Her Last Secret

by P L Kane

  He’d waited with Sam until he heard the sirens, stepped back as paramedics had done their thing. Checking her over and putting her on a stretcher. ‘Looks like you’ve been in the wars as well,’ he’d been told. ‘Aren’t you two a bit old to be playing around in derelict buildings?’

  Jake had ignored the remark, but accepted the treatment – which for him amounted to a few stitches. He’d been lucky enough to walk away with a few cuts and bruises; the same sadly couldn’t be said for Sam.

  A broken leg, definitely, for starters – but also suspected internal bleeding. She’d been rushed into the operating theatre as soon as they’d hit Redmarket Hospital, at which point they’d asked if there was anyone they should be getting in touch with, family or anything?

  ‘I … Miss Ferrara lives alone,’ he’d told them, ‘and I think most of her family are back in Italy.’ She’d told him that during one of their meet-ups.

  So he’d told them he’d wait, wanted to anyway. What else was he going to do? He wasn’t going anywhere until he found out how she was doing.

  It hadn’t been long after that when Channing and Matt had arrived, the incident having been reported to the police. And it hadn’t been long after that Channing had started to get in Jake’s face again. ‘I mean, for heaven’s sake – does trouble just follow you around or something?’

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder if someone wasn’t.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Channing.

  ‘Following me around,’ he replied.

  ‘Oh, and care to enlighten us as to who that someone might be?’ Channing folded his arms.

  ‘Well, I didn’t get a good look at his face, but—’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘It was dark, and I was too busy being flung around like a rag doll, Sergeant,’ argued Jake. ‘The same as Sam.’

  ‘Sam now, is it?’ said Channing with a smirk. ‘Last time I saw you two, it was Miss Ferrara and Mr Radcliffe. Now you’re, what, besties and auditioning for the Scooby gang or something?’

  ‘I didn’t get a good look, but he was big,’ continued Jake, ignoring such comments for the second time in a day, at the same time wondering if the paramedic who’d brought them here was somehow related to Channing. ‘I’m talking huge. Like Drummond huge, Sergeant.’

  Channing whirled around, his back to Jake, and walked the short distance the waiting room would allow before twirling back around. ‘Not this again, for Christ’s sake! So, you reckon Drummond’s been following you, then? Is that it?’

  ‘He was at the church,’ Jake threw back, ‘the day of Jordan’s …’

  Channing looked to Matt again, probably because he knew the DC had been there. Matt nodded. ‘It’s true, sir. I had to get some uniforms to move him along.’

  The DS held up a hand. ‘All right, all right. But following you out there to the middle of nowhere. How did he do that, exactly? It’s not even like the stupid fucker can drive, let alone owns a car.’

  Channing did have a point there. Jake hadn’t even known where they were going until Sam told him, until they arrived. And there was no way he could have followed the car … could he? Certainly not on foot. Or perhaps he wasn’t as slow as the police thought, was only pretending so they’d leave him alone to do his perving? ‘Maybe he was already there,’ offered Jake. Perhaps that was where he hung out, not under a bridge with the other trolls at all, but in an abandoned abattoir?

  ‘Oh, you mean that’s his evil lair?’ Channing held up both hands and wriggled his fingers, trying to make a spooky sound. ‘Fucking hell! This is ridiculous!’

  ‘So, what are you going to do, arrest me for getting beaten up again?’ spat Jake, though he realised it was tempting fate. ‘How about instead of interrogating me, you go and have a look for him? I’ve told you before I think he’s dangerous. And while you’re at it, you should get some forensics people out to that place and have them dig around a bit. Because some of the blood on those walls and floors isn’t that old.’

  He saw Matt raise an eyebrow at that.

  ‘So what?’ growled Channing. ‘Could be anything. Some bloody derelicts staying there, knocking lumps out of each other. Could have been one of them that did this to you and … your new “friend” Sam.’ He grinned again when he said the name, the implication plain. Here Jake was, not long after his daughter’s murder, and he was mucking about with the culprit’s lawyer. ‘And, by the way, I still haven’t got a proper answer about what you two were doing there in the first place.’

  Jake said nothing. What could he say, they were following up a lead from a secret diary he was hiding from the police?

  ‘I’m going to hazard a guess that it’s something to do with those blasted numbers, am I right?’ Channing came forward again, bending and lowering his voice. ‘Would that be why you gave the emergency services the numbers so they could find you?’ He said it with satisfied smile, like he’d cracked Jake’s code or something. But he still didn’t know where they’d come from originally, and he never would. Not unless …

  Jake glanced over at Matt, who looked away. He obviously hadn’t spilled the beans yet, and the longer he kept that secret the worse it would be for himself, let alone his friend. Not that Jake had intended for that to happen, he just couldn’t part with that book. Not yet.

  ‘Listen, you’ve got to admit it looks like something weird’s going on here,’ said Jake eventually.

  ‘I’m starting to think you might have a death wish, and now you’re dragging other people into your fun and games,’ Channing answered.

  ‘It was Sam who contacted me about going there,’ argued Jake.

  ‘But why? What were you looking for, man?’ Channing sighed, calming down a little. ‘Work with me here … You say something looks weird, but from my perspective all I have is a guy suffering from extreme grief who’s going around starting fights and creeping about in old, abandoned buildings that aren’t safe. I’d have been more surprised if you weren’t set upon. What is it you’re trying to discover, Radcliffe?’ Jake noticed the niceties of ‘Mr’ were gone now on their third encounter. ‘What possible connection could that place have to anything that’s happened?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jake, looking him in the eye. ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out.’

  It was Channing’s turn to remain silent, then he said, ‘You’re looking for closure, trust me I do get this. But you’ll have that when the boy’s convicted. All of this you’re chasing, whatever it is, that’s just to make you feel better about everything. It helps to think there’s something you can do, so you invent these little mysteries. Stops you feeling so useless. What’s done is done, though, you can’t change it no matter what you do. And justice will be done, Radcliffe, I can assure you of that. Bobby Bannister will be punished for what he did. And …’ He rubbed his temples with the fingers of both hands. ‘And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ll look into the slaughterhouse, the blood you mentioned. Just to make sure we’ve covered the bases. But as far as you’re concerned, enough is enough now. People are getting hurt here.’

  It was a good speech, Jake had to admit that. The kind Channing was used to delivering in front of cameras Jake was used to being behind. And he had to admit, Channing did have a point. None of this made any sense, him running around trying to … to what? Solve a crime that was already solved. Find a ‘why’ when maybe there wasn’t one, when it could just be that Bannister was off his head and had murdered Jordan in a fit of rage over the way other guys looked at her, over Drummond looking at her – following her? What good exactly was he doing here? It hadn’t done Sam much good, that was for certain!

  At the same time, it made no sense for him to be seeing his dead daughter – did it? (A guy suffering from extreme grief …) Or for him to have promised her he’d find out the truth to her no matter what. (All of this you’re chasing, whatever it is, that’s just to make you feel better about everything.)

  It was at that moment the doctor Jake had seen be
fore about Sam stepped into the waiting room, still in his scrubs from surgery. Tall, with an impressive jawline, he looked like he belonged in one of those US medical soap operas rather than at Redmarket Hospital. He looked the newcomers up and down, but before he could say anything Channing explained who they were. ‘Well,’ said the doctor, still addressing Jake, ‘you’ll be pleased to know we stopped the bleeding and your friend should make a full recovery, touch wood.’ He patted the doorframe. ‘She’ll be out for some time, however, so I don’t see any point in you gentlemen hanging around here. What she needs now is rest, and plenty of it.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Channing before Jake could get a word out. ‘Thank you, doctor.’

  When the medical man exited again, Channing told Matt they were also leaving. ‘But we’ll need you to come in sometime and make an official statement about all this,’ he told Jake, who promised he would.

  Matt gave him a tired look as he left with his DS but didn’t say anything. Hadn’t said a lot during the whole thing – not that Channing had given him much of an opening. So he still had no idea what was going through the man’s mind, whether he might tell someone about the diary. He obviously hadn’t yet, but then he had been off work till today.

  Then he was gone, and Jake didn’t have a chance to talk to him alone and gauge anything. He gave it a few minutes, just so they were clear of the building, and went out into the corridor. Sam’s Audi was still back at the abattoir, his own car back at the hotel, so he figured he’d ask them at reception to book him a taxi.

  Then he saw her, sitting out there in the corridor and waiting. The same as he had been waiting, but for him. She turned and spotted Jake, held up a hand.

  Julie.

  And he knew then that he had no need to order any kind of transportation. Knew instinctively that she was here to take him back.

  To take him home.

  Chapter 20

  That hadn’t proved entirely correct.

  Julie hadn’t been waiting there to take him home, at least not the home he’d known all those years. Where Jordan had been living, but also where Greg Allaway, her husband, lived too. She hadn’t come in their car, either, because that man was using it for work – was on late shifts apparently this week. Instead, Channing had been in touch and got someone to fetch her, someone who was also waiting outside.

  ‘He said I might be able to talk some sense into you,’ Julie told him after they’d said hello properly in the corridor. ‘Doesn’t know you like I do, does he?’

  Jake had smiled, then shook his head. ‘Listening to – or even talking – sense was never my speciality,’ he replied.

  She’d reached up then, touching his bruised face, the plasters covering those stitches he’d needed, concern etched on her own face. ‘What happened?’ Channing obviously hadn’t gone into that.

  He just shook his head again, asked her if they could just get out of there. It was then that she’d said she’d see him back home: his other home, not even the one that he called his home back where he worked, but the temporary one he seemed to be inhabiting at the moment.

  Julie had led him out to the unmarked car Channing had arranged, and thankfully Jake didn’t recognise this driver. Another lady, plain-clothes, but not the liaison woman Linda or any of the other folk from Redmarket station he was apparently becoming quite familiar with. She drove them pretty much in silence, Julie in the front and him in the back again … on his own. Keeping the distance there, which was probably wise.

  The policewoman had dropped them off at the hotel, Julie telling her not to worry, that she’d get a cab back home in a little while. So off she’d gone, leaving them both to go inside. Jake asked Julie if she wanted a coffee or anything and she’d surprised him then by asking if it would be okay if she had a wine instead. When he led her through to the bar area, she asked if he was having anything.

  ‘They gave me these at the hospital.’ He took the pill bottle out of his pocket and rattled it. ‘But I can think of better ways to dull the pain.’

  They took the wine and a lager over to one of the tables and sat down. ‘So, are you going to tell me how you got into this particular scrape now?’ She waited, tapping the table.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ he said eventually.

  ‘And this is a large wine.’

  He cocked his head, conceding the point, and went through it all with Julie – omitting the part about the numbers and the diary, instead just saying they were following up a lead.

  ‘You’ve been working with this woman, this Miss Ferrara?’

  ‘Yeah, kind of. Like I said before, she’s a friend. And she’s just looking for the truth the same as me.’

  Julie took a swig of the wine. ‘The truth about what?’

  Jake shrugged. ‘I just … Something doesn’t smell right here, Jules. I’ve been around enough newspaper people and TV reporters to know when a story doesn’t hang together. There’s something we don’t know about yet, or aren’t being told about all this. I can feel it.’

  ‘She thinks Bobby’s innocent, doesn’t she? The lawyer woman?’

  He laughed. ‘Lawyer woman?’

  ‘Ferrara.’ There it was again, Julie’s hackles going up whenever she was mentioned – and especially now that she knew Sam would be okay.

  ‘She thinks you’re jealous of her.’

  Julie almost spat out her drink. ‘What? Don’t be so … I couldn’t care less what she … what you both do! I thought I made that clear.’

  Jake nodded. ‘Yeah. You did, sorry.’ He changed the subject back, quickly. ‘But yes, she thinks Bannister didn’t do it.’

  ‘How about you?’

  He took a drink of the beer. ‘I … I think this Drummond guy might be mixed up in it all somehow. Even if he was only the catalyst for it.’

  ‘But you think … The two of you think there’s more to it than that, don’t you?’

  ‘I … I really don’t know. If – and I admit it’s a big if that I’m not saying I fully believe – Bannister wasn’t responsible, perhaps that big bloke was?’

  ‘And you’re saying that he was the one who attacked you both this morning.’ Julie frowned, processing the information. ‘He’s the one you were fighting with before, that landed you in jail?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So maybe he’s holding a grudge or something? What made you go after him in the first place anyway, Jake?’

  ‘When I spoke with some of Jordan’s friends, I—’

  Julie held up a hand to stop him. ‘Wait a minute, when was this?’

  ‘Just after I saw you at the house,’ he told her.

  She nodded. ‘You have been busy, haven’t you?’ You don’t know the half of it, thought Jake. ‘Okay, go on.’

  ‘Well, they told me this Drummond guy had been hassling Jordan.’

  Julie drank some more, then said, ‘She never mentioned that.’

  ‘Jordan never mentioned a lot of things. To either of us, Jules.’ He added the last bit to make it plain he wasn’t having a go at her. That both of them had been in the dark about so much concerning their daughter. More than even they had thought, he suspected.

  ‘Hassling in what way?’

  ‘Following her, one of them said. Doing that thing he does of just staring at young girls … Creepy fuck.’ Jake was nearly down to the bottom of the glass. ‘He was there doing it a couple of days ago, at the … Well, after we’d …’ He saw Julie’s eyes brush the floor, sadness washing over her. Jake reached over and took her hand, squeezed it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.

  When she looked up again, her eyes were misty. ‘Honestly, it feels like a million years ago now. But it didn’t while it was happening.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jake agreed. ‘I’ve been having the same thing with time lately. Here, let me get you another.’

  He rose, and she waved him back down again, insisting on buying this round. Jake watched her as she stood there ordering, that fiery red hair which had dulled with tim
e but still fell on her shoulders like a waterfall. It was the first time he’d seen her standing without her long coat on, as she’d shrugged that off when they sat down, and he took in the shape of her. That still perfect figure, in a blue jumper and patterned skirt. However had he walked away from that, kept away from this woman? Driven her into the arms of …

  Jake smiled as she carried back the drinks. ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  ‘I never thanked you properly,’ she said, sliding back into her seat.

  ‘For what?’ he asked, confused, thinking she meant the original drinks.

  ‘For what you did during the service, when I couldn’t. For stepping in. And for what you said in your speech.’

  Jake nodded, finally understanding. ‘Of course. I meant every single word, Jules. You were there for Jordan when I wasn’t, when I couldn’t be … When she wouldn’t let me.’ It was his turn to look down now, and he drank a good quarter of his fresh pint.

  ‘I … I did what I could,’ he heard Julie say. ‘Did my best. It was all I ever did, really.’

  ‘I know,’ said Jake, looking up. ‘I know. You were a good mum.’

  She smiled. ‘Thanks. And you were …’ Julie struggled to say the words, and Jake couldn’t really blame her. He hadn’t really been a good dad; he’d been fine when everything was going all right, when he was the only guy in her life, but then … He’d found it so hard to cope with the rest, with what they called that ‘transition period’ between kid and adult. ‘You did the best you could.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ he said sincerely. ‘We had some good times, though, didn’t we?’ He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to get a conversation going about that or just seeking confirmation that there had, in fact, been good times.