For the briefest of moments, she saw the disappointment on his face.
'Again, you are seeing a sexual angle where none exists.'
'You're a man, an unusual one, but all men are driven by a sexual need.'
Jepson lifted his shoulders to Rea, it looked almost childish. 'Not me, I have never had much interest in the physical, my interests are more aesthetic than that.'
She tried to think of something to say, a way to prove the man wrong, but as he sat there and looked at her, she felt the first hint of doubt slide into her mind.
'What do you mean by ''aesthetic''?'
'I am interested in the real person not the chemical urges, for me the need to reproduce is unimportant, it always has been.'
'I don't believe you,' she said again, certain that he was lying to her, though she had no real idea why.
'Don't get me wrong I understand that the human race needs to reproduce, though in my opinion we give way to our base urges too readily. Look at all the starving people in the world and yet they continue to reproduce, bringing a child into a hopeless environment, just to suffer and frequently die.'
Rea eased back, her hands in her lap.
Jepson shrugged. 'Granted, that's an extreme example, but you cannot deny that it happens, but let's look closer to home.'
'What do you mean?' she asked, her voice almost hushed as images of starving children flashed through her mind.
'Look at this town, I am fortunate enough never to have gone hungry, money has never been an issue…'
'Lucky you,' Rea snapped and then closed her mouth as she again saw the look of hurt flash across his face.
She watched as he lowered his head, rubbing at the red stain on the knuckles of his right hand.
'You would sooner I was starving, is that what you are telling me?' he asked, raising his gaze towards her.
'That's not what I'm saying, it came out wrong.'
'You see, you're lying, just for the briefest of seconds the fact that I am in a position of privilege brought out the jealousy in you.'
'Nonsense!'
Jepson smiled, and Rea quickly looked away, afraid that he would see the truth in her eyes.
'Julie lost her parents at a young age, they died in a car accident and after the terrible events I helped her.'
Rea took a gulp of the cooling air before turning to face him again. 'Helped her how?'
'I mentored her and helped her financially,' Jepson said as he spread his hands. 'Though it was much more than that, I have said I have no interest in the physical, but that doesn't mean I can't feel love for another human being and if I had ever had a daughter then I would have wanted her to be Julie Emmeret.'
Rea searched his face though there was no hint of insincerity in his expression, and then he nodded at her.
'It's the truth whether you believe it or not,' he replied with a stern nod.
'If that's the truth then why were you chasing her across a field in the middle of the night, why did she run out in front of the car?'
'She didn't run out in front of the car, Draper left the road, she was on the edge of the field when he hit her.'
Rea's hand went to her mouth in shock at the revelation and she instinctively knew that Jepson was telling the truth.
'When I said Julie was running with joy in her heart it was the truth, right up until your boyfriend ploughed into her.'
Rea felt the tears shimmer in her eyes at the horror of what she was hearing. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered, amazed by her apology. 'I should have taken the car keys from him; I should have stopped him from driving.'
Jepson looked into the trees, his expression thoughtful. 'You were not responsible for his actions, he had a mind of his own, you forget I listened to what he had to say, and he was willing to let you suffer for his actions.'
Rea heard the blast in her mind and saw Mark flung to one side, his head exploding in a gout of dark red.
'Perhaps I shouldn't have had him killed, after all we have the law to make people like Mark Draper pay, don't we?' he asked, his gaze piercing as he stared at her.
Rea slowly shook her head. 'He would have denied it, he would have stuck to his story that she ran right out in front of him and there was nothing he could have done to stop in time.'
Jepson nodded in agreement. 'Which would have equated to a driving ban and a twelve-month suspended sentence, but there was no reprieve for Julie, she would have remained dead.'
'I'm sorry,' she said again, unable to see past the fact that if she had stopped Mark from driving that night then Julie Emmeret would still be alive.
'When we lose someone we care about deeply, someone we love, then it is never easy and sometimes there is no one to blame, people die of illness all the time. My mother died of cancer, a terrible end for a woman I adored, but there was nothing to rage against, no one to blame, but that wasn't the case with Julie, was it?'
Rea shook her head as the tears spilled free.
'Please don't cry, Rea, believe me Julie led a full life, I know I keep saying that she was special, but it really is the truth, she was special, innocent, and intelligent, willing to learn, willing to absorb.' Jepson leaned forward, his eyes bright with a kind of fervour.
'Absorb what?' Rea asked, sounding almost childlike and as much as she hated the neediness in her voice, she needed to know more, to understand more fully what he was saying.
'In reality, life is all about learning, it is the only way to truly grow, to make the most of what you have. Tell me, do you believe that at the moment of death our past flashes before our eyes?'
Rea chewed her lip as the sun began to slide behind the tall trees. 'I don't know,' she answered in the same small voice.
'To be honest no one does but imagine that, imagine that right now you were dying…'
'Dying?' she gasped.
'In a metaphorical sense,' he held up an apologetic hand.
'I can't do that, it's impossible.'
Jepson sighed heavily, and Rea winced as if feeling that she had somehow let the man down with her response. Somewhere, deep inside, she could hear the voice of reason, trying to point out the truth of her situation. She was being held here against her will, knocked out cold and shoved in the hidden chamber of stone. Yet she could not take her eyes off the man who sat opposite, the shadows stretching out from the cover of the trees giving light and shade to his face.
'What would unfold in front of you, Rea, what would your memories be before you died?' he asked and waited for her to respond.
'I don't know,' she almost gasped out the words, yet seconds later she started to see snapshots of her life. Her father instantly sprang into her mind, and she felt her love for him, and then it was gone. She tried to picture her mother, but the image was vague, an amalgamation of old pictures that her father had in a photo album, they weren't real memories at all, not memories of her own. Images of school life came and went and then the boyfriends flashed by, nameless and unimportant and…
'You look disappointed,' Jepson's words broke the spell. 'Believe me it's nothing to be ashamed of.'
This time she swiped at her tear-filled eyes. 'I'm not ashamed,' she said defensively.
'Good, I'm glad,' he replied before looking up, the sky losing its blue tinge as the light continued to fade. 'No one wants to reach the end of their life with regrets, do they?' he asked.
'No, but life is full of them whether we like it or not,' she replied before she had the chance to think about her response.
'Quite right, we all have them, but in the end, it is all about the scales.'
'Scales?'
'Do the positives outweigh the negatives?'
'No one can answer that.'
'We are all judged in the end, Rea, that never changes.'
'I don't believe in a god.'
'Neither do I.
'Then who judges us?' she demanded.
He thought for a moment before answering. 'The truth is we judge ourselves and society judges our actions.'
'Well, when you're dead it doesn't really matter what people think of you, does it?'
Suddenly, Jepson was on his feet and brushing the grass from his knees.
Rea looked up; her face creased with confusion. 'What are you doing?'
'You're free to go,' he replied brusquely as he straightened up to his full height.
Rea felt the rush of relief flood through her mind and then it was gone, and she was left with the doubt, the mistrust.
'If you follow the path, it will take you back to the main road and please believe me when I say that there will be no Max waiting with shotgun in hand, you have my solemn word on that,' he said before turning and walking away.
She watched as he vanished into the trees, her eyes wide in astonishment at the turn of events, her heart quickening with hope, her mind warning her that Jepson could not be trusted. The two thoughts colliding in her mind as she sat in the tall grass and tried to fathom what she was going to do.
70
'Get in,' Bannister demanded as he opened the passenger door.
Brewster rubbed at the top of his arm from where the DCI had grabbed him and steered him down the drive to the Range Rover.
'I won't tell you again,' the DCI warned.
The reporter scowled, eyes full of hatred as he scrambled into the car and the door slammed. Bannister was walking around the vehicle when his phone rang, and he stopped to pull it from his pocket.
'All right, Carole, what can I do for you?' he asked.
He listened as she explained about Jepson and what Mr Softie Top had said about his lordship and his dealings.
'So, you're going to have a word?'
'We're almost there now.'
'Well, I've got Brewster in the car and…'
Carole interrupted and he listened as she told him about the documentary that Brewster had made about Jepson.
'Good, that'll give me something to grill the intrepid seeker of the truth with.'
'Well, go easy, you know what he's like, given the opportunity he'll scream police brutality, and we can't afford any fallout from that man.'
'Don't worry, I'm feeling all calm and relaxed,' he lied as he glanced at Brewster through the side window.
'Mm, I've heard that before.'
'Scouts' honour. Right, I'm going to have a chat with the tosser and if I get anything useful then I'll give you a call.'
'And we'll do the same.'
Bannister slipped the phone into his pocket before opening the door and climbing behind the wheel.
'This is illegal, and I shall be putting in an official complaint about you and your bully- boy tactics,' Brewster complained.
'Go ahead, but if your editor has his way then pretty soon you will be out on your arse, so it's no skin off my nose what you bleat about.'
'What's Karmen been saying about me?' Brewster demanded; his voice laced with suspicion.
Bannister turned to face him and studied the man in the passenger seat.
Brewster had always been a sour-faced bastard, but now with the passage of time he looked haggard, his eyes marred by a vicious spite for the world and the people in it.
'He thinks you're not to be trusted, which in my book makes him a good judge of character.'
'Karmen is a nothing, a nobody.'
'He's also your boss, but then again being disliked is nothing new to you, is it?'
Brewster glared at the DCI. 'An investigative journalist isn't interested in making friends or what people think about them, all they concern themselves with is getting to the truth.'
Normally, Bannister would have laughed in Brewster's face at the shite he was spouting but this time he didn't, he merely eased back slightly one hand resting on the wheel.
'And that's what you think you are, a crusader of the truth?'
Brewster snorted in derision. 'How can someone like you ever see the truth of anything, I know how corrupt you are, you and that ''team'' you work with.'
'You truly believe that, don't you?' Bannister asked as if genuinely interested in the way Brewster saw the world.
'It's fact and you know it and one day it will all come out and you will be finished,' the reporter jabbed a finger in Bannister's face.
It took all the DCI's willpower not to grab the finger and break it. 'And you will be the one who gets to the ''truth'' is that your aim in life?'
'My aim is to shine a light on corruption wherever I find it,' Brewster spouted the usual lie, his chest puffed with a sense of his own importance.
'Well, if you are going for the super-hero look then believe me you will need a haircut and with a body like yours then I would avoid wearing a leotard if I were you,' Bannister said with a thin smile.
Brewster fumed for a moment and then cleared his throat. 'Let's see how glib you are when you are in the dock.'
'Charles Jepson,' Bannister suddenly said and watched the look of confusion take up residence on Brewster's dire mug. 'You've heard of the man I take it?'
'Everyone's heard of Lord Jepson,' Brewster replied with a snort.
'Well, up until a couple of days ago I had never heard of the man.'
Brewster looked down his nose at the DCI. 'That's because you are ignorant, a fool of a man pretending to uphold the law that you so readily break.'
Bannister could hear the satisfaction in the reporter's voice, that sense of superiority coming through loud and clear.
'You once did a documentary on the man, didn't you?'
'Why do you want to know about Charles?' Brewster suddenly demanded as he narrowed his petty eyes.
'You are on first name terms then?' Bannister asked as a car went driving by, the tail lights shining red.
'That bothers you, doesn't it, that I have influential friends?'
Bannister started to tap a finger on the wheel. 'Well, he can't be that much of a mate, you did the documentary years ago and yet you're still at the same rag, same desk, same desperation in your eyes.'
Bannister felt Brewster's hatred flare in the semi-darkness as he seemed to snarl, his teeth on show. 'Bastard!'
'Truth is, you probably hate the man, after all he comes from money, old money and he lives the life you would love to have.'
'Nonsense.'
'Come on, Brewster, you hate everyone, you have no friends because no one can stomach to be around you for any length of time. Take the other night, you followed a colleague because you were jealous that she had been handed a lead by Karmen, and he didn't give you that information because he neither trusts nor likes you. You then watched while Gemma Fox was attacked and you did nothing, you stayed in your car until her attacker was long gone with Draper over his shoulder. Only then did you venture out of your scrapheap of a sports car and then rather than help the woman you stepped over her to search the house, you put the story before her safety, and then you wonder why no one can even abide the sight of your face.'
'That isn't how it happened,' Brewster spat, his voice trembling with fury.
Bannister laughed lightly and shook his head. 'At one time you could keep all that hatred hidden, but not anymore, now everyone sees it, and as a reporter that's the last thing you need. I mean, how can you pretend to show empathy when your eyes tell the truth?'
'I'm the best reporter in this dump of a town,' Brewster crowed.
'No, you're simply deluded, the truth is people only ever get one real chance in life and you had yours and blew it. You had your own TV show for God's sake, back then your hair was dark brown, and you looked the business but even then, you couldn't stick to the truth, you had to use bullshit to spice up the stories and that was your undoing.'
'Shut your mouth!' Brewster's voice sounded like high pressure steam escaping from a faulty valve, ready to blow completely.
Bannister shook his head and sighed. 'That was your ''chance'' and ever since you have been chasing those brief glory days, but the truth is you can never get them back, you cannot turn back the clock but that hasn't dawned on you yet, has it?'
<
br /> 'Liar!'
In any other situation Bannister would have felt sorry for the guy in the passenger seat, someone trying to cling onto the belief that they were special, but this was Michael Brewster, a man who had helped to ruin people's lives, stuck the boot in when they were at their most vulnerable. He thought of the headlines that Brewster had been responsible for and there was always that hatred there, almost as if the victims had got what they deserved.
He thought of the report he had done on Felicity North; her daughter had been snatched over ten years ago from the local market. She had never been found and her mother had ended her life after all hope of finding her child had vanished and she could stand the pain no longer. Yet in the initial coverage done by the papers, Brewster had made it sound as if it had been Felicity's fault that her daughter had been taken, no finger of blame had been pointed at whoever had taken her, there had been no words condemning a world where something like that could happen. No, Brewster had shown no empathy for either mother or child, his words had been full of spite and blame, hinting that Felicity had been an unfit parent, the kind who had children just for the benefits they could claim. It had been vile, and written almost in code, the kind of code that people like Brewster would understand and agree with.
Suddenly, Bannister faced front, both hands now grasping the wheel tight as the urge to beat the shit out of the reporter rose inside.
'Why do you do it?' he asked through gritted teeth. 'What the fuck could have happened in your past that turned you into the bastard you are today?'
Brewster continued to fume, his heart racing as the DCI's words hit home. 'I'm going to get out of this car right now and then I am going to…'
Bannister flicked a button and the central locking clicked into place, then he turned slowly. 'You are going nowhere,' he warned. 'This is a reckoning, you fucking lowlife, and you are going to tell me why you stepped over Gemma Fox, tell me why you hate the frigging world?'
Brewster tugged at the handle, the panic rising as he realised that he was locked in the vehicle and the man by his side was slowly starting to rage, the fear he felt escalated at an alarming rate as he realised that he could be beaten badly or even worse. What made the whole situation even more terrifying was the fact that Bannister would get away with it, they would close ranks like they always did, and the truth would be buried…
Driven by Fear (The DS Lasser Book 27) Page 23