The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  * * *

  Tyrese tried not to let dark thoughts cloud his mind.

  He was alone in the flat. His mother had gone out somewhere, without so much as a goodbye to him, and he had let her leave without question. Now he had only memories and the ghosts of Jessie and Trent to keep him company. Sat on the sofa, phone clutched in his hand, he half-expected one of them to march into the lounge at any moment.

  Glancing down at his phone, he wondered where Troy was, what he was playing at. He had called him earlier to tell him about Trent, and he had sensed his brother’s shocked reaction, but there had been something else too. Distrust, perhaps, maybe even fear. Tyrese did not like the thought that his youngest brother, now his only surviving sibling, was afraid of him or did not trust him, but he could not blame Troy either. If it was the other way around, perhaps he would keep his distance too.

  With Trent gone, Tyrese wondered whether it was all over for him too. He had not needed Trent’s help to run things on the estate, but with his brother dead, did he even want to continue as he had been?

  There was a knock at the front door and Tyrese waited a moment before realising he was the only one in the flat to answer it.

  He was angered, but not entirely surprised, to find Detective Serena Patterson at the door. Behind her, two uniforms stood to either side, looking ready if he tried to cause a scene.

  “What do you want?” Tyrese demanded of her.

  Serena looked smug, and that made him nervous. She thrust a piece of paper at him, and she did not need to explain what it was for understanding to hit him.

  “This is a warrant to search your flat in relation to the attempted murder of Clint Jackson,” she told him, stepping around him and into the kitchen, gesturing for the officers to follow her inside. Tyrese glanced at the paper, stepping aside as the kitchen filled with the officers and forensics types. Serena held his gaze as her men set to work. “I don’t suppose you know where your brother is?” she asked him. Tyrese grimaced. “I’d love to ask him a few questions.”

  “I haven’t seen him,” Tyrese replied, tight-lipped.

  He tried not to show his alarm as the forensics team started scouring the kitchen floor. He hoped that he and Trent had managed to clean up any trace of Clint’s blood.

  Serena seemed to sense his unease.

  “If you’d step outside whilst we work,” Serena said, gesturing to the front door. “We wouldn’t want any contamination of the crime scene, would we?”

  Tyrese bit down on his lips to suppress a response as he went outside, his hands clenching into fists at the front of the detective.

  “I’ll let you know when we’re finished,” Serena told him, before closing the door after him.

  * * *

  Keskia Banks took a deep breath.

  She had barely had any sleep and her eyes were still red from earlier, but she did not want to waste any time or lose her courage, which she needed to face-off against Brandy. She knew that the girl would not take easily to what she had decided, but she had to try, had to implore the girl to be reasonable and let her have access to her grandson.

  It was her right, surely, as a grandmother. Brandy could be cold, cruel, but she must know that Keskia only had her grandson’s best interests in mind. It was unfair for him to be separated from her, from his father’s family.

  With that in mind, she braced herself and knocked on the door to Brandy’s flat. She waited a long moment and then knocked again.

  She raised her hand to knock a third time when the door swung open. A large woman stood there, filling the frame, looking questioningly at her.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked.

  Keskia swallowed hard.

  “Could I speak to Brandy please?”

  The woman shrugged and retreated, calling Brandy’s name. She didn’t come back, and it was a long moment before Brandy appeared at the door.

  Her eyes narrowed at once when she caught sight of her.

  “What do you want?” Brandy demanded, glancing anxiously over her shoulder.

  “Brandy, I guess you heard on the news about -”

  “Trent?” Brandy asked, finishing for her. “Yeah, I heard.”

  Keskia paused a moment, but no condolences came. She had expected nothing less.

  “It’s made me realise,” Keskia began, “That I really would like -”

  “No,” Brandy interrupted her. “I know what you’re going to ask, and hell no. You’re not seeing him.”

  “Brandy, please -”

  The door slammed shut. The bolt on the other side of the door sounded, and Keskia let out a long sigh. She had not expected Brandy to be pleased to see her, but she had not expected the request to be so brief.

  She sighed and walked away. She felt emotions bubbling up again, and she wondered if this had been a mistake. She could not replace Jessie and Trent with a baby she did not know, had never met before.

  It was all so ridiculous. Or was it? She deserved to know her grandson. It was too much to think about, Keskia thought, blinking away tears as she began down the stairs.

  * * *

  Brandy took a deep breath, leaning against the front door, her heart hammering in her chest. She watched through the small panel of glass in the door as Keskia waited a moment before leaving. She had come so close to ruining everything. If Keskia had realised Troy was hiding here, if Troy had overheard her mentioning her grandson, then he would know everything, know that she had lied…

  She retreated down the corridor to her bedroom, still anxious that Troy might have heard his mother’s voice, would question why she had come around to see her. Excuses filled her mind, each less believable than the last. Her bedroom was empty, and panic flared within her.

  From the bathroom, she heard running water and sighed with relief. Troy had heard nothing as he showered, and she leant against the door frame, letting the tension leave her body. Aunt Bo poked her head out into the corridor from the lounge.

  “How long will your friend be staying?” she asked cautiously.

  Brandy glared at her.

  “Why’s that any of your business?” she asked.

  The last thing she needed was for her to start asking questions, sticking her nose in.

  “I was only asking,” Aunt Bo sighed, affronted.

  Her mother was murmuring from the lounge, and Aunt Bo ducked back into the room and the door closed. Brandy shook her head and went to her bedroom. She looked around the room, realising how little she owned, how easy it would be for her to pack.

  It would take five minutes, if that, and the thought depressed her.

  She wondered if she would miss anyone from the estate once she had left. Perhaps at one time she would have done, but now she would only be leaving behind memories and enemies. Her mother would probably not even realise she had gone, and she would not miss her aunt or her son. Her friends would not care that she had left. Troy was the only person she had.

  The pipes creaked as the shower stopped and Troy came in a minute later, a towel around his waist, droplets of water on his skin. She went to him, slid her arms around his waist, pressed herself against him. The realisation that he was the only one who cared, the only person who she meant something to, making her want to be close to him, to express her feelings without being able to voice them. His arms went around her, and if he was surprised by her gesture, by her neediness, he did not say it.

  He held her close and Brandy knew that she was making the right decision.

  * * *

  Serena tried to ignore the look on Tyrese’s face as she stood in his front doorway, trying not to show the defeat she felt. Tyrese smiled at her, squaring his shoulders, as he stepped aside to let her leave the flat.

  “Shame you couldn’t find what you were looking for,” he said.

  She swallowed hard, willing herself not to rise to the bait.

  It was true, and that was the hardest part for her. The forensics team knew that there had been blood on the kitchen floor,
but it had been bleached and scrubbed, and any evidence that could place Clint in the kitchen had been washed away. The knife and Clint’s phone were not in the flat, had most likely been disposed of by Troy or his brothers.

  The thought grated on her, but there was nothing she could do except step outside and let Tyrese return to his flat. He gave a short bark of laughter at her expression, before slamming the door shut in her face.

  Serena walked down to her car with heavy footsteps and sat in her car as the forensics van and the patrol cars drove off. She did not turn the engine on, did not know what was left for her to do.

  She needed to question Troy, to get him to confess, but she did not have enough for an arrest warrant, not yet. It was Clint’s word against Troy’s, and now that the search of the flat had proven fruitless, she was on the back foot, questioning what her next move would be.

  If Troy had fled the country, or disappeared to another city, her case would crumble. She did not want to let herself think that way, but she had seen far too many cases collapse in a similar way and the thought that Aurora and Clint would be let down again rankled with her.

  Taking a long breath to clear her mind, she fastened her seat belt and started the engine. She did not know what was left to do, but she was not going to give up that easily.

  * * *

  Tyrese sat in the kitchen, waiting for his mother to return home. She had not spoken to him all day and he was worried about her. She should not have gone to identify Trent’s body, he should have stopped her, he thought, and he knew that another tragedy so soon after Jessie’s death must have affected her deeply. Too deeply for words.

  He was relieved that she had not been at home when the police had been scouring for evidence against Troy. He had not yet had the heart to tell her that Troy was on the run for stabbing Clint and he did not want to burden her with this news, not when she had so much else on her mind. Patterson had seemed disappointed as she had called an end to the search and that reassured him, but once he was alone in the flat once more, he questioned whether she was playing a game with him, if she wanted to lull him into a false sense of security. He did not know whether they had found some crucial piece of evidence, perhaps a drop of Clint’s blood that they had overlooked. For now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

  He heard the door and looked up as his mother came in, wiping away tears. She caught sight of him and squared her jaw, unwilling to show her emotion in front of him.

  “Mum, where have you been?” he asked.

  “Out,” she answered, her voice hard.

  Perhaps, he realised, she still blamed him for everything that had happened. To Jessie, to Troy, and now to Trent. He was the oldest, so perhaps, he thought, he should be blamed.

  “This morning -” he began, but Keskia waved him off, shrugging out of her coat and draping it on the back of a kitchen chair.

  Tyrese sat in silence as his mother sat down heavily in a chair and avoided making eye contact with him. He reached for her hand, but she slid it out of his clasp and rose to her feet once more, busying herself at the sink.

  “You don’t need to do the dishes right now, mum,” Tyrese protested.

  “Nobody else will do them,” Keskia snapped, not turning around.

  Tyrese realised with a start that it was just the two of them now. Troy was missing, Trent and Jessie dead. It was a hard fact to accept. It must be even harder for her.

  “Mum, you still have me,” Tyrese offered lamely.

  She snorted, shaking her head.

  “Mum -” he sighed.

  Keskia kept quiet, the only sound the splash of water in the sink and the clink of cutlery.

  “We only have each other now,” Tyrese said, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. “We need to -”

  “Don’t tell me what I need to do,” Keskia said, her voice rising. She slammed her hands into the water, sending bubbles across the counter, some splashing loudly on the floor. She dried her hands on a towel and glared at him, her eyes blinking rapidly to avoid tears, her body shaking with emotion, probably rage, Tyrese thought. She threw the dish towel onto the table and put her hands on her hips. “You’ve done enough damage to this family, so don’t you dare try to tell me what I need to do. And for your information, you’re not the only one I have.”

  Tyrese was shocked. He had never heard such an outburst from his mother.

  “Mum, calm down,” he said, trying to sound soothing.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Keskia insisted, voice rising, tears falling faster. Tyrese sighed. She sniffed. “I have a grandson.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tyrese asked, bewildered.

  “Did it never cross your mind?” Keskia asked, half-amused, half-crazed. “Brandy had a son. Troy’s son.”

  Tyrese’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He could hardly think of what to say. He tried, but Keskia was gone, out of the kitchen, the door slamming shut behind her. He heard her bedroom door slam shut too.

  Alone in the kitchen, Tyrese was speechless. Even if he had not been, he realised, he had nobody left to speak to.

  * * *

  Sitting down at her desk, Serena turned on her computer and glanced around the office for a sign of Carl Hurst. She had not seen him in a while, and she knew that he must be pissed off with her. She was supposed to be assisting him in investigating Uncle Jasper’s dealings, but she had been preoccupied with Troy Banks’ trial, and now Clint’s assault, that she had barely glanced over the files he had provided her with.

  He understood why she was so wrapped up in the case, yet she did not blame him if he wanted someone else to help him rather than her. She had called him as she left the Goldsworth to let him know that she was heading back to the station, filled him in on her latest dead end.

  She went to the vending machine and waited for her instant coffee. Carl was stood by her desk when she returned. She was about to offer her apologies for not helping out with his case, but Carl spoke first.

  “I’ve been going over some things with Asher ready for the start of Dante Cortez’s trial,” he said, speaking quickly, the excitement in his voice clear. “We’ve found something.”

  “About Uncle Jasper?” Serena asked, taking a sip of her coffee. “It’s not surprising, given that Dante worked for him.”

  Carl shook his head, not put off by her remark.

  “No, not about him,” Carl said. “It’s about Troy Banks.”

  Serena looked at him, surprised. He looked pleased with himself. He gestured for her to follow him to one of the board rooms, where he and Asher had set up boxes of files and had been hunkered away for the past few days going through things.

  “There’s something you need to hear,” Carl said, after he had closed the door behind them. Asher’s expression matched his boyfriend’s, and Serena felt her own excitement rising, the feeling contagious.

  He reached for a small mobile phone on the table, brought up a voice recording on the screen, gave a quick glance at Serena, and pressed play.

  * * *

  Kojo awoke with a start, jostling Scarlett awake as he sat up. She blinked, grabbing her phone to check for the time. Kojo swung his leg off the bed, already fully dressed. They had spent all afternoon talking and kissing, and then Scarlett had put a movie on, and they must have dozed off.

  “I should go,” Kojo said, pulling his trainers on. His mum would go mental if he missed his dinner. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “It’s ok,” Scarlett beamed at him, rubbing her eyes still. She got off the bed too, and hugged him, kissing his neck. “Shontelle will be home soon anyway, and if she realises we’re alone together, she’ll think that we -” She trailed off, blushing, and Kojo blushed too at the thought of what could have happened.

  “Thanks for this afternoon,” he said as she walked him to the front door.

  “No, thank you,” she smiled, kissing him lightly on the lips. She hesitated, as he opened the door. “You know, if yo
u ever need to talk about stuff, I’m here for you.”

  Looking at her, Kojo knew that she really meant it. He smiled, grateful.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He kissed her goodbye and headed home, hurrying across the playing fields, already worried his mother would be frantic.

  “There you are, mate, we’ve been waiting ages for you,” Kent called out as he rounded a corner. Kojo froze, caught off guard.

  “Why?” Kojo asked, bewildered, his body tensing.

  “You know why, Kojo,” Kent sighed, shaking his head.

  Leon and Mickey joined him, and Kojo took a step back. Mickey sniggered.

  “Kent seems to think maybe you got scared the other day,” Leon said.

  “When we taught that girl a lesson about disrespect,” Mickey added.

  Kojo’s mouth went dry, he could hardly talk.

  “No, no, I wasn’t scared,” he stammered.

  “Good lad,” Leon nodded, offering a smile.

  “You won’t mind proving yourself then,” Mickey said.

  Kojo glanced around but it was only them. No escape. He swallowed hard.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “You’ve got to prove to us we can trust you,” Mickey said, shrugging, as if it were obvious. “And that you’ve got what it takes.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kojo insisted.

  “That girl we taught a lesson to,” Kent said, his voice gentle. “You didn’t get involved. Now you’re going to have to.”

  “You mean –” Kojo trailed off, horrified at the thought.

  “You’re going to teach her a lesson too,” Kent finished for him, smiling.

  “No,” Kojo gasped.

  “No?” Mickey asked, surprised. “I thought you weren’t scared?”

  “I’m not,” Kojo said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

  “Perfect,” Kent said, nodding as if it were agreed. He clapped Kojo on the back, as if proud of him. “You can prove it then. Tomorrow.”

  Leon and Mickey nodded in agreement, and then they clapped him on the back too, and the three of them sauntered off, glancing back at Kojo. Their voices sounded long after they had rounded the corner. Kojo stood frozen for a moment, trying to regain the use of his legs.