The Edge

by Chris Simms

  ‘In a second,’ Rick replied. ‘Why did he name Flynn after a

  Power Ranger?’

  ‘Who’s Flynn?’

  ‘He lives in Haverdale. The one who . . .’ Rick stopped, suddenly realising Zoe wouldn’t realise Flynn could well have murdered Dave. ‘The one Dave was involved with.’

  ‘He never mentioned any Flynn to me.’

  Rick was trying to link the scraps of information together.

  ‘Dave sold a bit of weed to him. He went back to the guy’s place one time.’

  ‘Him? He’s just some loser Dave got stoned with. He’s not

  Red Dino.’ Sluggishly, she started to get up.

  ‘Zoe, if Flynn’s not Red Dino, who is?’

  She raised herself to her feet and, swaying slightly, looked at him. ‘The ranger, of course.’

  ‘The who?’

  She waved a hand as she started for the kitchen. ‘The ranger! He knows all about the area. Dave spoke to him about the map – wanted to show it to him.’

  He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she bent over the table, took a cigarette from the packet there and lit up. ‘I told him don’t be so fucking stupid. So he described it to the ranger. Said he’d split the money with him if this guy knew which hill the prof meant.’

  ‘You mean a park ranger? Red Dino is a park ranger?’

  ‘Yes! Young guy. He was meeting Dave out on the hill.’

  Oh my God, Rick thought. Jon’s been after the wrong man. He turned into the front room, yanked his mobile out and called Jon’s number.

  Thirty Three

  Against Jon’s palm, the millstone grit felt like sandpaper made for a giant. He pictured the boulders in the darkness far below and shuddered to think what hitting them from this height would do to a man’s body.

  Keeping one hand pressed against the pillar, he leaned out and looked down. Blackness, unbroken by the glow of any torch. Somewhere far beneath, a sheep bleated, anguished and alone. Warm air was flowing up over the cliff edge, washing against Jon’s face like the sigh from a weak oven. Stepping back, he was surprised to see Lumm hovering directly behind him.

  There was a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead. He licked his lips. The bloke is shitting himself, Jon thought. He looked at the other man for a brief second longer, wondering why he was so strung-out. ‘Can’t see a thing,’ he breathed. ‘It’s a bloody long way down, though.’

  Lumm retreated a step. ‘I know, I can’t stand heights. I’ll let you do the looking.’

  ‘OK. Maybe further along?’

  He glanced uncertainly off to his right. ‘Could be. There’s a big outcrop over there. The deer sometimes huddle behind it.’ Jon walked along for about thirty metres, Lumm like a shadow behind him. ‘About here?’ The park ranger nodded.

  As Jon started inching towards the drop, his phone went off, the succession of notes muffled in his pocket. Jesus! He stepped back, grappling for the handset. The fastest way to shut the noise off in the dark was to flip the lid and take the call. His eyes caught on the screen. Fucking Rick. ‘I’ll call you back,’ Jon hissed.

  ‘It wasn’t Flynn! Redino is a park ranger!’

  Jon cupped his hand over the phone. ‘You what?’

  ‘Redino isn’t Flynn. He’s a park ranger! A young guy – that’s who Dave was meeting!’

  The hairs on Jon’s neck suddenly bristled and he lowered his chin to his chest. By looking slightly to the side, he saw Lumm’s hiking boots as the other man crept silently up behind him.

  ‘Can you hear me, Jon!’

  He registered the make: Timberland. The make of shoe Nikki had identified. One gave the tiniest of creaks and Jon knew Lumm’s knees were flexing as he steadied himself for the shove. The cliff was less than four feet in front of him and beyond that only darkness yawned. He let his own legs buckle, hunching forward and trying to drop his weight to the ground as fast as possible. As he collapsed, he felt one of Lumm’s palms glance off his back and the other man gave a grunt of surprise as he stumbled forward.

  Jon felt the welcome sensation of solid rock against his hips and side. He twisted, reached up with both arms, closed his fingers on the belt around Lumm’s trousers and pulled. A foot came down on his stomach and another on his face as, gasping, the ranger tried to regain his balance.

  Keeping his grip, Jon yanked the other man over him and he heard a cry of terror as Lumm landed on the cliff edge. A clatter as the torch hit stone, beam coming on and sweeping across the scene before it rolled over the edge. Jon saw they were now lying side by side, Lumm’s waist level with his head. He felt the tug on his arms suddenly increase and immediately he knew it was only his grip preventing the other man from plunging to the boulders below.

  Lumm’s breath was coming out in a series of whimpers and a hand flailed about, scrabbling for a moment at Jon’s head, trying to grasp a handful of non-existent hair before moving onto the stone surface. Jon angled his torso back, forearms now straining as he thought about uncurling his fingers. But the sensation of his fist slamming into the man’s head all those months ago suddenly returned. He’d watched as the burning figure had then crumpled into the turf, and he knew the memory of what he’d done would haunt him to the grave.

  ‘Do not move.’ He gave a quick yank, letting Lumm know his life depended on doing what he was told. ‘I said, do not move.’

  Lumm’s hand stopped thrashing about.

  Next to his head, Jon could hear a tinny shouting. ‘Jon! Jon! Are you there? For fuck’s sake, answer me!’

  He tipped his head to the side, saw the bluish glow of his mobile’s screen and smiled. ‘Got him.’ He began to laugh. ‘I’ve got him!’

  Thirty Four

  Jon took the concrete stairs three at a time, bounding up flight after flight, images of Alice’s face and snatches of their last conversation swirling in his head. He turned back on himself and climbed ever upward, the need to make sure his nephew was OK the only thing driving his tired legs on. Then he could finally go home to Alice.

  He reached the eleventh floor and emerged onto the walkway which linked the flats on that level. Five doors covered by metal grilles separated him from Rick, who was standing with a broad grin on his face.

  Jon felt his own features light up as he walked breathlessly towards his partner. Rick’s hand was half raised, ready to slap palms but Jon’s sense of gratitude was far too strong for such a gesture. He marched up to Rick, clamped both arms around him and squeezed.

  Rick’s hand began slapping him on the back. ‘You did it, mate. God knows how, but you did it.’

  Jon stepped back as a wave of sadness washed through him. You got Dave’s killer, he told himself. At least give yourself that. ‘He’s confessed to the lot.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Everything. Dealing drugs, killing Dave, he blurted the lot – and on tape.’

  ‘Was he really right behind you when I rang?’

  Raising a thumb and forefinger, Jon gave a nod. ‘This far. This far from shoving me off that cliff.’ He glanced over the side of the balcony to the courtyard far below. ‘The drop was nearly as nasty as this one.’

  Rick blew air through his lips. ‘We were lucky.’

  Jon immediately waved a finger. ‘No, I was lucky – because you pulled out all the stops. I will never forget what I owe you, understand? Never.’

  His partner’s hands went up. ‘Easy, it was only a phone call.’

  ‘Only a phone call, my arse,’ Jon muttered. ‘It was a fuck of a lot more than that.’ He glanced at the flat’s half-open front door.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  He looked back at Rick. ‘Who?’

  ‘The park ranger.’

  ‘Lumm? I took him to Haverdale nick. Got the duty sergeant to drag Mallin out of bed. Him and the rest of them were eating shit pie when I left. The only one who deserved to hold her head up was the Asian lass, Shazia. I told her so when we got the chance for a quiet word.’ He looked at Zoe
’s flat once again, and as he took a step towards it, felt Rick’s hand on his upper arm.

  ‘Hang on. She’s in a bad way.’

  ‘So would I be. She’s had a heck of a lot to cope with these last few days.’

  ‘No, Jon. It’s worse than that. She’s had a lot to cope with all her life.’

  Jon turned to him, eyebrows raised.

  Rick sighed. ‘If what she’s told me is true, she’s been in care homes since turning fifteen. Pimped out by a string of older so-called boyfriends ever since. Drugs, the lot.’

  ‘You mean Dave was . . .’

  ‘Christ, no. Your brother lifted her out of it. Got her off drugs somehow, kept the pimps away from her. But she’s slipped back.’

  ‘But there’s the kid. She’s got a kid, now.’ He stepped forward again.

  Rick’s hand held him back. ‘She’s on heroin again, Jon. This fucking scumbag called Salvio gave her some, along with the copy of the Chronicle covering Dave’s death.’

  Jon raised his eyes, past the last few floors of the tower block to the square of night sky above him. ‘And the boy?’

  Rick’s nostrils flared. ‘Ah, shit. I took him to hospital earlier on. He’s got a severe case of bronchiolitis. They want to keep him in for a while.’

  ‘Is he going to be OK?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s a little thing, mate. Frail. He’ll always be prone to health problems, according to the paediatrician who checked him over.’

  ‘Always? How can they tell?’

  Rick looked briefly toward the flat. ‘Zoe uses smack—’

  ‘He’s a heroin baby?’

  His partner met his eyes. ‘Yes. He has immature lungs, probably was born prematurely. Like I said, he’s just a little mite. Half the size of Holly.’

  Holly. Jon wiped his fingers across his brow and felt the grazes on his skin. He looked down at himself. Dirty trousers, ripped at the knee. Badly scuffed shoes, buttons missing from his shirt. The smell of sweat. Fine fucking dad, you are. He wiped his hands down the front of his shirt, as if his daughter was there in front of him, asking to be picked up. Christ, Holly, I miss you. He looked at the flat once again. ‘And you were the one to get him to hospital. Because she was too off her head?’

  Rick held up a hand. ‘She was trying to get help. But finding out about Dave . . .’ He shook his head. ‘She’s a right mess.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The kid. My nephew.’

  ‘Jake.’

  ‘Jake?’ A faint smile played on his lips. ‘I like it. What’s she doing now?’

  ‘She’s in bed, but I doubt she’s asleep. She’s been smoking that stuff most of the night.’

  Jon closed his eyes, the elation of having caught Lumm rapidly fading. ‘I need a brew.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll make you one.’

  They walked into the flat, Rick leading him down the bare corridor to the front room. Jon took in the shabby sofa, naked walls and meagre amounts of kids’ toys. Oh no, he thought, social services will have to get involved here. And that probably means the kid going straight from hospital into care, and whatever slim chance he has in life disappearing.

  He went over to the window and looked out. The shade of sky was altering, taller buildings just visible against the horizon. A trickle of traffic was moving along Trinity Way directly below. Night-shift workers returning home, the first commuters heading into deserted offices. Jon flexed his neck from side to side. Another night of no sleep.

  ‘Sugar?’ Rick’s voice had come from the kitchen.

  ‘Yeah, one. No, make it two. Cheers.’ He stepped through and looked at the blackened squares of foil next to the ashtray.

  Rick placed the mugs on the table and sat down. ‘I don’t understand why the ranger did it.’

  Jon slid out a chair, feeling his mood darken. He took a cigarette from the open pack on the table and lit up. ‘You mean, kill Dave?’

  Rick nodded.

  Jon blew smoke at the ripple-effect plaster above him. ‘Some poxy misunderstanding. Lumm was supplying Haverdale with all its drugs – letting Flynn do the actual dealing.’

  ‘Where was Lumm getting it from?’

  ‘An old school mate. They were in the same class at Haverdale High. Only the other kids’ parents moved to Manchester when he was sixteen, so he ended up at a new school near Failsworth.’

  ‘OK. But Dave wasn’t a threat, surely? He was only there on that ridiculous scheme to find buried treasure.’

  ‘Correct. I told you how he got trashed with Flynn one time, and the poacher persuaded Dave to sell him a bit of grass?’

  Rick nodded.

  ‘Lumm got wind of it and saw it as the thin end of the wedge. Competition on his patch and all that shit.’

  ‘That’s what it all boiled down to? Christ.’ Rick looked away.

  ‘You know, there were times during all this that I doubted what

  Dave was up to out there. I’m sorry.’

  Jon stared at him for a second, then shrugged. ‘Don’t worry. I had the odd wobble myself, to be honest.’

  Rick’s features relaxed, before a frown appeared. ‘So Lumm just kills him in cold blood?’

  ‘And Flynn. His remains are at the bottom of some pothole, apparently. All to protect his precious mother, he claims. You should have heard him in the interview room. As if that justified killing people and fucking up an entire town: just providing for little old mum.’

  ‘How sweet.’

  ‘Sad thing is, the old dear will end up in a council home, now. Proceeds of Crime Act. All Flynn’s assets will be seized, ruining his plans to build her a flat. He wailed like a child when I told him.’

  ‘And was there ever any map?’

  Jon tapped ash from his cigarette. Craig Budd’s description of seeing the two men studying a piece of paper on the adjacent hilltop coming back to him. God, I hope Stuart’s OK. ‘If there was, I reckon it went up in the incinerator.’

  ‘We could try and locate the guy who sold it to your brother.’

  ‘I suppose. My bet is it was just a rip-off.’ He ground out the cigarette. ‘Tell me about Zoe.’

  ‘The whole scheme about the treasure was Dave’s attempt to get them out of all this. He borrowed money from this Salvio character to buy the map.’

  Jon almost crashed a fist down on the table. Why didn’t he come to me? He had my bloody number. ‘Salvio being a pimp?’

  ‘Yes. You know how I said Zoe was trying to get help? She gave Jake’s prescription to Salvio, who promised to get the medication Jake needed. The lowlife showed up earlier on. He had a punter with him, but no medicine. He couldn’t have given a shit.’

  ‘And he’s the one who’s got her back on this?’ Jon shoved the pieces of foil away from him, revulsion and anger rising in his chest. ‘And he’s bringing punters here, knowing there’s a little kid in the flat? You saw him, right? We can find this bastard?’

  ‘What? You don’t mean right now?’

  ‘No, not now. Jesus, if I got my hands on him now, I’d probably regret it.’

  Rick sat back. ‘Thank God for that.’

  Jon watched as something occurred to make his partner’s face tense up again. Rick crooked a finger and brushed a knuckle across the tip of his nose. ‘I tried calling Alice earlier today. She said she couldn’t speak; practically put the phone down on me. Is everything OK?’

  Jon’s eyes dropped to the table. Is everything OK? He picked up his tea and took a sip. ‘I’m praying she isn’t kicking me out.’

  ‘Kicking you out?’ Incredulity filled Rick’s voice. ‘She was worried about you, not annoyed.’

  ‘No. Buchanon called her. She found out the truth.’

  ‘Oh, bollocks.’ His eyes cut to the side. ‘And me?’

  Jon waved a hand. ‘I’ll take the blame for that.’ He rubbed at his temples with the heels of his hands. ‘There’s more. We had some bad news.’

  ‘Meaning?’

&nb
sp; He tried to blink away the sensation prickling at his lower eyelids. ‘We lost the baby. A miscarriage.’

  ‘Oh, no. When?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  Rick slumped forward in his seat. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Pretty bad.’ He lowered his hands. ‘I wasn’t even there, Rick. That’s the worst thing.’

  Rick flipped a palm to show he didn’t understand.

  ‘You tried to remind me about the scan, didn’t you? I was up in the Lake District. Totally fucking forgot.’

  ‘You weren’t with her at the hospital when she lost the baby?’

  ‘I know, I know – I’m a useless twat.’

  ‘Jon, I cannot believe—’

  ‘You won’t make me feel any worse.’

  ‘I’m not talking about the scan! Fuck’s sake, Jon. What are you doing here!’

  ‘I just wanted to find out . . .’ He stammered, looking towards the corridor. ‘I wanted to make sure the little fellow . . .’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Jon.’ Anger filled Rick’s voice. ‘This all could have waited. Get home, you bloody idiot!’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he replied, getting to his feet. ‘I promised her I’d be home by dawn.’

  ‘Dawn? It practically is fucking—’

  ‘Zoe!’

  Rick’s eyes locked on Jon’s.

  ‘You in here, Zoe? The door was open, babe.’

  Jon saw the blood drain from his partner’s face and realisation dawned. ‘That’s Salvio?’

  Rick tried to get up, reaching across the table as he did so.

  ‘Wait.’

  The veins in Jon’s temples snapped tight. All the shit – Dave’s death, my mum and dad’s grief, my lost baby and Alice’s pain – all the shit and now here is this scum, within my reach. The fury surged through him, searching for a release.

  Brushing Rick’s hand away, he strode through the front room to the corridor. A man was halfway down, shiny leather coat hanging to his knees, black hair tied back in a ponytail.

  ‘Who the fuck are you? Where’s the other guy?’ Jon heard Rick’s footsteps behind him.

  Salvio spread his palms. ‘Hey, hey, hey! I never said two of you. That, my friend, is extra.’

  Jon kept walking.