into the carrier she rubbed her own stomach and remembered how it felt to be pregnant. She remembered too how it had felt when she had lost the child; she was sure McArdle had been upset about it, but he would never let on.

  Melanie reversed the four-by-four out of the garage and onto the driveway. The shopping centre wasn’t far away but she didn’t know how the baby was going to be in the car for the first time and she kept up an idle chatter to distract her. ‘Not to worry, just going out to the shops to get you a few nice things.’

  The car stalled on her first attempt to reverse out of the driveway, the scree scrunching beneath the wheels, but after she turned the ignition again the vehicle moved smoothly down. ‘There, no trouble at all, little one.’

  As Melanie drove, her thoughts turned back to McArdle. He hadn’t been himself lately. The other night he had been ready to rip the television off the wall and then he had stormed out and hadn’t returned until after midnight. He’d gone straight to the kitchen and drunk beer from the fridge and had collapsed on the couch an hour or so later. It wasn’t like him. She was the drinker. McArdle only drunk like that when he had something on his mind.

  ‘Don’t worry, darling, there soon.’ Melanie slowed the four-byfour at the traffic lights and turned towards the baby — she had started to tug at one of her socks. ‘No, leave that on.’ The child grinned that toothless smile again. ‘Okay, fine, suit yourself.’

  At Sainsbury’s Melanie drove straight to the parents’ parking spaces out front. It made her feel like she was somebody — she could do that because she was responsible for another life; society approved. As she lifted the baby out of the back-seat carrier she quickly attached the harness and watched as the little one reached for her beads. ‘No, don’t be touching those.’

  In the supermarket Melanie felt sure she was unlikely to see anyone she knew, but the thought of coming out with a baby and no proper explanation alarmed her. What would she say if anyone asked about it? She’d have to lie. She had never been very good at lying; McArdle had always caught her out. When she thought about it, she had never been very good at anything, but she somehow felt right for the job of being a mother.

  ‘Now then, let’s get some shopping done,’ she said.

  The child played with her beads and looked content. Melanie smiled back at her. She felt happy with the baby, something she hadn’t really thought about for a long time. The feeling stayed with her all the time she wandered round the store, nodding and sharing knowing looks with other mothers. The thought of being happy lingered all the way home in the four-by-four right until she pulled into the drive, behind McArdle’s car. He was at the window when she got out the vehicle. He stared at her for a moment and then threw down the curtain as she released the baby carrier.

  Melanie knew her husband was furious when he appeared at the door, even before he spoke. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ He flapped his hands in the air, grabbed her arm; she pulled it away.

  ‘Get off me.’

  McArdle looked around. ‘Get inside. We’ll see about this in the house.’

  Melanie lifted up the child and closed the car door. The shopping bags rested on the ground and she picked those up with her free hand. As she walked towards the front door, McArdle seemed anxious, rushing her forwards with his hands. ‘Come on, move… Get in.’

  ‘What’s the big rush?’

  ‘Just get in that fucking house!’

  Melanie could feel a knot tightening in her stomach — when McArdle got this angry he was likely to strike out. She wasn’t scared for herself, though; she’d felt his punches too many times for that. She was afraid for the baby. If anything happened to the child she would be destroyed now. ‘Don’t talk that way, Devlin, you’ll upset the baby,’ she said.

  He let her pass and pushed the back of her head down. ‘Shut up.’

  Melanie spun round. She found strength she didn’t know she had. ‘You lay one finger on us and I’ll call the police.’

  He looked stunned, his eyes bulging from below their heavy lids. ‘What did you say?’

  Melanie held firm. ‘I mean it — you harm one hair on this child’s head, Devlin, and I’ll see you fucking hang.’ She felt as if her words were travelling on fire. She had never dared stand up to her husband before but she meant everything she said and she could see by the look on McArdle’s face that he believed her. He was shaken. He stepped aside and walked towards the house with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. When he reached the doorstep he looked back, said nothing, then entered.

  Melanie followed behind her husband and went into the kitchen, laid down the shopping bags. She returned to t
he living room and put the baby in the cot. McArdle was sitting silently on the sofa, gripping the armrest with his hand. She watched him for a minute and then she went back to the kitchen and started to unpack the shopping. She called out to McArdle as she went, ‘Where have you been all day?’

  There was no answer.

  She walked to the open door. ‘Devlin, where have you been?’

  He looked distracted, miles away.

  ‘Just here and there… You know.’

  Melanie held up the carton of baby milk. ‘You were supposed to get the stuff for the baby… What’s she supposed to eat?’

  He looked at her; his mouth drooped. ‘I was too busy.’

  The answer didn’t suit her. ‘Devlin, that’s not good enough. If you want to bring a baby back to this house for me to look after-’

  He jerked from the seat, cut her off. ‘Melanie, for fuck’s sake, what are you playing at?’

  ‘ What?’

  ‘You’re just supposed to be looking after the fucking thing for a few days — you’re not adopting it. I told you not to go out. What were you thinking?’

  She walked forward, faced him. ‘That we needed stuff?’

  ‘What if someone had seen you?’

  ‘Well, so what if someone had?… Look, what’s going on here, Devlin?’

  He touched the sides of his head; his shoulders shrank. ‘You wouldn’t understand…’

  Melanie put down the baby milk, grabbed her husband’s arms. He flinched, pulled away from her and returned to the sofa.

  ‘Devlin, I’m not bloody stupid. There’s something going on here and I want to know what.’

  He grimaced, looked like a small boy putting his hands over his ears because he refused to be confronted with unpalatable truths. ‘Shut up!’

  The baby started to cry.

  ‘No, no… I won’t. I want to know what’s going on.’

  McArdle rose. His chest inflated as he grabbed Melanie by the arm, waving a fist at her. ‘Since when did you get the guts to talk to me like this?’

  She started to squeal: ‘You’re hurting me, let go!’ The baby’s crying intensified. Melanie could see the child’s face reddening. ‘Let me go.’

  ‘I fucking well told you not to go out the house, Mel.’ He pulled her towards him and she struck out with her hands, clawing at his face. The three scratches flashed white on his skin for an instant and then the blood coloured them. McArdle dropped Mel’s arm, threw a hand to the scratches. ‘You fucking bitch…’

  There was a sudden snapping noise, a pain in her stomach and then Melanie crouched over. The room seemed to have emptied of air, but then the realisation that she was struggling for breath came to her. As she looked up from the floor she saw McArdle holding a tight fist and she knew she’d been hit. As he drew it back and bowed over, her hearing became distorted. There was a flash of white light that seemed to block everything out and then it disappeared as everything went black.

  Chapter 41

  When Melanie McArdle came round her first thought was to check the baby was okay. As she tried to open her eyes, however, they felt stuck together. She tried again — nothing. She rubbed at the lids — they felt caked in something that crumbled to tiny particles as she touched it. When Melanie finally got her eyes open she looked at her hands and saw they were covered in dried blood. She felt the side of her head and found the gash that was responsible. It seemed to have stopped bleeding now, but there was a throbbing pain that increased when she touched it, making her feel sick.

  Melanie put her hands out in front of her, raised her head. She felt woozy now; there was a metallic taste in her mouth and her tongue was dry. When she managed to get her head far enough off the carpet to take in the room she saw the baby sitting up in the cot; her face was flushed and her eyes looked red and sore. The child was wet and hungry, but Melanie was glad she was okay — she knew she couldn’t count on that situation lasting much longer.

  As she dragged herself onto her knees, Melanie felt her stomach turn over, then a strange sensation like a wave pressing on her knocked her down again. Her head landed on the carpet and her eyes glazed for a second, but she was still conscious enough to hear McArdle laughing at her. She understood now he had kicked her in the back; as he stood looming over her she wondered what he would do next.

  ‘That you learned your lesson, is it?’ he said.

  Melanie tried to speak, but her mouth felt numb, her lips were too swollen.

  McArdle stepped over her, went to sit on the sofa. He didn’t look at her as she tried to rise again. It took some effort. Her head was heavy on her shoulders, much heavier than usual, and she thought she might fall again but she got to her knees and dragged herself onto the arm of the sofa, pushed herself up. On her feet she stood for a moment and watched McArdle point the remote control at the television. He found the news, put down the controller and started to rub at his reddened knuckles.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ he said. ‘If you’re up now you can go and get me a beer from the fridge.’

  Melanie looked at him, her face burning and throbbing where he had hit her — she wanted to scream at him. But she didn’t have the strength. She felt more hate towards him than she ever had as she turned for the kitchen, dragging her battered body as though she was beginning a slow death march.

  At the sink, Melanie ran the cold-water tap and tried to catch enough in her open palm to wet her lips. Her hands were already bloodied from rubbing her eyes and as she ran them under the tap the water she collected took on a pinkish hue. She stared at the cold liquid and splashed some on her face. It stung. The second attempt stung a little less but she could now feel the swelling under the skin. The thought of her battered features made her start to cry but she steadied herself and vowed not to be overcome by her emotions; she needed to be stronger if she was going to protect the child.

  Melanie made her way back from the fridge with McArdle’s Carlsberg. She heard a roar from the living room. In panic, she increased her pace; as she reached the door she saw her husband sitting on the edge of the sofa with his head in his hands. She moved into the space between the now-sleeping baby and her husband and turned herself towards the screen.

  There was a young reporter talking about a shooting in the centre of Edinburgh, by the Water of Leith. Two drug addicts, one a known prostitute and the other a career criminal, had been targeted in a professional hit.

  The reporter stated: ‘ Police were already looking to interview Barry Tierney, of Muirhouse, in connection with missing Pitlochry schoolgirl Carly Donald. The case took a strange twist when the bodies of Tierney and long-term partner Vee Durrant were found in the early hours of this morning.’

  The camera panned away from the reporter and showed police officers combing a small wooded area beside the water banks. Melanie turned to McArdle — he was shaking his head in his hands, gripping the skin on his neck so tight white crescents showed in the red flesh.

  The reporter continued: ‘ Tierney was spotted earlier on CCTV cameras at the city’s bus station with Carly Donald and her young baby daughter, Beth. After an appeal on the Six O’Clock News Tierney was identified, but underworld figures got to him before the police and both he and Durrant died in what officers have described as a professional killing.’

  McArdle rose from the sofa. ‘This is out of fucking order!’

  ‘What is it?’ said Melanie.

  He looked at her, snatched the can from her hand and pointed at her nose. ‘Keep that out!’

  Melanie felt her pulse quicken as McArdle threatened her. She took a glance back at the baby and slowly edged towards the kitchen door. As she stood inside the doorway, she could still see her husband, his face contorted and reddened as the news item continued.

  The reporter was now introducing a man from the church; Melanie leaned forward to glance at the screen and saw that the minister was seated behind a table with police officers. He was reading from a piece of paper: ‘ My wife and I cannot possibly des
cribe the devastation we feel at the loss of our beloved daughter, Carly. She was a beautiful young girl, kind and well loved by all those who knew her. Nothing will ever fill the void in our hearts that has been created by her passing but we beg of you, if you know something that can help the police in their inquiries, to please, please get in touch. Our granddaughter Beth went missing the day Carly left our home and hasn’t been seen since. The police have assured us that they are doing all they can but they cannot be everywhere at once and we need the help of you all to find Beth. My wife and I are desperately worried for our granddaughter now. The police have reason to believe she may have been in the hands of the people who were shot this morning and I would again urge anyone with any information, however insignificant, to please, please get in touch.’

  McArdle was out of his seat, shaking a fist at the screen. He took a sup from his can then threw it aside. Melanie edged further into the kitchen as he ranted. She had seen him angry before; she had seen him rage and hit out but this was different. He looked desperate, like a cornered animal. Melanie felt fearful. She retreated towards the kitchen table and opened the drawer; as she stared into it her hand trembled but she managed to pick up a long knife. It suddenly went from being a familiar item she had often used without a thought to something that had the potential to change everything she had come to accept in her life. She held the haft close to her thigh and then turned it behind her back as she walked towards the open door.

  When she entered the living room, the minister had gone from the television screen and a police officer was talking to the reporter. ‘ We are now extremely concerned as to the fate of young Beth,’ he said. ‘ We know these early hours and days are extremely important in an investigation such as this and we need to harness all the support of the public that we can get.’

  The reporter asked, ‘ What do you think has become of the baby? ’