“You’re as mad as Greenacre. I’ve had enough of your dumb theories. Get out of my house or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll what ya fucking windbag?” snarled Brodie.
Cass braced herself, ready to intervene should Brodie lose his cool. It was known to happen. His whisky eyes had turned dark, sherry cask she liked to call them. When he was happy they went lighter, almost gold. She called that bourbon cask. To her Brodie embodied whisky - light and mellow or dark and commanding. The Creegans were getting treated to his dark side right now.
“I suggest you leave Manchester, you’re not wanted,” said Mark, teeth gritted together with fury.
“This is a fucking free country and I’ll go where I fucking like,” continued Brodie, unstoppable. “You threaten me I just dig in even more. I said you’re unfinished business and once I get my teeth into a case I never let go until I’ve closed it. You may be happy happy joy joy again but this isn’t fucking over.”
“That’s enough,” said Sarah, getting to her feet and taking her husband’s hand. “I want you to leave and if you come back I will call the police.”
Brodie’s sherry cask eyes flicked to her, making her swallow hard. “You’re almost as bad.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Katie Marsh.”
Sarah paled.
“What are you talking about?” said Mark. He turned to his wife. “Who’s Katie Marsh?”
“Oh dear? Have you been keeping things from Mark?” said Brodie. “We had a nice chat with Elspeth.”
“It’s all lies, Katie had this weird crush on me and when I told her I wasn’t interested she made all that up.”
“Sarah, what is this about?” demanded Mark.
“Have a nice day,” smirked Brodie before storming out the door.
Sarah and Mark watched him go with their mouths hanging open.
“We’ll see you again soon,” said Cass with a predatory smile before following her boss outside. She found him pacing the pavement at the end of the drive, muttering angrily to himself.
“Fucking pricks,” he yelled.
“Take it easy, you’ll have all the nice, respectable neighbours complaining.”
“They can get tae fuck too.”
“Brodie, please,” she said when she spied curtains twitching all around them.
He released a growl of frustration and started his frantic pacing again. Brodie had one hell of a temper when provoked, but only when he thought an injustice was being done.
“That was my contact on the phone,” said Cass. “They’ve found another body. Samantha Knotts.”
“Shit,” he said, calming down. Cass’s cool, calm manner always managed to soothe him and hone his thoughts to what was relevant. “Is it The Carver?”
“Yep, unfortunately. Shall we take a look or do you want to stay around here a little longer shouting at the air?”
“Let’s go,” he said, striding for his car.
Cass left it to Brodie to ask the questions he needed the answers to. She understood him so well she knew how to handle his every mood.
“How did you find out?” he said as they drove away from the Creegan home.
“I managed to find a way into the investigation.”
“How?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Cass…,” he began, warning in his voice.
“Don’t worry, it’s legal,” she smiled.
“Got something on one of the investigating officers?”
“No but I do have something on one of the reporters who pays one of the investigating officers for information.”
“You know him?”
“Childhood friend from the village I was born and raised in. He always did have dreams of becoming a big city reporter. We were a couple for a while when we were teenagers.” She failed to notice Brodie’s grip on the steering wheel tighten. “He still doesn’t want anyone to know that he tried to force himself on me when we were on a date once.”
“He’s the one who attacked you?” he barked. Cass had learnt self defence when some creep in her home village had attacked her. She’d loved the confidence it had given her and had graduated to kickboxing and karate.
“No, that wasn’t him, this was another time. He didn’t get very far, I kneed him in the nads so hard he couldn’t walk upright for three days.”
Brodie’s scowl turned upwards into a smile.
“So he was happy to give me some inside information for keeping what I know of his dirty little habits to himself and for me not to send his balls up into his throat.”
Brodie adored how amazingly brutal she could be.
CHAPTER 13
It wasn’t difficult to find the crime scene. A crowd had already gathered, uniformed officers attempting to usher everyone back from the cordon. No one paid Brodie and Cass much attention as they approached, they were just another couple of gawkers.
The body had been found in a park, splayed out beneath a beautiful cherry blossom tree. A tent had been set up to protect the victim from the elements as well as the stares. A small, weedy looking man skulked to one side of the cordon, regarding Cass with definite reticence.
“Hello Matt,” she smiled, striding up to him.
The man’s beady eyes flicked left to right, as though debating whether or not to run. He relaxed when he realised Cass was completely calm, the presence of all the police officers bolstering his courage.
“Hello Cass. Long time no see.”
“Matt Dixon this is my boss, Brodie MacBride.”
Matt nodded in response. Brodie didn’t nod back. This prick had attacked Cass, tried to anyway.
“What do you know?” Cass quietly asked Matt.
“It’s been confirmed the victim is Samantha Knotts.”
“Same as the others?”
Matt nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the white tent, scenes of crime officers in white paper suits going in and out. “The Carver’s fifth victim.”
“Did you give this creep that nickname?” she said.
“I did,” he said proudly before deflating at the anger in her eyes.
“You’re only glorifying him.”
“Not my fault it helps sell papers. That is my job you know.” He looked curiously from her to Brodie. “What is your job anyway? Why are you so interested?”
“None of your business. Which officer’s best to talk to about this?”
Matt’s eyes brightened as he scented something juicy. “What do you know about this case?”
“Mind your own,” was all Cass said.
“If you want that name then you have to give me something in return.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do Matt, I won’t stick my knee in your bollocks again. How about that?”
Matt blanched. “DS Clarke. Straight as a fucking die. Boring as hell. He’ll listen but he won’t give you any information in return.”
“Which one is he?”
“The thin one over there talking to the fat bastard in the cheap suit.”
Cass and Brodie spotted him - a good-looking, slick man in his mid-thirties with a goatee beard. Brodie had become disenchanted by the corruption he’d experienced during the time he’d held a warrant card but he also knew the majority of officers were decent and conscientious. He hoped Clarke was one of the latter because he wasn’t about to take Matt’s word for anything.
“What do you think Boss?” Cass asked Brodie.
“Let’s leave it, for now.”
She nodded in understanding. “Thanks Matt, appreciate it. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
“I believe you live in Glasgow now?” he said with a smile.
Cass frowned. He’d been doing some checking up on her. “That’s not for you to know. See you around.”
Matt watched Cass and the big Scotsman walk away. “I bloody hope not,” he said to himself.
“So, do we tackle DS Clarke?” Cass asked Brodie as they headed back to the car.
&n
bsp; “We need more to approach him with first or he’ll think we’re just a couple of loonies.”
“Oh no, I know that look,” she said when his amber eyes danced. “You’ve got it in for some poor sod.”
“Give your pal Doctor Prosser a bell. I’m not done with that dirty wee bastard yet.”
Prosser furiously shook his head, face turning from grey to white. “No, I simply cannot countenance this. I can’t allow you to ambush a patient when she’s coming to me for help. You could set Lauren’s recovery back years.”
“The way we see it you’ve not contributed much to her recovery so far,” said Brodie. “And we don’t want to ambush her. All we want is to listen in when you ask her those questions. She won’t even know we’re there.”
Prosser stared at the piece of paper Brodie had given him. “I’ve never broached these topics with Lauren before, it’ll be too much for her.”
“She’s tougher than you give her credit for,” said Brodie, thinking of how easily she’d brushed her mother aside.
“No, I can’t do it,” said Prosser, holding the piece of paper out to them. Neither Brodie nor Cass moved to take it.
“You’ve disappointed me Prosser,” glowered Brodie.
“Want me to call Tommy Shenka, Boss?” said Cass, taking out her mobile phone.
“Do it,” he replied, never taking his gaze off Prosser, whose eyes bugged out of his head.
“No,” cried the doctor. “You can’t, he’ll kill me if he finds me.”
“Not our problem. Make the call Cass.”
“Wait.” Prosser’s tall frame finally collapsed in on itself, making him seem small and shrunken. “I’ll do it.”
Lauren sat staring at her hands, picking at the cuffs of her jumper, tugging a few more black threads free.
“So Lauren, how have you been feeling?” opened Prosser. His voice was weaker and less confident than usual but Lauren didn’t notice.
“Okay,” she replied, continuing to worry the threads.
“And how have you been sleeping?”
“Okay.”
Prosser ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. What would Brodie do if he failed to get him the desired answers? Lauren did have days when she shut down and refused to communicate. He prayed to God today wasn’t one of those days. “Have the dreams returned?”
She shook her head.
Prosser puffed out a shaky breath. He had the urge to grab the girl and shake her. “What about…”
“I’ve met someone,” she blurted out.
“Do you mean a man?” said Prosser when she went silent again. This wasn’t on his list of questions but he felt he should go with it.
Lauren nodded. “His name’s Brodie.”
In the room next door to Prosser’s office Cass released a quiet snigger and dug her elbow into Brodie’s ribs. “You charmer,” she whispered.
Brodie’s cheeks heated as he watched the image of Lauren shift about in her chair through the camera they’d set up on the bookcase in Prosser’s office.
“It’s not my fault I’m irresistible,” he whispered back.
“And who is he?” said Prosser on the screen, fiddling with his collar again.
“I wish he’d keep still,” muttered Brodie. “He’s going to give the game away.”
“She’s not even looking at him. She’s too wrapped up in thoughts of you,” Cass grinned, fluttering her eyelashes.
Lauren still had her head down, playing with her sleeve. A hole had now been formed in the cuff and she stuck her finger through it. “My family don’t like him, they say he’s nosy.”
“Nosy, how?” said Prosser in a way that indicated he already knew.
“He’s interested in our family, in where we’ve come from.”
Prosser saw an opening into the questions he was supposed to ask. “And what did you tell him?”
“Nothing. He already knows most of it. I don’t know how.”
“What exactly is he interested in?”
“Mark and Sarah. She kicked him out because she found out he killed Dad. He never told her, stupid really. It was always going to come out. I mean, we ran but we could never escape it. I always knew one day it would find us.”
“How do you feel now it’s finally happened?”
“Relieved I suppose. Brodie’s not told anyone else though, he’s good like that. He says he wants to help us.”
“By doing what?”
“Making us face up to the past. Mum’s always telling us not to talk about it, to forget about it but how can we forget? I saw…”
Her head snapped up, eyes wide, face draining of colour.
“Saw what?” Prosser gently coaxed.
“Nothing,” she said, lowering her head again, pulling at her sleeve with renewed violence.
Afraid he was losing her, Prosser changed tactic. “So what’s this Brodie like?”
It worked. “Handsome, clever and really tough. He put Seth in his place. No one’s ever done that before. He’s Scottish too, from Glasgow.” She looked up with a small smile. “His accent’s really cute.”
Prosser was astonished, he’d never seen her smile before or even discuss a man. As far as he was aware she’d never been involved in a relationship. “Do your family know about your feelings?”
“I think Mum does but the others don’t. Seth would be very unhappy with me, he hates Brodie because he made him look like an idiot.” She drew in a deep breath before adding, “Seth doesn’t like me talking to people outside the family, except you, he’s worried they’ll upset me.”
“Do you want to talk to people outside the family?”
“Not really. Other people don’t interest me and they look at me like I’m weird.”
“You’re not weird Lauren, you’ve just been through a lot. What does Mark think of Brodie?”
“Why do you ask?” she said a little too quickly.
“Well, I suppose he must be upset with him if his wife left him because he let his secret slip.”
“Oh I see. Yes, he doesn’t like him either but Brodie’s been helping Sarah.”
“Helping her how?”
“Brodie thinks Mark hurt those women, you know, The Carver’s victims?”
“He thinks Mark’s The Carver?” he said incredulously.
“I think so, I’m not sure. Either Mark or Seth.”
“Do you agree?”
“Not about Mark. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“He hurt your dad.”
Her eyes widened. “I mean apart from him and that was only because he was hurting him first.”
Prosser thought of the questions on the list and felt quite faint. He’d barely brushed them yet. He cleared his throat, feeling sweat slide down his spine. “And Seth?”
“Brodie’s so handsome,” she went on, oblivious to his question. “His eyes are lovely, like amber.”
“You sound quite smitten.”
“I am,” she smiled.
“So Mark definitely hurt your dad?”
Lauren finally looked up at him. “Why are you asking about that?”
He cleared his throat again. “Because I believe that incident severely traumatised you, it’s at the root of a lot of your problems and if you face up to it then you might start to improve.” He leaned forwards in his seat, feeling sick at the thought of what would happen if he failed to get Brodie the desired answers. Why had he found Tommy Shenka’s sister so damn alluring? He’d known who her family was but he hadn’t been able to resist, she was so beautiful, even at the height of her depression. He’d thought she was well out of it when he’d touched her, he hadn’t known she was aware, that she’d tell her thug of a brother…
“You really think it might help me?” said Lauren, interrupting his thoughts.
He looked at this woman who he found similarly attractive. It wasn’t just the women’s looks that drew him to them, it was their vulnerability, their trauma. He didn’t know why it got him going, it just did and he couldn’t s
top himself. He’d revelled in her helplessness, her grief but he’d learnt his lesson from the Tommy Shenka incident and forced himself not to physically touch Lauren after meeting Seth. He didn’t want two psychotic brothers after him. But he thought she’d sensed he’d become aroused during their sessions when she’d shown him how vulnerable she was. If he failed now his past would finally catch up with him because that bastard in the next room would make sure it did. “Yes,” he croaked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered, curling in on herself, retreating from him.
“Okay, we don’t have to if you don’t want,” he quickly said, fearing he was losing her. “What do you want to talk about?”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Brodie.”
“This is a waste of time,” said Cass. “You’ve cast your spell over her and she doesn’t want to talk about anything else.”
“I think you’re right. Why do I have to be so damn irresistible?” he grinned, studying the screen, Lauren droning on about him while Prosser couldn’t sit still. “We’re not going to get anything out of her like this. She doesn’t like Prosser so she’s not going to tell him anything important. But she might respond to me.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“Come on, let’s sneak out and wait for her outside. Her time’s nearly up anyway.”
As they left they heard Prosser trying to ask Lauren about her brothers but she was still talking about Brodie.
They hung around the exit until Lauren emerged. As they were standing back against the wall out of sight of the door she didn’t see them.
“Lauren,” Brodie called.
She stopped and turned, her frown turning into a smile. “Brodie.”
She rushed up to him and for one awful moment he thought she was going to hug him but she forced her arms by her sides and stood before him, smiling coyly up at him through her long eyelashes. He thought it such a shame she was so troubled because she was very pretty with her Creegan black eyes, thick jet black hair and creamy skin. He recalled what her mother looked like and hoped it wasn’t genetic.
Unfinished Business Page 17