Reprobates (24 page)

‘
Let me have a bath and we will sit down and I promise I’ll tell you everything.’

‘
Everything?’

‘Yes,
’ he said turning away from her. ‘No more secrets,’ Dylan said as he went in the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

***

Dylan and Jen sat opposite each other at the dining table. She had laid the table specially and lit candles. Dylan picked up the wine glass, as if he wanted something to hold. He drank the contents straight down and poured himself another.

‘Jack?
’

‘
I meant to tell you a long time ago... but it’s serious. What I am going to tell you might upset you. That’s the tragedy of this whole business, someone always gets hurt... I can’t justify anything. I’m not even going to try but please just hear me out.’

Jen put her hand over his.

‘No don’t,’ he said pulling his hand away. ‘And don’t look at me like that,’ Dylan’s eyes were glazed.

‘
You could never hurt me unless you’re going to tell me you don’t love me any more or you’ve found someone else?’ she said.

‘Oh
God, it’s nothing like that. I love you more than anything. Do you honestly think I have the time for someone else?’ he asked forcefully.

‘
Well then...’ She smiled. ‘Everything will be okay,’ she said gently.

Dylan sat rigidly. His voice when he began to speak had a harshness about it. It was as though the revelation was like picturing the awful scene. She watched and listened as his eyes appeared to grow large and bewildered. What was he talking about?

‘What I’m talking about, Jen, is an incident, some time ago now, when I was on the firearms unit. We had a response call to an armed robbery taking place, at a local Lloyds Bank. A gunman had walked in, waving a firearm around and demanding cash. When he walked outside we were on site. Cars were broadsided, and we challenged him. He raised the handgun that he held in his right hand and pointed it in our direction. He wasn’t for surrendering.’ Dylan paused for a moment. ‘Three firearms officers, including myself shot him. He died instantly. We had to do it, before he shot one of us.’

Jen was conscious of feeling shocked, dismayed. He hurried on with intensity.

‘The shooting. It was all over in a moment. If we had waited any longer… But we didn’t wait. Either one of us, or all of us killed him.’

For the first time he looked at her. His face cracked into a shaky smile that grew tragically kind.
‘I’m sorry.’ Dylan could see her bemusement, her shock. She was far less strong than he thought. He spoke very gently. ‘Now I’ve explained it you might just begin to understand.’

Jen
’s hands went up to her face. He took one hand in his and he could feel her shaking as he had felt others shake in moments of terrible anxiety and fear. Dylan wanted to hold her, but feared rejection himself. ‘I haven’t told you before because I knew how much it would upset you.’ Her hand fell from her face and he could feel her shudder. She rose from the chair and stood with her back to him. The blind was still open and she saw a light whip across the lawn. She pulled on the cord and the blind dropped heavily. For a while she stood still. Eventually she turned. Dylan hadn’t moved. His eyes found hers.

‘
Doing the job you were doing I guess it was something that might happen,’ she said.

‘
It happened so quickly and not as I expected it would,’ he said. ‘I saw the sudden terror on the man’s face, an open mouth, eyes wide. The letter box on the blue door of the bank and the scarlet creeper up the wall became visible. A limp hand let the gun fall as if in slow motion to the floor. There was glass spraying everywhere. The shouting had stopped. A flicker of leaves sifted through an oblique ray of sunlight. The officer stood next to me had highly polished toes on his boots... he trod silently for two steps towards the gunman before he went to his knees.’ Dylan’s voice cracked.

‘
But there was a threat to life?’ Jen said.

‘Yes.
’

‘
The gunman. He was given time to surrender?’

‘
Yes, but we could have still been charged for murder. We were all decorated firearms officers, we all knew the killing was lawful. The man was an armed robber in a team who had been under surveillance by air and on the ground for months. The intel was that they were all wearing body armour and armed. We had no choice but to shoot at his head. He was a high-risk suspect. He was holding one gun and another loaded revolver was found in his pocket. One bullet went in his shoulder, one in his ear, the other in his head.’

‘
You could justify the shot?’

‘
Yes, we all could. I could be a killer, Jen. ‘Forensically it’s known which weapon each bullet came from, and at the post-mortem they would know which bullet caused his death. That to me only means that one of us is a better shot than the other two firearms officers. We were all responsible for his death. Even if the court, which they did, deemed it was a lawful killing.’

‘
But you’re not a murderer, Jack. You did what you had to do, like the others. You had to kill him or risk being killed.’

‘
It was still taking someone’s life, or being party to it.’

‘
Lawful though, a lawful execution.’

‘
Words. That doesn’t make it feel any better.’

‘
Maybe not, but when it came down to it, you did the job that you were trained to do.’

Dylan was silent, his head bowed.

‘And that’s why the details are not on your file,’ Jen said.

‘
There should be no details on mine or any of the other’s personal files. The identity of those involved remains anonymous except for the hierarchy who needed to know for obvious reasons, and the Independent Police Complaints Commission, the IPCC investigated it fully. It was a massive enquiry.’

A lone tear escaped from Jen
’s eye and ran down her face.

‘You
’re crying,’ said Dylan reaching out to wipe it from her cheek.

‘
Not for him. For you. Is that why you came out of the unit?’ she said with a sob.

‘Yes, I don
’t know if I could react the same again.’

‘
He was evil.’

‘
He was a bastard. His family talk about him as if he was a bloody angel too. In their eyes we murdered their son, brother, uncle, cousin...’

‘
So there is no mystery?’

‘
No, no mystery,’ he said with a weak smile.

‘
Just a piece of you I didn’t know about?’

‘
And Avril knows. Well, she knows something. She hints at it often. Some paperwork I understand initially came through under confidential cover. Hugo-Watkins took it off her, sent it back to HQ and created hell. It was sent in error apparently.’

‘
It just hurts that she knew something about you that you didn’t feel you could share with me. Her of all people.’

‘It
’s past, Jen and that’s where it has to remain, buried.’

She looked away from him. Maisy
’s red coat, hat and gloves were hanging on the peg. She shuddered at the redness... What shocked her was her reaction to it. ‘It could have been you that had died, couldn’t it?’ Suddenly something broke in her and she burst into tears. ‘We might never have met... we wouldn’t have Maisy.’

Dylan found Jen sitting at the pillow end of the bed sometime later. She looked dishevelled. Her cheeks were red and tear stained. He was hesitant but lay on the bed next to her and she turned into his arms. As Jen slept he lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling, barely visible in the darkness of the room. He was sweating. Telling Jen about the incident had opened up old wounds and in his mind he relived the events of that fateful day. Sleep eluded him for a long time. He had survived but it could have turned out so different.

The team were all present at Harrowfield Police Station as instructed. They stood in the basement of the police station, a large expanse of space known as the Void, waiting for last minute instructions. Glancing around, a few of those present looked as if they hadn’t been to bed, Dylan felt the same, but hoped his restless night didn’t show. Dylan expected his team to be able to work hard and play hard and he expected nothing less of himself. Work was their priority. The role of a police officer demanded one hundred per cent commitment. The job description didn’t allow for shirkers. There was no room for laziness and no ability to carry such on a homicide investigation. Carelessness cost lives and evidence. Of course mistakes were made but if they were done through conscious neglect, Dylan would deal with it quickly and effectively. He wouldn’t allow anyone to intentionally or otherwise bring disrepute to the investigation. His officers knew where they stood with him, and were aware that should they overstep the line they would be ousted from the team.

Acting Detective Sergeant Vicky Hardacre was
‘on her toes,’ checking the uniform units were ready, then the two cars set off in the semi-darkness from the police station yard. Daylight hadn’t quite arrived in Harrowfield. The air conditioning in Dylan’s car was activated to maximum ensuring the windows were clear of condensation. It was drizzling and the windscreen wipers rocked to and fro intermittently. Once they left Harrowfield town centre behind, the road lighting along the country lanes became intermittent. High hawthorn hedges made the single track roads appear much darker. The lead car’s main beam illuminated the way forward and the other found it easier to ride on its tail lights.

At their destination of Midgley Court the officers re-grouped in the car park.

‘Looks like he’s here, boss,’ Vicky said pointing to his transit van in the designated parking bay.

Swiftly they made their way to the suspect
’s door. The loud knocks with a baton handle, echoed along the corridor. A light could be seen from within and was accompanied by angered shouting. ‘Alright. Alright.’

‘
And I was hoping to use the door ram,’ Vicky said to Dylan quietly as they heard the locks being retracted.

‘
Hopefully with more effect than they portray the act on TV,’ he said.

‘I
’ve been on the course,’ she said as the door swung open. The occupier stood in nothing more than a pair of black boxer shorts. He was a tanned, middle-aged man with a six-pack. ‘What the fuck do you lot want?’ he asked, screwing his eyes up at the light outside his door. The odour from the flat was of spent whisky.

‘
Richard Bryant?’ Vicky said.

‘
Who’s asking?’

‘
Acting Detective Sergeant Hardacre, Harrowfield CID. Can we come in?’

His fists that were by his side clenched, Bryant stuck out his chest and his nostrils flared. The non-verbal signs to the officers that suggested he was going to kick off
.

‘
You are being arrested on suspicion of the murder of Billy Simpson,’ Vicky said.

‘
Who the fuck are you?’ he asked as he stepped forward towards Dylan.

‘
Detective Inspector Dylan,’ he said, flashing his warrant card. Dylan didn’t back away. ‘And you’d better get some clothes on or you’ll be coming with us like that.’

Seeing the back-up that uniform supplied he wisely backed down and the two detectives followed him into the bedroom. He pulled on tracksuit bottoms and a cut away T-shirt. Sitting on the bed he looked up at Dylan with cold blue eyes as if contemplating something but Dylan couldn
’t tell what. Whatever it was he decided against it. Standing up he put his arms out at Vicky’s request and was handcuffed without any problems, before being led out to the police car by uniform. The search could now begin in earnest on his flat for evidence that would connect him to the murder of Billy Simpson.

‘
Good job he didn’t kick off, he looks a strong lad,’ Dylan said.

‘Yeah, he
’s fit,’ Vicky said with a quick raising of an eyebrow.

Dylan looked at her and shook his head.

‘What I mean is he keeps himself fit,’ she said rolling her eyes. ‘Do you ever get the feeling when you’re speaking to someone that the wheel’s turning but the hamster’s not present?’

‘
Yeah, know what you mean,’ he said with a snigger. ‘I don’t want to burst the bubble but the muscle’s more than likely steroid enhanced looking at all the tablets and containers of protein powders in his kitchen. Did you see his thick yellow toenails?’

‘
No, but then I wasn’t looking at his feet,’ she said.

‘
Calm yourself. He could be a bloody murderer,’ said Dylan. ‘I’m off back for breakfast. Find me some evidence and then be ready to interview your would-be Adonis. Don’t forget to have his van searched and examined by CSI.’

‘Yes, boss,
’ she said.

***

Jen woke with a cracking headache. She was on the verge of nausea. She held two painkillers in the hollow of her hot hand, and filled a small glass of water from the sink. Maisy was still asleep. Opening the door to the kitchen she felt the full force of last night’s declaration again as she faced the dinner plates that sat, food mostly untouched, on the kitchen table. She opened the window. The coffee she poured smelt strong to her sensitive nose. Her heart felt heavy. An optimistic sparrow hopped onto the window ledge, it’s eye on her, hoping for a scrap or two. Its feathers all fluffed up. She shut the window quickly. The sparrow flew away. ‘Wild birds in the house are unlucky,’ Jen could hear her mum say.

Maisy woke and Jen found comfort in her smile and playfulness. As she threw back the curtains of the nursery, with Maisy in her arms she discovered the sun and the fresh day seemed to touch the wound of what had happened last night. The room was peaceful in colour and scent. Jen would check on Dylan today at work to see if he was okay. They could face anything together, she knew that deep down. The coffee and drugs seemed to soothe her headache. Maisy played happily with her toys and Jen lay curled up on the sofa ignoring the room
’s unusual state of untidiness. Poor Jack, she felt she had somehow let him down by making him relive the events of the fatal shooting. She caught a tear as it spilled onto her cheek and Maisy looking up at her held out her hand with gentleness. She held her daughter’s hand for a brief moment and smiled at her. At least Max appeared to be alright, that had to be a positive.

***

In the CID office, Paul was diligently going through the enquiries into Operation Pullman. He had news for Dylan when he returned. He believed now that Richard Bryant was the plumber that had been in attendance at Kirsty Gallagher’s home.

‘
That’s interesting,’ said Dylan. ‘Fancy the same name coming into both enquiries. What are we missing?’

‘
I don’t know. What could the connection be? Women? Sex?’ Paul wondered aloud.

‘We
’ll see what his reaction is to the questions we put to him about Billy Simpson’s murder first. Then we’ll drop it on his toes about his link with Kirsty Gallagher.’

***

The detectives were ready to go into interview. The local solicitors from the old Co-op buildings had been contacted on the suspect’s behalf by the custody officer. Lin Perfect was on her way, Dylan had been informed. ‘Those two must be making a packet,’ thought Dylan, with the frequent requests they got for their services at Harrowfield Police Station alone. Having said that he couldn’t complain, they were straight and attended in person rather than sent ‘runners’ – untrained staff to attend at the police station. If a ‘runner’ was sent to the station to speak to a client on behalf of a solicitor they would write down the details and tell the suspect not to reply to any questions until they had reported back to the office. That didn’t help the suspect or the police on many occasions in Dylan’s experience. A simple explanation could mean an early release for their client, which should in fact be the solicitor’s priority although that was not always the case.

As Dylan waited for Richard Bryant and Lin Perfect in the interview room he sat wondering how Bryant would react. Some prisoners wanted to fight. No doubt these were the ones that were annoyed with themselves for being caught for the crime they had committed. Some prisoners were talkers and would try to dominate the interview. Others remained silent throughout and avoided eye
contact with the interviewer by looking at the floor or the ceiling, whichever took their fancy. There was nothing on display or of interest in an interview room. Intentionally it was left with bare walls so that suspects had nothing to focus on other than those speaking. It would only be a matter of minutes before Dylan’s question were put to this prisoner.

It would be boring if all interviews were the same. Each held a new challenge for Dylan in his search of the truth. The importance for Dylan was to take control in interview and remain in control throughout, using his body language to get a reaction even when there was silence.

Lin Perfect he knew, would be pleasant as always but when the case got to court there was always a show for the gallery from her and her partner Mrs Best.

Dylan heard the heavy fire doors on the corridor open and close, and getting up to stand at the entrance to the interview room, he could see Richard Bryant strutting down the corridor from his cell. He gave Dylan the evil eye as he passed. Dylan stepped out into the corridor. The door closed behind him and Lin Perfect.

Twenty minutes later, after private consultation with his solicitor, Dylan and Vicky went in to the interview room and took their seats across the table from the two. Silently Mr Bryant shook his head from side to side suggesting to Dylan that he felt aggrieved to be there. He ground his teeth annoyingly, tutted and sighed.

Dylan was going to enjoy the next
forty-five minutes.