Читать книгу Her Last Secret - P Kane L - Страница 14

His friends had been on his mind all night.

How could they not have been? Jules, Jake … Jordan. How could he just switch off and relax with the family, forget about it all, when they couldn’t? Apart from anything else, he’d been needed back at the station until late – and Katherine had understood that. It went with the territory, though it wasn’t usually as rocky as it had been yesterday.

Matt had swung by after leaving Jake (leaving him to get drunk back at the hotel!) and checked on Linda, who’d come to the door to talk to him in hushed tones, to answer his question about how Julie was.

‘How do you think? Not great.’

‘Yeah, I figured.’

‘How’s the dad? The real dad.’

‘’Bout the same,’ he admitted, telling her which hotel he’d checked into so she could pass that on, but leaving out the bit about the bottle he’d bought to take with him.

‘Poor sods,’ said Linda.

‘Yeah,’ agreed Matt.

She’d told him she was sticking around for a while, maybe even until the husband came back, because at least then she wouldn’t be alone – and Matt had thought about Jake again, who’d wanted, insisted on being by himself. How that probably wasn’t a great idea, but how he’d almost definitely sleep that night. Probably better than Jules would, especially with that pillock of a partner by her side. They’d said their goodbyes, Matt telling her to ring for a squad car when she was done, and he’d headed off back to the station to answer the call.

Matt’s boss, DS Channing, who looked like he should be selling used cars somewhere, or in a toothpaste commercial because he had far too many teeth and they were far too polished, had greeted him when he got there. With his slicked-back hair, and smile he kept flashing – which was very rarely genuine – he was a PR person’s dream, and had spent most of the day talking to and ‘handling’ the press with regards to this case. He had a habit, especially where women were concerned, of introducing himself as ‘Channing. Like Tatum …’ (Not that he bore even a passing resemblance) ‘Only better looking …’ (He really wasn’t).

‘The big news is, we got the prints from the knife back,’ he’d said to Matt, which surprised him because it usually took at least forty-eight hours. They’d been fast-tracked, Channing explained, and were pretty clean. They were also a perfect match for Bobby Bannister. ‘Now all we need is a match for Jordan’s blood on his clothes, and we’re sorted. You don’t see many open-and-shut cases on the force, Newcomb, but I think we’re looking at one here,’ Channing had concluded.

It certainly seemed that way. Wouldn’t be long now before Bobby was officially charged, the whole thing done and dusted. That should be some sort of silver lining for the family, surely? Shouldn’t it?

Matt couldn’t help putting himself in their position, in Jake’s position. Would it be a comfort to him at all if he were in that man’s shoes? His daughter – his estranged daughter – was still dead. It had been on his mind the rest of his shift, on the drive home, and when he let himself in through the front door.

Katherine had been in the living room, watching the TV, watching the news reports that were still full of the story. They were bound to be, it had only broken today and was the most exciting thing that had happened in years around here. Wasn’t exciting for Matt, though; wouldn’t have been for any of those reporters either if they’d had to deliver the news to the family. Although some of them had rocks where their hearts should be, so maybe it wouldn’t have bothered them one bit.

‘Bad business,’ Katherine had said. Katherine, not Kate, not Kitty; she hated abbreviations, his wife. Always called him Mathew, rather than Matt, and their son was Edward, not Eddie or Ed.

He’d nodded, then wandered over, loosening his tie and tossing his jacket onto a nearby chair as he did so. Matt picked up the remote. ‘Do you mind if I …’

Katherine, with her neatly cropped hair, still in her own work clothes – blouse and slacks, ironed to within an inch of their lives – rather than in pyjamas or whatever normal people might be chilling out in at this time of night, had nodded as well. She worked at a solicitor’s in the finance department, which was where they’d met initially. Hadn’t been anything police-related, but rather a hearing for his dad’s will, sorting out the sale of the family house now that both his parents had passed away. He’d bumped into Katherine quite by accident, and quite literally, on his way out. They’d both laughed, looked into each other’s eyes – like one of those crazy rom-coms he couldn’t stand. She’d been on her way out too, for lunch, so he’d chanced his arm and asked if he could buy her something to eat. That had turned into drinks and dinner some other time, and before they knew it they were living together, then married, then along had come Edward.

After changing channels, finding some kind of inane quiz show where the contestants were answering questions to try and win a speedboat, he’d kissed Katherine and slumped down on the sofa beside her.

‘Rough day, I guess,’ she’d said.

‘You could say that.’

‘I saved you some lasagne, just needs heating up.’

‘Cheers.’ To be honest, all he was thinking about was the couple of bottles of lager still in the fridge from the weekend.

‘You okay?’ she asked.

He shook his head then. ‘I … I knew them. The family,’ he admitted.

‘Oh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s rough.’

Another nod.

There was a moment or two when he thought she was going to lean over to him, maybe put her arms around him and give him a hug – because, Christ, he could use one – but in the end she didn’t. She wasn’t the most demonstrative of people, Katherine, but she’d hid that well … at the start.

‘Eddie … Edward in bed?’

Her turn to nod again. ‘He wanted to wait up for you, but, well …’

Matt understood, it was way past his bedtime and routine was important. So he’d been told. ‘I think I’ll just go and look in on him,’ he said to Katherine.

‘Do you think that’s a good idea? He’ll be asleep by now.’

‘I won’t wake him,’ Matt promised and stood, making his way to the door. He looked back only once at the doorway, to see Katherine rising and picking up his jacket, brushing it down with her hands. And he thought again of Julie, her face – how she’d hardly changed that much. Then he thought about the tears she’d been crying, thought about her and Jake at the morgue, how they’d held each other, and his friend standing there at the entrance to the hotel where he’d left him. Then he’d carried on upstairs to see his son. Safe, in bed.

Alive.

As careful as he’d been opening the door to Edward … Eddie’s bedroom, the child had still stirred when he heard the noise. Not enough to wake up properly, which Matt was grateful for, just enough to turn over and face his father – something Matt was also thankful for. He studied his son’s sleeping face, eyes closed, content, at peace. Eddie knew nothing of the world or its horrors yet, the things people did to each other on a daily basis. But the time would come when he did, and Matt wondered what he’d make of that. Would he be shocked or take it all in his stride?

And Matt thought then about the fact that Bobby Bannister had once been a kid in a bed like this one, innocent and at peace (or had he? Matt realised he knew very little about their main suspect’s background yet). Flash forward a few years and, for whatever reason, he’d stabbed his girlfriend in the chest with a knife. Maybe she’d been cheating on him, a crime of passion – and Matt thought then how much of what was wrong in this world came down to love, to sex … either that or money.

They just had to make sure, somehow, that Eddie never went down that path. Teach him right from wrong, although there were some who said this kind of stuff was inside kids from the get-go; the whole nature vs. nurture debate. Looking at him here, his sweet, sweet kid, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, Matt found it hard to image Eddie doing anything like that when he grew up. But given the right circumstances, the right push, couldn’t anyone snap? He saw it all the time in his line of work, though never usually this dramatically it had to be said. If life threw enough shit at you, maybe one day you’d just lose it and …

Matt shook his head and closed the door. You could drive yourself mad thinking thoughts like those. Which was why he tried his best not to; he thought he’d gotten quite good at it, but …

Even as he warmed up his food and ate (he didn’t bother with the lager) then attempted to watch a movie with Katherine – some political thriller about a president being in danger – what had happened to Julie, Jake, Jordan, was going round and round in his head.

Katherine was first in bed that night, and by the time he’d brushed his teeth and climbed in, she was sound asleep. It had been a long day for her as well, Matt understood that, working, then picking up Eddie from the sitter who took him after school, before cooking. But he could really have used some form of affection that night, even just a cuddle would have done the trick. It was like Katherine had this switch she’d flip when she went to sleep, out like a light – while he’d be there for hours staring at the ceiling or the clock, just trying to nod off.

Then, after it felt like he’d only just got to sleep, the alarm went off early for another day. Seconds later, Eddie was in their room, bouncing around on the bed. Matt felt like crap, but still laughed and hugged the kid to his chest – he never wanted to let go. Never wanted him to grow up.

‘Come on,’ Katherine said, already up and alert and holding out her hand for Eddie, ‘we’d better get you some breakfast.’

And, even though they – his son especially – were only downstairs, Matt felt a sudden sense of loss. A fraction of what Julie and Jake must have been feeling that morning. All he had to do was follow his family to the kitchen, while they would never see their kid ever again.

He grabbed some toast and ate with them, showered, said goodbye – another big hug from Eddie, a peck on the cheek from Katherine who was dropping the lad off at school – and headed to work himself.

It was around eleven when he got the phone call. Jake had been on his mind again, and he’d been thinking about calling him at the hotel, or just going there to see how he was when his mobile had gone off.

‘Matt?’ the croaky voice said, then more clearly, ‘Matt. You said to ring if I needed anything.’

‘Jake? Hey mate, yes. Yes of course. I was just thinking about you.’ Hadn’t stopped, especially since most of his work that morning revolved around Jordan’s case again. Organising uniforms to keep the press at bay around the Allaway house … and it was only a matter of time before they found out where Jake was, as well. The fact the blood on Bobby’s clothes had now come back a match for Jake’s daughter’s. ‘How’re you doing?’

Jake ignored the question and said, flatly, ‘I need to see him, Matt.’

‘See who?’

‘The guy. The one Jordan was seeing. The one who …’ His words tailed off.

‘Bobby?’ Matt switched the phone to his other ear, lowered his voice. ‘Jesus, I can’t … It’s just not possible.’

There was a sigh at the other end. ‘I just need to see him. Look in his eyes, you know?’

‘I do, and I understand. Really I do, but—’

‘You said whatever I needed.’

‘Yeah, but I didn’t … Look, why don’t I come to you and we can talk about this. About what a spectacularly bad idea it is.’

‘I’m not asking to be put in a cell with him.’

‘Good job, because that’s never going to happen,’ spluttered Matt.

‘Just … what do you call it, a supervised visit. I need to see him. Ask him a few questions.’

‘That’s our job,’ Matt reminded him.

‘I know, I know. I just … Matt, I just need to do something.’

It was Matt’s turn to sigh. ‘Like I said, I understand. But it’s impossible, Jake.’

‘Matt,’ the man said then, ‘you owe me.’

Now that was low. Matt knew exactly what he was talking about. Not the fact that they’d done all sorts for each other, always been there looking out for one another … at least until they drifted apart and then eventually Jake moved away. He was talking about that time with the car, taking the rap for it, covering for Matt. But to bring it up now … ‘Jake, you might want to think about what you’ve just said.’

‘I know. I don’t think I’m being left a lot of choice.’

‘Might want to think about what you’re asking. I could lose my job here.’

‘You never would have had one, if it wasn’t for me. Hiring a lot of guys with records these days, are they?’ There was an edge to Jake’s tone he hadn’t heard in a long time, possibly not since they were rough and ready teenagers.

‘Fuck you,’ said Matt, all sympathy gone for a moment. ‘I’m trying to help here.’

‘I-I’m sorry … but put yourself in my position,’ Jake said then. It was exactly what Matt had been doing all day yesterday, all evening.

‘Trust me, I am. I’ve been trying to. But it’s really not fair of you to—’

‘Please,’ Jake broke in, his voice pathetic. ‘I’m begging you.’ Threats, then pleading. He had to remember what his friend was going through, what it was doing to him. But seeing the guy who’d done this, would that really help? Matt doubted it very much. ‘For me, for Jules … For what we all used to mean to each other. Just for a second. A glimpse. I just need to see him, I’ve never even seen the guy. I just need to understand.’

Matt was silent for a moment or two. Channing was out most of the day again, and he was pretty sure he could square it away with the sergeant on duty, Sharpe, who owed Matt a favour or two himself (it didn’t hurt that Sharpe had a daughter about the same age as Jordan). Bring in Jake under the guise of asking a few routine questions, then slip him out to the cells for just for a few minutes. It was a small station, hardly Fort Knox, and their camera system wasn’t exactly state of the art, was prone to glitches now and again. It could be done, wouldn’t be the first time. But if they were going to do this, it had to be soon – before their prime suspect was charged, possibly transferred. Matt supposed he owed Jake that much, if it’s what he wanted. Needed.

Anything you need …

‘I’m going to regret this, I know I am,’ he said.

‘Thanks, Matt. Really.’

‘I’ll come and pick you up,’ Matt said, and he cut off the call. Then thought to himself: and there I was worried that he’d do something stupid …

***

When Matt arrived at Jake’s hotel, he was standing outside waiting for him, wearing the same clothes as the day before.

Or rather, he wasn’t so much standing as leaning against the fencing outside; holding on to it for support. He looked dreadful. His skin was drained of all its colour, and his eyes were red, with dark rings around them. Just how much had he had to drink last night? More than one bottle, that was for sure, but it didn’t look like it had helped any with his sleep.

When Jake saw the car, he held up a hand – which almost immediately went to his stomach. As he reached the vehicle, Matt wound down the window and said, ‘I hope you got it all out of your system?’

‘I’m fine,’ Jake tried to assure him, the same crap as yesterday – but it sounded even less convincing today.

He opened the glove compartment, pulled out a pair of sunglasses and handed them to Jake as he climbed in. ‘Maybe we should do this another time.’ Like never, thought Matt.

‘I said I was fine,’ snapped Jake, putting on the shades. Then apologised. ‘Please …’

‘Sure.’ Anything but the begging again.

On the way back to the station, he thought about telling Jake the news: the fingerprint and blood match. Then he thought better of it. That probably wasn’t the kind of thing you needed to hear just before seeing the person in question. So they rode in silence.

But then Jake suddenly piped up: ‘Has … has he said anything else?’

Matt looked across at his friend in the passenger seat. ‘Bobby? Only that he’s innocent. That he didn’t do it.’

‘Weren’t there any … I mean there must be CCTV footage of all this?’

‘There’s been a spate of vandalism attacks recently. The cameras were smashed in the square the previous weekend – haven’t been fixed yet.’

Jake let out a slow breath, then asked, ‘And what do you think?’

Matt faced front again, indicating left. He shrugged, thought again about telling Jake what they’d discovered, but didn’t.

‘You must have some sort of idea, some sense as to whether or not he did it. I mean … you’ve been doing this a while now.’

‘And I owe it all to you, right?’ Matt couldn’t help that one, picking up on what he’d said about people with records joining the force.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jake said again. ‘I was desperate.’

The truth was he probably did owe it to Jake. Not just because he took the fall for stealing that car, but because he set an example. Got himself together and worked his arse off when Jules had fallen pregnant with Jordan, which in turn had made Matt realise he needed to get his own act together. Jake might not have steered him towards the force, but he’d made him see that there was more to life than just dossing around. And on the occasion he’d seen them all together, it had made him want a family as well. Had been one of the things he’d had in common with Katherine when they’d eventually met. ‘I wasn’t just covering my own back, you know. I’m not sure you’re ready for this.’

Jake let out a bitter laugh. ‘When am I ever going to be ready for it?’

‘I just meant—’

‘Matt, yesterday I saw my daughter for the first time in God knows how long, and … and she was lying dead in the morgue. Today, I just want to understand. To know why.’

‘You won’t get that from just looking at him,’ Matt promised.

‘Maybe not. But it’s a start,’ Jake told his friend. ‘It’s somewhere to start.’

Matt thought about asking just what it was Jake thought he was starting here; after all, they were the ones conducting the investigation. If anyone was going to uncover the reason why this had all happened, it should be the police – and Jake had to trust them to do that. Had to trust him. Perhaps this was the first step in getting him to do that, a start in that respect as well.

And it had all been going so well.

Matt had got Jake inside, and in the cells – thanks to Sharpe’s assistance. Then Matt had opened up the metal slot in the door to Bobby’s cell, holding Jake back with one hand until he was sure it was okay for him to come forward – having made him promise not to do anything rash. ‘I’ll be there watching the whole time, and I’ll rush you out of there so fast your feet won’t touch the ground,’ he’d said to him.

To be fair, Jake had kept that promise. It hadn’t been him who’d caused the fuss. Bobby had been on his bunk, facing the concrete wall, dressed in a grey pair of sweats and top, having been relieved of his clothes the previous evening. He looked to be asleep – another person who’d had a bad night; the worst night … though not as bad as his victim, it had to be said. The timing for this little ‘visit’ couldn’t have been more perfect, in fact. Jake wouldn’t get to see his eyes, look into them as he’d mentioned, but he’d get to see the boy, and Matt would have fulfilled his promise to his old friend, not to mention built up that trust.

Matt looked at Jake and nodded for him to move closer, to look through the slot. Then he watched his friend, watching the boy. Sunglasses gone now, Matt could see just how bloodshot those blue-grey eyes were up close and personal like that, just how black the circles were that framed them. He looked like a shadow of the man he’d seen even yesterday, the toll of events – not to mention the alcohol he must have consumed – weighing him down. Jake’s eyes were wide, staring, taking in the lump on the bunk. But he didn’t say anything to draw attention, didn’t rouse the boy.

Just watched. As if being in his presence might tell Jake whether he’d done the deed or not, some sixth sense that could detect a person’s innocence or guilt.

And what do you think? You must have some sort of idea …

What did he think? Matt wasn’t entirely sure. Open-and-shut cases like this appeared to be were a bit too … neat for his liking. Katherine would have loved them, tying everything up with a bow on top. But, like Jake said, Matt had been doing this a long time, actually did have a sense for these things. One of the first things he’d done that morning had been to go through the background on Bobby, who’d been adopted at the age of 5 – so there could be something to that, he’d have to look into who the real parents were – but to all intents and purposes had been brought up in a stable home environment. Had parents who loved him a lot, going by the way they were trying to get back from their holiday abroad to come and see him after they’d been notified. So what had gone wrong …?

The noise interrupted his thoughts and he followed Jake’s gaze into the cell. Like his son the previous evening when he’d looked in on the kid, Bobby Bannister had rolled over when he sensed he was being observed. But unlike Eddie, Bobby had opened his eyes, had seen the figure peering into his cell, and he’d clambered to his feet.

‘You’re … I can tell, you … You’re her dad,’ said the boy, whose short black hair was sticking out at odd angles due to the way he’d been lying on it. ‘I can see her in your face.’

Jake’s eyebrows knitted together, breaths coming in short gasps. Matt looked down to see the man’s hands balling into fists, then opening again. Clenching and unclenching.

Bobby was stumbling towards the door now. ‘I didn’t do it, Mr Radcliffe, I swear! I didn’t do what they said I did.’

More heavy breathing from Jake.

‘Easy,’ Matt warned him, placing a hand on his shoulder which the man didn’t even notice.

Bobby wiped his nose with the back of his arm, eyes wet with tears. ‘It’s like I’ve been trying to tell them, we just arranged to meet, see? To go clubbing … I-I found her like that, I swear! I couldn’t have done that to Jordan. I honestly couldn’t.’

‘Jake …’ Matt was squeezing that shoulder, knew he should be getting his friend away from there. That he’d done what he could for now, what he promised. Jake had even got to look into the lad’s eyes.

‘I tried to … to pull it out, but there was so much … I thought I might make things worse. I was about to call an ambulance, I was. But then I heard sirens anyway, only … Only it was his lot. And … and I panicked, I ran. I knew how it would look, ’course I did!’ He stepped up closer to the open rectangle, voice rising. ‘But I swear—’

That was it: the third time Bobby swore that he’d had nothing to do with Jordan’s death was the trigger. Jake shrugged off Matt’s hand and tried to reach inside the space, barely able to get his hand in and yet he was able to grab Bobby by the collar. Matt, in turn, grabbed Jake’s arm to tried and wrench it away from the hole. But the man was stronger than he looked, even in his weakened condition, hatred and adrenaline obviously fuelling his attack.

How could he ever have thought it would end any other way, this encounter? How could he have been so naive as to think Jake just wanted to see the guy; obviously he was going to go for him, but as he was behind a thick metal door … At this particular point in time, though, Matt wouldn’t have put it past Jake to just ram down that barrier to get to Bobby. He was like a thing possessed, bucking and jerking to get a better angle, perhaps to try and wrap his fingers around Bobby’s throat and get his revenge. Snap his neck sideways with a satisfying crack.

Matt was tugging and tugging, but Jake’s grip on the boy was vice-like. In the end, what broke the spell, what broke into the moment, was the cry from behind them all. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ It carried weight that voice, authority, especially when it followed this up with: ‘What the actual fuck is going on here?’

They both turned as one, and Jake finally let go of Bobby, who retreated into his cell, still pleading his innocence. Needing Jake to see that he hadn’t done this terrible thing.

Matt and Jake stared at the figure of DS Channing standing there with his arms folded. You couldn’t tell how many teeth he had now, because the fake smile was gone – replaced by a look of condemnation. He wasn’t so much a PR person’s dream right at that moment, as a DC’s nightmare.

‘Sir, I can explain,’ Matt began.

‘Can you? Can you now …’ He unfolded his arms, leaned forward and cupped the side of his head. ‘Well, I’m all ears.’

‘Jake … Mr Radcliffe wanted to …’ Matt realised how ridiculous his explanation would seem, even as he was saying it.

‘It’s my fault,’ said Jake, looking down. ‘Don’t blame Matt. I talked him into it.’

Channing ran a hand over his face, then let it fall to his side. ‘I can’t believe this, I really can’t! Do you know what you’ve done here? We were this close.’ Now he held up that same hand, creating a tiny space between his thumb and forefinger. ‘This close to it all being over.’

‘It’ll never be over for me,’ said Jake.

Channing gaped at him, then waved his hand towards the exit. ‘Come with me, both of you!’

As they began to walk out, Matt could hear Bobby one final time back in the cell, his voice barely a whisper: ‘Wasn’t me … I swear!’

***

Channing took them to an interview room, the one with a two-way mirror running the length of one wall, and told them to sit down – though Matt remained standing initially.

‘I said sit down, DC Newcomb!’

Matt reluctantly did as he was told.

Channing proceeded to pace up and down in front of them as he spoke. ‘Now, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You, DC Newcomb, thought it would be a good idea to let the father of our victim – and yes, I do know who you are, Mr Radcliffe – have access to the person we believe to have committed the crime? Is that about the size of it?’

‘Well,’ said Matt, looking at his folded hands in front of him, ‘when you put it like that …’

‘When I …’ Channing banged on the table with his fist, causing them to start. ‘And this was, what, because he asked you to?’

‘Matt … DC Newcomb was just trying to help,’ offered Jake. ‘I needed—’

‘I don’t care what you needed,’ snapped Channing, face turning crimson. Then he saw Jake’s mournful expression and relented. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.’ Matt couldn’t tell whether it was because the DS was genuinely sorry, or he was just frightened of the repercussions; of what he’d said getting back to his superiors. ‘Of course I care, but you might just have ruined everything. We’re readying to nail that guy to the wall, but now he could bring charges himself for assault – and all while under our noses! All because of you, Newcomb.’ He rounded on Matt, jabbing a finger in his direction. ‘All because of some misplaced sense of loyalty to a friend.’

‘I’m … I’m sorry, sir.’

‘This could mean your job, you know.’

‘I know.’ It was what he’d told Jake when he’d been trying to persuade Matt; there was always a chance this could go south. That the ramifications would include his job, his career. Christ, how was he going to explain this to Katherine?

‘And it happened on my watch, so it could mean my neck as well. Okay, damage control … damage control,’ muttered Channing, concentrating. Then he stood up straight, leaning back. ‘What if … what if none of this had ever happened, eh?’

It sounded like he was asking their advice, like he had a time machine or a way to wipe out the last twenty minutes, and was sounding them out about whether they should use it or not.

‘I’m assuming there’s no footage of what took place back there. You’re definitely not that stupid, Newcomb.’

Matt said nothing, he didn’t want to get Sharpe into more trouble than he clearly already was.

‘So, it’s just the kid’s word against ours, right? Wouldn’t be the first time. It’s not like you were able to do any real harm … He’s been screaming the place down about his innocence since he got here, has had hardly any sleep, probably imagined the whole thing – wanting to apologise to the father or whatever. Only natural, right? Maybe he even heard you were in the building, Mr Radcliffe.’

Again, Matt didn’t say a thing; neither of them said a word.

‘Yeah, didn’t happen.’ Channing clapped his hands together. ‘And all is right with the world.’ He saw Jake’s expression once more, realised that his world would never be right again. ‘That is … Look, Mr Radcliffe, can I give you some advice?’

Jake remained silent.

‘I get where you’re coming from, I really do. But I’ve seen this kind of thing before. I’ve seen that look you had in your eye before, and it never ends well. It ends with people waiting outside law courts with guns to shoot the person they want punished. Ends with those people in jail instead of the ones who should be, the bad guys. Let things take their course, let us do our jobs. Punk kid like that won’t last long inside, particularly when they get wind of what he did. Killing a young girl? That’s a big no-no.’ Channing allowed his words to settle. ‘Let us do our jobs, Mr Radcliffe. We might not be known here for dealing with fancy high-profile cases, but we do get things done. What I’m saying to you is do us all a favour and leave it alone, okay? Please.’

Still no response.

‘Or the next time I might not be so understanding, you see. Now, I think maybe it might be best if you leave to have a think about things. I’ll have one of our uniforms drop you off where you’re staying. I assume you’re remaining here for the time being?’

Jake gave a slow nod.

‘And as for you,’ Channing continued, directing his attention towards Matt again, ‘I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you from now on.’

Matt swallowed, and also nodded, knowing he’d dodged the bullet … this time. As Channing opened the door again and called for a uniform to escort Jake, his friend looked back at Matt, still seated.

His eyes said he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant for him to get into trouble. But they also said something else. They still held that same look, the anger, the need to understand. A desire for revenge.

It told Matt all he needed to know. That there was no way he was going to just drop this, as Channing had told him to. Not that easily.

And Matt knew something else as well, that Jake, that all of this, was going to be on his own mind for some time to come.