Kitabı oku: «Dead Inside», sayfa 4
CHAPTER TWELVE
Patrick stood back from the bathroom window. Fucking prick should mind his own business. He gripped the sink and tried to control his breathing. It wouldn’t have bothered him so much if he hadn’t been drinking that evening. But he had, and he was fuming now. Blaming it on the alcohol made him feel better. He’d often say to Lucy, ‘If I’d been sober, that would never have happened,’ but Patrick knew the truth. It would have. Patrick hated feeling out of control, hated people treating him like a muppet. It wasn’t his fault if people kept winding him up. People like Lucy. People like Lucy’s dad. They did it on purpose. Especially when Lucy used her probation speak. If she’s going to treat me like an offender, I may as well behave like one.
Patrick loved Lucy despite all the arguments … the other women in his life were just a means to an end. A man has needs, and if Lucy didn’t want to fulfil them, he knew plenty of other women who would. Maybe he should make a move on Mel, make Lucy really appreciate what she has. He’d never leave her though. There was no way she’d leave him either. He’d make sure of that.
He flushed the toilet when he heard her come back inside and went into Siobhan’s room.
Inside the house, Lucy shut the door and leaned against it. Looking around the kitchen, she knew she’d have to clean up before going to bed. She turned on the hot water tap and started to fill the sink. While she waited, she wiped down the counters, and the dining table. Bitterness filled her mouth at the fact that her sister had reciprocated Patrick’s flirting. Actually enjoyed it. Especially after Lucy had confronted her and told her how she felt. Lucy wiped the table harder, her jaw tight. She thought her sister was better than that.
Lucy could hear Patrick upstairs with Siobhan. Although unusual, she was grateful that he was getting Siobhan ready for bed. She didn’t have the energy. It still made her suspicious, though. Patrick never did anything without expecting something in return, even for his own child. She wouldn’t let that prey on her mind; instead she wanted to get the kitchen cleaned and get up to bed before Patrick came down, that way, she might avoid any argument.
As she was finishing the last of the dishes she heard him on the stairs. Staring out the window at the overgrown back garden, her heart sank. She’d missed her opportunity. With a sigh, she prepared herself for whatever insulting comments he was about to unleash on her.
‘So, what’s your dad’s problem then?’ The accusation in Patrick’s voice was undeniable.
‘What are you talking about? My dad barely said two words all evening.’
‘Ah. OK. Are we playing that game then? I hate when you play dumb, Lucy … really fucking annoys me.’ Patrick’s lip curled in that sneer that Lucy recognized; she had to think fast, or something bad was going to happen.
‘Seriously, Patrick. I have no clue what you’re talking about.’
Patrick prodded her shoulder sharply as he accentuated each word spoken. ‘Don’t. Worry. I. Know. Exactly. What. I. Am. Talking. About.’ He then tapped his nose and winked. Making his way to the fridge, he peeked past the open door, staring at Lucy as he took out a can and cracked it open. He knew she hated that sound.
Lucy cringed and turned away. He won. She placed the tea towel on the counter and started to walk off. Patrick’s phone pinged indicating he had a text message. Just as Lucy reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard Patrick call out, ‘Well, will you looky here! Looks like your sister might fancy a piece of me.’ Lucy stopped dead in her tracks. Her head was screaming, Ignore him. He’s just doing this to wind you up. She clenched her jaw and began to turn around. What the hell was Mel playing at? When did she start texting MY husband?
Lucy was on her way back to the kitchen when Patrick came out. ‘Oh, you’re back. I thought you were slinking off to bed. And not even a goodnight kiss.’
‘What did my sister want?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’
She swallowed down her rage.
‘Forget it. I’m going upstairs.’
She made a move to turn around, but Patrick was fast. He grabbed her by her upper arm and pulled her close. He gripped her mouth, his thumb and index finger pinching her face so her lips puckered, and he kissed her. Hard. When she eventually broke free, he leaned into her ear and whispered, ‘I wonder if your sister kisses better.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Patrick smirked as he sat down and looked at the text from Lucy’s sister.
Hi, Patrick. Great to see you tonight. If you ever fancy a pint, give me a bell. Would be great to see you and Lucy again. X M.
Of course, he didn’t tell Lucy about the last bit. He could use it to wind Lucy up. She might even appreciate him more.
Sipping on his beer, Patrick withdrew into his dark place. He knew that alcohol was a bad mix when he was in a mood, but he didn’t care. He drank for many reasons, but mainly to stop the demons that haunted him.
As a child, he was abused sexually, and rather than deal with the abuse, his mother ignored the problem. As Patrick’s dark thoughts spiralled, he was suddenly fifteen years old standing in his bedroom.
It was dark outside and he was shaking with fear, trying not to think about Uncle Stan … He looked at the baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire that he had spent weeks making ….
He nearly beat Uncle Stan to death that night before his mother stopped him. The police weren’t called, and Uncle Stan was warned if he ever stepped foot in the house or was seen anywhere in the area, his life was over.
Patrick stood up and started pacing the room, trying to walk away his memories. If he ever saw Uncle Stan again, he knew exactly what he would do; he had been planning every single detail for years. Patrick kicked a chair across the room.
People wound him up. He told himself he couldn’t help it, but really, he could. He knew exactly where and when he could lash out. Spotting weakness in others a mile off was his biggest talent. He preyed on people’s vulnerabilities and had a charm about him that got him into their favour. People could be very stupid sometimes. He drew the line at his kids though. He’d never lay a hand on them and God help anyone else who tried.
Upstairs, Lucy sat up on the bed, listening for Patrick. By the sound of it, he was settling downstairs for the night as she heard another can of lager being opened. After he had forcefully kissed her she had run upstairs, desperate to scrub the taste of him out of her mouth. Lucy hoped he wasn’t going into one of his moods: the mood when he’d start his drunken ramblings, his voice getting louder the more he drank, until he was shouting at the walls, the floor, or his own reflection. It wasn’t good for Siobhan to hear her dad that way. She was a deep sleeper, like her father, and Lucy only hoped that she slept through it.
The rants did give Lucy insight into Patrick’s behaviour as an adult, though. For instance, she’d learnt that he was always getting into trouble as a child. A tearaway teen is how he’d described himself, telling her that he was always in and out of trouble – but never getting nicked. He believed he was too clever for that.
Patrick was estranged from his family, but Lucy had caught him calling his mother a few times, ranting vile words down the phone. Eventually, his mother had changed her number and moved to the Isle of Man without giving Patrick her address. Even his family didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Another warning sign Lucy had ignored.
At the start of their relationship, Lucy had blamed his family, but she now understood the truth and only wished she’d seen it sooner.
Although Patrick had never told her directly, it was clear from his rants that he’d been physically abused by his father. Lucy also suspected other abuse, because Patrick had an extreme hatred for someone he called ‘Uncle Stan’. When Patrick had been barely coherent through alcohol one night, he’d told Lucy that Stan was never talked about by any of the family members. Although on occasions in the past when they all had met up, little snide remarks were made and Patrick would usually end up storming off. Eventually, he stopped going and the invites dried up. Lucy tried to find out more about Stan but, on one particular night, pushed too far and received a punch in the mouth for her concern.
‘Now will you shut the fuck up?’
Lucy got the message loud and clear. When Patrick mentioned Uncle Stan now, Lucy stayed silent.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Maggie Jamieson stretched her legs and looked out the window of her office. It was getting dark but she was pleased with how her first day at DAHU had gone, even though she’d had to put in extra hours. The team had the perfect balance of banter and seriousness. Recent cutbacks made specialist teams a rarity, so Maggie knew she was going to get as much out of this experience as possible. Maybe Rutherford was right.
After the Talbot briefing and interview with Wendy Parker, Maggie met with DI Joseph Calleja – Maggie guessed he was about five feet nine; he had a slim build and he had a shadow of a beard. The DI came across as a force to be reckoned with but a firm and fair boss. Calleja explained the overall workings of the team, and where each agency fit. The more she learnt, the more impressed she’d been. Calleja informed Maggie that she’d be reporting directly to DS Hooper.
Maggie grimaced. Making her way to the communal kitchen, she reflected on the team so far. Her initial impression, during her first meeting with Hooper, was that he would keep her on her toes. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he had a certain look about him – stubble adorned his face and despite her colleagues warning her that he could be a right pain in the arse, he had a kindness in his eyes. It was good to know that he always had their back. That’s all she could really hope for. There was nothing worse than a boss who was only interested in furthering their own career, often to the detriment of their team.
Maggie turned the tap on and filled up a cloudy glass with cold water. She also learnt that Probation Officer Lucy Sherwood would occasionally come to the police station with Mark, as he was the most experienced in working domestic abuse cases. Although Maggie had yet to meet Lucy, her colleagues had nothing but praise for her. Maggie was still trying to figure Mark out, though. She was curious why he joined this team as he had very strong, negative views about domestic abuse perpetrators and it seemed he wasn’t afraid to express them openly. She’d need to keep her eye on that. The last thing Maggie wanted was a black mark on her record because of something a colleague had said or done.
Maggie returned to her desk and cleared a spot to place her glass down. Thinking about the rest of the team, she laughed to herself. Kat Everett, the mouth on that one. Every sentence seemed to have a fuck or a shit in it somewhere. Maggie wondered how Kat managed to get through court cases or deal with the public without a ‘fuck’ flying out of her mouth.
Maggie was aware that a civilian, Dr Moloney, would also be joining the team soon to share her insight as a criminal psychologist and Calleja clearly admired her work. What really interested Maggie though was the multi-agency approach. She liked that this team had specific individuals from other agencies working directly with their nominals and based within the police station, even if it was just once a week. She’d see how this all worked now with their first murder investigation – how much collaboration really took place.
Working at Markston Police Station would be a challenge, too. Markston was a relatively average size town, but the station was also responsible for covering Littlefield, Barston, and some of the more rural surrounding areas. Domestic abuse was a big problem in Staffordshire as a county, which was why the Police and Crime Commissioner had decided it was a priority offence that needed to be dealt with by a specialized team.
‘Any further updates that I need to be aware of before we call it a night, Mark?’ Maggie picked up her coffee and walked around to her colleague’s desk.
‘Well you know that Lucy called earlier today. She wanted to flag up Louise Millard’s address as Robert left probation a little pissed off. Robert is one of our regulars.’
Maggie shuddered at the thought of what this description entailed.
‘Safe-and-well check then, I presume?’
‘Yep. All sorted. Two of the field team officers have been tasked with the job. Looks like it has happened, but the system hasn’t been updated with the full details yet. We can pick anything up in the morning from the log but, as nothing has been flagged, it must have gone OK. Any emergency will be dealt with by the field team tonight.’
Looking over Mark’s shoulder, Maggie noted the long list of call-outs to the address. ‘Hmmm … so Robert Millard has recently been bailed for a breach of the harassment order in place?’
‘Yeah. Lucy will send me the details of their session today. She emails over any concerns, especially if she isn’t going to be at the police station any time soon.’
After scanning the records, Maggie’s own experience with domestic abusers told her it wouldn’t take much to trigger Robert.
‘Do you know if Lucy contacted the victim’s support worker? Sorry, I know this is stuff you’re all probably aware of and doing, I just need to check, to satisfy myself before I go home. Once I’ve been here for a few days, I promise the questions will ease up, but only just a bit.’ Maggie smiled.
‘That’s OK. I get it. Lucy said she’d be contacting Sharon – oh, sorry, you won’t know who Sharon is. Sharon Bairden is the victim’s advocate connected to our team. You’ll meet her soon enough as she attends our operational meetings. I sent the details over to her as well. Always good to cover our asses.’ Despite being an integrated team, each agency worked on separate computer systems, so information was often duplicated.
‘So, although it has been one hell of a long day, it’s been a productive one and it really has been great getting to grips with things as much as I can.’
Maggie could tell from Mark’s immaculately organized desk that he would have everything in order. She glanced at her own desk – organized chaos – and hoped Mark wasn’t OCD. She’d only been in the office one day and already it looked like she’d been there years. Despite this, she got the impression that they would work well together.
Maggie felt her mobile phone buzz in her pocket. Pulling it out and seeing his name on the screen always filled her with dread. Why now?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Maggie stared at her mobile debating on whether she should answer it. She clicked to answer, putting the phone to her ear.
‘What have you done now?’
‘Hello to you, too.’
‘Cut the bullshit. I’m still at work. What do you want?’ Maggie stood up and walked out to the hallway.
Glancing back into the office, she noticed Mark quickly turn and look at his computer screen. Maggie needed to keep calm and lower her voice; she didn’t want any awkward questions that she couldn’t answer.
A familiar whine reached her ears.
‘Sorry, I thought you’d be at home now, it’s late. Can I stay at yours? I’ve been thrown out of my flat.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. What have you done now?’
‘Nothing! I swear. The landlord has it in for me.’
Maggie looked at her watch and sighed.
‘I’m done now. Meet me at the café on the corner near my flat. We’ll talk.’
‘Thanks, Maggie. Really – you have no idea how much this means to me. Should I, uh, bring my stuff with me?’
‘You can … but I’m not making any promises. Let’s talk first.’
Maggie hung up. She saw Mark looking her way again, but ignored him and headed back to her desk so she could wrap things up for the day and get out of there.
Why the fuck am I the only one he calls?
He was already seated and tearing napkins to shreds when Maggie arrived at the corner café. This was a nervous habit from his childhood that seemed to have carried on into his adult years.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ Maggie gently tapped his shoulder.
He nearly jumped out of his seat. ‘Shit, Maggie! You scared the bloody hell out of me! The waitress will be back in a sec. I already have a coffee on the way. I didn’t think you’d be here so soon, or I would have got you one too.’
‘Oh, right. How would you have paid for it, if I had changed my mind about coming?’
‘Don’t be like that, sis. It’s good to see you.’
Maggie sat across from her brother and, despite her best efforts, her lip curled slightly into a smile.
‘It’s good to see you too, Andy. Though why is it you only call or come to see me when you’re in trouble?’
The waitress arrived at the table with Andy’s coffee and took Maggie’s order.
Maggie noticed the waitress had a pretty smile and watched her walk back towards the counter.
‘I see you still like the ladies then? Guess it wasn’t a phase after all?’
Maggie picked up a coaster and gripped it firmly.
‘Oh, I see. You’re still in denial? Nothing wrong with being a lesbian these days, you know.’
‘Watch your fucking mouth, Andy. I’m not a lesbian. I date men! When have you ever seen me with a woman? Don’t bloody label me. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.’
‘OK. OK. Calm down. So, you’re bisexual. What’s the big deal?’
‘I’ve had just about enough of your shit, Andy. Enough, already. And keep your fucking voice down, will you … What I do in my personal time is none of your business. Can we move on now? We’re not here to talk about me.’ Maggie glared at her brother.
Holding up his hands, Andy Jamieson admitted defeat. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was a sore subject and I didn’t come here to upset you. Is that Chopper case still getting to you? You seem a bit on edge. I’ve missed you, OK, and I thought if you knew that I understood about the … ladies … well, things could get back to normal with us.’
Maggie waved her hand dismissively. ‘So, what is it that you really want, Andy?’
‘I told you on the phone. I need a place to stay. My landlord evicted me, and I just need to get my head together and sort out where I go from here.’ He was fidgeting and playing with the corner of the tablecloth.
Maggie frowned.
‘Who do you owe money to?’
Andy had a gambling problem and their parents had washed their hands of him years before. Maggie had bailed him out a few times but knew this wasn’t something she could keep doing. He was her brother though, and she hated to think of what he’d do if things got desperate.
‘No one! Why do you always assume the worse of me?’
‘Erm … because I know you! Why would you get evicted if you were paying your rent? And why aren’t you paying your rent if you have no other debts? You’re still working, right?’
‘Yes, I’m still working – but I may have missed a few rent payments, OK? Seems my landlord is not the negotiating type.’
‘Here’s the deal then, Andy, and I mean this. You have four months. You need to be honest with me, but more importantly, with yourself. I’m guessing you’re back gambling and that has got to stop; I won’t be helping you out again. If you pressure me, you will find yourself out on the streets.’ Maggie knew she sounded harsh, but Andy pushed everyone to the limits and he had to know that this would be the last time.
They picked up a pizza on the way back to Maggie’s flat and over the next few hours, Andy had told his sister that he owed six-thousand pounds to a loan shark for a gambling debt. Maggie didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Every week that he missed a repayment, the debt went up. His job at the factory wouldn’t cover the repayments, but he assured Maggie that if she helped him out this one last time, he’d pay her back.
Maggie had eight thousand pounds in her savings and agreed that she’d pay back the debt on the condition that she could go with him to this loan shark. Maggie also stipulated that within the four months that he was staying with her, he was to do all the odd jobs that needed doing in the flat without so much as a moan.
Andy had already depleted their parents of their savings and she wouldn’t let him do the same to her without getting something in return. He would earn the money and if he messed up again, she would cut him out of her life completely. It was tough love, but it was the only thing that would get through to him.
