by Steven Dunne
‘You’re almost out of time, Inspector. Terri will be back in a minute.’
Brook held out his hands. ‘That’s it apart from one further slip-up. After you’d killed your parents, you stripped in the kitchen and put your bloodstained clothes and shoes into a plastic bag. You returned to the bedroom naked to shower and wash the blood out of your hair. Your hair was still wet on the security film. You lit the tea lights around the bath, then texted a friend as though you hadn’t got a care in the world and waited for JJ to arrive and tear off your clothes. But before he got there, you went to open the window to put the bag of clothes outside for collection and later disposal, presumably by JJ after the pair of you had cut Coulson’s throat …’
‘Sounds sensible.’
‘It was. Only the bag must have had a slight leak and your mother’s blood ended up staining the carpet near the window, enough to be noted on the blood plan. Worse, you got some on your hand as well, and when you opened the window, you left a fingerprint on the underside in your mother’s blood.
‘If your narrative were to hang together, such a stain would be impossible, because you didn’t “discover” your parents’ bodies until after you were sexually assaulted. The security cameras show that you never returned to your bedroom after you went to the kitchen, so you couldn’t possibly have transferred your mother’s blood to the window. That proves that the narrative with you as victim was a lie. Then, when Luke let you go, you ran away, skirting the reach of the cameras, collected the bag yourself and, on the way to get help, found a suitable place to hide it until later. Risky, but then you were improvising.’ Brook smiled.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘The fact that it was my daughter who gave you away. Unintentionally, of course.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘The photocopied files she stole. I was looking at them last night.’
‘What about them?’
‘The colour photographs that SOCO took are in chronological order of events at the farm, but as we saw them. The wrong order, as it turns out.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The black-and-white shots that Terri gave you were in a different sequence after you looked at them. The right sequence. Without thinking, you reordered them placing the photographs of bloodstains from your bag of clothes before Jemson’s death, because that’s when it happened. SOCO placed them after Jemson’s death, thinking the stains had been transferred from Luke Coulson’s clothing or shoes after he cut JJ’s throat. When I realised what you’d done, I knew.’
There was silence for a few moments and their eyes locked, Reardon looking coolly back at him before standing. She moved towards the open fire escape.
‘Finished?’ she asked, turning. Brook shrugged. ‘What kind of sick mind comes up with a story like that?’
‘I have a tendency to think the worst of people, I confess.’ His features hardened. ‘But I’m not often wrong.’
‘But if you’ve seen the security film,’ she said, ‘you must know I’m the victim here.’
‘No, you’re a greedy, self-centred, cold-hearted bitch.’
Reardon stared, unmoved. ‘So what now?’
‘Now?’ Brook was impassive. ‘I tell the whole story to Terri and take her away from here, kicking and screaming if necessary.’
‘You’re not arresting me.’
‘Without Ray’s body, I have no evidence. Luke won’t give you up. He kept his bloodstained clothes in the Range Rover to support your story when he could’ve thrown them away at any point along the M1. In fact, before I left him, he even asked me to reassure you that you were safe. How’s that for love and loyalty? There’s always the fingerprint, but that’s suggestive at best. It wouldn’t be hard to make the case that you picked up your mother’s blood from Luke’s clothes when he killed Jemson.’
‘No,’ said Reardon, thoughtfully. ‘It wouldn’t.’ She smiled. ‘Well, if that’s all, I think you should leave.’
‘Fine,’ said Brook, buttoning up his jacket. ‘But don’t relax just yet. A forensics team is taking an in-depth look at Ray’s cottage and garden using ground-penetrating radar.’
Reardon shrugged. ‘Part of me hopes you do find him. Then we’ll know that he is at peace and that JJ is a murderer as well as a rapist who got his just deserts.’
‘Odd then that your testimony placed Ray at the scene the night before the attack.’
‘It’s been over a year,’ smiled Reardon, her head held high. ‘If you can pinpoint Ray’s death to the week before I was attacked, I’ll put the handcuffs on myself. You’ve got nothing.’ She indicated the door. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a relationship to end.’
Brook was sombre, defeat dulling his eyes. He played his final card. ‘You’re forgetting one thing.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘I know what you did. And if you paid even the slightest attention to what Terri said about me, you’ll realise I won’t rest until I bring you to justice.’
Reardon was silent for a moment. She lit another cigarette and stood framed against the brilliant sunshine pouring through the fire escape doors.
‘You’re right,’ she said, tossing her cigarette to the metal platform after just one drag. She stepped briefly into the kitchen and emerged with a gun. ‘I can never be safe if someone knows.’
‘Caskey’s second gun,’ said Brook, closing his eyes in self-reproach. ‘Protection for Reardon.’
‘What?’
‘She tried to tell me, but I missed it. So that’s why she was armed when she came to confront you.’
Reardon laughed. ‘It’s not been your finest hour, has it, Inspector?’ Brook took a step towards her, but like lightning she flicked off the safety catch and pointed the gun at him. ‘Don’t imagine Rachel didn’t show me how to use this.’
Brook stopped in his tracks. ‘You think you can shoot me and get away with it?’
‘Me? Shoot you?’ retorted Reardon, shocked. ‘God, no! I’m a timid little mouse, remember. But while you’ve been showing off, I’ve been constructing another narrative. About how you stormed in here looking for Terri, hoping to prise her away from my loving arms, unable to stand the thought of your beautiful, damaged little baby falling into bed with a perverted lesbian.’
‘Anybody who knows me will know that’s rubbish.’
‘On the contrary, like it or not, people who know you will define you by your mental illness.’ She grinned.
Brook narrowed his eyes. ‘My God, what kind of monster are you?’
‘The thorough kind,’ she crowed. ‘Terri told me all about it. Your breakdown, your instability. I gather it’s well documented. As is the way you dote on your daughter. You’d stop at nothing to protect her, even sending one of your own detectives to try and break up our relationship. Sadly, the late lamented Sergeant Caskey isn’t around to confirm or deny it, but luckily it’s all on the security film Terri so helpfully told you about.
‘And then there are the messages on Terri’s phone that show you tried to split us up. That’s why you came here today, to have one last go. When Terri refused, you got angry and threatened me, so Terri grabbed the gun that I’d foolishly accepted from your dead colleague for self-defence. She shot and killed you and then, realising what she’d done to her own father, turned the gun on herself.’ Reardon aimed the gun at Brook’s heart. ‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t think it will play,’ said Brook softly. ‘But put one between my eyes if you’re feeling confident.’
‘Your eyes?’ Reardon shook her head. ‘You didn’t know Rachel very well, did you? The skull is tough. A professional goes for the heart.’ She pointed the gun at the aforementioned organ, but lowered the barrel a second later at the noise of a door slamming and a dog barking. ‘And here’s the tragic daughter, right on cue.’
She lifted the gun again and fired, hitting Brook full in the chest. He stood, wincing in shock and pain, clutching his hand to his heart before fallin
g to his knees. For a second he stared in disbelief at the blood on his hand, then he fell face forward on to the bare floor with a thud.
‘In here, Terri,’ screamed Reardon. ‘Help me!’
The door burst open and she raised the gun to the two burly officers at the threshold. Crouched on one knee, in full protective gear, they trained their guns on her in turn.
‘Put the gun down! Get on the floor,’ came the shout, at ear-splitting volume, again and again, until Reardon dropped the weapon in shock at her feet. The two marksmen ran towards her, bundling her to the ground and throwing her on to her stomach. She was cuffed in a trice, then hauled to her feet. An Alsatian appeared and reared up on its hind legs, restrained by a dog handler.
‘He attacked me,’ she screamed.
Noble ran into the apartment, eyes flicking round urgently. ‘Inspector!’ he shouted, locating Brook’s body, face down on the floor. In a second, he was on him, pawing at his shoulder. ‘Inspector.’
‘He attacked me,’ repeated Reardon, tears welling. ‘I had no choice.’
‘Get her out of here,’ screamed Noble, tugging on Brook’s shoulder to roll him over. Brook’s face was creased in pain, eyes closed.
Morton ran through the door.
‘Inspector! Oh Jesus. Rob, call an ambulance.’
A noise of escaping breath from the floor and Brook opened his eyes, sucking in fresh oxygen. ‘Ow!’ he grimaced, as Noble looked at him in astonishment. Gingerly he clambered to his feet, rummaging in his breast pocket to pull out a ceramic plate sporting a shallow crater where the bullet had struck.
‘You bastard,’ screamed Reardon, struggling against the burly officer holding her. ‘You were dead. I saw blood.’
Brook dipped a hand into a pocket of his jacket, then held up his fingers for her to see. ‘Ketchup,’ he said, wincing as he rubbed his chest with his other hand.
Noble gestured at the AFO, who guided Reardon roughly towards the stairs, screaming and cursing all the way.
‘Ruined my jacket,’ observed Brook.
Noble’s face was like thunder. ‘I’ll buy you one made this century.’ Brook gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Don’t bother. You deserve it. Did you know she had a gun?’ Brook looked away. ‘Did you?’
‘Caskey gave it to her for protection.’
‘Yet you marched in here, defenceless,’ shouted Noble. ‘You wanted her to shoot, didn’t you?’
‘We had no proof, John,’ pleaded Brook. ‘I had to force her hand.’
‘And get yourself killed?’
‘I put the ceramic plate over my heart, didn’t I?’
‘You took a hell of a gamble.’
‘Not really,’ said Brook, making for the door, still grimacing.
‘What if she’d fired at your head?’
‘After what happened to her partner, Caskey was always going to teach Reardon how to shoot.’
‘Bet your life?’ frowned Noble.
‘I was right, wasn’t I?’ said Brook, trying to smile through the pain.
‘Don’t ever do that again.’ Noble punched him hard where he’d just taken the impact of the bullet, then stalked away shaking his head, leaving Brook rubbing his ribs in pain.
Recovering his breath, he saw Tinkerman emerging from his sweep of the apartment. ‘Lovers’ tiff?’ asked the AFO, removing his helmet.
‘Professional disagreement,’ said Brook.
‘The place is clear.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant.’
‘Here to help,’ he replied, not cracking a smile.
‘No hard feelings?’
Tinkerman sniffed. ‘Let’s just say you owe me one.’
Terri jumped from the patrol car as Reardon appeared, still struggling against her bonds. Banach held her back as two officers thrust Reardon into the wagon.
‘Reardon,’ called Terri, waving her arms, trying to get to her. She broke away and ran to prevent the door’s closure. ‘What’s happening?’ she screamed. ‘Where are they taking you?’
Reardon’s face hardened. ‘You stupid little cunt. Why couldn’t you keep away? Everything was going great until you dragged your fucking father into this.’
Terri’s hand fell from the door and she burst into tears as it was unceremoniously closed. Brook emerged from the building clutching his chest. His shoulders slumped when he saw her distress and he went to enfold her in his arms, but she thumped him in the ribs and stomped away sobbing.
‘I hate you,’ she cried. Sargent barked and pulled on his leash, trying to get to her.
Brook grimaced. ‘Getting shot really hurts.’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was remorseful. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘You can apologise to Caskey in person,’ said Noble.
‘What?’
‘Cooper says she came round an hour ago. Looks like she’s going to make it.’
‘Great news,’ nodded Brook, the hint of a smile fading when he saw the distraught Terri burying her face in the dog’s neck.
Noble clapped a hand on Brook’s shoulder, making him wince again. ‘Don’t worry. So will Terri.’
Brook thought about it for a few seconds, then headed towards his daughter.