Bad Apple, page 16
‘I know.’ Hannah rubs her hands over her cheeks. ‘He’s not good.’
‘I can see that. Is it . . .’ The word sticks in my throat.
Hannah purses her lips, nods her head. ‘He’s my little brother,’ she says, her eyes glazing over.
My heart aches, assuming she’s about to tell me the worst thing. ‘I’m so sorry, Hannah. I had no idea you were going through a family issue. And here I am, asking more of you.’ Guilt surges through my body. I’m so absorbed with my mission, and my personal problems, I’ve forgotten other people have their own traumas to deal with.
She turns, walks to the counter top. ‘Cup of tea, then?’
‘Nothing stronger?’ I half laugh, but Hannah shrugs, then moves to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine.
‘I can only have one. I need to drive Danny—’ she sucks in a lungful of air ‘—to get his treatment.’
‘Okay. I’m sorry, again. Dropping in on you unannounced. But if I can help, in any way . . . ’
‘Yes, actually you can. I need a distraction. I have a feeling you can help with that.’
‘Well, I do have some significant developments.’ I raise one brow at my understatement.
‘Sounds promising.’ She takes a few sips from her glass, then places it down and opens the door to the lounge. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll be about an hour.’
‘Oh . . . yeah. Thanks.’ I fluster, surprised at the suddenness of her departure. I watch as she helps Danny out of the armchair, and they head out.
While Hannah’s gone, I walk from room to room, inadvertently treating it like a crime scene. With a pen in hand, I touch the tip to various items, lifting them, and then, with my sleeve over my fingers, pick up photos, a few pieces of paperwork and flick through her vinyl collection, surprised at some of the rare albums she has.
Hannah isn’t someone I’d have naturally gravitated to for friendship – our life at work started out very much separate from our lives outside of the force, but the thing with police work, the intensity of it, is that bonds form, relationships grow, and even the unlikeliest friendships can form over shared experiences. The culture of going to the pub after work enabled us to grow closer. We’ve been through a lot together.
I consider now, as I observe a lonely existence in the house she once shared with her parents and Danny, that she might miss me, crave our camaraderie. I took the piss out of her a lot, in a light-hearted way, as did Charlie, really. We ripped into her about how she spent far more hours than we did on writing up reports, how she was quick to pull us up on inaccuracies, questioning us on everything to make sure we were following procedures and protocols. We were an interesting trio – our personalities and skills complemented each other. The dynamic after I’d gone would’ve altered dramatically and impacted them both. I’ve never really talked about it with Hannah; the rare times since I left that we’ve spent time together have been taken up with my obsession of bringing John to justice.
You’ve always been selfish, John’s voice whispers inside my skull.
I guess not everything he told me was a lie.
Chapter 32
NOW
BECKY
Having sunk as low as to breach Hannah’s privacy by wandering around her home, I unpack my rucksack and begin spreading the content from my investigation wall on the round table in the kitchen. I remove the three deepfake photos, placing them back in the zipped compartment of the rucksack without focusing on the grossly morbid nature of them, and not wishing to see the inane grin on my fake face as a hand containing a knife slits Tamsin’s throat. Sharing these images feels a step too far at this point.
A nagging twist of my gut reminds me how deep in the shit I am. If I’m unable to prove I had nothing to do with Tamsin’s disappearance and she isn’t merely holed up safe somewhere awaiting rescue, and if I’ve no alibi and Vince runs his mouth off about how I assaulted him, stole their cat and interfered in Tamsin’s life, things are going to be extremely awkward for me.
Ironically, evidence isn’t something in short supply in this case. If me or my car have been picked up on ANPR at the same point that Tamsin supposedly met her death at my hands, then my claim of innocence might wash. But, if it’s my car that’s been clocked, I can’t immediately prove I didn’t have Tamsin stashed in my boot – the lack of her DNA will be a while coming through. Bile swills around in the pit of my empty stomach, acid burning my oesophagus. This development with Tamsin is troubling, but I mustn’t let it sidetrack me entirely. That’s the exact result John was going for. I can’t allow his actions to distract me from the task of compiling evidence against him. I glance up at the wall clock – it’s almost seven, and I can’t remember when I last ate. Hannah won’t mind me tucking into her snacks. I grab a packet from the cupboard, groaning as I unwrap one of the chocolate footballs inside.
‘Ugh. There’s no getting away from you, is there.’ I stare at the familiar packaging as the memory of the night I last ate one of these needles my brain. ‘I will get you,’ I say as I roll up the foil, bin it and take another. He might think he’s a step ahead, but what I hope he doesn’t know is that I now have an insider. My secret weapon is Nina, and her being on my side will be the last thing he’s expecting, even though he knows I’ve seen her. John isn’t used to his manipulation tactics failing. They worked on me for five years, and no doubt he’ll believe he has Nina, and her family, under his thumb.
‘Unsuspecting’ is the best play I’ve got. With Hannah and Charlie’s help as they cautiously seek evidence on the inside, Nina, and together with my planned visit to Barbara Thomson, I should gain valuable information to add to the evidence file. Justice is within reach; I can almost taste it.
The front door slams and I look up from the table to see Hannah walk in, a white carrier in hand.
‘Couldn’t face cooking. Been to the chippy,’ she says, lifting the carrier. The smell of fish and chips and curry sauce fills the air and starts my digestive juices off again, the chocolate balls barely having registered in my stomach.
‘No complaints from me. How much do I owe you?’ It’s an automatic question, but I screw my eyes up, realising I have a card, but no cash. And my bank balance isn’t exactly healthy because I’m forever taking and not replacing.
‘Don’t be daft,’ Hannah says, unwrapping the paper and sharing the contents between two plates. I’d have been happy eating straight from the paper, but Hannah is more civilised. ‘Besides, it’s heavily discounted.’
‘Really?’ I pinch a chip from my plate before she’s finished dishing it up and she slaps my hand away. ‘Don’t remember this particular perk of the job!’
‘There’s probably a lot of perks you didn’t get around to exploiting.’
I stand back, staring at Hannah with mock surprise. ‘No way. The Hannah I knew would not take advantage of other people to benefit herself in any way!’
‘We’ve all had to adapt,’ she says, coyly. ‘Now, let’s eat.’
She turns, holding a plate in either hand, then stops abruptly. ‘Oh.’ She looks at the table. ‘When I said make yourself at home . . . ’
‘Ah, yes – sorry. While you were gone I transformed it to an investigation table. Thought you might freak out if I stuck this all to your wall.’ I offer an apologetic smile.
‘Trays it is then.’
Once we finish eating, my stomach aching from fullness, I suggest Hannah peruses my ‘Operation Lawless’.
She hunches over the table, offering intermittent sighs as she peruses each index card, each image and clipping. I chew on the inside of my cheek, observing her facial expressions, trying to decipher her thoughts. Is this all information she and the team already know about from when they were originally investigating my report against John? For obvious reasons I wasn’t allowed anywhere near that case. Am I offering up anything new? A dozen questions jostle inside my mind as I await her appraisal.
‘Who’s Tamsin?’ she asks, finally, her finger pressed against the index card. ‘And how is she connected to any of this?’
A frisson of excitement, mixed with anxiety, shoots through me. Her question reassures me that this contact is unknown to the team, so it’s covering new ground. However, it also means I’m going to have to go into detail about how I came across Tamsin, and how she’s linked to the case. And if Hannah begins asking too many questions, I’ll be forced into a corner. On a more positive note, if I can convince Hannah, she could use her position to search for traces of Tamsin. I just need to make sure I don’t divulge the fact I have photos of Tamsin’s supposed murder . . . carried out by me.
Chapter 33
NOW
BECKY
With careful wording, I bring Hannah up to speed – or, as up to speed as I’m able to. My original confidence that Tamsin is alive and well, and that this whole charade is a way for John to keep me in check, rises and dips like a boat in a storm. If, by omitting the information I have, I’m putting her life in danger, how am I ever going to reconcile that? But it’s the only way I can remain focused. Surely even John wouldn’t go as low as to have someone killed merely as a warning to me?
‘Okay, so that’s your flat friend taken care of,’ Hannah says. I wince at her choice of words as she shifts her attention across the table. ‘What’s this about Nina?’ Hannah’s querying tone changes as realisation dawns. ‘You’ve spoken to John’s new partner?’ Her eyes widen to an almost comical degree. ‘Are you mad?’
I swallow, wait a beat before responding. ‘I did tell you,’ I say, indignance still colouring my tone. But then I remember that I hadn’t spoken about it and all I’d done was hammer out a vague text. ‘Well, I tried. You never picked up my calls or returned my texts.’ I also take this as an opportunity to explain how, when I’d called Charlie, a woman answered and denied it was even his phone. She agrees it’s odd but bats away my suspicions of a cloned phone.
‘Honestly, we both know Charlie’s reputation – he’s never at his own place. He probably told his latest friend to pretend it wasn’t his because he was . . . busy at the time.’
‘Then surely she’d have used those words!’
Hannah’s shoulders visibly lower a few inches. ‘I’m not being funny, but although we agreed to help you . . . it was with some reluctance.’
‘Oh, thanks.’
‘You can’t dispute, it places us in an awkward position.’
‘Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it. But if I’m being that much of a pain in the arse, why didn’t you both just fob me off and let me get on with it my way?’
‘Because I wouldn’t forgive myself if you got in over your head and something bad happened.’
Her words suspend in the air before the weight of them crashes down on me.
‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ I say, transferring the focus of the conversation back to more comfortable ground. ‘Nina must’ve had an inkling about John’s past, maybe even what he’s up to now, and finally pushed aside her sense of loyalty.’
Hannah pouts, then crosses her arms. She’s not buying it. Is her police experience preventing her from believing this evaluation? She doesn’t trust that Nina would be that quick to flip sides and help his supposed stalker ex-wife. I mean, she has a point.
‘There’s something else,’ I add. ‘Nina’s kid, Millie. She’s John’s daughter.’
Hannah doesn’t flinch. ‘Shit, that must’ve stung,’ she says, without looking at me.
‘In a way,’ I admit, giving a half-shrug. ‘He did me a favour, though – in the long run. But, I expect Millie was the driving force behind Nina’s decision to act. I imagine protecting her will be the number-one priority.’
‘We’ve seen it before, though, Becky. It doesn’t always follow that the partner keeps their side of the deal. Fear is a strong motivator, but it depends which side poses the greatest threat.’
I can’t deny this is a fact. Not only have I seen it before, but I’ve also been that partner.
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘You’ve got to let us know dates, times, locations of any future meet-ups. Got it?’
I nod.
‘I’m serious, Becky. I know you aren’t seeing results as quickly as you’d like from us, but you got me and Charlie into this, the least you can do now is act with some degree of responsibility.’
Hannah’s lectures were legendary in CID. For someone only five years my senior, she comes across very much like a stern headmistress. The kind you were always afraid of and would make sure you handed in your completed homework to for fear of the repercussions.
‘Yes. I will.’ I give a salute. ‘And will you be able to conduct a bit of checking when you go in tomorrow?’
‘I’ll try. But I have a suspected homicide to deal with. I do work you know.’
Charlie’s words come back to me now, about Hannah staying behind at work due to a homicide.
‘Only suspected? Charlie mentioned something about a homicide last week. Same case?’
‘Yes, same one. At first it looked unremarkable. A suicide. Things aren’t adding up, though. No doubt it’ll get passed to the MIT.’ She shrugs it off, but I remember the frustration of cases being passed over to another team. The hint of the suicide being a staged one sparks my curiosity.
‘In what way isn’t the evidence stacking up?’ I ask. ‘Who is the victim?’
‘I hope you’re not expecting me to discuss an active case, Becky.’
‘Old habits.’
Hannah’s mouth tightens slightly, but perceivably. ‘All I will say is – our vic was an ex-cop.’
My heartbeat slams wildly against my ribs. It’s never good to hear there’ve been murders on our patch, but harder to digest when it’s one of your own. And for some reason, the news that Hannah’s latest suspected homicide victim used to be on the force, feels especially concerning. I wonder who it was?
Chapter 34
THEN
FRAN
Voice recording of phone conversation.
‘Can you come over? I need your help.’
‘We agreed you wouldn’t call anymore. Not after the way you spoke to me last time.’
‘I’m sorry about that. I want to see you.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Please. I don’t have anyone else I can turn to.’
‘And whose fault is that? [sighs] You at the house?’
‘Yeah, I haven’t left for days.’
‘What do you expect me to do?’
‘Help me get Oakley back. I can’t bear it . . . knowing he’s with a family that’s not his.’
‘Not this again! Look, you know there’s nothing I can do. You had your chance and you blew it. Up your fucking nose mostly.’
[Crying]
‘Crying isn’t of any use, is it?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I knock off soon. Be there in . . . an hour or so. Be ready.’
‘Ready? Are you going to take me to see him?’
‘Don’t be stupid, of course not. You know what ready means by now, no?’
‘Oh. Yeah, right. But I don’t . . . please I don’t want to—’
‘Want my help or not? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’
Chapter 35
NOW
BECKY
Staying at Hannah’s is like having an extended sleepover at the nerdy kid’s place when you were at school. The kid you were desperate to ‘get in with’ because they’d help with your homework, but who was no fun to hang out with because they were too geeky to even contemplate breaking any rules. Although I am very grateful that Hannah is, albeit aversely, doing just that. Adamant I should avoid my flat for a bit longer as a precaution, she even popped there yesterday to check it was secure and to leave more food for Agatha. Her comment of still not liking the ‘mangy thing’ when she returned makes me smile now as I think of it. I’m sure she only said it to ensure I didn’t think she was going soft.
With adrenaline continually pumping since I rocked up here, I barely slept for the third night in a row – my mind running over what’s happened together with all the possible current and future scenarios – and in the short bursts of time when I did doze off, I awoke panicked and sweating from nightmarish visions of Tamsin begging for her life only for her to meet her death via the knife in my hand.
In the garish pink bathroom, a sad relic of the original suite installation of the Sixties housing estate, I take one of my tablets as a precaution, cupping water from the sink tap in my hand to swallow it down. Then I stand in the bath to take a quick shower, staring at the worn dial of the electric monstrosity, which was an addition installed by Hannah’s dad rather than an engineer in an attempt to keep costs down. As I spend several minutes attempting to control the temperature, I wonder why Hannah hasn’t had it replaced, but then remember the conversation we’d had three years ago, at the time she inherited the family home. She’d said she couldn’t bring herself to rip it out as her dad – now in a residential home following the death of her mum from bowel cancer – still talks about the day he accidentally electrocuted himself when he installed it live, and the story makes her smile each morning she comes in here. The story doesn’t give me much confidence in the electrics, though, and I gingerly twiddle the controls, wary of the same fate.
It’s the quickest shower I’ve had in a while.
I can hear Hannah in the kitchen – a clatter of china, banging of cupboards as she puts the dried dishes from last night’s meal back in their place. The noises are comforting, reassuring, and a far cry from those of loud music, yelling and door slamming I’ve become accustomed to in my block of hell. I put my hand on my chest, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath as I make a silent wish that Tamsin is safe and well. And then another that Agatha is coping without me. Mentally, the past twelve days have felt as if a tornado had swirled through my head, destroying everything in its path. If I can gain the evidence I need though, it’ll lead to John’s demise and it’ll be worth the chaos.
