Panicking, Naz fired two more shots. He heard one of them hit the metal of the playground, a loud ping on the metal. The second made no sound, and Jayden staggered again. He had been hit in the chest. He let out an anguished shout, grabbing the swing to support himself. He was still standing.
Naz heard footsteps behind him, trainers scuffing on the astro-turf of the playground, and Sanjay was there.
“For fuck’s sake,” he hissed angrily, snatching the gun out of Naz’s hands. Naz took a step back, wiping his palms on his trousers, as Sanjay closed the distance between him and Jayden.
“You?” Jayden groaned. A trickle of blood escaped his lips. His top was fast turning red with blood, and a trickle of blood dropped from his fingers to the ground below.
Sanjay did not speak. He lifted the gun to Jayden’s head, and there was no sign of nerves or fear. His hand was steady. Jayden gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Sanjay pulled the trigger and Jayden dropped to the floor, his body buckling beneath him, a dark hole in his forehead.
Naz gagged, but he had no time to think. Sanjay was turning back, gesturing for Naz to come with him. They hopped the fence, Sanjay tucking the gun at the small of his back, hidden by his hoodie.
“If you want a job doing, do it yourself, is that the fucking saying?” Sanjay growled under his breath, as Naz followed him, their pace brisk, away from the darkness of the playground, his heart still pounding hard in his chest.
* * *
Tyrese pulled up his jeans and zipped himself back up. Brandy wiped herself with some toilet roll and pulled her skirt back down. They did not look at each other as they left the cubicle.
A girl walked into the toilets but said nothing at the sight of them, acting as if she had not seen anything. Brandy shot her a dark look, and went back to the bar, grabbing her vodka and coke. Tyrese sat down on his bar stool, picking up his pint.
If the barman knew what they had just done, he acted as if he did not. Probably it happened a lot here, Tyrese thought.
“Perhaps we should keep this to ourselves,” Tyrese said, eyeing Brandy closely for her reaction. She looked relieved as she caught his eye and nodded.
He was not entirely sure what had come over him, why he had felt the urge to fuck her. It wasn’t like he had feelings for her, he wasn’t even that attracted to her. Perhaps he had just wanted someone, and she had been there. He didn’t know what her reasons were, did not care really, so long as she kept them to herself.
“I should head off,” Tyrese said, draining his pint.
“Me too,” Brandy agreed. She knocked back her drink and pulled a cigarette out of her pack. “People to see, places to go. You know how it is.”
Tyrese smiled.
He let her leave first, not wanting people to see them together or give out the wrong impression. He checked his pockets for his phone but couldn’t find it. He had probably left it at home this morning, he thought, cursing himself.
When he was satisfied that Brandy had a head-start down the road, he rose from his bar stool, shook off a few notes for the barman, and left the pub, lighting a cigarette as he stepped out onto the street.
* * *
Brandy adjusted her skirt as she walked down the street. It had been unexpected when Tyrese had approached her in the toilets, but it meant nothing to her, and from his attitude, it meant nothing to him either. It had just been sex.
She lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply. She felt the wad of notes inside her bra, tight against her breast, and smiled. She had not paid for a single drink and she had earnt enough for a few nights out in the process. It had been a good day, she decided, as she turned the corner.
She wondered what Troy would think of her if he knew she had just fucked his brother, his idol, the one who had betrayed him in court. She smiled at the thought.
Her heels clattering on the pavement, she blew smoke up into the dark sky, deciding she would stop at the corner shop on the way home and get some more vodka. She deserved another drink, she told herself, after a successful day.
* * *
Sanjay threw himself through the front door, closely followed by Naz. The house was empty, he had made sure it would be. He had sent his mum down to bingo earlier, and Amal was at Shontelle’s for the night.
He closed the door and went quickly into the kitchen, checking the blinds were drawn. He pulled the gun out of the waistband of his jeans and dropped it onto the kitchen table. He kicked out at a chair, sending it scraping across the floor.
Naz stood in the corner of the room, still shaking and looking pale. Sanjay wanted to smack him for being such a bad shot, for almost messing it all up, but he stopped himself.
He had at least pulled the trigger, had got a few shots in. He had tried to prove himself. It was his first time with a gun, so perhaps he deserved to be cut some slack. Sanjay swallowed his anger down and clapped Naz on the back.
His cousin seemed surprised, as if he had expected a punch instead.
“Well done, Naz,” he said. “You’ve proved yourself. You did well.”
“I was shit,” Naz mumbled. “I almost blew it all.”
“It didn’t go exactly as planned,” Sanjay admitted, his voice gentle, reassuring. “But you shot him. You proved you can be trusted Naz. And Jayden is dead. That’s the main thing.”
Naz nodded, looking a little more reassured, though he was still shaking and pale. Sanjay guided him into a kitchen chair and poured a large whisky. He passed it to Naz, who downed it in one. The colour began to return to his cheeks, and Sanjay began to relax now he knew his cousin was not about to pass out.
He poured another smaller measure, and Naz cradled this one, sipping at it. His hands did not seem to be shaking so much now.
Sanjay poured a measure for himself and knocked it back. Now they were back home, and Jayden was dead, he felt the adrenaline turn to excitement.
They had succeeded. Soon the estate would be theirs.
“What do we do now?” Naz asked.
“We wait,” Sanjay replied, pouring some more whisky.
Naz nodded, his eyes widened, and he vomited all over the kitchen table.
* * *
Scarlett had walked off her anger and she was beginning to feel tired. She was still annoyed with Shontelle, but the thought of her bed was stronger than her desire to stay out later and make Shontelle worried. She had ignored her sister’s calls and she groaned as her phone began to vibrate again.
She turned away from the playing fields, deciding to head back home. She would ignore Shontelle if she said anything to her, lock her bedroom door and let her sister continue to suffer. Instinctively, she put a hand to her cheek where Shontelle had slapped her. She rubbed it gently, though the sting of the slap had long faded.
Nearing the playground, Scarlett saw a green light on the floor ahead. Curious, she pushed through the metal gate, wincing at the creak of the hinges. The green light was flashing. It was a mobile phone ringing. She took a step closer and froze.
In the dark, she had not seen it until now she was just feet away. Just inches from the vibrating phone, a hand was half-illuminated by the screen’s light. Even in the dark, she knew he was dead. A black bullet hole in his forehead, black blood everywhere.
Scarlett screamed.
* * *
Brandy jumped as the scream rang out in the darkness, sharp and chilling as it cut through the night air. It was so close.
She wanted to run, to get home as fast as she could. The screams continued. She turned her head to the sound of the noise, coming from the playground just feet away from her. She stopped.
A young girl was in the playground, screaming and backing up. She sounded terrified. Instinctively, Brandy followed the girl’s eyeline and froze. The clouds were parting, and moonlight illuminated the playground.
Jayden Healy was dead. The blood looked black in the moonlight. It was everywhere. Drenching his shirt, his arm, his face.
Dread flooded her at once, as understanding da
wned on Brandy. She knew why she had been paid off today, why she had to steal Tyrese’s phone and keep him busy. She did not understand why, but she knew what role she had played in this.
The plastic bag dropped from her clasp and the vodka bottle shattered on the path at her feet, sending shards of glass everywhere.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Panic coursed through her, but Brandy’s thoughts quickly to self-preservation. She did not want to be part of this. Whatever this was. She suspected that Sanjay was behind this and she already had involved herself too much agreeing to take Tyrese’s phone and spend the day with him. If she fled now, perhaps she would avoid police attention all together. If she stayed here, questions would be asked. Questions that she did not have the answers to or wished that she did not.
The girl had turned at the sound of the bottle shattering on the floor. Brandy could have cursed as their eyes locked for a moment. If this girl told the police that she had been, Brandy would find herself in more trouble. She would raise suspicions.
Sirens sounded in the distance, drawing closer, and blue lights flashed between the trees, tyres screeching.
She realised she was shaking as voices called out in the dark and police appeared from the shadows, van doors slamming and the sirens wailing on. She did not move, made no attempt to flee. Her feet were frozen to the spot.
“Miss,” a policeman approached her. “Are you okay?”
Brandy could barely think of an answer. In the playground, the girl was crying, her voice high when she managed to get any words out between sobs.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure between the trees on the far side of the playground, his face only illuminated for a brief second by the blue lights, before he turned and disappeared, pulling his hood up over his head.
“Tyrese -” Brandy gasped, her eyes straining for another sight of him, but she could not make him out. He was probably running back home now, she thought, relieved not to be caught up in this mess. Perhaps he had no clue that he would soon be right in the middle of it, if Brandy’s suspicions were correct.
“Tyrese?” the policeman echoed, brow furrowing.
Brandy turned her attention to him, shaking her head.
“Sorry, what was the question?” she asked.
She tried to focus, as the policeman scribbled Tyrese’s name into his notebook.
* * *
“Scarlett!” Shontelle’s anguished cry seemed to echo around the playground. She pushed past a police officer and ran to her sister, throwing her arms around her and holding her close.
Scarlett was still in shock. She had stopped crying now, just enough to answer the police’s questions and give her contact information. One of the officers had rung home for her, and Scarlett knew that Shontelle must have run here, she had arrived so fast. She saw Amal hovering a few feet behind.
The police had moved Scarlett to the edge of the playground, out of sight of the body. Now more officers had arrived, some in white suits now examining the body. Scarlett had tried to avoid looking.
“Are you okay, Scarlett?” Shontelle asked, holding her sister at arm’s length to examine her face. She glanced over at where the body was being examined, and she paled at the sight. Shuddering, Shontelle hugged her sister close again.
“You should take her home,” an officer said, approaching them. “We’ve got your contact details if we need any more information.” Shontelle nodded at him, grateful. The officer turned to Scarlett and smiled. “Thank you, Scarlett. You’ve been very helpful. I know it’s not easy, but you’ve been very brave.”
Scarlett nodded, hardly able to speak. Shontelle put an arm around her shoulders and began to lead her away from the playground. Amal fell into step alongside them. Scarlett allowed herself to be guided by her sister, hardly trusting her legs to hold her up let alone guide her home.
“You’re okay, that’s the main thing,” Shontelle was saying. “It’s over now.”
Scarlett murmured. She appreciated her sister’s words, but she knew that it was not over. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the body, drenched in black blood.
* * *
Amal felt his palms sweat in his pockets as he left the playground, trying to avoid eye-contact with any of the police officers, not that they paid any attention to him. If anyone looked at them, their eyes were drawn to Scarlett, still pale and in shock, being half-dragged by Shontelle. The officers averted their eyes, not wanting to intrude upon the girl’s traumatic ordeal any further.
He had seen Jayden’s body, the forensics team now crowded around him. His view had been obscured, but he had seen enough. He shuddered as the image surfaced in his mind as they crossed the road, the street a hive of police activity as vans approached and blue lights reflected off windows and cars, half-blinding him.
Brandy had been there too, and he wondered if that was a coincidence or if that was part of the plan Sanjay had kept to himself. He hoped that his brother knew what he was doing, trusting a girl like that.
He tried to keep his cool, only half-hearing Shontelle’s murmured reassurances to her sister. His mind raced with thoughts of his brother and his cousin, who must have been here just moments before Scarlett had stumbled across the scene.
Amal tried not to think about how different things could have turned out if she had walked past earlier. If she had seen Sanjay or Naz. He would have to warn Sanjay, but for now he did not think that Scarlett had seen anything.
If she had, then he would have to find out what and whether she had told the police. He did not dwell on the thought of what might have to be done if Scarlett had indeed seen too much.
* * *
“Why does she get to leave?” Brandy demanded, gesturing towards the retreating backs of Scarlett, Shontelle and Amal.
She had known at once who the girl was when Shontelle and Amal had rushed over. Brandy knew that Amal had noticed her, but if Shontelle had seen her, she made no indication, too focused on rescuing her sister from the police.
Nobody was coming to her rescue, Brandy knew that much for sure.
“I’ve already told you everything I know,” Brandy said, lowering her voice, not wanting to piss off the police officer. She sighed. “I heard that girl scream. I looked over, saw the body. Then you lot arrived and here we are.”
“You mentioned a name,” the officer said, reading back through his notes. “Tyrese. Is that the victim?”
“No,” Brandy shook her head. “That’s not Tyrese. It’s Jayden Healy.”
The officer’s eyes widened.
“You know the victim?” he asked.
“I don’t know him,” she backtracked. “I know of him. Everyone around here does. The Healy brothers? I’m surprised you don’t know the name, they’re not exactly upstanding pillars of the community, if you know what I mean.”
The police officer was scribbling in his pad. He went over to his colleagues and Brandy saw him relaying the information, gesturing to where the body was being loaded onto a stretcher. Brandy looked away.
The officer returned as the body was wheeled out of the playground. Brandy turned away from the gurney, and when she looked back, the officer looked more sympathetic.
“Miss Mason, why did you say the name Tyrese?” the officer asked. “Just so I can update my notes.”
Brandy hesitated. She had probably already said too much, but she wanted to leave, wanted desperately to go home.
“I saw him,” she said slowly, and her voice wavered. The officer looked serious now, almost hopeful. He nodded for her to keep going. She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. “He was here. Over there, in the trees.”
She pointed across the playground to where she had seen him. The officer followed her gaze and radioed the information to his colleagues.
“When did you see him there?” the officer asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, feeling uncomfortable now. “Just as you lot turned up, I guess. He left when I saw him.”
&nbs
p; The officer nodded, his expression unreadable, but Brandy knew she had just given him their prime suspect.
“And what is Tyrese’s last name?” the officer asked.
“Banks,” Brandy replied. “Tyrese Banks.”
* * *
Tyrese was jolted awake by a hammering at the front door. He groaned, turning over and grabbing his phone off the bedside table. He had only managed an hour’s sleep and the beginnings of a hangover were beginning to creep over him, his mouth dry and his head aching.
The noise did not stop until he heard his mother’s voice, loud and high. Tyrese swung his legs out of bed and was about to get up to see what was going on when the bedroom door crashed open.
“What the -” he began, as police officers swarmed into the room, filling the space at once. In the background, he heard his mother protesting, demanding answers. He closed his eyes as strong hands forced him onto his front and handcuffs were clapped onto his wrists.
“Tyrese Banks, you’re under arrest for the murder of Jayden Healy,” one of the officers said, and began to read him his rights, as if Tyrese had never heard them before.
He was hauled off the bed and marched out of the bedroom, through the flat. He saw his mother, in her dressing gown, looking paralysed with fear, one hand on her chest, the other clutching her dressing gown. She gave Tyrese a helpless look as he was hauled past her and out of the flat.
Jayden Healy was dead. Tyrese was shocked, but he could hardly process the news. Not when he was being arrested for the murder. He knew that he would have to think quickly now, or he would be in big trouble.
Outside the flat, he saw curtains twitching as curious neighbours were drawn to their windows by the commotion. Tyrese groaned, gritting his teeth, as he was led away, the handcuffs digging into his wrists.
* * *
Keskia Banks watched Tyrese be led out of her flat. She could not do anything except look on as the police left the flat. A few officers stayed behind to search Tyrese’s room and Keskia went into the kitchen.
Putting the kettle on, she closed her eyes as she waited for it to boil.
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