The Edge of Sanity

by Sheryl Browne

  ‘Because I was ashamed.’ Daniel shrugged. ‘Because I was scared.’

  ‘Of?’ Jo urged him on.

  Daniel closed his eyes and dragged a hand through his hair.

  Jo reached out again, to brush his cheek with the back of her hand. ‘You don’t have to, Daniel, not now. Not if you—’

  ‘I want to.’ Daniel tugged in another breath, which stopped painfully short of his chest. He exhaled slowly. Jo was everything that mattered to him.

  Everything. He couldn’t lose her. They would get through this. Somehow, he would make that happen. But he couldn’t live without Jo. It simply wasn’t an option.

  Swallowing again, he forced himself on. ‘I was scared of the feelings talking about my past would dredge up,’ he admitted. ‘Scared I might lose you. That I already had.’

  He looked hard at Jo, whose penetrating gaze back seemed to be peeling every painful strip of veneer away from his soul. ‘There was no way I could cope with that, Jo. I—’

  ‘You hadn’t lost me, Daniel.’ Jo’s look turned to confused. ‘We’d lost each other.’

  Daniel nodded and looked down. ‘I wanted to talk to you, Jo. To be the man you needed me to be.’

  ‘You were,’ Jo said quickly. ‘You are.’

  Daniel glanced back at her. ‘Was I?’ He scanned her eyes, knowing the answer was no. ‘I wanted to comfort you, Jo. You have no idea. To hold you. Tell you that I was hurting too, but …’ He hesitated. ‘ … if I’d cried for the child I’d been instrumental in taking the life of, could I really have expected sympathy from her mother, Jo? Did I deserve it?’

  ‘Oh, God, Daniel.’ Jo wrapped her arms about herself.

  She was shivering. Daniel reached tentatively for her, desperate to pull her into his arms, keep her safe—away from that depraved bastard.

  He gulped back his anger, relief flooding through him as Jo relaxed into him. ‘These feelings,’ she asked, after a moment, ‘can you tell me about them?’

  Daniel hesitated. ‘Hopelessness,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Guilt. Most of all helplessness.’

  ‘Feelings around the attack on your father?’ Jo ventured.

  Daniel didn’t answer.

  ‘Dan …’ Jo glanced up at him. ‘You don’t need to tell me about anything you don’t want to, really. I’d like to think that you could, but you don’t need to.’

  ‘Nothing much to tell.’

  Daniel glanced behind him, and then braced himself to tell nevertheless. He’d come this far. And if Jo needed all of him in order to be with him …

  ‘He messed me up, basically,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘He drank most nights. And when he drank he, er … He’d …’ Daniel swallowed and closed his eyes, an involuntary shudder going through him ‘ … come into my room.’

  Jo glanced sharply up.

  ‘I used to try to run away, so he, er …’ Daniel swallowed again, hard. ‘He nailed the windows shut.’

  Jo balked. ‘The claustrophobia,’ she murmured, tightening her arms around him.

  Daniel breathed in, and nodded. ‘It wasn’t being shut in I was scared of,’ he paused, wondering whether Jo could hear his heart beating as loudly as he could. ‘It was being shut in with him.’

  ‘Oh, Dan.’ Jo leaned her head back to his shoulder.

  ‘Danny Boy,’ Daniel said quietly, after a moment. ‘He used to call me that, when I was about four, five, maybe. That’s where the abuse started. It ended when I was fifteen. We fought. He fell. I …’ Daniel stopped, his throat constricting.

  ‘Danny Boy?’ Jo’s voice came out barely a whisper. ‘Dear God.’

  Daniel held her tighter, feeling the closeness of her next to him, the wholeness of her. The only good thing that ever happened to him.

  ‘You know, in there somewhere, I was supposed to be grieving for my mother,’ he said quietly. ‘How? How do you grieve, Jo, when you’re stuffed so full of guilt and anger, there’s just no room for anything else?’

  ‘Guilt?’ Jo looked up to search his face. ‘For what? You father? Your mother? Daniel, you had nothing to—’

  ‘She topped herself, Jo.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Jo whispered forcefully. ‘And you’d every right to feel angry.’

  ‘With her?’ Daniel asked, that same feeling of helplessness close to the surface. ‘I wasn’t angry with her for leaving me, Jo. Don’t you see? I was angry with her for leaving me with him. Selfish, or what?’

  ‘No, Daniel. Not selfish.’ Jo said passionately. ‘Just normal, human reaction. It’s allowed.’

  ‘Yes, right,’ Daniel smiled cynically. ‘Except it wasn’t. Tears and tantrums weren’t tolerated. I didn’t care much for the, er, punishment,’ he shrugged and glanced away, ‘so I kept quiet. Didn’t talk. You know? Didn’t think, eventually. Counted a hell of a lot though, from one hundred down. Kept right on counting until … he’d got out of his system whatever he needed to. It concentrated the mind. Kept the emotions in check. It was easier that way.’

  ‘Oh, God, Daniel, you should have told me.’ Jo looked hard at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Daniel pressed his forehead against hers. ‘I do love you, Jo. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘That’s because you’re mad.’ Jo smiled, but her smile faded fast as someone came down the steps behind her.

  ****

  Oh, man, that was dynamite. Charlie was ecstatic. Pure dynamite.

  Got him, he thought, supremely satisfied. Knew he would sooner or later. Everything comes to those who wait. And Connor had supplied him with a truckload of information. Skeletons in his closet, Danny Boy had. All Charlie had to do now was light his fuse, and then bring the man down.

  Serve him right too. He should’ve shown a bit more respect, while he had the chance. Nobody tries to get one past Charlie Roberts. Bullshitting him Danny had been, again. Obviously thought he was stupid enough to fall for it. Bad move, that, Danny Boy.

  Charlie yawned and scratched his head, feigning sleepiness as he came down the steps. ‘Danny.’ He nodded, smiled pleasantly at Jo, and then looked stonily back to Daniel. ‘Well?’ he said, and left it hanging.

  Daniel glanced quickly at Jo, then, gesturing her back with a slight incline of his head, he looked quizzically back to Charlie. Daniel had no clue where this one was going. Wherever it was though, he didn’t want Jo in the middle of it.

  ‘Well, what?’ Daniel took a short breath, and waited.

  Charlie looked him over with his usual loaded contempt, and then held up the mobile. ‘You have some explaining to do, Danny.’

  Oh, Christ … Daniel’s stomach knotted. He glanced from the mobile to Charlie. Now he knew exactly where this was going.

  ‘About the bank, Danny.’ Charlie smiled again, unnervingly. ‘The one you didn’t fucking well ring!

  ‘Bastard!’ Spitting with fury, Charlie swung around and slammed the mobile so hard against the wall, the boat tilted and keeled.

  Shit! Daniel stepped back, his gaze firm on Charlie, his aim to stop him getting within reach of Jo and Kayla, whatever it took.

  Seemingly frozen with indecision, Steve got halfway to his feet behind Charlie, causing the boat to lilt further, metal grinding creakily against metal, as the hull brushed the reinforced sides of the bank.

  No one spoke.

  Charlie dragged a hand across his face, wiping the spittle from his mouth. He breathed in, then out through his nostrils, dropped his gaze to the smashed phone in his hand—and then fixed eyes smouldering with hatred back on Daniel.

  ‘You didn’t ring, Daniel,’ he said flatly.

  Daniel glanced past him to Steve, who’d straightened up and was now risking a cautious step towards them.

  ‘You know I did. You were there,’ Daniel reminded him, gauging Charlie carefully. ‘You dialled the number.’

  ‘And you cut the fucking call off, didn’t you?!’ Charlie jabbed a finger at him.

  Daniel took another step back, one hand raised to ward C
harlie off.

  ‘I made the transaction, Charlie. You heard me.’ Daniel didn’t quite lie, but he prayed hard that Charlie hadn’t got wind of the other end of the conversation. The person at the call centre telling him there were insufficient funds. Daniel had replied nonsensically, praying hard then, too. That Charlie wouldn’t snatch the phone to listen in and hear the bank refusing to continue the conversation, data protection rules requiring them to call him back.

  Charlie looked away, then down. ‘You’re dead, Danny. End of,’ he said unemotionally, ran his hand under his nose then fixed cold eyes back on Daniel. ‘Outside.’ He nodded towards the doors.

  ‘Oi, what you doing?’ Steve took another step, his brow furrowed.

  ‘Taking Danny for a walk in the woods.’ Charlie said, with a matter-of-fact shrug. ‘He can have a think about what’s going to happen to his wife and daughter on the way.’

  ‘Dan …!?’ Jo gasped behind him.

  ‘Daddy?’ Kayla whimpered, sounding more like Emma, as she slid off her berth.

  Daniel shook his head hard, cautioning them to stay put. His gaze travelled from Steve to Charlie and back. His heart hammered wildly and his muscles tensed, ready to fight; to kill the fucking psychopath, or die trying.

  ‘Don’t be bloody stupid,’ Steve scoffed. ‘You can’t go and—’

  Charlie levelled his gun. ‘This says I can,’ he gave Steve a warning glance, ‘so shift your fat arse, mate, or you’ll get some of the same.’

  Steve’s face tightened. He breathed in, pulled up his rounded shoulders, and looked from Charlie to Daniel.

  Holding his gaze for a second, he nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then looked back to Charlie. ‘So,’ he said, folding his arms, ‘what’s he supposed to have done, then?’

  Charlie snapped his attention to Steve. ‘What’s he …?’ He shook his head, disbelieving. ‘Are you deaf!? It’s what he hasn’t done, you soft twat.’

  Steve waited, arms still folded, his big bulk blocking the doors.

  ‘He hasn’t … rung … the … fucking … bank.’ Charlie spelt it out.

  Steve looked at Charlie dispassionately. ‘Says who?’

  ‘Says …? I don’t believe this. They haven’t rung back, have they, you thick prick. He said they—’

  ‘Not likely to, now, are they? Phone’s broke, innit, Charlie.’ Steve stood his ground, looking not very impressed.

  ‘It is now! Thanks to—’

  ‘You broke it, Charlie,’ Steve talked over him, ‘because you’re losin’ it, mate. Now pack it up and go pop a freakin’ pill, or somethin’, or I’ll take a bloody walk. I mean it, Charlie. I’ve had enough,’ he looked Charlie over distastefully, ‘and so has he, so lay off.’

  Charlie boggled, stunned for a second, then pulled himself—and his gun—up. ‘You are taking the piss, mate,’ he fumed. ‘No one, but no one takes the piss out of—’

  ‘And you …’ Steve unfolded his arms and poked a finger at Charlie ‘ … are acting like a dickhead. He rang ‘em!’

  ‘Aw, for Christ’s …’ Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘Do you think I’m dense, as—’

  ‘And they rang back,’ Steve went on forcefully. ‘If you hadn’t been busy shooting up and snoring like a pig, you’d have known.’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘You what?’

  ‘The phone was on silent, Charlie, so you could get a bit of shuteye, remember? I took the call and passed it to him. Now leave it out.’

  Steve turned away.

  ‘Oh.’ Charlie seemed to debate. ‘Well that’s all right then,’ he said, eventually and lowered the gun. ‘You should have said so, Danny Boy. You really can be very irritating sometimes, y’know?’

  He cocked the gun under his arm, and then called to Jo, ‘Get us that grub, darlin’. I’m starving,’ as he ambled to the saloon to seat himself in front of the telly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Pants,’ Hannah muttered. ‘Sorry,’ she added, noting the sergeant’s arched eyebrow.

  ‘Would you like to leave your details?’ the sergeant suggested. ‘I’ll get DI Short to contact you when he gets back to the station.’

  ‘Um …’ Hannah had a think. Leave her details? Yes, right. The law phoning home would go down well, wouldn’t it? ‘No, thank you.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I’ll pop back.’

  Typical, she thought, trudging back down the station steps. Now the detective was on the missing list, too. Couldn’t be that much of an emergency, could it, if he wasn’t even at the station. Might be out on the case, she mused, organising the dredging of the canal, or something.

  God, she hoped not. Hannah shuddered and wandered around awhile, then rang the station. Still no DI Short, apparently. She checked her watch and her uniformed state of dress, which was attracting all sorts of attention at this time of evening, and none of it the right sort. She’d nip home, she decided. Her mum might just have torn her eyeballs away from her boyfriend long enough to clock the time. She might even be concerned she was late.

  Yeah, that’s what she’d do, go home and get changed, which should kill some time, and then go back to the station. Hannah didn’t want to talk to anyone else. This detective bloke was the one she wanted to see. And check out that earring, while she was at it, just to make sure.

  An hour later, Hannah presented herself for the third time at the police station. ‘DI Short, please,’ she asked, as demurely as she was dressed, in cut offs and vest top.

  The sergeant shook his head apologetically. ‘Look, would you like to see a nice WPC, instead?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘She could take a statement,’ he suggested.

  ‘What statement?’

  ‘A statement about whatever it is you want to see DI Short about.’ The sergeant knitted his brow.

  ‘No,’ Hannah said, adamant. ‘DI Short’s on the case.’

  ‘And what case would that be?’ the sergeant asked patiently.

  ‘Dunno.’ Hannah shrugged. ‘I’ll wait.’ She plonked herself down on a chair, leaving the confused sergeant scratching his head.

  ****

  ‘Not bad.’ Charlie licked his knife and plonked his empty plate on the floor. He’d tasted better than tinned potatoes, corned beef and beans, but it wasn’t bad considering she hadn’t had much time to prepare for their little holiday.

  Nobody else seemed to have much of an appetite though, he noticed. Strange that, what with all that hard work opening locks and whatnots. Ravenous, he was. Crack and speed usually left him a bit peckish, and knackered. And knackered whilst wired is not conducive to sleep, he’d found.

  Good job he had some heroin in his bag of tricks. Steve might well sit there with a face like a spanner, but at least it’d allowed Charlie a bit of shuteye. Felt much better for it, too. Been a bit depressed he had earlier. But waking to hear Danny’s revelations had cheered him immensely. Given him a high with a capital H.

  Well, waste not, want not. ‘Cheers, mate.’ Charlie reached for Steve’s plate to relieve it of its contents, slurping happily as he did so.

  Daniel ran his hand through his hair, resisted the temptation to walk across and wedge the plate in the psycho’s mouth, and headed for the back of the boat instead. Hopefully, some fresh air would control his creeping claustrophobia.

  ‘Where’re you goin’?’ Charlie muffled, spitting corned beef.

  Daniel stopped. ‘To open the hatch,’ he said calmly. ‘We need some air.’

  Kayla definitely needed air, Daniel knew. He’d watched her as they’d sat through feeding time at the zoo. She was as white as a sheet.

  ‘Stay,’ Charlie instructed. ‘You move when I tell you to,’ he reminded Daniel, stuffing the last of the meal into his mouth.

  At which, Kayla stood abruptly, picked up her plate—the food thereon untouched, eyed Charlie with disdain and banged it down in front of him. ‘Choke on it, cokehead,’ she spat, and then turned to march past Daniel to yank the hatch wide.

  ‘We need some air,�
�� she said, turning back to face Charlie, her arms folded insolently.

  Daniel stopped breathing as Charlie looked Kayla slowly up and down.

  ‘Ooh, a girly tantrum. Save me,’ Charlie said, at length. ‘I’m shaking in my boots.’ He smirked, and then turned his attention back to the television, leaving Kayla looking deflated and Daniel feeling uneasy relief.

  At best, he’d expected another debilitating blow with the gun. At worst he’d thought the sicko would sink lower and try to take it out on Kayla. So what the hell was he up to? Daniel and Jo exchanged nervous glances.

  Steve lit up a cigarette.

  Charlie split a matchstick and picked at his teeth.

  Shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart, he thought. But he’d let it go, for now. Danny Boy must swing both ways, he decided, because whatsername was definitely the product of her both her parents, defiant little cow.

  She’d learn.

  They all would.

  Pushing their luck they were, undermining him. And it wasn’t on, plain and simple. He’d sort them, though, when he was ready. Charlie burped loudly. Take out the linchpin and the women would tumble. Be no trouble at all, wifey and daughter with Danny Boy subdued. And subdued he would be when Charlie had finished with him. He’d cut through Danny Boy’s cool exterior like a knife through butter, and serve him right.

  Kills one daughter outright, couldn’t care less what company the other one’s keeping, and still they look up to him. Needed bringing down to size, Danny Boy did. He’d shown Charlie absolutely no respect from the word go, and Charlie didn’t like it.

  Worked out that nondescript look of his, Charlie had, as well. Danny Boy was doing it now, unbelievably, looking right through him, as if he didn’t even exist.

  Bloody head-case.

  ****

  ‘Chip?’ DI Short offered Hannah some of his dinner, soon to be supper.

  Hannah shook her head, eyed the detective warily across his desk, and made up her mind. ‘Earring,’ she said, extending her own hand.