Liar Liar: DI Helen Grace 4 (A DI Helen Grace Thriller) (27 page)

He felt like a marked man.

It wasn’t enough that Helen Grace had ruined his career, destroyed his piece of mind and shredded the last vestiges of his self-respect. No, she had left him with a stain – a stain that everyone could see.

He had been exonerated, for God’s sake. The police
knew
he wasn’t responsible for any of the attacks, yet what did they do about it? Did they trumpet his release as they had his initial arrest? Did they let the world know that he was innocent? No, they put out a two-line statement confirming he’d been released from custody and left it at that.

To the wider world, Richard Ford was still the face in the frame. The hero firefighter turned villain, betraying his colleagues and his calling, revelling in the destruction of his hometown. He was a pariah in Southampton and wherever he went he sensed people’s hatred. He had lasted all of an hour in the hotel, hiding in a small room that reeked of bleach, unable to venture out for fear of the abuse and insults that the staff, guests and passers-by were happy to heap on him. One of the cleaners actually spat at him in the corridor. He didn’t respond or turn back to seek sanctuary in his room. Instead he broke into a run, sprinting back home.

His house had been defaced of course. Graffiti on the walls and windows, dog shit smeared on the door. But he
didn’t care. He knew he would be safe here. Having done a quick recce of the interior, he made a list of all the things he would need: padlocks, chains, a crowbar, perhaps a hammer for good measure. He had no idea what the future held, what he would do with his life, but he had resolved to hunker down in his home until he could see a way out of all the darkness.

The guy in Robert Dyas had been surly and hostile. He obviously recognized him from the papers, as did the halfwit in Tesco’s who glared at him as she bagged his food. Richard could have sworn he heard her mutter: ‘I hope it chokes you’ as he left, but he didn’t care. He was looking forward to getting home and shutting out the world.

Pushing open the garden gate, he hurried up the path towards the front door. Putting down his shopping, he reached into his pocket to pull out his key. Then suddenly he felt himself flying sideways, careering off the steps and landing hard on the paved path. The right side of his head felt strange – numb and tingling – and he raised his hand to it now, but it was wrenched away roughly.

This time he saw the fist coming. He turned his head to avoid it, but too late, the balled fist crunching into his jaw. His head kicked back, connecting sharply with the hard ground. Suddenly everything went quiet – he couldn’t hear properly and his vision was swimming. He tried to wriggle free, but the fist came again. This time he felt two teeth go – though whether he’d swallowed them or they’d fallen out he couldn’t say.

Now the rough hands were circling his throat, squeezing hard. And his attacker seemed to be shouting – coarse,
violent words tumbling over one another. Richard Ford swung out a fist, but it was hopeless. He was already beaten and he knew it.

Then as suddenly as it started, it stopped. In his confusion and shock, Richard could see a man being dragged away. His attacker tried to escape the hands that now restrained him, lurching back towards him, but he couldn’t break free. And now he seemed to give up the fight, slumping to the floor, as those who’d intervened stood guard. And as the passers-by who’d saved his life punched numbers into their mobile phones, Richard Ford tried to focus on his attacker. The man was breathing heavily but now looked up. For a second their eyes met and suddenly Richard knew exactly who he was.

And why he’d come for him.

Thomas Simms looked up as Charlie entered the room. He stared at her briefly, then dropped his gaze to the floor, unable or unwilling to look at her.

Charlie had run down to the custody area as soon as she’d heard that Simms had been brought in. Her first reaction to news of the attack on Richard Ford had been shock – it was Karen and Alice’s funeral today – then as it became clear that Ford’s injuries were superficial and that he had no desire to press charges, her anxiety was tempered with some relief. Ford’s desire to avoid any further involvement with the police would save Thomas Simms a day in court.

‘Thomas?’

He didn’t look up, his face now pressed into his hands. He looked wrung out, exhausted, his dirty, blood-flecked clothes hanging off his thin frame.

‘Thomas, you’re going to have to talk to me.’

‘I don’t need to be lectured by you,’ he replied suddenly. His tone was abrasive and harsh.

‘I’m not going to lecture you, but we need to talk. I know you’re upset, I know you’re angry, but you can’t go around doing things like
this.
’

‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,’ Simms replied, now raising his eyes to Charlie. ‘He deserved it for what he did to my girls and as soon as I’m out of here I’ll be straight back round to finish the jo—’

‘He’s innocent, Thomas.’

‘Bullshit. You had him and you let him go. This is on your head, not mi—’

‘He didn’t start the fires.
Any
of them.’

‘Then who did?’

Charlie hesitated – unsure how best to respond – so Simms renewed his attack.

‘You haven’t got a clue, have you? You’ve been chasing your tails since day one.’

‘We’re doing everything in our power to catch the person responsible,’ Charlie countered. ‘But believe me when I tell you that you have just attacked an innocent man.’

Finally Charlie’s words seemed to land. Thomas Simms glared at her, but said nothing in response.

‘You could have killed him and where would that have left Luke? What would you have said to him when you were in the dock? When you were behind bars?’

Thomas stared at the floor once more. Charlie softened her tone:

‘I know what you’re going through, I know you have doubts about whether we can bring this guy in, but Luke
has
to be your number one priority now. You will have justice, I promise you that, but that is
our
job. Yours is to be with your son.’

Charlie braced herself for an angry comeback, but it never came. Thomas looked up at her sharply, but some of the fire seemed to have gone out of him now.

‘Don’t abandon him, Thomas. Don’t let your anger or your desire for revenge drive a wedge between you. Luke doesn’t want any of that. He just wants you.’

Thomas stared at her and then, from nowhere, tears
came, running down his cheeks in thick streams. He wiped them away, but a dam had broken now and he crouched down on the floor, all the tension and misery of the last few days escaping, as his body shook with quiet sobs.

Kneeling down, Charlie put a comforting arm around him.

‘Go to him, Thomas. He needs you now more than ever and if you can help him through the days, weeks and months ahead, then you will have done your job. You’re all he has.’

Charlie had leads to chase and duties to fulfil but these were forgotten now as she held on to the man who thought he’d lost everything, but still had one very valuable prize to fight for.

It all felt alien and wrong. The last few hours had been a grotesque caricature of their ordered, settled lives, and try as they might to regain some kind of normality, life continued to frustrate them.

Jacqueline Harris’s nerves were shot. She was of course relieved that Ethan was largely unharmed, but their home was a smoking ruin, their nanny was dead and they now found themselves here – in a hastily rented apartment in Upper Shirley. They had taken it because it was large, available and close to their former neighbourhood, but standing here now in the bland, sterile space, Jacqueline suddenly felt they’d made a mistake. The whole place felt cold and unwelcoming.

Ethan had gone to bed to rest – he had a nice enough bedroom out the back with a good view – and Michael had stepped outside to call the nanny agency. She didn’t know whether it would fall to them or the agency to inform Agnieszka’s relatives of her death, but she had ducked the issue anyway, landing that one on Michael. She had enough on her plate already – dealing with Ethan, liaising with the insurance company, organizing a new home help, not to mention fielding the endless press calls and follow-up questions from the police. How had their life suddenly become
this
?

She’d tried to engage Ethan in conversation, thinking
it was better for him to be occupied, but he’d only managed five minutes before flaking out. Leaving her alone in this horrible, unfamiliar place. She hoped that Michael would hurry up and come back. She’d never been very good at being on her own. She checked her emails again – a deluge of sympathy messages – and her BlackBerry for a third time. But it was all just distraction – an attempt to pretend that life was going on as normal. But who was she kidding? Someone had tried to kill their son last night, had razed their house to the ground, and she had no idea why. Would they strike again? Or had they achieved all that they hoped for last night?

Not for the first time today, Jacqueline craved a drink. She knew she shouldn’t – couldn’t – but she longed for one nevertheless. She was lonely, miserable and scared – and terrified of what was still to come.

Mandy Blayne was smiling, but it was all an act.

She had cooked Darren a full English as usual and he was wolfing it down opposite her. He never left a scrap and always said it was the best breakfast in Southampton. But that never made him stay. He had dropped several hints during the course of last night that he’d be moving on in the morning – he said it was work, but Mandy was sure that was a lie. She knew he had other women on the go. He always denied it of course, angered by the suggestion, but she could smell it on him when he arrived.

He often turned up unannounced, knowing he’d always get a warm welcome. Mandy was a fool to herself, she knew that, but she loved him. Pure and simple. She shouldn’t but she did. And when he did come, when he was here with her, things always seemed better. They’d have a few beers, watch a bit of TV, then go upstairs for a cuddle. And that’s where they’d stay – often spending a whole weekend in bed. Darren always joked that he needed a good breakfast in the morning to regain his strength after what they got up to.

This time had been different of course. She’d been building herself up to telling him she was pregnant since the moment he turned up on her door with a bunch of roses in his hand. He’d been away from her for nearly
seven weeks and her depression this time round was compounded by the realization that she’d missed her period. She had put off buying a pregnancy test, hoping against hope that she was just late, but in the end she had to know. The positive result sent her mood plunging still further, then later when she’d had time to think, she’d half wondered if it might be a good thing. Was this the start of a different future for Mandy?

She’d meant to tell him before they had dinner. Then, having failed to do that, she vowed to tell him before they went upstairs. But when it came to it, she didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to risk spoiling the evening, so they’d tumbled into bed together as usual. He never used protection, it never seemed to enter his head to do so. She thought she’d had this covered, but obviously she hadn’t.

After that the moment had passed. If she told him now, it would be like she’d sprung it on him. Accepted the flowers, the booze, the company and then handed him an unpleasant bill for his services. All her fond hopes that he might actually be pleased evaporated and she knew instinctively that he would run a mile if he thought she was trying to tie him down. She couldn’t risk that, so she said nothing.

She had decided to get it dealt with. She would go to the doctor and see what he could give her. He’d try to talk through the options, but she had made up her mind. She wasn’t ready to be a mother. Wouldn’t wish it on the poor kid anyway.

There’d be no one to comfort her afterwards. She’d come back to her little two up, two down, in St Denys,
shut the door and hear the silence. Maybe she’d cry for a bit. Or have a smoke. Either way she’d end up spending the night alone, clutching a mug of tea and watching the TV. And that would be her lot.

Nothing interesting ever happened in her life.

‘I’d like to start by apologizing.’

Helen was anxious to get this over with so came straight to the point. So much had happened since her awkward interview with Gardam last night that for a while she had put it from her mind. But there was too much going on in the investigation, too much overlap between her and her boss, for the issue not to be addressed.

‘I’m sorry if I embarrassed you last night. That was never my intention.’

‘It’s fine, Helen. There’s no need to apologize.’

‘There is and I’ve done so, so I hope we can move on –’

‘And not mention it again. It was just a misunderstanding, nothing more.’

‘I’m glad you see it that way. Thank you.’

‘Of course and the offer still stands. Sarah and I
would
like to have you round at some point, so we can get to know you in a less formal environment.’

‘That sounds very pleasant. We’ll find a date.’

Helen tried to sound upbeat and enthusiastic, though in truth she had no desire to be given a tour of Gardam’s home and marriage. There seemed no way she could wriggle out of it now, however, so it was probably best to bite the bullet and follow through on her promise.

‘Good. Well that was all I came to say, so I’d better –’

‘Is everything ok, Helen? I don’t mean between us,
I mean more generally. I noticed you wincing just now, when you sat down. Have you hurt yourself in some way?’

Helen said nothing, ambushed by Gardam’s question. The truth was she ached all over today. Her back and shoulders were black and blue and her neck felt like it had seized up completely. It was excruciatingly painful and though her stash of painkillers had taken the edge off it, she wasn’t moving any more freely.

‘I know you’re the sort to put a brave face on it,’ Gardam continued. ‘But it’s my job to make sure my best officers are fit and happy. You always put your body on the line, for which I know you receive very little gratitude from the public or indeed our friends in the fourth estate.’

‘I know we’re under scrutiny, sir, but you don’t need to worry about me.’

Gardam was referring to the latest edition of the
Southampton Evening News
, a copy of which languished in his bin. Pretty much the entire paper was a hatchet job on Helen’s handing of the investigation. It had riled Helen when she first saw it – Emilia Garanita revealing her true colours by choosing the very worst moment to break their truce – but she had put it from her mind now. There was too much going on to worry about tomorrow’s chip paper.

‘I’m not concerned about what the papers say,’ Gardam assured her, ‘or what our two-faced MP is accusing us of on the phone-ins. What I
do
care about is the smooth and effective running of our investigations and hand in hand with that the health and well-being of my best officer.’

Helen nodded, as Gardam asked:

‘So is everything ok? I don’t want to overstep the mark
here, but is anything bothering you? Is there anything I can do to help?’

Helen looked at Gardam, knowing she had to make a split-second decision. The right thing to do was to tell Gardam about her confrontation with Max Paine and let him decide what to do about it. If she didn’t and her leadership of their present investigation was compromised by subsequent revelations, then he would have to suspend or sack her – and rightly so. It wouldn’t be fair on him, the investigation or the victims’ families to lie about her actions, but even as she opened her mouth to begin, she found herself saying:

‘Old war wound. I’ll be better in a day or so.’

Gardam asked her a few more questions – he seemed to be genuinely concerned for her – but eventually appeared satisfied with her explanation. As Helen left she knew that whatever the rights and wrongs of it, she didn’t feel able to let someone else into her own private – largely dysfunctional – world. She knew that she would have to deal with Paine herself and already had a sense of what needed to be done. She was so deep in thought, turning the various possibilities over in her mind, that she initially didn’t realize McAndrew was standing in front of her, blocking her path.

‘Sorry to disturb you, boss. But I think I may have found something.’