Dark Fragments: a fast paced psychological thriller

by Rob Sinclair

  I could have pleaded ignorance, argued that the evidence was circumstantial at best. I certainly would have done if it had been anyone other than Dani talking to me. But even before Dani confirmed it, I felt like she had my back.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Dani said.

  ‘You’re not going to have me arrested?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you. I know there’s a lot I’m not seeing, and I don’t know exactly how or why Dove fits into all that … but I hope this is it now. Done.’

  ‘I was just angry,’ I said, trying to sound less on edge, hoping it would get Dani to lay off me. ‘I needed someone to vent it on. Dove fitted the bill. He deserved it.’

  ‘I know he did. Don’t forget what he did to me too. I hate him just as much as you.’

  I wouldn’t ever forget. Dove and Dani had been an item for all of two minutes when they were fifteen. But Dove had been a true arsehole, badmouthing her around the school, making up sordid stories – at least I hoped they were just stories – about what my sister would and wouldn’t do for him.

  I’d been hell bent on punishing Dove myself for that. The only reason I didn’t was because of Dani. Not because she warded me off, but because she got to Dove first. Made him pay in her own unique way. In the end Dove was the butt of jokes the school over. He never regained his reputation.

  Somehow Dani always managed to come out on top of any situation.

  ‘But what he did to you was years ago, Ben,’ Dani said. ‘So this is it. Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but it ends here. No more. I’ll let you off this one.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  ‘If someone else puts the pieces together, though, or if a witness comes forward and makes it clear it was you out there, you’re on your own. I can only protect you so far. You understand that?’

  ‘Of course. Thank you. Is that likely?’

  ‘Who knows? No-one is particularly excited about Dove. He was drunk, nothing was stolen and he’s not seriously injured. I think, to be honest, it’ll get written up as a drunken assault, and unless someone else comes forward with further information it’ll go away quietly.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Me too. But I’m not letting you off this one for free.’

  ‘Why did I not doubt that?’ I said. ‘Spit it out, Dani. What’s the condition?’

  ‘O’Brady. You have to help us. I’m helping you on this one, Ben. But you have to help us too.’

  I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth. For just a fleeting second I’d genuinely thought that Dani was helping me out as a sister. That she could see my life was a shambles, that Dove was such a small element and she could overlook my misdemeanour even though it went against her professionalism. But no, that wasn’t Dani. I began to wonder whether her colleagues were already aware that it was me who had beaten up Dove. Perhaps they were even listening in on the conversation we were having, waiting for me to agree to help catch O’Brady. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if that was the case.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I said, trying to hold back my growing irritation.

  But my words weren’t just a means to end the conversation. Off to my right I’d spotted Cara coming out of the gym doors.

  I heard Dani ranting as I pulled the phone away from my ear, but I wasn’t listening. I pressed the button to end the call and tried to regain my composure as Cara approached, a warm smile on her face.

  CHAPTER 36

  I pushed the phone into my pocket and turned toward Cara.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, giving a less-than-convincing smile, the conversation with Dani still reverberating in my mind.

  ‘Everything okay?’ she asked, immediately picking up on my mood.

  ‘Ah, it’s not his fault, I guess,’ I said, thinking on my feet. ‘I was supposed to be having a night out, but it looks like it’s just been cancelled.’

  ‘Bummer.’

  ‘It is. With the kids, it’s so hard making arrangements.’

  ‘You’ve got kids?’

  ‘Yeah. Two.’

  ‘They live with you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, frowning at my unusual answer. Cara’s look matched my own but she didn’t probe further. ‘It’s all being sorted out still. They’re with their mum at the moment. I don’t know what will happen. Anyway, all my friends have kids now too. Impossible finding a convenient time to go out.’

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘You don’t have kids?’

  ‘No,’ she said, looking away from me. I got the impression it was a sore subject for her.

  ‘I guess I’m out for the night now, though,’ I joked. ‘I’ve got nowhere better to go, so I may as well make the most of it.’

  Cara laughed. ‘Yeah, you should.’

  ‘You can join me if you like,’ I said, trying to make it sound like a casual invitation. ‘I haven’t been out around here for ages. You can show me where all the cool kids go.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not so sure I’m one of the cool kids these days either. I’m as old as you are.’

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘I’m flattered you think otherwise, though.’

  She went silent and began to look uncomfortable. I didn’t know whether she was trying to think of what to say to get away from me, or she was actually considering my proposition.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I was only messing around. I’m just disappointed I’m not going to be getting out for once, that’s all.’

  ‘No, no,’ Cara protested. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m not offended. Actually I don’t have any plans tonight. I’d only be sitting around on my own at home too. We could get a quick drink if you want?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Why not? Seems a shame for you to go home so soon.’

  Home? What home? I thought, but all I said was, ‘Okay, great. Let’s do it.’

  Cara beamed me a smile, which I reciprocated, helping to wash away the aggravation I was feeling toward Dani and most other people in my life. We headed to a bar around the corner from the gym, overlooking the canals. I bought a round of drinks: a pint of overpriced European lager for myself and a large glass of white wine for Cara. Even though it was a Monday the bar was busy with post-work drinkers, but we managed to find a table. Within a half hour or so people were already starting to filter out, clearly not wanting to let their hair down so early in the working week.

  A part of me felt guilty for how I’d very deliberately crafted the situation with Cara. Yet as time wore on, that feeling was well and truly sidelined. I was amazed at how comfortable and relaxed conversation was with her. We just clicked. We talked about anything and everything, from the mundane to the profound. It wasn’t like me at all. I’m not a particularly shy person; I’m just not that talkative. Not so with Cara.

  It wasn’t even that we had much in common – our lives were really quite different. But she was warm and friendly, engaging and endearing. She was also pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. I was strongly attracted to her. Not just lust – it was more than that, more solid. The only way I can describe it is that it felt like the first time Alice and I met. I felt a certain bitterness toward myself for comparing anyone to Alice. But as the night wore on, as the drinks went down, that bitterness faded as I quickly fell for Cara Andrews.

  When the clock wound toward eleven p.m., we were both worse for wear from the countless drinks we’d consumed and becoming increasingly animated and flirtatious. We’d moved bars and were sitting on a bench next to each other, our shoulders and legs brushing, our faces just a few inches apart. Every time we turned to speak to each other I’d gaze into her eyes for just a second longer than necessary, and on many occasions she’d do the same. More than once I’d thought about leaning over to kiss her.

  The closing bell sounded and I suggested we head out. We both stood up, wobbling and
giggling, and moved toward the exit. Cara fell into me drunkenly. I put my arm around her to steady her and felt a jolt of warmth and satisfaction.

  We stumbled outside and stopped. I let go of Cara and looked at her longingly.

  ‘I had a good time,’ I said to her. ‘I really mean that.’

  ‘You’re going already?’ Cara said.

  ‘You’re not?’

  ‘One for the road, do you think?’ she said, giving me what I took to be a seductive look.

  ‘Why not?’ I said without even a moment’s contemplation.

  ‘Great. This way, follow me.’

  Cara grabbed my hand and ushered me away. She took me to a late-night bar that was just coming to life as the pubs around it began to close up for the night. I’d never been there before. We walked in to a thumping baseline that made my brain shake and my insides curdle, and I quickly felt out of my comfort zone. I’d never considered myself timid, but it had been a long time since I’d been to anything that resembled a nightclub. The fact that I was at least ten years older than the vast majority of the other punters made me feel further alienated.

  Cara seemed oblivious. She pulled me through the crowds of people over to the packed bar. There didn’t seem to be a formal dancefloor anywhere, but nevertheless people were gyrating and pulsing to the ear-splitting music.

  ‘It’s busy,’ I shouted over at Cara.

  ‘It always is. Even during the week. Because it’s new, I guess. And there aren’t many proper clubs open on a Monday.’

  After five minutes without any luck getting to the bar, I decided to get my elbows out and I nudged and pushed my way to the front. It did the trick and I finally got served, but my efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed. As I moved back from the crowd to Cara, drinks in hand, I was shoved in the back and I stumbled forward, Cara’s sticky red cocktail overspilling down my arm.

  I turned around to a group of four guffawing men – though I’d use the term “men" loosely, they could well have been in their late teens. They were all smiling and laughing at me, but then one of them, the shortest of the group with a t-shirt that looked two sizes too small stretched over his fat-free torso, began to stare at me coldly. I mouthed an obscenity at him, then turned around and headed to Cara, whose face was tinged with just a hint of anxiety.

  ‘What was that?’ she asked, her voice and manner making her appear far less intoxicated than the bubbly, giggly person I’d entered the bar with minutes earlier.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, turning around to the group to see the man still giving me the evil eye. ‘It was nothing.’

  Cara seemed to relax again, but I couldn’t let it go. The group of lads had riled me. It was the drink, I’m certain of that. But it was also Gemma and O’Brady and Dani and Whitely and Rottweiler and Dove – basically my life.

  I’d held my shit together for so long, but it was becoming an impossible task to keep everything locked up inside. Quite simply, I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep it all locked inside anymore.

  We found two seats and I tried to let the night move on. But I just couldn’t. Cara was talking to me but I was barely concentrating. The blaring music certainly didn’t help. Cara’s words washed over me as I kept my eyes fixed steadily on the group at the bar.

  When I finally looked over at Cara, I could see disappointment on her face. She wasn’t an imbecile. She could tell I wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. I was annoyed at myself for having spoiled the mood, but my head was on fire. The pounding baseline, the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream and my chaotic thoughts were making me feel delirious and detached from reality.

  No matter how hard I tried, there was only one thing on my mind.

  ‘Ben … Ben?’

  I looked over at Cara again, fighting hard to bring myself back around. I was about to offer an apology, however disingenuous, but then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye that grabbed my full attention.

  I got to my feet.

  ‘I’m just going to the toilet,’ I said to Cara without looking at her, my eyes focused on the man from the bar.

  I dodged and pushed my way past the other drinkers over to the toilets, the thumping music enhancing my growing focus.

  The man who’d shoved me in the back was right in front of me, oblivious to my presence, as we headed into the packed gents’. The stench of urine and vomit stuck in my nostrils the second I walked in. The urinals were crammed with men relieving their bladders, but the man I was focused on walked right past, over toward the bank of four cubicles.

  The first two doors were locked shut. The third was open and the man took a step in. Just as he began to turn to shut the door I lurched forward, barging in through the open door.

  I grabbed him by the back of his neck and shoved him forward. I reached back and locked the door with my free hand, then flung the man’s head against the side panel of the cubicle.

  There was a loud crack as his head made contact with the wall. At least it appeared loud to me, but with the din of the music from the bar and the many raucous voices in the toilets it was probably nothing.

  The cubicle walls shuddered and the man groaned. Without giving him a chance to react, I crashed his head on the wall again, then threw my fist into his side once. Twice. He cried out in pain and I pushed him forward. He fell to his knees.

  I thrust his head down, into the foul toilet bowl that was filled with urine and shit and dirtied paper. The man squirmed and bucked but it was no use. Something had taken over me. It would have taken the strength of ten men to ward me off.

  My face was creased, my whole body, every muscle and sinew, tensed and primed. I held firm, pushing his face into the disgusting water, hearing him gargle and shout and choke.

  I lifted his head out of the bowl. He initially cried out again, but barely a second later he began retching violently. Watery vomit spewed from his mouth. Much of it went straight into the bowl, but some also sprayed and splashed out over the sides, over the back wall and down his front, onto his legs.

  My free arm lifted up to cover my nose and mouth, blocking out the putrid smell. For a few seconds I had to fight the urge to retch. My headed started to spin. Then a sliver of strength creeping into the man’s movements brought me back to reality.

  I shoved his face forward and there was a gruesome crack as his forehead collided with the porcelain rim of the toilet bowl. I let go and he slumped to the floor, landing in a pile of his own vomit.

  He was moaning. His body was twitching. There was a large, bloody gash on his forehead. I stepped back, my eyes firmly fixed on him. There was no sign of the fighting look he’d given me at the bar.

  I reached back and unlocked the door, then stepped out into the open. Two men were standing outside, waiting for a free cubicle. I gave them a drunken smile and slurred my words.

  ‘I wouldn’t go in there, lads. My mate’s just puked his guts up all over. I’m off to get someone to help lift him out.’

  One of them nodded. The other just turned away. Neither seemed particularly bothered by what I’d said. I strode out of the toilet and back over to Cara, whose face was now sullen and sour. I was too wired to really care.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, holding my hand out to her. ‘I’m shattered. The drink’s gone to my head. I think we should probably call it a night.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I think you’re probably right.’

  CHAPTER 37

  I was rudely awakened by the incessant buzzing of my mobile phone on the bedside table. I only managed to open my eyes for a few seconds before the stabbing in my head became too severe. I quickly shut them, and after a moment the phone stopped. I was already drifting off again when the noisy vibration started up a second time. I reached over and grabbed the phone and only opened my eyes when the mobile was in front of my face. I stared at the number and in an instant became alert.

  My memory of the alcohol-fuelled evening was hazy, but as I answered the call and put the phone to my ear, it was the rotten smell of uri
ne and faeces and vomit, still stuck in my nostrils, that brought a sudden clarity.

  What the hell had I done last night?

  But beating up some random guy in a bar toilet was really the least of my worries, I quickly realised.

  ‘You hadn’t forgotten about me, had you?’ Callum O’Brady said.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Good. Glad to hear it. This is just a friendly reminder. Your time is nearly up. I’m going to be needing that money.’

  ‘Yeah, about that. Perhaps we should meet up.’

  ‘So you’ve got it?’

  ‘No. But I do need to talk to you.’

  ‘I hope you’re not blowing me off.’

  ‘No, I’m not. We need to talk.’

  ‘Fine. Come and meet me at the club later. I’ll be there all night.’

  ‘I was thinking somewhere more … neutral.’

  ‘And why’s that?’ O’Brady snapped.

  ‘Last time I was at the club I took a beating. I’m not really in the mood for more of the same.’

  ‘A beating? You punched my man Mickey in the face. What did you expect?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’d like to avoid being pulverised this time.’

  ‘Okay, fine. I’m being nice to you here, Stephens. I hope you’re going to return the favour. Tell me where and when.’

  Three hours, two pints of water and four paracetamols later, I was feeling almost human as I headed into central Birmingham.

  It hadn’t escaped me that the two-week deadline O’Brady had given me would be up in twenty-four hours and so far I’d made no headway in getting the two hundred thousand pounds needed to keep him off my back. I was somewhat surprised that O’Brady and his cronies hadn’t badgered me daily for the money following the beating I’d taken in his strip club a few days previously. But his call had brought the immediacy of the situation back to the forefront of my mind.