by Ryan Casey
“You okay in there?”
“I… The passenger,” Brian called. “Don’t worry about me. Just get Annie out. Just get—”
Annie coughed.
She sniffed up the blood, blinked, then looked around at the crumpled wreck of her car.
Then she looked back at Brian, total anger in her bloodshot eyes. “You’re paying for this, you fucking reckless prick.”
Brian smiled. He felt tears roll down his cheeks. “Annie.”
“I’m serious. You’re fucking paying for every bit of it.”
“I’m just glad you’re alive.”
“You won’t be fucking alive much longer if you don’t get the shit out of my car right this second.”
Brian climbed his way out of Annie’s car. He was a little sore on the head himself, but he’d be fine. He’d taken bumps and bruises in the past. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with.
He helped Annie out of the passenger side and apologised to the taxi driver. The taxi driver was aggressive at first, making it clear that he wasn’t in the wrong. He soon shut up when Brian told him he was a police officer. But still, that didn’t excuse the fact Brian had been driving Annie’s car uninsured.
He pressed a cold towel to his head that someone from the car park had given him. He’d almost lost sight of why he was even driving Annie’s car at all.
That was when he saw a smouldering cigarette at the mouth of the car park.
Brian threw the towel to the road, and another car almost hit him as he jogged unsteadily towards the cigarette.
“McDone? The hell d’you think you’re doing now? He’s gone. And you need to get to a hospital.”
“His cigarette,” Brian said.
“His cigarette? You sure about that?”
“Yes. This place has a bloody strict spot fine for littering. No way anyone dropped this long ago. It’s fresh.”
“Jesus. Even if he dropped his cig, so what? You can’t exactly arrest him for it.”
He saw a glimmer of realisation in Annie’s eyes, just for a split second.
Then she lifted her hand and pointed behind Brian. “He’s up there.”
Brian turned around and saw Michael Reed emerge from the front of the car park. He still had his rucksack draped over his shoulder. The cocky little shit thought he’d actually outwitted Brian.
“I’m gonna show him who’s outwitted who,” Brian said.
“McDone!”
Brian didn’t listen to Annie. He wasn’t listening to anyone anymore. Sure, he’d pretty much led this investigation outside of work procedure, but a young woman was dead and all along, Brian had been certain that there was more to the whole case than met the eye.
He ran in Michael’s direction. His head stung, his throat was clogged with blood, but he wasn’t letting Michael get away. Not now.
He sprinted to the top entrance of the car park and looked around. He thought he’d lost sight of him, then he saw movement across the street, a sight of that green rucksack heading into one of the side streets. “Little bastard.”
He ran across the road, more cars honking their horns at him as he danced with death not for the first time today. He’d already done some running earlier and collapsed in the process. He didn’t want to face up to the fact he really might not be well at all.
He was catching Michael Reed.
He was bringing him to justice.
Justice wasn’t dying. Not on his watch.
He ran down the side street and kept his eyes peeled for movement. Tall buildings stood either side of him, penning him in and making him feel claustrophobic. He ran over cracked glass, past overflowing bins which flies hovered around. Michael can’t have got far. He had to be close.
He saw movement at the end of the side street and he knew then he was getting closer. Sure, Michael might be younger and fitter than him, but Brian had worked these streets long enough to learn a few shortcuts.
He took a left and ran towards a fence. He climbed up it, his fingers and knees locking as he made his way to the top. Shitting hell. He really wasn’t as fit as he used to be.
When he got to the top, sweat rolling down his face, he swung a leg over the side.
Then he felt another twinge in his chest.
The pain in the side of his head intensified.
He went dizzy and felt himself tumbling over the fence.
He grabbed on. Squeezed his fingers around the fence. He steadied his breathing and eased his way down the fence, doing all he could not to focus on the pain.
When he hit the ground with his shaky legs, he carried on his jog towards the end of the side street.
He knew he could bump into Michael on his way out. And that’s what he wanted. He could close in on him. Ambush him. And then there’d be no escaping for Michael. There’d be no getting away, not at—
Someone flew into his right side.
He fell into the wall on his left. Smacked the other side of his head against the brick and tumbled to the ground.
When he looked up, the taste of blood intensifying in his mouth, what he saw made his muscles tighten and his stomach turn.
Michael was standing over him.
He had a crazed look in his bloodshot eyes.
And he was holding a knife.
Thirty-Seven
Never underestimate the power of someone standing over you, pointing a knife at you, to make you shit yourself.
The cloudy sky above blackened. More rain fell down, torrential, as the afternoon progressed from the sun of earlier to whatever hellish ending it had in store. Brian leaned back against the brick wall of one of the tall buildings down the side street.
Above him, Michael Reed stood, knife in hand.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” he said. “Back the fuck off. Stay the fuck away.”
Brian swallowed a bloody frog in his throat. His head ached on both sides now, and his racing heart just made him feel more vulnerable. If he had another turn just like he’d had earlier, then he wouldn’t be able to apprehend Michael. He needed some help right now. Some guidance.
But he was all alone.
“I know you were at Baker’s Inn after Elaine left the gig at 57 Celsius,” Brian gasped. “Michael, I saw you on video. I saw you take Elaine’s underwear from Bobby Wisdom’s pocket and I saw you climb up those fire escape steps—”
“No,” Michael said. “No, you think that’s what you saw.”
“I know what I saw. I know you were working a shift at the gig. I know you went after Elaine. I know you probably killed her.”
Michael shook his head. His eyes looked like they were gone, as distant traffic passed by outside the side street.
“I know the truth. And I’m not the only one who knows the truth. So you can put the knife down and you can come with me, or you can run and face charges for assaulting a police officer, as well as all the other stuff you’re gonna be done for.”
Michael’s eyes met Brian’s then. For a second, Brian swore he saw tears. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
Brian twisted his body around, keeping his movements as slow and composed as possible. He didn’t want to risk pissing Michael off, not now. “I don’t get what?”
Michael opened his mouth like he was going to say something to Brian.
Then he closed it. He looked down at his knife. “Other officers know about this, do they? Really?”
Brian felt his chest tighten. His heart raced harder. Sure, Annie kind of knew the truth. But could he really trust her to pursue it? “The whole squad knows. They’re all after you.”
Michael smiled and let out a shaky, nervous laugh. “See I dunno if I believe you. I—I dunno if you’re telling the truth.”
“I’m a police officer, Michael. Of course I’m telling the truth.”
Michael lunged towards Brian and pressed the knife to his throat. Brian felt it cut, just slightly, but enough to make him shit himself some more.
Michael’s bulging, deranged eyes peered in
to Brian’s. Brian could smell his sour breath on his face as he held that blade right up to his neck. “What’s stopping me killing you right now? What’s stopping me just cutting open your throat?”
Brian gulped, as difficult as the knife made it. “I don’t think you want to kill me. I don’t know what happened on that roof with Elaine, but you don’t strike me as a killer. She obviously knew you. She obviously trusted you enough to go up to the roof with you. So tell me the rest of the story. Tell me what happened, Michael. Tell me the truth, or you’ll leave me with no choice.”
Michael’s face turned. “Choice? You ain’t the one with the choice right now, mate.”
He pulled the knife away then he booted Brian right in his forehead.
He backed off. Brian felt woozy, his ears ringing, more blood in his mouth.
He looked over at Michael Reed and he saw the panic on his face. The fear over what he’d done.
“Shit,” Michael said. “Shit.”
“You’re going to regret that,” Brian spat.
Then Michael dropped the knife and ran to the end of the alleyway.
Brian staggered to his feet and chased after Michael. He was battered, bruised, but he wasn’t giving up. It’d take more than just a boot to the head to make him throw the towel in.
He chased Michael out of the alleyway.
Michael threw himself between the cars, disappeared across the dual carriageway. Horns honked. Cars swerved, almost colliding.
But Michael was still standing.
“Shit,” Brian said. He thought about crossing the road, but he’d already danced with death enough today. He ran over to the pedestrian crossing and hit the lights, waiting for a gap in the traffic.
There was only one way Michael Reed could head right now anyway.
He started to get agitated when the lights didn’t change. He saw Michael was still running. He was heading over towards the docks. The docks that made Brian’s skin crawl with all their memories. The memories of the BetterLives case, the reconstruction of those burned offices well in progress.
But mostly the darkest memories of all.
The memories of the chief constable, and how he’d thrown his body into those waters; hopefully, never to be resurfaced.
The crossing bleeped. Brian finally raced across the road, almost tripping on his shoelace in the process.
He wasn’t going to let a fucking shoelace stop him, though.
He was capturing Michael Reed.
He ran down the side of the docklands waters. He’d run so much that his legs were numb, and his knees were weak. That wasn’t the worst of his problems, though. He knew his head needed seeing to. He knew his heart was like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. But some things were more important than life. Justice was more important than life. He saw that now, clearer than ever. It’s just who he was.
He reached the opening of the BetterLives construction site and he looked around.
There was no sign of Michael Reed.
He put his hands on his knees and caught his breath. Rain trickled down his face and off the end of his nose and lips. He’d lost him. He’d actually lost the fucker. Fuck. Old age was a bitch. Once upon a time, there’s no way he’d have lost him. He was like a lion, only now he was a lame old lion trapped in a circus.
He started to turn around and give Annie a call—as much as she rightly hated him right now—when something caught his eye.
He lowered his phone. “Oh shit.”
Michael Reed was climbing the makeshift steps towards the top of the empty BetterLives building.
He was going right to the top.
Thirty-Eight
Brian knew he was in no fit state to start climbing to the top of a construction site. Fuck, was anybody in a fit state to start climbing to the top of a construction site?
But he couldn’t just stand here and watch as Michael Reed disappeared for good.
He saw Michael clambering up the side of the newly constructed building. It was the building that used to house the BetterLives offices, where Robert Luther ran his charity. Damn, the Nicola Watson case seemed so long ago. As tough a case as it had been, Brian wished he could be back to the simplicity of that case.
At least in that case, he didn’t have to consider climbing an unconstructed building to unearth the truth.
He looked around at the street. He heard people muttering, saw some of them pointing up at where Michael Reed was, others putting their hands over their mouths and gasping. He lifted his phone out of his pocket. He knew he needed to call this in. Not only was Michael trespassing, but he was a danger to himself. He could fall.
Or he could reach the top of that building and fall anyway.
There were only two ways he was coming down, and after Michael had held a knife to his neck, kicked him in the face, Brian wasn’t sure that police co-operation was at the top of his agenda.
He put his phone back into his pocket and swore under his breath.
He looked at the opening to the construction site that was the BetterLives building.
Then he looked up at Michael Reed as he ran up the rickety scaffolding leading right to the top of the 200-foot building.
Brian knew he was insane for considering this. He knew he was absolutely fucking mad.
But he had to get to Michael Reed before Michael did anything stupid.
He had to hear the truth from Michael.
“Fuck it.”
He hopped the fence in front of the BetterLives construction site and made his way inside the building.
When he was inside, he noticed just how silent it was. Water dripped and echoed somewhere beside him. There was a smell of cement mix in the air. It was strange, being inside this place. It felt like he was in a ghost town. But it also felt like he was totally detached from the outside world, which, in a way, was what he wanted.
He had to get to the top of this building.
He couldn’t let Michael Reed get away.
He ran over to the wooden panel that led to the next floor and jogged up it. He heard it creak under his feet. He knew it wasn’t the sturdiest of panels. After all, there were warning signs all around the place urging pedestrians to stay off this site. Brian had heard of a few incidents here in the news, too. Health and safety issues. Builders falling through flimsy floors. It seemed like the people who owned this building were trying to put it back together as quickly and as cheaply as possible.
Nice to know corruption was still the game where BetterLives’ old HQ was concerned.
Brian ran across the next floor. He made his way up another panel of wood, and another. With every floor he climbed, he saw more remnants of the old offices. He saw burned desks, black and charred. He saw old laptops, totally destroyed, but left in here to be removed by the construction team. It really was a ghost town. And the further Brian got towards the top, the more he remembered exactly what had happened in this building.
The fire.
Cassy’s death.
He shook his head and ran up more wooden panels. He didn’t want to remember what happened to Cassy right now. He couldn’t let it get to him. He had other things to focus—
The floor gave way under his right foot.
He hopped over the gap in the floor. He looked down. A hole had formed right where his foot had been. He saw rubble tumbling down the hole, through the floors below. Fuck. If he’d been a second later, he could’ve been falling down there too. It could’ve been him.
He caught his breath and climbed up another wooden panel. When he glanced to his right, he realised just how high he was now. He could see the waters of Preston Docks below, and Morrisons in the distance. He could see people standing around, too. Some of them were pointing up. He knew they were looking at him. And he knew he was in deep shit.
He turned to run up to the next floor when he saw Michael Reed standing right ahead of him.
Brian froze. Michael had his back to him, so Brian didn’t know whether he’d seen him.
Michael was standing at the edge of the building and staring out of the broken window at the view.
“Decent, isn’t it?” Michael said. “Never seen it from up here before.” He lifted his hand. “Look. You can see Blackpool Tower over there. Fucking mint.”
Brian walked slowly towards Michael. He wasn’t keen on how Michael had spoken to him. He sounded too calm. Like he’d lost his mind. The wind blew through that smashed window and covered Brian. He gripped onto the remains of a wall beside him and edged further across the creaky floor.
“Come on, Michael. It’s over. Let’s… let’s get down from here.”
Michael turned around. He smiled at Brian. There was a spark to his eyes now; a spark that convinced Brian that yeah, the guy had gone mad. “You want to get down without even knowing the truth?”
Brian swallowed a lump in his throat. He realised just how close to the edge Michael was, and just how close he was too. If Michael wanted to, he could jump. But he could also push Brian from the roof if he wanted to. It just depended on what kind of mood he was in. “I’d rather get down and then talk about—”
“You’re right.”
“What?”
Michael took a deep, shaky breath. “About Elaine. About—about everything you said before. You’re right. I did it.”
Brian dug his nails into his palms. He wanted to hear the actual words for himself. “You did what?”
Michael laughed. “You know what I did.”
“Michael, tell me. You did what?”
“I killed her, okay? I killed Elaine. I just… That’s it. That’s all you need to know. There’s nothing more to it.”
Michael’s voice was shaky. He sounded upset, more than anything. Pitiful.
“So just let me go now,” Michael said.
He dangled a foot over the edge of the open window frame.
“Michael, please.”
“There’s nothing else I can give you. I swear to God, that’s it.”
“Just come away from there. Please.”
Brian stepped closer.
This time, Michael turned around. “I told you the truth. I told you the fucking truth. What else do you want from me? What the fuck else do you…”