“For the purposes of the tape, I’m going to play a voice recording from a mobile phone confiscated from Troy Banks and Dante Cortez’s cell,” Serena said.
She looked directly at Troy as she hit the play button.
Troy listened as Dante’s voice crackled from the recording. He knew at once which conversation was about to follow, felt the breath catch in his chest, his mind reeling at the realisation that it had been recorded.
He listened to his own voice as he confessed. Not just to killing Shaniqua Curtis, but to shooting Wright and Sasha too. He could not meet Serena’s eyes as she stared at him, scrutinising him, and he looked down at his hands until the tape finally finished.
“Should we talk about the tape or would you rather talk about Clint Jackson again?” Serena asked. It was clear from her tone that she was pleased, that she knew she had won, had him exactly where she wanted him.
Troy did not blame her for feeling that way. He knew it was game over for him. Looking at his lawyer, the truth of it sank in, his expression aghast.
“I think I need to discuss some matters with my client,” his lawyer sighed.
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Serena agreed.
* * *
“You’re free to go,” the police officer told her. “We’ll be in touch if we have more questions.”
“I can’t wait,” Brandy said, rolling her eyes.
The officer glowered at her and gestured for her to leave.
She hesitated and then set off across the courtyard, her pace quickening as she reached the stairwell, anxious to put as much distance between herself and the police as she could. Her stomach twisted with nausea and her head was spinning.
It had only been an hour since she and Troy had left her flat, but it felt like far longer. She wondered where he was now, if he had already confessed to everything, if he was already on his way to a new life in prison.
She could hardly believe she had been stupid enough to fall for him again, trust that he was a better person now. The thought that they might have been together on a train down to the ferry now was laughable if it was not so tragic.
At her front door, she hesitated. She still had her train tickets, could still go to Spain, start fresh somewhere brand new. She shook her head, as if that would get rid of such thoughts. New beginnings were for other people, not people like her.
She pushed through the door and went to her bedroom, tossing her rucksack and handbag onto the bed. The room smelt of Troy and she threw open the window to let in some fresh air, wanting to eliminate any trace, any memory, of him.
The thought of sleeping in this bed, the sheets still damp from where they’d had sex, where he had sweated on top of her, made her skin crawl with disgust. She felt humiliated that she had been so easily fooled by him, and angry that he could think she was a snitch. She had done it once, but this time she had not, would never have thought to betray him like that.
She turned and found her mother in the doorway, vodka bottle in hand, sneering.
“Short trip,” Deanna remarked. She looked exaggeratedly around the room. “No Troy?”
Brandy gritted her teeth.
“No, he’s gone,” she managed.
“Good riddance,” Deanna said, shaking her head. She lifted the vodka to her lips and drank deeply. She lowered the bottle, smirking again. “He’s exactly where he belongs.”
Brandy felt herself tense at the words.
“What do you mean?” she demanded. “How do you even know -”
She froze. Realisation dawned.
“You can thank me later,” Deanna shrugged. She sauntered from the doorway down the corridor. Brandy thought of how her mother had ruined everything and did not even care. She went after her. Her anger flared. She hated her, hated Troy, hated the police and this shithole estate. She hated everything.
She grabbed her mother’s hair, wrenching hard, pulling her mother backwards down the corridor. Deanna let out a scream of agony and slapped at her hands. The vodka bottle dropped to the floor, sloshing out over the floor.
“Get off me you psycho,” Deanna shrieked.
A door flew open and Aunt Bo hurried out, looking dismayed by the scene. She tried to grab Brandy’s hands, release her grip, but Brandy would not let herself be stopped. She wanted to hurt her mother the way she had been hurt.
She lost her grip and Deanna stumbled out of her reach. Brandy shoved Bo aside and slapped her mother hard across the side of the head, and Deanna kicked out hard at her, missing in her drunken state.
“Stop this right this second,” Aunt Bo hissed.
She shoved Deanna into the living room and slammed the door shut after her, holding the handle tight. There were thuds and shrieks from the other side of the door, but Deanna could not get back out into the corridor. Brandy breathed hard, sweating from the exertion, and glared at her aunt, whose bulk blocked the doorway.
“She’s ruined my life,” Brandy shouted.
“You only just realised that?” Aunt Bo asked, frowning at her.
Brandy shook her head, letting out a howl of frustration, and retreated to her bedroom, where she slammed the door shut. She did not believe for a second that her mother had reported Troy out of any concern for her or to be a good citizen. She had done it out of spite, Brandy could sense it, had seen it in her mother’s smirk.
She wished that she could have fled the country, wished that she was on the train down to the coast and would never have to see her mother again.
Brandy lay down on the bed, buried her face into her pillow, and screamed.
* * *
Troy looked across the table at his lawyer.
“I don’t think you have much of a choice,” the lawyer said, shaking his head. “They have a recording of you confessing to three murders, and a statement from the victim of a fourth attempted murder.”
Troy swallowed hard, his throat hoarse with nerves. When it was put like that, he knew that his lawyer was right. It did not look good for him. He had escaped justice once, but he did not like his chances again, not a second time, third time, fourth.
“What do I do then?” he asked, clinging to the slim chance there was something he could do. He could not just bow down and accept what had happened. “I can’t just give up.”
The lawyer’s brow furrowed.
“I think that perhaps a plea bargain is your best option,” he replied. He skimmed over the notes he had made. Troy wondered what he could possibly offer the police in exchange for a reduced sentence. The lawyer looked back at him. “I’ll talk to the detectives, see if we can work something out, but I really do think that’s your only option.”
“What if I deny everything?” Troy asked, desperate.
The lawyer frowned.
“Then they still have a recording of you confessing anyway,” he sighed.
Troy’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Okay, find out about the plea bargain,” he told him. “I don’t have anything to offer them, though, and Patterson has it in for me, always has done.”
“Everyone has something to offer,” the lawyer said, as he closed his notes and slid them into a briefcase. He fixed Troy with a beady look. “Sleep on it, and I’ll see you in the morning with an update.”
Troy nodded, looking down at the floor as the lawyer left and the door closed behind him. He had a long night ahead in a cell and he knew he would have plenty of time to think it over.
* * *
Kojo had not slept well and he dreaded checking his phone, knowing that there would be messages from Kent. He tried to put it off, but it vibrated again, and he knew he could not ignore the texts this time.
He was not wrong. Kent had messaged. He wanted to meet in the afternoon. Kojo swallowed hard, his stomach twisting with fear, but part of him was relieved. At least it wasn’t until the afternoon. He still had time. Time to escape, or get brave, or something.
Raised voices came from the living room.
“You know I d
on’t like my eggs like this,” his father was shouting. He heard his mother’s muffled voice, and then the sound of a plate smashing against the wall.
Kojo did not want to join the fracas, so he remained in his room, sat up in bed. He wondered if perhaps Clint had been right, maybe he should have stayed in Manchester, away from Kent and Leon and Mickey and having to prove himself to them.
He thought about the bedsit in Manchester, the agonising months of sharing with Clint and Aurora. Aurora’s constant complaining about her swollen feet and heartburn, Clint’s frequent disappointment with his job, the bad meals and not knowing anybody.
No, Kojo realised, as much as he might fear what he had to do to prove himself to Kent and the others, he still did not regret coming back to the Goldsworth. He would do anything to stay here in London, he decided, whatever that might entail.
* * *
Troy had just finished his unappetising breakfast after a restless night trying to sleep, when the officer came to lead him to the interview room. His lawyer was waiting and gestured to the seat across the table from him. Troy waited for his handcuffs to be removed before he sat down, and the officer left the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Have you had some time to think about what we discussed?” the lawyer asked him.
Troy nodded. He had too much time to think if anything.
“And?” the lawyer prompted him.
“I’ll do it, the plea bargain, whatever it is,” Troy replied.
The lawyer seemed relieved by his answer.
“I spoke to the detectives,” he told Troy. “They’re willing to offer a plea bargain. If you plead guilty to the murders of Shaniqua Curtis, Wright O’Neill and Sasha Morton, and the attempted murder of Clint Jackson, then -”
“What?” Troy protested. “If I do that, I’ll never get out of here.”
The lawyer pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at being interrupted.
“Please let me finish,” he chastised him. Troy scowled but fell quiet. The lawyer waited a moment, collecting himself, before he continued. “If you plead guilty to those charges, and testify against your former cellmate, Dante Cortez -”
“Testify about what?” Troy demanded, before he could stop himself.
The lawyer gritted his teeth.
“His confession to you regarding the murder of Bolton Smith,” he said, his voice clipped with frustration. Troy nodded. The lawyer hesitated now. “And you would have to give evidence against your brother, Tyrese Banks, regarding his criminal activities on the Goldsworth Estate. If you do all that, then your sentence will be commuted to less than a life sentence.”
Troy’s breath caught in his chest. He could hardly believe what he had just heard.
“Give evidence against my own brother?” he gasped. “I can’t do that man.”
“If you don’t, then the plea bargain would be withdrawn,” the lawyer said. “I know it’s a difficult situation, but really it is still your best option. Your only option.”
Troy considered him a moment.
“If I do all of this, testify against my own brother and grass my old cellmate up, confess to all these murders, and all they’re offering me is what? They won’t give me a life sentence?”
The lawyer nodded.
“If you don’t take the plea, go to trial and are found guilty, you’re looking at four consecutive life sentences,” the lawyer told him. “You’ll never see the outside of prison again.”
Troy stared into his face and realised the enormity of what this meant.
“And if I take the plea bargain?” he asked.
“Then you’re looking at thirty years,” the lawyer replied. “With good behaviour during your sentence, perhaps you’d serve twenty, even ten or fifteen years if you’re lucky.”
Troy saw now that his lawyer was right. It was his only option if he ever wanted to get out of prison someday. He had no qualms about testifying about Dante. He was under no illusion that Dante had recorded his confession and it would be payback. Testifying against Tyrese was another matter, but he thought about his eldest brother’s eagerness to send him away so that he could call a truce with Jayden Healy.
What would Tyrese have done in his shoes? Troy sighed. He would have taken the plea.
“I’ll take it,” Troy said, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands were now.
The lawyer looked relieved. He went out to get the detectives and Patterson and Hurst returned to the interview room a short while later, sitting across from Troy as his lawyer pulled up the chair beside him.
“My client has agreed to the terms of the plea bargain,” the lawyer said, once the interview was being recorded.
Patterson smiled as she looked at Troy. He forced himself to keep his head up and hold her gaze.
“You’ve just made my morning,” she said, speaking to Troy. “I’ll read out the charges against you, Troy, and then we’ll take a detailed confession and statement from you.”
Troy nodded, still not looking away, unwilling to admit defeat, at least not to her.
Inside, he trembled, but his look remained hard as she started to list his charges. It was all over, he knew right then, his life was changed forever.
* * *
“I found out where that Polish bitch lives,” Kent said down the phone, and Kojo nodded as if his mate could see his response. “Took me about two seconds on Facebook. We’ll meet you downstairs from yours later, right mate?”
“Yeah, sure,” Kojo said, trying to stop his voice wavering.
“Good lad,” Kent encouraged him. “Remember, she deserves it. You’ll do us proud, mate, I know you will. I’ll catch you later.”
He was gone. Kojo dropped his phone onto his bed and stared at it, his mind racing. He could not really be going through with this, could he? He didn’t want to, the thought repulsed him, made his insides squirm, but what choice did he have? He could tell someone, but what would he say? And who would he say it to?
He was no snitch. Besides, Kent was his best mate and if he did not meet him as planned, he would lose not just respect, but his friendship. Still, how could he go ahead with it?
Perhaps he could feign illness, he wondered, or say he was grounded. No, they would never believe him. He had shown weakness the first time, and now they would believe nothing he said until he had proved himself to them.
He kicked out at the foot of his bed, sending pain shooting up his leg, but it did nothing to distract him from the thought of what was expected of him this afternoon.
Unable to leave but unwilling to stay, he began to pace his room.
* * *
Nothing had felt better to Serena than when she had officially charged Troy with his crimes and he had finally signed the bottom of his printed statement, in which he confessed to everything. She had almost cheered when he had put the pen down and glared at her defiantly. Serena had taken a statement about Tyrese Banks’ activities on the estate from him, and then she had left Carl to interview him about Dante Cortez, whilst she had left the station.
She double-checked at the nurses’ station that Clint Jackson had not been moved before treading down the corridors, feeling her step lighter now, a weight lifted from her shoulders.
Aurora was sat at Clint’s bedside when Serena opened the curtain surrounding his bed and stepped into the small space. They both looked up at her expectantly, Clint’s eyelids heavy with the medications, and Aurora’s red from exhaustion.
“Did you get him?” Clint asked.
Serena allowed herself a smile, and they exchanged a glance, hopeful.
“He’s been arrested and charged,” Serena told them. “He confessed to stabbing you, Clint.”
They looked visibly relieved, and Aurora was beaming at the news.
“He also confessed to Shaniqua’s murder,” Serena said, after taking a deep breath. Aurora looked gobsmacked, putting a hand to her heart. “And to the murders of Sasha and Wright.”
“He confessed?” Aurora asked, shaking h
er head. “He finally owned up to it?”
“He did,” Serena nodded.
“About time,” Clint said from his bed, with a smile on his lips.
“This time there won’t be a trial,” Serena told them. “He’ll plead guilty to the charges and the sentencing will be determined at his hearing. No more witnesses, no more juries.”
Tears brimmed in Aurora’s eyes and she hugged Serena to her. Serena patted her on the back and then released her, and Aurora hugged Clint. Clint smiled at Serena over Aurora’s shoulder, and she saw the relief in his eyes.
“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Serena told them. “I just wanted to give you the good news in person.”
“Thank you,” they both said.
Serena waved them off, unable to stop smiling as she left the hospital, relieved that she had been able to keep her promises to them and relieved that justice was finally being done.
* * *
Watching Serena disappear behind the curtain and draw it closed behind her, Clint held Aurora close to him. She smelt the same as she always did, the smell that he had missed so much since they had broken up.
When she let go of him and straightened up, he saw her wipe her eyes. They were happy tears, he knew, and he felt relieved by that.
“I can’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head. “He finally confessed to everything.”
Clint nodded, sharing her smile, and her disbelief. He knew that there was a catch, something that Serena had not shared with them. A deal, a negotiation for reduced time. At least the important thing was that he had finally told the truth and he would not evade justice a second time.
“He’s locked up,” Aurora sighed, sitting down in the chair. Her hand reached for Clint’s automatically, clasping it in hers. Clint smiled at the gesture. “He’s off the estate, and we’re finally safe again.”
Clint frowned.
“I’d have kept you safe,” he said, before he could help himself, unable to stop himself from sounding wounded. Aurora’s smile faltered. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You or Angel. I never will, I promise.”
Aurora squeezed his hand.
“I mean it Aurora,” Clint said, not sure whether it was the relief of Troy’s confession or the painkillers that were making him so open with her. “I love you. I always have done, always will do.”
The Goldsworth Series Box Set Page 133