THE JAGGED LINE

by Carolyn Mahony

  They curled around a large, jagged rock.

  ‘See, bitch … not so sure of yourself now, are you?’ he taunted, his fingers grappling with her shirt buttons.

  With all her might, she crashed the rock into the side of his head.

  ‘Aagh …’

  He lurched sideways, the weight of his head collapsing onto her shoulder. She could feel the warm trickle of his blood on her neck … in her hair …

  She needed to get him off her so she could help Luke.

  She pushed as hard as she could, but already he seemed to be recovering from the blow, groaning groggily as he pulled himself upwards. A sudden crack in the night air stilled them both. Kirsty had never heard the sound before but knew straight away what it was. A gun.

  ‘Luke!’ she screamed.

  She scrabbled desperately to free herself from Bulldog’s grasp until the crash of his fist into her face sent her head flying backwards onto the ground.

  ‘There ain’t nothing you can do for him now, girl,’ he spat. ‘But you’ll be joining him soon enough. Don’t you worry.’

  She wasn’t unconscious, but all the fight seemed to go out of her, as she lay there dazed.

  Luke was dead. That was all she could think. Nothing else mattered.

  She could feel blood trickling into her mouth – the whole side of her face was throbbing from where he’d hit her. As his hands yanked at her clothing, it was as if all this was happening to someone else. She was too late. Luke was dead.

  And soon she would be, too.

  It took the disgusting feel of his mouth, wet and slimy, slobbering over hers again to kick her survival instincts back into action.

  Maybe he thought she was unconscious? She didn’t know, but he’d let go of her hands and now she was fighting back, lunging out to claw at his eyes and bring her knee up into his groin with all the force she could muster. She heard his roar of pain, felt him momentarily double over with the shock of it – but he was still on top of her and she couldn’t shift him. She saw him raise his fist again and swung her head to one side, closing her eyes as she waited for the punch.

  It never came.

  She heard a thud and for the second time in the space of five minutes, his head crashed onto her shoulder.

  Then, miraculously, he was being hauled off her and thrown to one side, and Luke was bending over her, pulling her into his arms cradling her as if he’d never let her go.

  ‘Oh God, Kirsty, are you okay?’

  ‘Luke?’ She clutched at him in disbelief, unable to accept this really was his solid form she was clinging onto. ‘You’re alive. But … the gun. I thought you were dead.’

  ‘So did I,’ he muttered into her hair. He held her tightly for a brief moment longer, then drew back and pulled her carefully to her feet.

  ‘You okay?’

  She nodded.

  Dragging some rope from his pocket, he turned his attention to the unconscious form of the man on the ground.

  ‘Luckily, our man in the van wasn’t quite the heartless brute he made himself out to be when it came to it,’ he said, yanking Bulldog’s arms behind his back and knotting the rope tightly. ‘He didn’t like it that this bastard had dragged you off like that. And when the other chap took me off to deal with, he followed us. I was staring down the barrel of a gun, literally – just waiting for him to stop messing with me and pull the trigger. Then I heard the shot. It must have taken me a full five seconds to realise that the bullet had whizzed past my head, not through it – and that I was still standing and the man with the gun wasn’t. The guy in the van had hit him from behind with a thick piece of branch. It caused the gun to go off but luckily it missed me. He knocked the guy out cold.’

  ‘Jesus, Luke.’

  ‘I know. He freed my hands, then called to his mates to get the hell out of there.’

  Luke hesitated. ‘I stopped him … gave him two hundred quid to get him to Leicester. I reckoned it was the least I could do.’

  On the ground, Bulldog gave a groan.

  The glow from the moon gave just enough light that they could make out his bulky form as he shifted on the ground.

  ‘What did you hit him with?’ Kirsty asked, eyeing him warily.

  Luke picked up a thick stump of branch that was lying on the ground. ‘This. It’s the same one our mate used on the other guy–’

  He broke off, the realisation that Monty was still out there hitting them both at the same time. Luke pulled something from his pocket and, to her horror, Kirsty realised it was a gun.

  ‘Luke, no!’

  ‘Ssh.’

  She suddenly became aware of how cold and dark it was and how exposed they still were. What if the man had more than one gun? What if even now he was pointing it in their direction ready to …?

  But as Luke cautiously started to retrace his steps, they heard the sound of an engine roaring into life and the screech of tyres as a vehicle sped swiftly and noisily out of the car park.

  Luke turned back to her and released a sigh. ‘Thank God for that. I don’t know about you, but I’ve definitely had enough excitement for one night.’

  He dug his foot into Bulldog’s ribs and rolled him over so they could see his face. ‘As for you, you’d better start praying that you get a heavy prison sentence out of all this, because if you don’t, I’ll have you for what you tried to do to my–’

  He broke off, suddenly turning to her in concern. ‘You are okay? He didn’t…?’

  She shuddered. ‘I’m fine.’ She put her hand to the side of her head, realising that she’d got a hell of a headache from where he’d hit her.

  ‘We need to get you looked at.’ Luke said.

  He reached into Bulldog’s pocket and pulled out his phone.

  ‘Don’t mind if I borrow this to call the cops, do you?’

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  ‘It’s good you’re taking a couple of days off, Harry – you look like you could do with it.’

  DCI Murray observed the torment on the other man’s face and glanced at the letter in his hand, before pushing it across the desk. ‘And take this back. For the time being let’s pretend I haven’t seen it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not going to change my mind.’

  ‘Harry, I don’t know what’s triggered this, but believe me, we all have second thoughts in this job.’

  ‘It’s more than that.’ Harry hesitated, but knew it was absolutely something he couldn’t share.

  ‘I can’t tell you the full reasons, but let’s just say I’ve had a personal conflict that I can’t reconcile with staying in the force. I’ve given it a lot of thought and it’s how I feel.’

  Murray’s shake of the head was dismissive, his voice exasperated. ‘And you think you’re alone in that? I’m not going to pry but you’re good at your job and you’ve got a great career ahead of you. Don’t throw it away. We need people like you.’

  ‘I appreciate you saying that–’

  ‘I’m saying it because it’s true, man. Take the damn letter away and at least think on it some more.’

  Harry hated his weakness for taking the letter back, even though he knew he wouldn’t be changing his mind. He’d condoned an illegal action of the most serious kind, had even concealed the evidence and protected the perpetrator. There was no reconciling that.

  ‘Now – how are you getting on with the Burman case?’

  ‘He’s finally talked. I think when he realised he was the only one that wasn’t singing like a canary he gave up the ghost. He’s admitted to being involved in the deaths of Dominic Cartwright and Paul Copeland, although he says it wasn’t him who killed them. Flint and his sidekick were apparently responsible for that, although they’re claiming they were only doing it under his orders, which seems more than likely. That also corroborates what Kirsty Cartwright and Luke Talbot said – that it was Tim Burman who was in charge and gave the orders. He’s still refusing to tell us the names of the people on the other side of the Channel, though
– and I don’t think he ever will. I reckon he’s too scared. They all seem to believe they’ll be safer in jail than they would be out on the streets now.’

  ‘With reason, I suspect. It’s an ugly business and it’s getting worse. Interpol reckon it’s a huge ring we’ve strayed into, with very dangerous people at the head of it. It’s already been taken out of our hands and I’m not sorry about that.’

  ‘The really interesting one is Simon Jordan. We’ve tracked his phone records and they show he did speak to Dominic Cartwright the morning he was killed. Shortly after that he rang Tim Burman and then called Cartwright back, presumably to arrange to meet up with him at the pub. His story is that Cartwright never turned up – Burman saw to that – but he claims to have no knowledge that Burman was going to have him killed. I tend to believe him on that – and when he says he didn’t realise what he was getting into with the people smuggling stuff. We can also definitely put his name to five sex crimes in this area over the last eighteen months. We found a man’s blond wig and brown contact lenses in his Whetstone flat, which tie in with the witness descriptions and the CCTV we’ve got. The evidence on his computer is damning. I gave him one concession in return for his information – that we’d try to make sure he didn’t end up in the same prison as Burman. He jumped at it.’

  ‘Well, I can tell you we’re top of the favourites list at HQ at the moment with regard the study they’ve been conducting – one of the lower areas of sex-related crimes, apparently, and we’ve cleared up a biggie to boot. Another reason why you’d be an idiot to leave. Your name’s been noted. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a promotion in line for you after all this.’

  Harry stood up. That piece of information would have wowed him a few days ago. Now it fell on stony ground.

  ‘I’ll do what you say and think about it while I’m off – but I can’t see me changing my mind.’

  ‘What about Paul Copeland’s girlfriend? Has anyone filled her in?’

  ‘Beth went round to see her. She’s confirmed something else Simon Jordan admitted to. Apparently they paid her off to move out of the flat, under Burman’s orders, in case she said too much about Paul trying to blackmail them. She was probably lucky to get away with her life, at the rate Tim Burman seems to dispose of people.’

  ‘Lucky escape, then. Well, make the most of your time off – and think carefully about what you’re going to do next.’

  Outside in the open-plan office, Harry looked around for Beth. She was sitting at her computer.

  ‘Guess what?’ she said as he walked over to her. ‘Remember that partial footprint they got near Copeland’s body? It’s a match to Arthur Flint’s trainer – another piece of the puzzle sorted.’

  ‘Great. Fancy a coffee before I go?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. I’ll get them from the machine.’

  ‘No, let’s go to Nero’s or somewhere and grab an early lunch. My treat before I head off home.’

  They were early enough that the coffee bar wasn’t too crowded, and once they were seated Harry looked at Beth over his panini.

  ‘I keep meaning to ask how things are going with your grandparents? When are you meeting the other members of your family?’

  ‘We’re meant to be meeting up in a couple of weeks’ time, except I’ve just realised–’ She broke off.

  ‘What?’

  Beth was silent for a moment, then she shrugged. ‘I usually go home on the 29th of November and visit the crematorium. It’s the day my boyfriend and Briony died.’

  Harry’s eyebrow moved up in surprise, but he was careful to keep his expression fairly neutral. He knew Beth well enough by now to proceed warily. ‘You told me about your boyfriend, but … who was Briony?’

  ‘She was my best friend.’

  ‘God, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather not?’

  Beth hesitated. Then she said quietly, ‘I never really knew the full story. She suffered from depression and one day I think it all just got too much for her. She phoned me to say her life was a mess. She was standing on the edge of Berwick Cliffs. I knew I couldn’t get to her quickly, but Andy was working in North Berwick so I rang him. They think the cliff crumbled and they both fell while he was trying to talk her down. I should never have called him. It’s my fault he died.’

  ‘Hey.’ Harry’s voice was soft. ‘That was shit luck, but you can’t blame yourself. Anyone would have done the same in your shoes.’

  ‘Would they?’

  ‘Yes – and how do you think you’d have lived with yourself if you hadn’t called him, knowing he was nearby and could maybe have saved her? The fact that the cliff gave way …’ He shook his head. ‘That was just rotten luck, and we more than most see how randomly death can strike in this job.’

  She sighed. ‘It was seven years ago, but Andy’s still as much in my head now as he was back then. He turned my life around. Showed me there was another way to the stupid, petty criminal life I was leading, running errands for my druggy family. You look shocked, but that’s what I was like as a teenager. It would only have been a question of time before I was picked up by the police and got myself a record. Andy was honest and decent. I felt like I’d been given another chance when I met him. We were only together less than two years but we both knew straight away it was right. Does that sound stupid?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you ever felt that way about someone?’

  ‘Nope. Never.’

  ‘So maybe it’s not that unusual that I’ve not been interested in another man since then? I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me.’ She gave a half-smile.

  ‘Sounds like he’d be a hard act to follow.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, that’s enough about me. Are you okay? About your gran, I mean? I haven’t really had the chance to say I was sorry to hear that.’

  ‘It was expected.’

  ‘I know. But it’s still a shock.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When’s the funeral?’

  ‘My parents are firming it up today. End of next week, hopefully.’

  ‘Does it feel weird, them coming in and taking over?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘Not really. She was Mum’s mother, after all.’

  In truth he felt relieved, more distanced from it all. As if he could somehow forget that someone had helped end her life and he’d been complicit in it.

  ‘Yeah, but you’re the one she loved.’

  Harry thought about the will that had been unearthed last night and guessed that was true. She’d left him her house and fifty thousand pounds, and only a small legacy to his parents. His mother had been hurt, he knew, but she’d been philosophical about it.

  ‘It doesn’t really surprise me,’ she’d said. ‘You always were the apple of her eye. I know she was more of a mother to you than I ever was.’

  Beth seemed to be watching the emotions that were flitting across his face. ‘Sure you’re alright?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You were lucky to have the relationship you had with your gran, you know – take that from someone who’s never had that with any of her family. You were always there for her and she died knowing that. She couldn’t have asked for more.’

  A smile crossed Harry’s face and with it came a sense of peace. She was right. He’d helped fulfil his grandmother’s wishes in the end, even if he hadn’t actually been the one to instigate them. And she’d be nothing but grateful to him for that. He could almost hear her saying it. You did good, boy.’

  He was glad he hadn’t let her down.

  He put his cup down and looked at Beth. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Now … before I head off on leave, there are a couple of things I could do with you finishing up on? I promised the Lazards that someone would go and see them – tell them formally that they’re off the hook and fill them in. I’ve also made a note of a few things I’d like you to follow in my absence. We need to pull as much information on Burman’s activities as
we can for the Border Force & Immigration people. So if you can get a file together?’

  Sure thing.’ Beth grinned. ‘I can grab myself some kudos riding on the back of Golden Balls. You know that’s what they’re calling you at the moment?’

  Harry shook his head and grimaced. ‘Really? Ugh – that’s crass.’

  Just for a moment, he was tempted to confide in her. Tell her what he was considering and why. He felt he could trust her, that she wouldn’t judge him if he told all. But he kept his counsel. What would he achieve? And it wouldn’t be right putting that on her – dragging her into it by association. This was a decision that he and he alone needed to make – arguably the biggest decision of his life. No one else could do it for him.

  He looked at his watch.

  ‘You know what? Maybe I’ll come with you to see the Lazards – we could do it now. If you take your own car we can head off in opposite directions afterwards.’

  It was just a delaying tactic. He was meeting up with Claire this afternoon. She’d phoned him three times over the last couple of days since his grandmother had died and he hadn’t picked up. Finally he’d texted her and they’d agreed to meet at her house. He still didn’t know what he was going to say – he knew he couldn’t stay silent. He had feelings for Claire. He hoped – if it had been her – that she could convince him that what she’d done was justifiable … right even. But he couldn’t see it. And how could he even think about entering a relationship that was starting off on a footing like that? It bothered him that she’d left the pill bottles where he’d find them – why hadn’t she just left them in the cupboard? Or taken them with her? Was it because she wanted him to know what she’d done, because she’d done it for him – or maybe to implicate him through his inactivity? If so, she’d taken a risk. Who was he to say he wouldn’t have reported her? Wouldn’t still report her?

  He almost laughed out loud at that thought. Who was he kidding? That was never going to happen, and they both knew it.

  That was why he had no choice but to resign.