by P L Kane
Nothing as sad as this, though. Not if it was true.
It couldn’t be. Just couldn’t …
Even as he was getting out of the car, another door was opening. The front door he’d entered through and exited from so many times; once permanently. It wasn’t Julie standing there, however, it was Mathew Newcomb. A blast from the past, an old mate he hadn’t seen in …
A policeman.
That was when he knew for sure, when the lump and the fist became permanent additions.
That was when he knew it was his little girl they’d found dead in the market square last night.
Chapter 3
The darkness was his friend tonight, he welcomed it.
That was one of the reasons Jake was sitting with the lights off, hadn’t bothered to even turn them on when he crashed in through the door. There was still enough light coming in from the window to see, to make his way to the edge of the bed, casting off his jacket as he went. He’d thought about one of the chairs, but reasoned – while he was still capable of doing so – that he would end up on the bed at some point anyway. Sooner rather than later, he hoped; he’d put the whole of this wretched day behind him and wake up the next morning to find it had all been some horrible nightmare. An anxiety dream, didn’t they call them?
Jake took another swig from the full bottle of whiskey he’d opened back in the corridor, pulling it from its plastic bag and ignoring the filthy looks some of the other people staying in the hotel were giving him. A place that hadn’t even been there when he was young, back before he and Jules had …
That was why he needed the darkness, because unlike those memories, unlike the past – dulled by time, by heartache – the ones from today were so, so bright. Like they’d been seared into his brain, would probably never, ever fade. And they hurt. By Christ, did they hurt, worse than anything physical he’d ever endured. These were wounds that wouldn’t, couldn’t ever heal as far as he could see.
And now, in spite of the way he was working his way down that bottle – having already been in the hotel bar the last few hours – those memories were playing out in front of him like a projector throwing out images on the cinema screen. Or a home cinema, like he had back at his own place: hi-def, the sound crystal clear. Maybe it helped to think of all this as a movie … No, he decided, shaking his head and almost falling off the end of the bed, it didn’t help at all.
That was still Matt, his old friend, now a copper, waiting for him when he pulled up outside his old home. Not some character in a script, not an actor playing a part, but his actual best buddy. Waiting there in the doorway to confirm his worst fears. That there hadn’t been some kind of mistake, a mix-up; you heard about those all the time in cases like this. Mistaken identity, people getting the wrong end of the stick. Families suing because of the trauma of getting it wrong.
But no. Matt’s face said it all. He knew this particular family, knew Jordan as well. He wouldn’t be putting them through this if there wasn’t just cause.
Jake couldn’t remember getting out of the car, or even closing the door again, locking it – that didn’t matter anyway, not in the great scheme of things – but suddenly he was at the door with Matt, who was just shaking his head. Didn’t have the words, clearly.
So Matt was stepping aside instead, letting Jake pass through. It felt weird to be back, and if this really had been a film he was directing or something, he would have noted how the carpets had changed; the wallpaper and pictures, photographs hanging from those walls. All reflecting how things had moved on, how it was no longer a place he shared with—
Suddenly there she was, in the living room: the woman he’d spent so many years with. The love of his life, he would have said at one time – still was, probably, there’d been no one else who’d been serious since her anyway. She was rising, albeit shakily, getting up off the couch. He was aware of someone else in the room, another woman standing, Matt saying something behind him, maybe trying to introduce her, something about liaising? Jake wasn’t really listening, because all he could see and hear was Jules.
Standing there, as striking as he remembered her with that auburn hair falling about her shoulders. Those freckles on cheeks that were still wet with tears, reminding him again why he was here. Her green eyes doing the same, moist, cloudy; looked like they could barely focus on him. Yet she knew who he was, instantly, just as he had when he walked in. There had always been that unspoken connection between them, they could always tell when the other one was nearby.
If he’d needed any more proof that she recognised him, she provided it by saying his name, though it came out as more of a squeak than anything; a noise that would have been comedic in any other circumstances. ‘Jake … Oh, Jake.’
She was shaking her head as well, just as he was back in that hotel again now – mirroring her actions, playing them out with her. Jake drank deeply from the bottle and watched as more of it unfolded, as he was about to go to her. About to take her in his arms and try to comfort her, if that was at all possible, drawn by that look on her face he’d seen many times before (not least when she’d told him she was pregnant), scared and in desperate need of a hug.
But then realising that there was yet another person in the room with them, someone who’d come through from the kitchen or even upstairs; yes, the sound of a toilet flush. Someone who’d shoved past Matt and caused Jake to start. Someone who’d skirted around this newcomer in his house. Who was stepping between them, ensuring that Jake could not reach Julie. Someone snaking a hand around her waist, not to try and tell her that it would all be okay, but telling everyone else that this woman was his property … that’s very much how Jake saw it, anyway.
The action made him feel physically sick and his eyes flicked away, coming to rest on another new addition to the décor of this house: their wedding photograph, Julie and Greg Allaway, the happy fucking couple. About two stone lighter in that, there was a meanness to the man’s face even back then. Jake had to ask himself again, as he did when he first heard the news: what the hell had Julie been thinking? And the answer, not that it was anything to do with him anymore, was that Greg had been there for her when Jake had not. But he also knew that in times of stress, people act hastily, act without thinking, and he had to wonder whether she regretted her decision now.
Especially when he forced himself to look back at them again, Greg still holding her in a vice-like grip. Her pleading face.
Jake steeled himself, then replied to her, his name still hanging in the air. ‘Jules. Is it …?’
She closed her eyes, squeezing more tears out, and nodded. His ex-wife also leaned in more closely to Greg, though whether that was because he was pulling her in Jake couldn’t tell.
‘It can’t be,’ said Jake, a part of him still unwilling to believe it. ‘What … what happened?’ He knew the broad strokes, though he’d had trouble taking them in over the phone. Jordan found on the market square, stabbed in the chest.
Dead.
That was when he was aware of Matt behind him again, moving into the room and joining his colleague … Linda something? Had that been her name? Everyone was standing now in that room, everyone paired up – except him.
‘All I can tell you at this time is that we have someone in custody who was fleeing the scene. Jordan’s boyfriend.’
‘Her what?’ Jake shook his head. ‘She had a new … I didn’t know.’ There had been a couple of guys she’d mentioned the last time they talked, but then there always were. Always had been. But nobody serious that Jake was aware of. Nobody she’d put that label on.
‘Why would you?’ This was Greg, grunting out the words.
Jake ignored him. ‘And … and he did this? Why?’
Matt shrugged. ‘We don’t know yet. He claims he didn’t do it, but …’
‘I … What was she even doing with this bloke, if he was … What was she doing out at all, at that time of night?’ It was a general question, speaking out loud, but without thinking he directed i
t towards Julie.
Then he saw it, the strength there as her face changed, as she straightened up and dried her tears with the back of her hand. Saw the feistiness that had been so attractive once, but could be lethal if you were on the wrong end of it – as he so often was towards the end. ‘What was she doing out? She was nearly 21 for heaven’s sake! Jordan could come and go as she pleased, she had her key.’ Twenty-one, key to the door and all that, though Jake knew she’d had one of those for a long, long time. She had been an adult, or acted like one anyway, for a good while. ‘And we don’t vet who she sees, Jake!’
‘Maybe you should have.’ The reply was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it, a knee-jerk reaction.
‘Maybe you should keep your big mouth shut.’ Greg again, letting his wife go and moving forwards. In spite of himself, Jake was doing the same, teeth gritted. He needed someone to take all this out on; it might as well be the twat in front of him. His fists were already clenched, and now he couldn’t see anyone else apart from Greg.
Not even Matt, as he stepped between the two men and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. It wasn’t a tight grip, but there was strength there as well – enough to stop Jake and Greg in their tracks. ‘Maybe you should both calm down,’ he suggested.
Jake looked from Matt to Greg, and then gave a nod. He backed off, but it was a moment or two before his opposite number did the same, shrugging off Matt’s hand. It was only then that Jake glanced over at Julie again. She was looking daggers at the pair of them, didn’t need anyone to fight her battles for her. When she said her next words, she held Jake’s gaze and didn’t blink. ‘This wasn’t my fault,’ she said simply.
He sighed, and even after everything, he couldn’t help himself. Jake said, ‘No, it’s ours.’
She looked away, drawing in a breath and trying not to cry again. Trying not to let him see that she was crying. Love, hate. Two sides of the same coin.
‘Again, not really helping,’ Matt whispered to Jake.
He’d like to know what would at that precise moment in time.
There was silence for a few long minutes, then Linda suggested they all sit down again. Maybe have some more tea? But nobody did either of those things. In the end it was Matt who spoke again, breaking that silence which felt like it had gone on forever.
‘I hate to bring this up, but it’s probably as good a time as any.’ He paused before continuing, as if realising there would never be a ‘good’ time for whatever this was. He took in each of their faces one by one, putting off what he was about to say next. ‘There’s … folks, there’s still the matter of a formal identification.’
Julie let out a small wail at this, while Greg just stared at Matt. Jake frowned, processing the information, and then realised this was actually good news. If they hadn’t made an identification yet, didn’t that mean there was a chance – however slim – that it could still be someone else? Someone else’s kid? Once more, as he had done on the journey here, he felt that guilt at thinking such a thing. ‘I can do it,’ he said, eager to put this whole nonsense to bed. So he could take a look for himself and prove that it wasn’t Jordan.
Julie was gaping at him, probably wondering why he was in such a rush to see the dead girl, but he couldn’t explain it right there and then. That might ruin the hope building again inside, particularly if Matt was to say to them: ‘It’s just a formality, we’re 99 per cent sure it’s her.’ He couldn’t afford to hear that right now. Didn’t want to hear anything that might ruin the fantasy.
‘There you go, then,’ said Greg.
Julie was facing her husband now, still staring. ‘What?’
‘Let him do it, love. No need for you to get any more upset.’
‘Get any more …’ She couldn’t finish her sentence, Julie’s mouth was hanging open.
Greg obviously realised he’d said something wrong, but couldn’t figure out quite what. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘It’s okay, Jules … Julie,’ said Jake. ‘I’ve got this.’
She shook her head, first at Greg, then Jake. ‘W-We should both do that. Together.’
‘Julie,’ Greg said; it sounded more like a warning than anything. She flashed him another look that told him she was doing this, no matter what.
‘Okay,’ said Jake. In his own way he’d been trying to spare her the pain of this, if it did turn out to be Jordan – but she had the right to come along. More right than him, if anything.
Greg sighed. ‘Right, fine. Well, I’ll come too.’
‘Actually …’ It was Matt this time, chipping in. ‘It might be better if this was just family.’ Jake could see Greg was going to say something, going to point out that he was family, when Matt added, ‘Immediate family.’
Jake didn’t know whether those were actually the regulations – he didn’t think they were; not judging from the way the liaison woman’s eyebrows were raised – or Matt was just trying to avoid more trouble at the hospital, though it might cause trouble for Julie later on …
‘We can drive them,’ Matt said finally. No, thought Jake, it’s just that he hates this bloke as much as I do. Who could blame him?
Greg sighed again, though it came out more like a snort. ‘Right. Well, I suppose I’ll head off to work after all. If I’m not needed anymore.’ He looked to Julie and she didn’t say anything. This probably would all come back on her later, but Jake had to admit he was glad Greg wouldn’t be tagging along. ‘I’ll go and make sure they haven’t burned down the factory.’
Made it sound like he owned the bloody place, rather than just being an ‘operative’ as they called it at GWR Plastics just outside of town. Not that he could talk, Jake had worked his fair share of crappy jobs to help keep his family together back when they still were his family. A family that had included his wife and …
Julie still didn’t answer, just folded her arms.
‘Off to work it is, then,’ said Greg, and gave Julie a kiss on the cheek, like it was a normal weekday and their world wasn’t really falling apart. Jake couldn’t be sure, but he thought he detected the merest hint of a smile on Greg’s face as he left the room to get ready. Probably one of relief that he’d been let off the hook, that he could go and do something practical instead of having to deal with all this emotional shit. He would prefer to be at work with his mates anyway; wasn’t really his kid they’d found, at the end of the day.
Once Greg was out of the way, they waited for Julie to get her purse and coat, then Matt gestured for them to follow him. Julie was the last one out, with the liaison woman by her side, watching her like a hawk as the woman locked up; an automatic thing, done in a zombie-like way. Wasn’t a bad thing, they didn’t want the place burgled on top of everything else. But Jake couldn’t help thinking about the key to the door stuff again. How Jordan would never be using that again when she came home.
If it was her, he reminded himself. That’s what you’re going to find out for sure. Going as a family; the only one he’d ever really known since his mum had gone.
In the present, Jake drank more of the alcohol, feeling it burn as it went down his throat. Back then, in the car, they’d been in a little bubble and he could still pretend it wasn’t his little girl on that slab. He hadn’t yet seen her likeness. Once he had, and once he’d seen those marks, those scars, there’d been no denying it …
But he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from that face. That pale, blue face. It looked for all the world like she’d just wake up at any moment, like she used to do sometimes when she was little and he’d look in on her after a long shift at work. She’d open her eyes and blearily say: ‘Da … Daddy?’
‘Hey pumpkin,’ he’d reply, then kiss her on the head and tell her to go back to sleep.
He wanted anything but now. No more sleep, just wake up! People had been known to do that, right? There was a case not that long ago where a woman woke up in one of these drawers in a morgue. That could still happen, Jordan might still �
�
But Jake knew that all the straws were gone. No more clutching.
And still the tears wouldn’t come.
Time seemed to work so strangely that day, somewhere in the back of his mind he observed. Like the journey to Redmarket, which was quite a distance away but went by in the blink of an eye, with Jake lost in thoughts and remembrances. Lost in regrets. Then that walk up to the doorway, towards Matt, would only have been seconds in reality, but to him it took forever, because he didn’t really want to arrive at his destination. Didn’t want to know what – in his heart of hearts – he was already certain of. Similarly, the identification couldn’t have lasted more than five, ten minutes, including arguing with Julie (who’d come right out and said it: ‘You left her when she needed you the most!’), but was stretched out into a lifetime. And afterwards, in that hospital café, that went by so quickly as well, but by the time they’d left the hospital most of the afternoon had been eaten up, even if none of the food Matt bought them had.
They’d ferried Julie home again where the female police officer was going to stay with her. Probably make sure she had yet more tea. For his part, after he and his wife had said a cool goodbye to each other, Jake felt like he could definitely use something a lot stronger.
‘Listen,’ said Matt when his colleague had taken Julie back inside the house, turning to face Jake, ‘why don’t you come back to ours? Katherine would be fine with it, I’m sure.’
Jake was struggling to understand, to remember. Katherine was Matt’s wife, right? And … and didn’t they have a little kid? A boy? That was the last thing he wanted, to be around someone else’s happy family. He shook his head but managed to thank his friend for the offer.