by Steven Dunne
Coulson couldn’t completely suppress his grin at such praise. ‘I did, didn’t I?’ He paused, hesitant, framing a question. ‘How … how is she?’
‘Scared.’
‘She weren’t scared at the farm.’
‘Oh, she was scared all right, but she managed to hide it. People can do that in a life-or-death situation.’
‘She was very brave,’ Coulson agreed, nodding. ‘Considering.’
‘If we can find Ray, she can stop being scared. Do you know where he is?’
‘Have you tried his house?’ said Coulson, with a little smirk.
Brook smiled, studying him, before shaking his head theatrically. ‘No, I didn’t think you’d know. JJ’s not likely to have confided in you, and Ray certainly didn’t.’
‘There you are then,’ said Coulson, sulky again.
‘Pity. Reardon was depending on you.’
‘Is that what she said?’
Brook nodded. ‘She needs your help, Luke. You don’t have to, but if you answer my questions, it might help her.’
‘I don’t like questions. Teachers made me answer them and people laughed.’
‘Then listen instead.’ Brook waited for an objection that didn’t arrive. ‘Your mobile phone records show texts and conversations with JJ leading up to that day, but there’s no mention of the attack.’ Coulson shrugged. ‘What about Ray? Did you see or speak to him in person before you went to the farm?’
Coulson said nothing for several minutes and Brook had almost given up on an answer.
‘No,’ he replied eventually.
‘What about on the day?’ asked Brook softly. ‘Did you see him at the farm?’ Coulson shook his head. ‘When was the last time you saw Ray?’
‘The day we left school. I ain’t seen him or spoken to him since that day.’
‘That was seven years ago.’
‘If you say so.’
‘And you never spoke on the phone?’
‘Nope.’
‘So all the planning that went into that day at the farm, you had no part in it?’
‘Nope.’
‘Did JJ mention Ray to you at all?’
Coulson considered for longer than seemed necessary, then nodded and helped himself to another Mars bar. ‘At the farm, JJ told me Ray was in charge. But I never spoke to Ray and I never saw him.’
‘When did JJ mention Ray?’
‘I asked where he got the map of the house. He said Ray give him it.’
‘But you didn’t see Ray?’ Another head shake. ‘Why do you think that was?’
‘Guess he din’t want to get his hands dirty.’
‘And Reardon?’
Coulson’s expression darkened. ‘What about her?’
‘When was the last time you saw her before that day at the farm?’
‘Same as Ray.’ Coulson broke off eye contact, and when Brook moved his head to re-establish it, Coulson shifted his position. He’s lying. ‘So you hadn’t seen Reardon since the day you left school?’ Coulson shook his head, eyes lowered. ‘That’s a long time, Luke. No wonder Ray underestimated your feelings for her.’
‘Feelings?’
‘You’ve got feelings for her, Luke. Anyone can see that. You let her live and that cost you your freedom. You had a better chance of escape with her dead.’ Coulson said nothing. ‘But you couldn’t harm her because you liked her.’ Coulson nodded. ‘You’ve liked her since the day you first saw her.’ He went bright red. ‘That’s a long time, Luke. Were you friends at school?’
‘Nope.’
‘So not like with Ray and JJ.’
‘They were boys,’ said Coulson softly.
‘So boys spoke to you, girls didn’t.’
‘Girls din’t like me.’
‘I see,’ said Brook. ‘How often did you see JJ after you left school?’
‘On and off.’
‘And how long since you’d seen him to the time he texted you a month before the attack?’
Coulson stared at the ceiling, trying to make the calculation. ‘Couple of years. Maybe three.’
‘So out of all three of them, you’ve only seen JJ since you left school.’
‘Yep.’
‘You’re lying,’ said Brook, trying to stir things up. Coulson met his eyes briefly. ‘Not about JJ and Ray. Course you’ve seen JJ. He was like you – had trouble holding down a job, no qualifications, from a poor family. You moved in the same circles. But Ray and Reardon’s family were rich. They moved in different circles. I’d be surprised if either of them even knew you existed once you left school. Especially Reardon.’
‘You’re wrong,’ protested Coulson, a note of petulance in his voice. ‘She remembered me. She said.’
‘What else was she going to say?’ demanded Brook. ‘She wanted to live. She barely knew who you were. She had to act like she remembered you but that was all it was – an act.’
‘She knew my name,’ snarled Coulson.
‘JJ must’ve said it just before you killed him.’
‘No, she …’ Coulson was panic-stricken for a second, trying to remember, before finding a malicious grin. ‘You just said I was lying,’ he said triumphantly. ‘How am I lying then if you say she din’t know me?’
‘I didn’t say Reardon had seen you,’ said Brook, his eyes boring into Coulson. ‘But you’ve seen her. You’ve watched her, admired her from a distance and for a number of years, I’d guess.’ Coulson went white. ‘We had a lip reader look at your conversation with Reardon in the hall. I have the transcript here.’ He picked up a sheet of paper and read, ‘“But your dad shouldn’t have shouted. He shouldn’t have chased me.” That’s nothing to do with the day of the attack, is it?’ No answer, no eye contact. ‘Reardon’s father saw you watching her one time, didn’t he?’ No answer. ‘He chased you, shouted at you. Where were you? Hiding in a field, or behind a tree? Were you watching her undress?’ Coulson’s eyes darted from side to side.
‘No, it wasn’t like that, was it? You weren’t interested in her body. You loved her for who she was and what she represented. She was distant and beautiful and you watched her from afar. You wouldn’t dare start a conversation with a girl like Reardon. You’d be too scared of rejection.’ Brook chuckled. ‘And Reardon wouldn’t be seen dead talking to someone like you, and would probably have told you so to your face.’
‘JJ was like me,’ said Coulson, defiantly. ‘She went out with him, din’t she?’
‘JJ was handsome and popular. But even he didn’t last and he resented it. What sort of resentment did you carry all those years before you visited the farm, Luke?’ Coulson drained the Dr Pepper so he wouldn’t have to answer. ‘Was she mean to you at school?’
‘Not so much.’
‘So she was.’
‘Not as much as other girls.’
‘No,’ considered Brook. ‘Because she’d be dismissive, looking at you like you didn’t even exist.’
Coulson shook his head. ‘I got it wrong. We sorted it out at the farm.’
‘So you’re friends now?’
Coulson smiled. ‘We sorted it out.’
Brook allowed himself a little chuckle. ‘I saw the film, Luke. You sorted out nothing. Reardon was scared of you.’
Coulson breathed heavily through his nose and blinked a couple of times – a nervous tic. ‘At first maybe. ’Cos I had a knife. But we sorted it out, I’m telling you.’
‘So you forgave her for being mean.’
‘I forgave her for being mean,’ said Coulson haughtily, as though the phrase was his.
‘And that’s why you let her live.’
‘What else was I going to do?’ pleaded Coulson. ‘I couldn’t kill her. I love her. She’s beautiful. Every time I seen her …’ He stopped dead, his face a mass of suppressed emotion.
‘I understand,’ said Brook. ‘Watching her all this time, maybe even close up, when you wouldn’t need the binoculars.’ Coulson’s head shot up, his eyes widened. ‘They were found in your
bedroom after you were arrested.’ Brook sat back to let things settle. ‘No photographs?’
‘Couldn’t never afford one of them posh cameras,’ he said sullenly. ‘Didn’t need one, mind.’ He tapped his forehead and smiled. ‘It’s all up here. Including when we kissed at the farm.’
Brook didn’t point out the element of coercion in Coulson’s only embrace with Reardon. ‘So when JJ mentioned going
to the farm, you were pleased.’ A nod. ‘And loving her as you do meant you couldn’t rape and kill her?’
‘Not married,’ he mumbled. The prison officer grinned behind Coulson’s back, but Brook admonished him with a glare.
‘None of that prevented you from tying her up. You could’ve done that. Then you might have reached Dover and caught the ferry.’
‘I couldn’t hurt her no more after what JJ done. Did you see what he did to her face? That weren’t right.’ Coulson lowered his head. ‘I should never have listened to him. That’s what got me in here. My fault for listening.’
‘Why did you go?’
‘JJ said he just wanted to talk to her and did I want to come. I never seen her since school. Not real close up. He knew I liked her. I told him so. That’s why he asked me.’
‘And when did you realise something was wrong?’
‘When he gave that meat to Sargent …’
‘Sargent?’
‘Reardon’s dog.’
‘I know it’s her dog. How did you know its name?’
‘I heard her calling it one time.’
‘One time when you were watching her.’ Coulson nodded. ‘Did Reardon ever see you watching?’
‘No. I was real careful.’
‘But her father saw you.’
‘Just that one time.’
‘Reardon didn’t mention anything in her statement about stalking.’
Coulson shrugged. ‘Her father didn’t want to worry her maybe.’
Brook nodded. ‘Did you ask JJ what he was doing when he drugged the dog?’
‘Course. He said we was just gonna take a few quid and some rings and stuff and the dog might bark.’
‘Did you believe him?’ Coulson shook his head. ‘But you were only in the grounds. It wasn’t too late to turn back.’
Coulson hesitated. ‘I wanted to see Reardon.’
‘To protect her from JJ.’
‘No, I didn’t know JJ was gonna be dirty,’ said Coulson, his face reddening again.
‘You must have had some idea when he sent you away to look around the house. You must have suspected.’
‘I never.’
‘You must.’
‘I din’t know, I tell you,’ said Coulson, his breath shortening. ‘Not until I walked in on him.’
‘You mean when JJ had his trousers round his ankles and Reardon was naked, her face bloody and bruised.’ Coulson nodded. ‘What did you do?’
‘I told him to stop, but he never. He just laughed and told me it was my go.’
‘But you refused.’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘JJ started laughing, taking the piss, and then he started hurting Reardon some more and I din’t like that.’
‘The knife was in your hand.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you stabbed him.’
‘I din’t wanna. But he wouldn’t stop, so I cut him.’ Coulson gulped on the memory. A tear made its way down his ruddy cheek. ‘He was hurting her so I cut him and he stopped. And then he was dead.’ He looked down at his clothes as though he was Lady Macbeth. ‘I was covered in blood and I knew I’d been bad. Then I went to a bedroom to look for clothes.’
‘You didn’t stay to help Reardon.’
‘She was crying,’ said Coulson, blowing out a huge breath. ‘And she was …’ He hesitated, panic-stricken, his eyes wild.
‘Naked?’ Coulson’s head dipped to acknowledge his embarrassment. ‘What about Mr and Mrs Thorogood?’
‘What about ’em?’
‘Did JJ tell you to kill them?’
He took a breath and set his jaw. ‘I knew what I had to do.’
‘You killed them.’
‘Like I said.’
‘But that’s just it, Luke – you didn’t say. Not a word. You never said I killed them. I read the custody interviews, the trial transcript. Not once did you say it.’
‘’Cos it was obvious.’ He shrugged.
‘Then why not say so?’
Coulson sighed. ‘My brief reckoned I better not testify, so I never. He reckoned they might think I was a hero or something for saving Reardon.’
‘They, meaning the jury.’
‘S’right.’
‘Well the jury’s not here now and neither is your brief. So tell me.’
‘Tell you what?’
‘Tell me you killed them. Say the words.’
‘They’re dead. What does it matter?’
‘It matters to me.’
Coulson stared back. ‘I killed them. Happy now?’
‘Delirious,’ fired back Brook. ‘Who did you kill first – Mr Thorogood or his wife?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Really? Mr Thorogood was attacked first. You attacked him from behind. How did you manage to surprise him?’
‘I rushed him. He never knew what hit him.’
‘I thought you said you don’t remember.’
‘I remember that.’
‘Enough to convince DI Ford, maybe,’ said Brook. ‘But I’m not so easily persuaded. Are you sure it wasn’t Ray who killed them?’
‘Nope. I killed them. I done Mr Thorogood first …’
‘No you didn’t.’
‘What?’
‘Thorogood was attacked first but his wife died before him. He had a disabling wound but her injuries were more severe. After neutralising her husband, the killer could attack Mrs Thorogood without interruption. And as she lay dying, he managed to crawl across the floor for a final embrace before bleeding to death himself.’
‘That’s right,’ said Coulson, smiling. ‘He put his arm round her.’
‘You remember now.’
‘Like it was yesterday.’ Coulson tore the wrapper from another Mars bar and popped it whole into his mouth, chewing enthusiastically before swallowing.
‘And how do you feel about what you did?’
‘I done a bad thing and they didn’t deserve it, but at least they’re in heaven.’
‘So, no remorse.’
‘No use crying over spilt milk,’ said Coulson, shrugging.
Brook narrowed his eyes. ‘But you do cry, don’t you?’
Coulson stared back at Brook, then at the floor, as though the Thorogoods lay at his feet. ‘I never killed no one before, so yeah, I see them, the two of them lying there. At night. Blood all over the floor, sticky and hot, on my clothes, my hands.’ He gazed saucer-eyed at his palms. ‘I had to wash my hands.’
‘What else do you remember?’
‘Eh?’
‘Did they say anything when you killed them? Did they beg for their lives or cry out as they died? Did the knives make a noise as they cut? What could you smell? If I killed someone, I’d remember every tiny detail.’ Coulson didn’t answer. He simply stared as though in a trance, seeing the bodies by his feet in a farmhouse kitchen. ‘So tell me.’
Coulson blinked and took a breath. ‘They didn’t make a sound and that’s a fact. But I remember the smell. The blood was sweet and sickly.’ His expression became coy. ‘And I think they done a number two in their pants.’ He giggled in spite of himself, and Brook noticed the prison officer also crack a grin. ‘They were nice people.’
Brook narrowed his eyes. ‘How would you know that?’
‘’Cos they went to heaven,’ said Coulson proudly. ‘I felt them go.’
‘What do you mean, you felt them go?’
‘When I leaned over, I felt their souls leave their bodies. It’s like they went right through me to go up to Jesus.’
; Brook glanced across at the prison officer, whose expression he interpreted as What do you expect?
‘What makes you say that?’
Coulson’s eyes widened at the memory. ‘Because when I leaned over them, there was this massive heat pouring off ’em. They was well dead but they were hot. That’s when I knew. It was their souls going up to heaven.’ He pointed a finger at the ceiling, then at the floor. ‘If you’ve been bad, you go down to the devil.’
Brook took a moment before his next utterance. ‘Is that where you’re going, Luke?’
He lowered his head as though about to cry. ‘Prob’ly.’
‘What did you say to Reardon when you kissed her?’
He looked at the ceiling to remember. ‘I asked her to forgive me.’
After a long pause, Brook clicked off the recorder and pushed back his chair. ‘Enjoy the rest of the chocolate, Luke.’
‘Did you really see Reardon this morning?’ asked Coulson before Brook could step away.
‘Yes.’
‘Is she still beautiful?’
Brook paused, sensing a final opportunity. ‘Fear has changed her. Fear of her brother returning to finish the job.’
‘Never happen,’ said Coulson, shaking his head. ‘He ain’t coming back. When you see her, tell her not to be scared. Tell her she’s safe.’
Brook waited on the spacious landing of the isolation block while the prison officer locked Coulson in his cell. Looking around, he lifted his eyes towards the furthest metal door. The observation flap was open and two cold black eyes stared back at him.
‘So you did read my letter,’ shouted Mullen balefully from beyond the door. His voice had deepened since Brook had last been in his presence. Now it seemed sonorous, booming. Perhaps the acoustics were responsible. ‘And yet you try to avoid seeing us, and after we’ve waited so long.’ He turned back to his cell. ‘Haven’t we, children?’ The prison officer returned and Brook was glad to see his key already out. ‘Don’t you want to introduce your dead companions to mine?’ called Mullen, chuckling. ‘What a story they’ll have to tell. One day we’ll be neighbours.’ His voice reverberated around the whitewashed walls.
When the block’s exit door was finally unlocked, Brook pushed past the prison officer into the cool corridor beyond, dimly lit by weak light bulbs. He marched hurriedly towards the exit a hundred yards away, his blood pressure slowing as the isolation block receded.