The Rule

by David Jackson

  Before they parted, Barrington reached into the Adidas bag and grabbed several bundles of cash. He proffered them to Scott.

  ‘Call me sentimental, but I get the feeling you need this as much as I do.’

  Scott lowered his gaze to the money. It would certainly come in useful after all his losses.

  But then he shook his head. ‘I can’t take that. It’s drug money.’

  Barrington waited for a few seconds longer, then pushed the packets back into the bag.

  ‘You know your problem, don’t you?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You’re too honest.’

  Scott watched him load the bag into the boot of his car, then climb behind the steering wheel.

  ‘One last question,’ Scott said.

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Why the parka?’

  ‘What kind of stupid question is that? It’s cold, bro.’

  And then he drove into the night.

  Scott went to his own car. As he opened the door, he took one last look up at the hill, remembering all that had taken place there. It looked so unbelievably peaceful now.

  He groaned in pain as he lowered himself into the driver’s seat.

  It was time to go home.

  51

  After a shit week, this felt good. It felt human. It would seem a small, simple act to most, but to Hannah Washington it was of profound importance.

  Screw the force, she thought. Screw Ray Devereux. This is what really matters.

  She rang the doorbell and waited.

  It was Gemma who came to the door. Alarm rang out from her pale features, but Hannah was used to that reaction from people receiving an unexpected visit from a police officer. Their first thoughts were always that her arrival heralded disaster.

  This was one of the few opportunities she would get to do the opposite.

  ‘Hello again,’ Hannah began. ‘Remember me? I was on your sofa when—’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course I remember. Oh, God. Is . . . is everything all right?’

  Clearly, Gemma had it worse than most. The poor woman looked like she was about to have a panic attack.

  ‘Yes. Sorry. I hope it’s not too late for me to call. I’m not here on police business. This is personal. My way of showing my gratitude.’

  Gemma unveiled a weak smile. ‘You don’t have to. It’s the least we could have done, honestly.’

  Hannah raised the plastic carrier bag she was holding. ‘I’ve brought a few gifts for Daniel. I’m sure he told me it’s his birthday soon, but my brain was a bit scrambled at the time. I haven’t missed it, have I?’

  ‘No, you haven’t missed it. It’s next week. That’s very kind of you, but you shouldn’t have, really.’

  ‘No problem. I think he probably saved my life, so this is the absolute least I can do.’

  ‘Well . . . thank you again. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.’

  Gemma reached a hand out for the bag, and Hannah felt disappointment wash over her. This was supposed to be a symbolic act. She needed to share in Daniel’s emotion.

  She tilted her head to insert her gaze into the hallway behind Gemma. ‘Is Daniel around? I’d love to give these to him personally. Do you think that would be okay?’

  Gemma grew visibly uncomfortable. ‘Well, I don’t like to get him too excited at this time of night. It takes him ages to calm down again, and he won’t sleep.’

  Hannah struggled to keep a smile on her face. What an anti-climax this was turning out to be. A shit end to a shit week.

  ‘Oh. Right. That’s fine. In that case, I’ll just—’

  She was interrupted by a loud yell from behind Gemma.

  ‘Lieutenant Columbo!’

  Daniel’s head appeared over his mother’s shoulder.

  ‘You’ve come back!’ he said. ‘How’s your head now? Are you better? Did you catch the man who did it? Is he in jail? Did you find your phone? Have you watched any more Adam-9?’

  ‘Hi, Daniel. Actually, it’s Adam-9 I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve got a few things here you might like.’

  Hannah didn’t care if she was overstepping a mark. She was already being pulled into his enthusiasm. She couldn’t simply walk away and miss what was to come.

  ‘Oh my gosh,’ Daniel said, staring at the bag of goodies. ‘Mum, did you hear that? She brought me stuff. Adam-9 stuff.’

  Gemma put on a more welcoming smile. ‘I think you’d better come in.’

  They all went through to the living room. Daniel continued to jabber, almost exclusively about Adam-9. Gemma stepped away, giving them some space but maintaining observation.

  ‘Okay, Daniel,’ Hannah began. ‘You said you’ve got tons of Adam-9 stuff, right?’

  ‘Yeah, tons. I collect everything.’

  ‘All right, but have you got one of these?’

  She reached into the bag and pulled out an action figure. Daniel’s eyes bulged.

  ‘Oh my gosh! I’ve never seen one like that before. Where did you get it?’

  ‘We brought it all the way from Japan.’

  ‘Japan? You went shopping in Japan for me?’

  ‘Well, actually it was for my daughter. But she said you can have it, because it’s your birthday soon and you love Adam-9 so much.’

  Daniel took hold of the figure and stared at it in amazement. The utter delight on his face squeezed Hannah’s heart. She was so glad she hadn’t missed this.

  ‘Wow. Your daughter is so kind. You said her name’s Tilly, didn’t you?’

  ‘You remembered.’

  ‘Please, will you thank Tilly for me?’

  ‘I . . . Yes, of course I will.’

  She caught Gemma looking at her. Something passed between them. Something only mothers knew.

  She distracted herself with another dip into the bag. ‘I’ve got other stuff here. There’s this . . . and this . . . and this . . .’

  Daniel acted like all his Christmases had come at once. Hannah didn’t care if he didn’t sleep for the whole weekend, and she didn’t care if she never worked for the police again. What she was doing here was starting a new life by letting go of a previous one. If Tilly could see her now, she would be beaming from ear to ear – of that much she was certain.

  ‘I need to put these with my collection,’ Daniel said. ‘Do you want to see it? Do you want to see my collection? Mum, can Hannah come and see my collection?’

  Gemma seemed unsure, but then she looked again into Hannah’s eyes, and what she saw there made her relent.

  ‘Just quickly, Daniel. It’s your bedtime soon.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, but it’s Friday night. I get to stay up later on a Friday.’

  ‘I said you can have a few minutes, Daniel.’

  Daniel nodded. ‘Come on, Hannah. Follow me.’ He was beckoning as he walked out of the living room, but his eyes were already focused on one of his new comics.

  Hannah started to follow, but Gemma touched her elbow.

  ‘Please, don’t talk to him about police work. It frightens him. It’s not like the comics.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m sick of police work myself at the moment. I’ll just take a quick look at his collection, and then I’ll get off home.’

  Hannah went through to Daniel’s room. Almost every inch of wall space was covered in Adam-9 posters. He had an Adam-9 duvet, an Adam-9 lamp, and Adam-9 pyjamas draped over the bottom of his bed. On a cheap desk were Adam-9 toys and precariously balanced stacks of Adam-9 comics, books and DVDs.

  ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘You really are a fan, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m the biggest fan in the world. I bet Tilly would like to see these. Could she come and see them one day?’

  ‘I hope so, Daniel. I really hope so.’

  ‘We could talk all day long about it, and we could watch all the episodes again and again.’

  ‘She’d love that, I’m sure.’

  Hannah wandered around the room, savouring the moment and what it meant. She paused at the desk. I
dly, she picked up a scroll of wallpaper onto which Daniel had been drawing with crayons.

  ‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘An Adam-9 story, right?’

  ‘Right!’ Daniel answered. ‘I did it this week. It’s the longest one I’ve ever done. Mrs Collins said it’s my best work yet, and she gave me another gold star.’

  Hannah started to unroll it. The final frame of the story was revealed first. It showed a figure with a very long arm, its fingers fastened around the neck of another figure.

  ‘Is that Adam-9?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. He can shoot out a long metal arm from his briefcase.’

  ‘I see. And this is the baddy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And who’s this?’ She pointed to a third figure.

  ‘That’s my dad.’

  ‘Your dad? Do you often put your dad in your stories?’

  ‘No. But he was in this one.’

  Hannah noticed how Daniel’s mood had suddenly changed. How he had become less garrulous and more guarded.

  ‘And where are you?’

  ‘I . . . I’m not sure.’

  She pointed again. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘That’s the lift. Those are the doors.’

  ‘The lift here? In the building?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She unrolled the length of wallpaper a little more, travelling back in time through the story. The previous frame showed three figures again, but none of them looked like Adam-9. Two of the characters appeared to be fighting.

  ‘Who’s fighting here? Your dad and the bad guy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And this other person is you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No sign of Adam-9 yet.’

  ‘No. Not yet.’

  ‘He comes later, right? To rescue your dad?’

  ‘Yes. That’s what he does. He stops bad guys.’

  Hannah kept unrolling and throwing out questions. There was a scene at the cinema, and then an earlier scene in which two characters stood next to a car.

  ‘Is this you and your dad again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is it your dad’s car?’

  ‘No. We fixed it. I helped him.’

  ‘You fixed it? Why?’

  ‘It’s my dad’s job. He fixes cars.’

  ‘Oh, I see. You mean in a garage?’

  ‘Yes. He doesn’t own it, though. It belongs to Gavin.’

  Gavin. Where had she heard that name recently?

  ‘Gavin who?’

  ‘Crossland. Gavin Crossland.’

  Hannah racked her brain. She definitely knew that name. Crossland.

  And then she made the connection. Crossland Garage. She had spoken to Mr Crossland about the Toyota.

  What was it the Toyota’s owner had said? Something about Gavin Crossland’s colleague having a name like the polar explorer.

  ‘Daniel,’ she said, ‘what’s your dad’s first name?’

  ‘Scott. And my mum’s called Gemma.’

  Scott.

  As in Scott of the Antarctic.

  Shit.

  She looked through the story again, in time order now. Daniel with his dad at the garage, then the cinema, then going home and meeting someone in the lift who turned out to be a bad guy. And then . . .

  She remembered what Ben had suggested to her. That perhaps the homicide she was investigating wasn’t a targeted execution at all. That perhaps it was simply the result of a chance encounter.

  Could it be possible?

  She pointed to the end panel of the story again.

  ‘This bad guy. Do you know him? Do you know his name?’

  Daniel squirmed. ‘I’m not supposed to talk about it.’

  ‘It’s all right, Daniel. You can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?’

  He nodded.

  ‘So what’s his name?’

  It took him a few seconds, and even though she knew what was coming, it still shocked her.

  ‘Joey Cobb.’

  She stared at him.

  Oh my God, she thought.

  Oh my good God.

  52

  Scott knew he was a changed man. You couldn’t go through something like this and not be altered by it.

  He expected he would have nightmares and flashbacks. He would be overwhelmed with guilt. He had seen things he had never wanted to see, done things he had never wanted to do.

  He consoled himself with the hope that time would gradually heal him. He would eventually look back at this week of his life in disbelief. Even now it seemed almost surreal. He would never be able to forget, but it would come to feel like something he once dreamt.

  That was his hope.

  He knew he would be able to live with the pain, because he had won. Daniel and Gemma were out of danger. Life could return to normal.

  Normality was all he’d ever wanted from the beginning.

  He reached the door of his flat. Found his keys. Opened up. The familiarity of home made him suddenly appreciate how tired he was. He needed his bed. But first he needed his family.

  Gemma jumped when he appeared in the living room, and he realised what a mess he must look, his clothes caked in mud.

  He started towards her, a reassuring smile on his face. ‘It’s okay,’ he told her. ‘It’s finally over. I promise you, it’s all sorted.’

  But she did not smile back. She looked pale and scared, almost as though she didn’t want him here.

  And then her eyes shifted, looking at something over his shoulder, and so he turned and saw who had come into the room behind him, and his world came crashing down again.

  It was not how Hannah had expected to solve this case. But sometimes that’s how things went. A stroke of luck. Being in the right place at the right time. Seeing or hearing something that caused all the tumblers to click into place and unlock the secrets.

  She had her killer.

  This was one in the eye for Devereux and for Devereux’s superiors and for anyone else who had doubted her ability. This case had been foisted on her by people who had fully expected – perhaps even wanted – her to fail. She had proved them wrong, and it felt amazing.

  Or at least it should have felt amazing.

  Because look who the killer is, she thought. Look beneath that huge, powerful, manly exterior and see that he is still just a child. Someone who still gets excited by comics and toys and birthday cake and fish fingers. Someone who has pictures of a fantasy hero on every wall and on their duvet and their lamp and their pyjamas.

  Someone who saved my life.

  Not my problem, she told herself. I’m a police officer. I have a duty to carry out. Let the courts sort out the details.

  ‘Mr Timpson,’ she said. ‘I know what happened. I’ve just made a telephone call to my colleagues, and they’re on the way. I have to tell the three of you that I’m placing you all under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Joseph Cobb. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if—’

  She didn’t get to finish, because Scott Timpson had just pulled out a gun.

  *

  Hannah put her hands up.

  ‘Scott, don’t be silly. Put the gun away.’

  Gemma shrieked his name, but he turned the gun on her and she backed away. Daniel stood where he was, looking bemused but not scared.

  Hannah tried again: ‘Scott. This isn’t helping the situation. Please put the gun down and let’s talk about this.’

  She could see that something had snapped inside Scott, as though he had already been stretched to breaking point and this latest turn of events had given him that final shove.

  ‘I tried,’ he said, his lip quivering. ‘I tried so hard. Not for me, but for them.’ He waggled his gun from side to side, indicating his wife and son. Gemma flinched as the gun danced in front of her.

  ‘I did everything I could,’ he continued. A fat tear escaped down his cheek. ‘I was protecting them. You have to understand that.’

  ‘I understand,
Scott. I know you were only trying to do what was right. But we can’t discuss it properly while you’re waving a gun around, can we?’

  ‘I had to save Daniel. You’ve got a kid, right? You should know what that feels like.’

  The words stung. She hadn’t protected Tilly. She hadn’t saved her.

  This isn’t about me, she told herself.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I get what you’re saying. And I’m sure once we sit down calmly and look at all the facts of the case—’

  ‘NO!’ Scott cried. He suddenly closed the distance between himself and Daniel, then put the gun to the back of his son’s head. Gemma yelled his name again. Daniel remained still, apparently oblivious to the extreme danger he was in.

  Hannah raised her hands again. ‘Scott. Don’t do this. I’m begging you. We can work this out.’

  ‘We can’t. You know what happened. You know what Daniel did. You’re going to hurt him, and I can’t allow that.’

  ‘We’re not going to hurt him, I promise.’

  ‘Liar!’

  ‘I’m not lying. Daniel told me that Joey Cobb attacked you first. You had to defend yourselves.’

  ‘That’s not what you’ll say when you get us to the police station. You’ll say we overreacted. You’ll say we went too far.’

  ‘No. Things just got out of hand. I know that. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen. And Daniel certainly didn’t. There’s a thing in law called diminished responsibility. It’s when somebody has special circumstances and can’t be held responsible for their actions. All that will be taken into account.’

  Scott shook his head. ‘I’ve read up on this. I’ve seen too many examples of the system failing people like Daniel. People who will never be able to read or write who still get sent to prison or mental hospitals. Even if he isn’t convicted, they’ll say he’s a danger to the public. They’ll take him away from us. It will destroy him. I can’t put him through that.’

  ‘Scott. Please listen to me. He’s your son. Taking his life is not protecting him. He deserves to live like everybody else.’

  ‘EXACTLY! Like everybody else. Tell them that. Tell all the people who call him names. Tell the kids who tease him and throw things at him. Tell the people who hounded us out of our last home. We want to be left alone, that’s all. We want to be treated like normal people. Like everyone else.’