by P L Kane
Then the man was ready to pull down the sheet, the one last barrier to the truth. Julie had moved closer to Jake, was at the side of him, couldn’t have been closer, and – without even thinking – she’d snaked her hand into his. Holding it tightly, so tight she was practically cutting off her circulation, then reaching across and grabbing his arm with the other one – squeezing that too. Praying, as he probably was, that this wasn’t Jordon splayed out in front of them.
And even when the sheet was down, the magician’s curtain swept back, revealing her face – even as Julie’s hands released their grip and went to her mouth, a stifled scream emerging – for a moment or two Jake looked like he refused to believe it. As if this was a special effect from one of those movies he liked … Prosthetics, life-casts, weren’t they called?
Jesus, she was so, so, pale: creamy-white skin, verging on blue. The lips definitely blue. Hair dull, eyes closed.
‘I-Is it Jordan?’ asked Matt, knowing the answer already.
‘It’s her,’ replied Jake, because Julie couldn’t even speak.
Then suddenly she was in his arms, completing what they’d started back in the living room. Jake held her as she turned away from the sight, as each sob wracked against his body. Yet there had been no tears from him.
‘Our baby.’ She spoke it into his shoulder. ‘Our baby!’
‘What happened?’ she heard Jake whisper to their child. ‘What were you doing out there, sweetheart? Why? Why did this have to happen …?’
Julie finally pulled her head away, saw that he was looking at something else and followed his gaze. One of Jordan’s arms, the closest to them – her left – was uncovered also. The skin of the hand and arm matched that face: drained, lifeless. But he’d definitely spotted something. Something a little higher, past her elbow. On her upper arm were some scratches. No, not scratches … cuts.
More wounds that had been inflicted during whatever struggle occurred? In her mind’s eye, Julie pictured their daughter fighting for her life, maybe even gouging an eye or two … she hoped. Only these looked a little older, more faded. They didn’t look defensive, either.
‘W-What are those?’ asked Jake suddenly, his voice cracking. The hand that had been on Julie’s back, rubbing and patting, fell away and he was pointing at the scars. Matt and the liaison officer were rounding the table, as was the man in white. All craning their necks to see.
‘I … I’m not sure,’ said the doctor, getting closer, then looking to the police officers in the room.
‘We’ll know more after the post-mortem,’ Matt informed Jake. Standard detective patter.
‘Are they … They look self-inflicted,’ he said by way of a reply.
Julie was frowning, sniffing back the tears, swallowing dryly.
‘Did you know about this?’ Jake asked her. ‘Was Jordan self-harming?’
‘Jake …’ said Matt. ‘Take it easy.’
‘Was she?’ Jake asked again.
‘I … I don’t know,’ Julie replied honestly. If she had been, she’d hid it well, there had been no signs of it.
Jake was stepping back, rubbing his forehead. ‘Good God. What could have made her …?’
‘I … I don’t …’ Julie was repeating.
‘Well, something was clearly worrying her – quite a bit if she was doing that to herself.’
Matt walked around to Jake. ‘Look, we don’t even know that—’
‘You can see it, as plainly as I can. Just what the hell was going on?’
Julie was getting mad again, glaring at Jake accusingly. ‘You might have found out, if you’d been around.’
‘Been around? Julie, she didn’t want me around!’
Is that what he thought? What he’d thought all this time? ‘That’s … That’s not true. You’re both as bad as each other. Both so stubborn, you’re …’ Julie had realised that she was talking in the present tense about her daughter, when it should have been in the past. But then she changed tack completely and her last words were intended to hurt: ‘You left her when she needed you the most.’
There was silence again, broken only when Matt said, ‘I think we’re about done here.’
About done. They were definitely about done.
Julie didn’t remember a lot of the next bit, probably because there wasn’t that much to recall. The pair of them being taken to a small café inside the hospital, away from the main drag and inside a little nook. Being furnished with more tea by the liaison woman, Matt insisting that they should eat something and when nobody replied buying them sandwiches anyway which Julie and Jake simply stared at like they no longer understood what food was, or how to process it.
How to process anything.
Every now and again they’d look up, at each other – accusatory stares saying everything that needed saying without words. A telepathic tennis match, words batted back and forth across the net.
Him: I told you, I said this so many times. That something like this would happen if we didn’t do something.
Her: And what exactly was I supposed to do? She was a grown woman … Maybe if you’d tried listening to her, talking to her instead of at her!
Then they’d look away, off to the side until it built up again. More arguments that would get them nowhere, because there was simply no winner of this particular match. They’d just go round and round in circles until there was nothing left to say or do.
And afterwards, when they’d dropped her off at home, she’d thought again about those scars. About what they’d meant, what had been on her daughter’s mind that had made her do that? Something serious? Something about Bobby, or something else? How had she not known? How could Jordan not have told her? Not telling Jake, she could understand, but her? She thought they were closer than that? After all, she’d been the one who’d stayed – who’d done her best to look after her when Jake just upped and left. Who’d always defended her, seen her side of things even when it was a struggle to do so. Who’d always tried to sympathise.
What did it have to do with the murder of her child? she wondered. A murder she’d only found out about that morning, which brought her round – yet again – to the beginning of all this. Remembering Matt at the door, her reaction … Going through it all again and again.
And sitting there, just feeling cold and numb.
Completely numb.
Chapter 5
His friends had been on his mind all night.
How could they not have been? Jules, Jake … Jordan. How could he just switch off and relax with the family, forget about it all, when they couldn’t? Apart from anything else, he’d been needed back at the station until late – and Katherine had understood that. It went with the territory, though it wasn’t usually as rocky as it had been yesterday.
Matt had swung by after leaving Jake (leaving him to get drunk back at the hotel!) and checked on Linda, who’d come to the door to talk to him in hushed tones, to answer his question about how Julie was.
‘How do you think? Not great.’
‘Yeah, I figured.’
‘How’s the dad? The real dad.’
‘’Bout the same,’ he admitted, telling her which hotel he’d checked into so she could pass that on, but leaving out the bit about the bottle he’d bought to take with him.
‘Poor sods,’ said Linda.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Matt.
She’d told him she was sticking around for a while, maybe even until the husband came back, because at least then she wouldn’t be alone – and Matt had thought about Jake again, who’d wanted, insisted on being by himself. How that probably wasn’t a great idea, but how he’d almost definitely sleep that night. Probably better than Jules would, especially with that pillock of a partner by her side. They’d said their goodbyes, Matt telling her to ring for a squad car when she was done, and he’d headed off back to the station to answer the call.
Matt’s boss, DS Channing, who looked like he should be selling used cars somewhere, or in a toothpaste commercial be
cause he had far too many teeth and they were far too polished, had greeted him when he got there. With his slicked-back hair, and smile he kept flashing – which was very rarely genuine – he was a PR person’s dream, and had spent most of the day talking to and ‘handling’ the press with regards to this case. He had a habit, especially where women were concerned, of introducing himself as ‘Channing. Like Tatum …’ (Not that he bore even a passing resemblance) ‘Only better looking …’ (He really wasn’t).
‘The big news is, we got the prints from the knife back,’ he’d said to Matt, which surprised him because it usually took at least forty-eight hours. They’d been fast-tracked, Channing explained, and were pretty clean. They were also a perfect match for Bobby Bannister. ‘Now all we need is a match for Jordan’s blood on his clothes, and we’re sorted. You don’t see many open-and-shut cases on the force, Newcomb, but I think we’re looking at one here,’ Channing had concluded.
It certainly seemed that way. Wouldn’t be long now before Bobby was officially charged, the whole thing done and dusted. That should be some sort of silver lining for the family, surely? Shouldn’t it?
Matt couldn’t help putting himself in their position, in Jake’s position. Would it be a comfort to him at all if he were in that man’s shoes? His daughter – his estranged daughter – was still dead. It had been on his mind the rest of his shift, on the drive home, and when he let himself in through the front door.
Katherine had been in the living room, watching the TV, watching the news reports that were still full of the story. They were bound to be, it had only broken today and was the most exciting thing that had happened in years around here. Wasn’t exciting for Matt, though; wouldn’t have been for any of those reporters either if they’d had to deliver the news to the family. Although some of them had rocks where their hearts should be, so maybe it wouldn’t have bothered them one bit.
‘Bad business,’ Katherine had said. Katherine, not Kate, not Kitty; she hated abbreviations, his wife. Always called him Mathew, rather than Matt, and their son was Edward, not Eddie or Ed.
He’d nodded, then wandered over, loosening his tie and tossing his jacket onto a nearby chair as he did so. Matt picked up the remote. ‘Do you mind if I …’
Katherine, with her neatly cropped hair, still in her own work clothes – blouse and slacks, ironed to within an inch of their lives – rather than in pyjamas or whatever normal people might be chilling out in at this time of night, had nodded as well. She worked at a solicitor’s in the finance department, which was where they’d met initially. Hadn’t been anything police-related, but rather a hearing for his dad’s will, sorting out the sale of the family house now that both his parents had passed away. He’d bumped into Katherine quite by accident, and quite literally, on his way out. They’d both laughed, looked into each other’s eyes – like one of those crazy rom-coms he couldn’t stand. She’d been on her way out too, for lunch, so he’d chanced his arm and asked if he could buy her something to eat. That had turned into drinks and dinner some other time, and before they knew it they were living together, then married, then along had come Edward.
After changing channels, finding some kind of inane quiz show where the contestants were answering questions to try and win a speedboat, he’d kissed Katherine and slumped down on the sofa beside her.
‘Rough day, I guess,’ she’d said.
‘You could say that.’
‘I saved you some lasagne, just needs heating up.’
‘Cheers.’ To be honest, all he was thinking about was the couple of bottles of lager still in the fridge from the weekend.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
He shook his head then. ‘I … I knew them. The family,’ he admitted.
‘Oh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s rough.’
Another nod.
There was a moment or two when he thought she was going to lean over to him, maybe put her arms around him and give him a hug – because, Christ, he could use one – but in the end she didn’t. She wasn’t the most demonstrative of people, Katherine, but she’d hid that well … at the start.
‘Eddie … Edward in bed?’
Her turn to nod again. ‘He wanted to wait up for you, but, well …’
Matt understood, it was way past his bedtime and routine was important. So he’d been told. ‘I think I’ll just go and look in on him,’ he said to Katherine.
‘Do you think that’s a good idea? He’ll be asleep by now.’
‘I won’t wake him,’ Matt promised and stood, making his way to the door. He looked back only once at the doorway, to see Katherine rising and picking up his jacket, brushing it down with her hands. And he thought again of Julie, her face – how she’d hardly changed that much. Then he thought about the tears she’d been crying, thought about her and Jake at the morgue, how they’d held each other, and his friend standing there at the entrance to the hotel where he’d left him. Then he’d carried on upstairs to see his son. Safe, in bed.
Alive.
As careful as he’d been opening the door to Edward … Eddie’s bedroom, the child had still stirred when he heard the noise. Not enough to wake up properly, which Matt was grateful for, just enough to turn over and face his father – something Matt was also thankful for. He studied his son’s sleeping face, eyes closed, content, at peace. Eddie knew nothing of the world or its horrors yet, the things people did to each other on a daily basis. But the time would come when he did, and Matt wondered what he’d make of that. Would he be shocked or take it all in his stride?
And Matt thought then about the fact that Bobby Bannister had once been a kid in a bed like this one, innocent and at peace (or had he? Matt realised he knew very little about their main suspect’s background yet). Flash forward a few years and, for whatever reason, he’d stabbed his girlfriend in the chest with a knife. Maybe she’d been cheating on him, a crime of passion – and Matt thought then how much of what was wrong in this world came down to love, to sex … either that or money.
They just had to make sure, somehow, that Eddie never went down that path. Teach him right from wrong, although there were some who said this kind of stuff was inside kids from the get-go; the whole nature vs. nurture debate. Looking at him here, his sweet, sweet kid, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, Matt found it hard to image Eddie doing anything like that when he grew up. But given the right circumstances, the right push, couldn’t anyone snap? He saw it all the time in his line of work, though never usually this dramatically it had to be said. If life threw enough shit at you, maybe one day you’d just lose it and …
Matt shook his head and closed the door. You could drive yourself mad thinking thoughts like those. Which was why he tried his best not to; he thought he’d gotten quite good at it, but …
Even as he warmed up his food and ate (he didn’t bother with the lager) then attempted to watch a movie with Katherine – some political thriller about a president being in danger – what had happened to Julie, Jake, Jordan, was going round and round in his head.
Katherine was first in bed that night, and by the time he’d brushed his teeth and climbed in, she was sound asleep. It had been a long day for her as well, Matt understood that, working, then picking up Eddie from the sitter who took him after school, before cooking. But he could really have used some form of affection that night, even just a cuddle would have done the trick. It was like Katherine had this switch she’d flip when she went to sleep, out like a light – while he’d be there for hours staring at the ceiling or the clock, just trying to nod off.
Then, after it felt like he’d only just got to sleep, the alarm went off early for another day. Seconds later, Eddie was in their room, bouncing around on the bed. Matt felt like crap, but still laughed and hugged the kid to his chest – he never wanted to let go. Never wanted him to grow up.
‘Come on,’ Katherine said, already up and alert and holding out her hand for Eddie, ‘we’d better get you some breakfast.’
And, even though they –
his son especially – were only downstairs, Matt felt a sudden sense of loss. A fraction of what Julie and Jake must have been feeling that morning. All he had to do was follow his family to the kitchen, while they would never see their kid ever again.
He grabbed some toast and ate with them, showered, said goodbye – another big hug from Eddie, a peck on the cheek from Katherine who was dropping the lad off at school – and headed to work himself.
It was around eleven when he got the phone call. Jake had been on his mind again, and he’d been thinking about calling him at the hotel, or just going there to see how he was when his mobile had gone off.
‘Matt?’ the croaky voice said, then more clearly, ‘Matt. You said to ring if I needed anything.’
‘Jake? Hey mate, yes. Yes of course. I was just thinking about you.’ Hadn’t stopped, especially since most of his work that morning revolved around Jordan’s case again. Organising uniforms to keep the press at bay around the Allaway house … and it was only a matter of time before they found out where Jake was, as well. The fact the blood on Bobby’s clothes had now come back a match for Jake’s daughter’s. ‘How’re you doing?’
Jake ignored the question and said, flatly, ‘I need to see him, Matt.’
‘See who?’
‘The guy. The one Jordan was seeing. The one who …’ His words tailed off.
‘Bobby?’ Matt switched the phone to his other ear, lowered his voice. ‘Jesus, I can’t … It’s just not possible.’
There was a sigh at the other end. ‘I just need to see him. Look in his eyes, you know?’
‘I do, and I understand. Really I do, but—’
‘You said whatever I needed.’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t … Look, why don’t I come to you and we can talk about this. About what a spectacularly bad idea it is.’
‘I’m not asking to be put in a cell with him.’