by Sarah Flint
Emma frowned sullenly, shaking out her arms and heading directly towards a chest of drawers. She pulled out a tarnished metal box, checked the lid was on firmly and slid it under her arm.
‘Have you somewhere you can stay?’
The girl shook her head, but this time her expression was grim.
Charlie pointed towards the box, indicating for Emma to open it and softening slightly at the sight of a mother and daughter photo lying directly on top of a hotchpotch of memorabilia. Bet had done some digging on Houghton’s antecedence, so she guessed it must be the girl’s dead mother. She decided to try a direct appeal.
‘Emma, I know you’ve lost your mother. If you help us find your father, then we can speak to the council and get them to provide you with a place to live. You’re only young. They’ll have to assist.’ She paused, trying to hammer home her offer. ‘You don’t want to be on the streets, do you?’
Emma’s head shot up, her eyes now fixed directly on Charlie, challenging and indignant. ‘If that’s going to be the case, I’ll speak to them myself. I don’t need your help.’
‘You know we’ll keep going until we find your father?’ She tried one last time, but she knew that the veiled threat in her last question had been noted and any sense of doing the right thing was quickly slipping away.
‘You do that,’ Emma said gruffly, pushing the lid back on the box and rubbing at her wrists. ‘But you won’t find him with my help.’
*
Thomas leant against the backrest of the settee in the bedsit below. The police activity was dying down now, most of the patrol cars having already peeled out of the car park.
Twenty quid and a packet of fags was all that it had taken to buy his freedom. For a few quid more, he could stay as long as was required. But he wouldn’t stay long. He had Catherine and Emma to think of.
He lit another cigarette, passing one across to his comrade on the next cushion and cursing his bad luck. The CCTV at the convenience store he’d burgled the other night must have provided a clearer image than he’d imagined. He’d done nothing else to attract attention from the cops. He must be wanted for that. It was unfortunate, but it wasn’t anything too serious. No one had been hurt and many of the local shops had benefitted from his actions.
Still, it needn’t have happened if Rocky had got his facts straight and Jason hadn’t believed the boy so readily. His mind turned to his second secretive excursion with Rocky, memories of the Beretta springing to mind. Thank God, he’d doubled back after his argument with Emma and retrieved it. Maybe Lady Luck was smiling after all. It didn’t bear thinking what could have been happening to her had he left it in the bedsit.
He laughed out loud at his good fortune, sucking hard on the remnants of his cigarette. He knew what was required to avoid being found by police. He’d seen it enough times in the last year, when they’d come knocking at the crack house door. A change of phone, a change of appearance, a change of location. No sweat.
As soon as the coast was clear, he’d make contact with Emma and speak with Jason. Jason would help. Jason could arrange new digs and a new identity. And this time, Jason owed him.
19
There was no name shown on the phone as it flashed in her hand, just a number.
‘Hello,’ said Emma, cautiously.
‘Emma, it’s me.’
Relief flooded through her, taking her a little by surprise. After all the years of impatience or downright hostility towards her father, it was as if the scene with Kelly and Yasmin had finally made her acknowledge they belonged together. Thomas was all she had left, and due to her own stupidity and loose tongue, she had almost lost even him.
‘Dad! Thank God. Where are you now?’ Emma smiled, despite her discomfiture. She’d spent what was left of the night sleeping in the vestibule of a church and her body still ached from the hard floor. ‘Are you OK? How did you get away?’ The questions spilled straight from her lips, and she suddenly realised that there had been no confirmation that he had actually escaped. The call could be coming from a police station. ‘You did get away, didn’t you?’ She held her breath.
‘Yes I did.’ Thomas sounded a little distant. ‘A mate in another bedsit put me up for a few hours. I waited until the early hours of the morning, then jumped out of his window and escaped out the back. I’ve been hunkered down in a park since then.’
Emma gasped out loud, appalled again at the trouble she’d caused. She could hear the drone of traffic, the odd shout of a person nearby, so she knew he was telling the truth. Now she had to try to make amends.
‘The cops wanted me to help them find you – in exchange for a bed for the night.’
There was a long pause. ‘Did you tell them anything, Emma?’
‘No, Dad, I didn’t say a word. And anyway I want to help you, not them.’ She tried to overlook the fact that he’d failed to check on her welfare, thinking only of his own interests, but it rankled slightly. Still, it was he who was in trouble. She was just collateral.
‘Are you sure?’ Her father sounded uncertain, bewildered even. It was the prompt that she’d been waiting for.
‘Of course I’m sure, Dad.’ She had to demonstrate she was on his side. ‘I’m sorry if I haven’t exactly been nice to you in the past, but things have changed. I can see you’re trying.’
‘I am trying, Emma.’ In an instant, her father’s tone brightened. She could almost imagine his eyes shining with pleasure at even this small vote of confidence. ‘And my mate Jason will help. He’ll get us somewhere to live, I know he will. He’s a good bloke. Come to his flat now, Emma, and I’ll introduce you.’
He dictated the address, explaining where and when to meet. With every word, her reticence grew. She knew of Jason. She’d heard her father speak of him in the past. She’d heard her mother rebuke him for their friendship. Jason was her father’s drug dealer, the man who had been responsible for her father’s decline, but now he was being mooted as the way out, the person that would help them in their bid to make a new life together. She wasn’t at all confident that he could help, but what other option was there.
She thrust her phone deep into her pocket, picked up her holdall and started to walk away from the church. Her change of heart was leading her into dangerous waters, but there was no other choice. The next journey might prove far more dangerous than the one from which she’d fled, but, as yet, she didn’t know.
What she did know, however, was that in one tumultuous day, she had become her father’s partner in crime – and she was in it for the duration, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death tore them apart. There was no going back.
*
Thomas banged on the crack-house door and waited. It would be too much of a risk to crash straight in with Emma. She was a stranger to Jason and, on the whole, Jason didn’t like strangers.
The door was opened by Silver, who stared hard at his daughter, before beckoning them to follow.
‘Tommy’s got a new young bit of stuff wiv ’im today,’ she said, taking her place in an old armchair.
‘Thank fuck for that!’ Jason squared his shoulders and winked towards him as they entered the lounge. ‘Might stop you going after that ghost wife of yours.’
Thomas blanched at the comment, wanting to react, but thinking better of it. He knew the truth, even if Jason took the piss. And, anyway, Emma was already sensitive to any mention of Catherine. How much worse would it be to hear her mother spoken further about in those terms? Now was not the time.
Ebony and Ivory sat slouched against each other on the sofa, staring at Emma curiously. He forced a smile to his lips, resting a hand on her arm for reassurance. She looked nervous at being thrust into the spotlight.
‘So, who is this beautiful new friend of yours?’ Jason turned his attention to Emma, eyeing her up and down. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’
Thomas tensed slightly, letting his arm drop but nudging her gently forward. She was beautiful. Som
etimes her voice or touch was enough to send a small bolt of electricity down his spine. ‘This is my daughter, Emma,’ he said proudly. ‘And since you mentioned my wife, Jason, she does look very much like Catherine actually.’ He reached out and squeezed Emma’s shoulder. ‘She’s eighteen,’ he added, not really quite knowing why her age was important, but at the same time wanting Jason to know that she was an adult.
The girls nodded their approval, before a few reserved greetings were exchanged, all parties as yet unsure of the other.
‘So, why have you brought her with you today?’ Jason was direct. ‘Not that I mind of course.’ He leered openly. ‘She’s very pretty.’
Thomas extended his arm round Emma’s shoulders, suddenly protective.
‘The police came looking for me, last night. We need somewhere to stay.’
Jason jumped to his feet, immediately heading towards the window and peering out through a gap, as if he expected to see a van of cops parking up below. ‘What the fuck have you been up to?’
‘I don’t know, Jason,’ he replied honestly. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, apart from that thing at the shop. There were CCTV cameras inside that you didn’t mention.’
Jason was frowning. ‘Even if there were cameras, they’d have to be fucking brilliant to get a good picture of you in the dark.’
‘The only other possible thing I can think is if I was seen with Rocky, you know? When he picked up his parcel.’ He paused, trying to remain vague with Emma present. ‘Some of the cops were armed last night.’
Jason lit a cigarette and drew on it hard, blowing the smoke out in a plume and turning to face them.
‘Rocky does have a bit of a reputation for hanging around people with shooters. They wouldn’t have had to know what you were doing, just that you were with him.’ He spat out the cigarette, grinding it against the floorboard. ‘Fucking Rocky. That might explain it. They wouldn’t normally send armed cops otherwise.’
He felt Emma straighten against his arm and looked towards her, noticing immediately how her cheeks had paled. Better to steer the conversation away from that subject.
As if reading his mind, Jason moved across to a cupboard. He pulled out a box containing some of the stolen travel passes and phone cards from the shop and threw it towards Ebony, before slumping down on a chair. ‘I’ll need you to stash these somewhere else until the heat’s off. They might take some explanation if the cops come looking for Tommy… and I don’t want to be the one doing the explaining.’
Thomas couldn’t help smiling. It was just like Jason to think only of his own skin. Still, at least he was more chilled.
‘So,’ he tried again. ‘Can we stay here for a while? Emma can’t go back to the bedsit with the cops still there, and even if she’s allowed to return afterwards, it’s not safe with me gone. The house is full of thieving bastards who’ll just walk in and have anything they want.’ He glanced towards Emma before fixing his gaze back on Jason. ‘Including her, if you know what I mean?’ He paused again. ‘And I can’t go back or I’ll get nicked.’
Jason was quiet. ‘Guess I owe you one, but you can’t stay here. I don’t want no cops coming bangin’ down my door.’
He felt the words as keenly as if he’d been punched in the guts. Every glimmer of hope dashed in Jason’s brutal justification of his intentions.
‘But we haven’t got anywhere else to go.’ For a moment, his mind turned to Baytree House, but just as quickly he ruled it out. The care home was derelict. It wouldn’t be appropriate for Emma, and, in any case, he wasn’t sure he was ready yet to share his and Catherine’s special place. Tears were pooling at the corners of his eyes. For some stupid reason, he’d always believed his dealer would look out for him.
He turned away, wiping angrily at his face, realising how foolish he’d been, how foolish he must now look. Why would Jason help him? Why should he? The man was more concerned about his own well-being. He fingered the small scar on his stomach, the souvenir of their last disagreement, sensing his dreams draining away.
‘After everything I’ve done for you…’ He put his arm up, shielding his face. He’d had so many plans. With Catherine back, there was so much to do. He’d love the opportunity to visit where she lived regularly. She’d disappeared in the last day or so, but she would be back, and he would be waiting. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. And what about Emma? How could he let her down when she was relying on him?
The girls were watching him intensely. In his head, he could hear mocking laughter. It didn’t do to show weakness, but now he couldn’t stop crying. He had failed… again.
‘Come on, Dad,’ Emma’s breath was warm on his cheek. She spun round, placing her body between him and his audience. ‘Let’s go,’ she said quietly.
He turned to leave. There was nothing further to say.
A shout stopped them in their tracks. ‘For fuck’s sake. I said I owed you, didn’t I?’ Jason was on his feet again, pulling his phone from his pocket and keying in a number. ‘All I said was you couldn’t stay here. At least, not for long.
‘There’re some posh drums a couple of miles away where you’ll be safe. I’ve been looking at ’em for myself actually, and the girls. Four or five bedrooms. Quiet cul-de-sac. Perfect. You could even rent a room or two out if you wanted to make a few quid. We could be proper neighbours.’ Jason held the phone up to his ear, waiting. ‘The building company went bust before they was finished, so they was never put on the market. But they’re as good as built – and they’re just waiting for some new tenants to move in – wiv or wivout paying.’ He winked as the ringtone sounded. ‘But I’m sure the cops will be sniffing round, so first, I need to sort out a new identity for you both.’ The line clicked in and Jason held his hand over the mouthpiece and grinned. ‘And I know just the man.’
20
The news that they had a second suspect identified for Maryanne’s attack but they had lost him went down as badly as expected. Charlie watched as Maryanne Hepworth threw her hands up over her face and shook her head, mutely. She watched as their victim closed her eyes, before opening them again just as fast. It wasn’t hard to imagine her disbelief.
‘I can’t believe you let him get away!’ Her sister Danielle was more forthright.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Charlie said, biting her lip. She and Hunter had thought it best to pass on news of the failed operation to catch Thomas Houghton in person. The regret was genuine. Any loss of a suspect was taken personally and Charlie particularly was feeling responsible. ‘Sometimes things don’t go to plan however good the preparations. Last night it was the weather that caused the problem.’
‘Like leaves on the line, or the wrong type of snow?’ Danielle snorted, clearly determined to make them squirm still further.
The surveillance team was still on the plot, and would remain so at least for the time being, but they were well aware the chances of catching Houghton were remote. If he hadn’t already slipped out from one of the many rear windows or doors with limited view, it was obvious to them all he would remain hidden. The person giving him sanctuary would be on the lookout for police and, with the best will in the world, keeping even the savviest surveillance team concealed for any length of time, in a tightly knit community, without showing out, would be almost impossible. And there wasn’t a magistrate in the whole of England who would agree to authorise search warrants for every individual bedsit.
‘We’ve already started paying a visit to all his known associates, and we’ll be there if and when he signs on.’ Hunter didn’t like having to apologise; far better to offer something even vaguely positive instead. ‘I’m sure we’ll track him down soon.’
What Charlie noted, as Hunter spoke however, was that he seemed quite happy to omit the details. In a frenetic morning of enquiries, the team had already established that Houghton’s dole money was paid remotely into his account, so he could therefore access it through any cashpoint in London – and most of the enquiries with friends and family had prov
ed negative. He no longer worked, so he had no employer, or place of employment, and his family, what was left of it, had pretty much disowned him in the last year. Every knock on the door had so far provided nothing further of use. What little information anybody had was old news.
All anybody could say was that Emma was with her father, and her father, though rumoured now to be a petty criminal, was not deemed to be dangerous. He took drugs, but then so did many other people.
No, as far as all their enquiries that morning were concerned, Thomas and Emma Houghton had pretty much disappeared into the ether, and since Emma had turned eighteen, the authorities no longer cared. It was no more than their intelligence had suggested.
‘Is there anything else we can do?’ she heard Hunter ask.
‘Haven’t you done enough?’ Danielle hammered home the point, but Maryanne instead fixed her sister with a look that even Charlie could read. Enough was enough.
‘Thank you for trying, and for coming to tell me personally. I’m sure you’ll get him soon.’ She stood and walked across to the window, staring out across her sister’s small patio and yard. ‘There is one thing you could do, now the forensic examination of my flat is finished. I haven’t dared to go back there yet, but I do need to collect a few things. Would you come with me?’
*
The journey to her flat was over in a flash, but halfway there Maryanne started to panic. Stupidly, she’d persuaded Danielle to wait at home, and already she was regretting her decision. Although Charlie and her boss were very friendly, police officers were police officers. There was nothing like having the comforting shoulder of your sister to lean on.
With it being Saturday, the traffic was light and her road was extra quiet. They parked up outside, her pulse beginning to race. She took a deep breath, trying to quell her unease. It was ridiculous. Nothing could happen. She was quite safe.
‘You will come in with me, won’t you?’ she asked, not recognising the timidity of her own voice.