Her Last Secret

by P L Kane

  ‘Hey,’ he shouted as he did so. ‘Hey you!’

  Drummond ignored him, continued to stare intently at the scene ahead.

  Jake ground his teeth, carried on marching towards the man – zeroing in on his right side. ‘Hey, I’m talking to you!’ This time when he got no reply, he shoved on the guy’s arm in an effort to get his attention, perhaps twist him around and make him see there was someone speaking to him.

  He didn’t even twitch, and Jake’s shove pushed himself back more than it did Drummond. That gave him pause for thought if nothing else. What exactly was he doing, this man was huge! It was David and Goliath all over again …

  But David had won on that day, hadn’t he? Jake said to himself. ‘Hey? Fucking well face me when I’m talking to you!’ That seemed to do the trick, something in the tone of Jake’s voice perhaps? But the man finally twisted his head, if not his body, around. It was like watching some sort of industrial machine, moving slowly as the operator punched in the commands.

  Now Drummond was gaping at Jake, and he couldn’t help but shiver in that same way Raju had when she’d been explaining it.

  The way he stares at you sometimes …

  Jake knew exactly what she meant now it had been directed at him. Well, not exactly, because he wasn’t a young girl – the kind Drummond clearly preferred to be looking at – but it was bad enough. Made Jake wonder how much more intimidating it would be if you were the opposite sex.

  If you were Jordan.

  Drummond’s eyes, which had basically been slits a moment or so ago, were now wide. In surprise or anger, at being interrupted, Jake couldn’t tell which, but they looked … dead. That was the only way he could think of to describe them. There was a deadness there, like nothing was going on behind them now – which said a lot for what he thought of this interloper and what he could do to this man mountain.

  Here was someone who, never mind being run in occasionally, should have been put behind bars with the key thrown away ages ago. Assuming, that was, they could find any prison that could contain him. He was more than simply creepy, he did look dangerous. Looked like someone who might have scared Jordan, letched over her and possibly even followed her, as Becky said. Followed her that fateful night? That notion was bad enough, without her having to then deal with the consequences of telling Bobby about it.

  Got all bent out of shape about it, wanted to know the ins and outs. He might even have shaken her.

  Jake couldn’t shake Bobby, though he’d given it a damned good try through his cell door. But here was someone he could shake. Verbally, if not physically.

  ‘Jordan Radcliffe,’ he said simply. ‘That name mean anything to you?’ Jake could see from the tiny twitch at the corner of Drummond’s mouth that it did on some level. ‘You were following her, spying on her. Weren’t you?’

  Another twitch.

  ‘Like you’re doing here today, spying on innocent young girls, their families.’ Jake pointed across at the leisure centre window. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

  Third twitch, still no words.

  ‘Do you … Do you know what happened to her, probably because of you! Did you have anything to do with it?’

  Drummond’s mouth didn’t even twitch this time, and somehow that made Jake angrier still. Made him want to hurt this guy. ‘Answer me! Fucking answer me, or I swear to God …’ When the giant just kept on staring at him, something inside Jake just snapped. He ran towards him, ran round so he was in front – not even waiting for the head to swivel back in his direction this time – and he shoved the man again, with both hands. Hard.

  This time there was movement, even though Jake staggered back himself a couple of paces. It encouraged him to have another go, just as Drummond’s head was completing its second slow turn in order to regard Jake once more. Jake shouldered him now, jumping to connect with the man’s chest – the added momentum helping. It still only saw him shift a couple of centimetres, while Jake almost fell back to the ground.

  ‘Jesus,’ he whispered under his breath. But he didn’t stop.

  Jake tried punching this time, blows to the stomach and then the face. If Drummond felt any of them he didn’t show any indication. However, his left arm came up and – whether it was to stop his opponent or just protect his own head – the consequence of this sent Jake sprawling, after catching him on the jawline. He spun, losing his footing and toppling backwards. Not only that, Drummond’s movements seemed to be speeding up, and he was heading for Jake – on the attack himself, it seemed.

  Now Drummond was finally in the fight, Jake had to do something; had to find some advantage. The guy would pummel him into the ground otherwise. Jake put his hand on the ground to try and get himself up, and his fingertips brushed against something rough. He looked down and saw it was a rock, then remembered who he was in this fight.

  I’m David, he thought to himself.

  Instead of throwing his stone, though – and risk missing Drummond or losing it – he clutched the thing in his hand, and as he rose he used it as a weapon. The rock’s ‘punch’ had more impact than his fists had; in fact, he’d nearly broken his knuckles trying to get some kind of reaction out of the giant. When it struck, it opened up a wound on the man’s cheek. The tear was only small, but blood spurted from it – and it was only now that Drummond began to howl.

  Then he lashed out, flailing around with his arms. Jake managed to duck the first lot of swings, but not the second. Those pitched him several metres where he landed once more on the grass, the rock falling out of his grasp. Drummond was going into a frenzy, touching his cheek and crying out, making again for Jake. He tried to get up but fell over sideways. Attempted it again, but instead of falling had to roll or be trampled by Drummond.

  Jake half-rose, half-stumbled to his feet, checking over his shoulder for the giant – who was behind him. He was left no option, but to turn and face him, knowing he didn’t stand even half a chance. So instead of fighting now, he dove at Drummond, wrapping his arms around the man in some kind of weird wrestling move. If the guy fell forward, then he’d crush Jake completely – as a flat as a card.

  Jake could hear voices now, coming from behind them. People rushing from the leisure centre, and from the car park at the side of it. Some had their phones up already, a knee-jerk reaction in this day and age to something happening. Cries of alarm, panic, and even some of encouragement floated over. ‘Go on, get him!’ said one. ‘You can do it!’ Jake wasn’t sure whether they were meant for him or Drummond, but all he could do really was hold on as the ride continued. As Drummond twisted this way and that.

  Then Jake was flying again, thrown off this bucking bronco. The third time he hit the ground, he landed awkwardly, hitting the back of his head.

  He remembered opening his eyes once, twice – seeing blurred figures and wondering if there were enough people here to stop Drummond finishing what he started … Probably not.

  Then it didn’t really matter, because everything went totally black.

  ***

  When he woke up, he was in a box.

  Ceiling, walls on either side. That’s it, thought Jake – he killed me. The big brute killed me! He wasn’t frightened, though, because the next thing he thought was, I’m going to see Jordan again. He wasn’t a particularly religious man, though his mum had tried to get him to attend Sunday School a few times. He’d never believed in men with white beards or pearly gates or wings and harps. But something told him that when he died, he’d see her. And it was bright here, not dark anymore like when he’d been out, or when he’d willed it to come … Or if he’d been stuffed in one of those drawers at the morgue. Or even in a coffin. No, it was bright … and getting brighter – the light his friend this time instead.

  So, all that he felt when he realised he was moving, when he could feel the thrum of the engine of the vehicle he was in, and looked over to see the green of the uniform of the paramedic beside him, was disappointment. At not getting to see his daughter again,
at not being able to apologise to each other and just move on, just be friends again.

  The male paramedic, who had close-cropped sandy hair and was wearing thick-rimmed glasses, suddenly noticed his patient was waking up. ‘Oh, hello there … Hold on a sec.’ Things got brighter still then when he flashed a torch in Jake’s eyes. ‘Can you follow the light please, sir?’ So he did, left and right, up and down. ‘Now, how many fingers am I holding up?’

  ‘T-Th …’ Jake tried to speak, then realised he was still a bit winded, that the words weren’t coming out as clearly as he might have hoped. ‘Three,’ he managed finally.

  ‘Good. That’s good,’ said the paramedic, smiling.

  ‘So, what’s the verdict?’ another voice said. A familiar voice. Jake lifted up his head, then regretted it, but he did catch a glimpse of the figure at the bottom of the gurney he was lying on. His face.

  ‘Probably just a slight concussion,’ the man in green answered. ‘Best to get him checked over properly, though, just in case.’

  ‘Right,’ said the young policeman who’d been at the market that night. The one who’d also had a torch. The one from the photos.

  ‘Wh …?’ Jake began, then tried to rise again but couldn’t. Slowly, it dawned on him that the reason wasn’t entirely medical. His hand was attached to the metal railing at the side of him, or more accurately his wrist was. When he looked down at it, he saw the metal bracelet that was holding him there fast. He was going to ask what happened, but then switched it to: ‘What’s the handcuff for?’

  ‘Oh, hello again sir,’ said the policeman, realising he was the one being spoken to. ‘Just a precaution.’

  ‘A … I don’t understand.’

  ‘How to put this in the best way,’ the young man answered, then just shrugged. ‘It’s like this, sir. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but … Well, not to put too fine a point on it …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re nicked,’ the policeman told him.

  Chapter 12

  Matt hadn’t been able to believe his ears when he’d been told.

  Had needed to come to the station, even though it was a weekend and he was off duty, spending some quality time with Katherine and Ed. His wife at any rate, seeing as his son was at a party. There had been a time of day when having the place to themselves had meant one thing and one thing only, but Katherine had instead presented him with a list of things that needed fixing in the house; she said she was going to catch up on the bookkeeping while she had a minute. Taxes … how romantic was that!

  To be honest, he’d been glad of an excuse to get away from the delights of oiling squeaky doors or making sure the gutters were unblocked. Domestic life, eh? You just couldn’t beat it.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said when he got off his mobile. ‘Jake’s been arrested.’

  ‘Who?’ was Katherine’s first question, barely looking up from the paperwork and calculator in front of her.

  ‘My friend … You know, his daughter this week, she …’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Right … Okay,’ was her only reply. She barely looked up when he went over to her at the kitchen table and kissed her goodbye on the top of the head. Sometimes he felt like she loved those numbers more than she did him. Certainly wanted to spend more time with them today. Would it kill her to show a bit more emotion?

  She hadn’t even asked him why Jake had been collared. Wasn’t particularly bothered, it seemed. If she had, he’d have replied, still shocked: fighting in public. Or, more specifically, disorderly conduct which had disturbed the peace. If it had been years ago, when they were in their teens, he might well have believed it. Would probably have been involved in whatever brawl it was himself. But not now, not Jake.

  As he got in the car and drove to the station though, Matt was kicking himself for not seeing this coming. He’d known his mate was on the edge, was a hair’s breadth away from lashing out at something … someone. That much had been obvious from the business in the cells with Bobby Bannister. But on that occasion it had been personal, and he’d had his reasons. Should never have been near the prisoner in the first place, and Matt blamed himself for that as well. Had gotten a deserved bollocking from his superior, but luckily it hadn’t gone further than that. Matt had only been trying to help, thought it might put Jake’s mind at rest to see his daughter’s killer locked away.

  What possible reason could he have had to be involved in this one? Matt had thought as he’d listened to the PC on the phone back there. Had he been drinking again, and in the middle of the day? Just got into it with someone? Had it been one of the paps following him around again, trying to get more pictures? As the PC had continued, he’d reported that it happened just outside Redmarket Leisure Centre … And the person he’d been scrapping with? Only bloody Drummond! Was he insane? Did Jake have a death wish or something?

  Probably.

  After this week, more than likely.

  But there were easier ways to top yourself than picking a fight with that gargantuan, especially as he wasn’t the full ticket. And if he was going to do it, wouldn’t it have been the night Matt had left him at the hotel after seeing his daughter’s body in the morgue? Got drunk and just done it, no messing about? He was lucky the hospital had told him he only had mild concussion.

  Then again, Jake might not have started the fight in the first place. Matt thought about this for a moment, thought about the large guy in question – who they knew hung around in certain places, just staring at folk. They brought him in occasionally, warned him if a complaint had been made – but technically he’d never really broken the law. Didn’t seem to know what was going on, if the truth be told. Matt shook his head, couldn’t see any reason why he’d go for Jake … It was all so strange. But the upshot was they were both in the cells now, alongside Bobby Bannister.

  I guess I’ll find out what’s going on when I get there, he thought as he carried on down the road, turning into the next one. It was why he’d had to see for himself, go to the station and find out just what the hell was happening.

  He hadn’t been the only one, though. When Matt arrived and entered, he found out Channing was here as well. That man never came in on a weekend. Too busy selling his cars or doing those toothpaste commercials, Matt assumed. In reality, he was probably hob-nobbing it at the golf club with the higher echelons. It was how he was on the fast-track up the ladder, slated to make inspector before too long and in no time would be running this nick or another one just like it.

  What was getting in the way of that right now was a fly in the ointment in the form of Matt’s old mate. This whole affair – this ‘open-and-shut case’ as Channing had called it – was turning into a bit of a disaster, and a PR disaster at that. Channing was good at handling the press, but then he’d need to be to explain this one away – the father of murdered Jordan Radcliffe arrested only days after her slaughter, when all the news pieces were playing up the sympathy aspect.

  It just depended on what they discovered, what had happened to cause the fight in the first place. Which was probably why Channing was ensconced in the same interview room they’d gone to after the Bobby incident. Matt thought about just turning around and going back home again or waiting till Channing was done – but the curiosity was killing him. And the thought of returning home to that guttering, to Katherine and her number-crunching, wasn’t exactly appealing either. He could go to the pub, he supposed, get drunk himself … In the end, he bit the bullet and knocked on the interview room door.

  ‘Come,’ he heard through the wood, and when he stepped inside he saw Channing was alone with Jake – who looked up with the mixture of pleading and relief. They were seated across from each other in the usual fashion, interrogator and interrogatee. ‘Ah, it’s the other member of our merry little band!’ said the DS. ‘We really should all stop meeting like this.’ Then, to Jake, in all seriousness and with more than a threat in his voice: ‘No, but really we should.’

  Matt looked around the
room, noticed the interview wasn’t being recorded, that the cameras were off. Just an unofficial chat; it happened a lot in Redmarket station. There was an empty chair, but Matt decided to remain standing – and near to the door. ‘Sir,’ he said by way of greeting.

  Channing folded his arms. ‘I was just trying to get to the bottom of what happened today, DC Newcomb. Why your friend here was climbing all over that guy Drummond like he was piece of equipment from the leisure centre where they were picked up.’

  ‘Climbing all over …?’ Matt was still having trouble picturing that.

  ‘Bloke should be in prison somewhere,’ Jake stated.

  ‘Oh, found your voice now that your buddy is here, have we?’ Channing didn’t look particularly impressed. ‘Look, Drummond’s harmless enough. He’s been hanging around some time, has never harmed anyone … until today. He’s a local figure of fun, the kids throw eggs at him come Halloween. He’s a local character.’

  ‘So I’ve been told,’ Jake replied.

  ‘Oh? By who?’

  ‘Some of Jordan’s friends, they said—’

  ‘Your daughter’s friends.’ Channing threw his hands up in the air. ‘And what were you doing talking to them?’

  Matt had more of an idea about that. After the move, Jake had probably felt disconnected from Jordan; they weren’t particularly close by all accounts. He’d more than likely tracked those friends down to get to know her again through them. Matt might well have done the same had the situation been reversed – and he thought again now of his boy, grown up. Of what losing him might feel like …