Madness Lies Read online

  ‘I didn’t kill her.’ Ryan’s voice was shaking. ‘It wasn’t me.’

  ‘Wasn’t you? Your sock was there. Your fingerprints were on her zip. You killed her, you little shit.’ Jackson lunged for the cage and starting clambering over the metal barrier.

  Joe leapt forward and grabbed Jackson’s arm. His colleague was straddling the barrier, and he kicked out at Joe. ‘Fuck off, you bastard. You can’t stop me.’

  His foot caught Joe in the centre of his chest, and he staggered backwards against the metal rail that separated the path from the road. By the time he’d righted himself, Jackson was in the cage.

  Ryan’s face was ashen. He raised his hands, trying to ward Jackson off. ‘Keep away from me.’

  Jackson laughed. ‘Let’s go for it together. There’s no future for me either. We’re both fucked.’ He hitched himself up so he was sitting beside Ryan. ‘Come on.’ He held out his hand.

  Joe leaned towards Ryan. ‘You were coming out of there – you still can. Please.’

  Ryan looked uncertain. He pulled his hand away from Jackson. Wobbled, and steadied himself against the tower with his other hand. Beside him Jackson was laughing. Leaning back, looking over his shoulder. ‘This is something else. Want to join us, Galbraith? Do the world a favour. Who needs an arrogant shit-head like you?’

  ‘Get out of there, both of you.’ Joe noticed the road had gone quiet. No passing cars. His colleagues must be on their way.

  ‘Fuck this.’ Ryan eased himself off the edge of the cage and took a step towards Joe.

  Jackson reached for him. ‘No way. You’re coming too. A life for a life.’ He grabbed Ryan’s shirt. Both hands, holding on. Pulling. Joe leaned into the cage. He took Ryan’s arm and held it tight. He reached out his other hand to Jackson. ‘Jimmy, come on…don’t do this. Please.’

  Jackson stared into Joe’s eyes. ‘You and him, you’ve taken the only thing I ever loved. She’d have loved me too, given the chance. I’d have…we’d have married, if it wasn’t for you and him.’ His voice broke. ‘I’d have had everything you have. Everything. I’d have had a future.’ His eyes filled with tears.

  Joe shook his head, his hand still outstretched. ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy; I really am. Please give me your hand. We can sort this.’

  Jackson let go of Ryan. His hand moved towards Joe’s. Their eyes met, and Joe saw a frenzy of questions and misgivings and aching deep in Jackson’s gaze. Had Joe misjudged him? Could they start again, and sort things out? Joe was willing to try. He felt a smile hovering on his lips. Jackson saw that smile, and his lips curved upwards in response. There was only an inch between their hands. Almost there, and then Jackson laughed. The sound was cruel and bleak and without any hope. Jackson’s eyes narrowed as he snatched his hand away, his body tilting backwards. And then he was gone.

  As the water swallowed Jackson, Ryan climbed out of the cage. Joe heard cars stopping, doors opening and closing. Two uniformed cops, Roberts, Tina Lewis and Anne Morrison, Ryan’s previous Social Worker.

  ‘Sarge,’ Roberts said. ‘You talked him down. Well done.’

  Ryan nodded. ‘Too right he’s done well. He’s just pushed Jackson off the bridge.’

  ***

  Chapter 28

  That skanky lying wee shite, Ryan MacRae, should be in the station, where DI Black could wring the truth out of him. No chance of that now. He was in New Craigs, and it would be all risk assessments, protective factors, empathising and supporting, drawing up care plans and general molly-coddling. It could be days before they’d get a chance to question him, especially if MacRae milked it for all it was worth. Not that DI Black would get anywhere near him. They had to keep this clean. There could be no room for doubt, not with that brief of MacRae’s. Who was paying for her anyway? There were far too many unanswered questions.

  And Jackson? Where and when would his body show up? No sign of him so far, although the Life Boat and Coastguard rescue helicopter were out within minutes. Could be weeks before he surfaced. Poor bastard. They hadn’t always detested each other. They’d worked together and got on okay at first. That was in the days when officers could dispense their own kind of justice. He’d never been happy with that sort of thing, but Jackson had. And it was his gung-ho attitude, his pettiness and bitterness that had kept him where he was. Jackson rarely spoke of his family. There were brothers somewhere, two maybe. Parents dead. Who were they going to tell? Would anyone give a damn?

  And what about Galbraith? Poor sod. He hadn’t said a word when MacBain took his warrant card and his phone. Sitting there waiting for the officers from the Professional Standards Unit in Aberdeen to arrive, and none of them could go near him. It was bloody ridiculous. His best officer off the case. Damn.

  *

  Would he? Wouldn’t he? Joe tapped his fingers on the table and considered. He wouldn’t like to put money on either scenario. Roberts was turning into a good detective, and he did everything by the book. He’d have to tell. And so he should. If Joe was working with a detective that threatened to kill a colleague, who then died in suspicious circumstances the next day, he’d tell.

  But Roberts’ loyalty to Joe was embarrassing. Everyone in the station had noticed, and taken the piss. Roberts didn’t seem to care. He’d decided he was going to learn all he could, and for some reason, he thought Joe was the best person to teach him. Poor misguided idiot.

  It was impossible to know what Roberts would do. Or Carla. She hadn’t answered his texts from last night, and now his phone was gone. No way would he be taking her home from the hospital. Maybe he could get a message to her pal, Louise. But no one was going to come near him before his interrogators arrived. No one was going to risk speaking to him.

  *

  Roberts phoned Sharon, and she picked up straight away. She didn’t give him a chance to speak. ‘DS Galbraith? Thank fuck…I mean, thank you for calling me back. It’s just that – ’

  ‘Sharon, it’s Roberts. Galbraith’s not available.’ There was silence. ‘Sharon?’

  ‘I’m only speaking to Galbraith.’

  ‘You might have to wait a while. What was it you wanted?’ More silence. ‘You still there? I was going to call you or come and see you anyway. We’ve got Ryan.’

  ‘Got him where?’

  ‘New Craigs. He was on the Kessock Bridge, threatening to jump.’ He heard a sharp intake of breath, then there was silence. ‘Sharon, are you there?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Her voice was shaky. ‘Is he…is he all right?’

  ‘He seemed quite all right when I saw him, minutes after Galbraith talked him down, but we have to go through the usual procedure where there’s a suicide risk. He’s being assessed now, evaluated. If he gets discharged, he’ll be back here for questioning, but I doubt that’ll be today.’

  ‘You sound angry with him.’

  Roberts was bloody angry with him, but he shouldn’t have let Sharon know that. ‘Sorry. We’re a bit overwhelmed right now. Will you be arranging that brief for him again? He’s going to need her.’

  ‘Aye, of course.’

  ‘So, Sharon, what were you going to tell Galbraith?’

  *

  Sharon couldn’t think straight. They had Ryan now. Did they need to know about the sock, or that she’d heard from Ryan and not told them? She couldn’t afford to get into trouble. She had to be there for the boys. ‘It’s not much. I heard Ryan’s been hanging about with someone called Todd, and he knew Peter MacRae. I wondered if Ryan was with Todd the day of the shooting, and in the car park.’

  ‘Where did you hear this?’

  Sharon hesitated. ‘Just word on the street.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Aye, that’s it. So, what’ll happen to Ryan? Will he go back to the Children’s Hearing?’

  Roberts made a noise that might have been a laugh. ‘The Children’s Hearing? I very much doubt it. Ryan is facing serious charges. He can’t be sent home as he’s likely to associate with a criminal if he’s released.’

/>   ‘I’m not a criminal.’

  ‘Not you. This Todd and anyone else that might be involved. When Ryan comes back to the station, we have to review his custody every few hours. We’ll try to find a safe place for him, but it’s not always possible. With these charges, we’re looking at a secure unit. There are none in the Highlands, and most secure units are unlikely to take a high risk suicidal child.’

  A suicidal child? Sharon shivered. ‘When can I see him?’

  ‘That’s not a decision for me. He might not want to see you. The doctor or the DI might feel it’s not appropriate for the time being.’

  ‘Surely I’ve got a right to see him?’

  ‘Ordinarily, yes, if that’s what he wants, unless there are exceptional circumstances, and we’re still considering that. I’ll let you know. Try not to worry, Sharon; he’s okay. Anne Morrison’s at the hospital with him.’

  That made Sharon feel a little better. Anne, their previous social worker, had always done her best for the boys. ‘Will you tell him…tell him I’m sending my love.’

  ‘I’ll pass that on. We’ll be in touch when we have more news.’

  Sharon didn’t tell him she was in London. They already thought she was a shit mother. And so did she.

  ***

  Chapter 29

  Carla sent Joe two texts as soon as the doctor had been round. There was no response, so she tried Louise. Her friend’s phone was off, and there was no answer on her landline. All her other friends were either on duty or they had nine to five jobs, and wouldn’t be able to get away. She wasn’t staying at the hospital a minute longer than necessary, so she ordered a taxi.

  At home, she tried not to get herself worked up about Joe’s lack of contact. It didn’t work. She’d never complained about his unavailability or that he rarely switched off when there was something big going on. It had been worse since he’d transferred to the MIT, and sometimes had to travel to incidents in other areas. She’d understood. But there was no excuse for this. She knew there had been a second murder; she’d seen it in a newspaper, but still. He had to pee, didn’t he? Surely it wasn’t that difficult to send her a quick text from the loo?

  She was always the one to get in touch, always the one to suggest they might actually do something other than walk on the beach or go to bed. He hadn’t asked her if she wanted to go sailing last weekend. She’d felt like shit and wouldn’t have gone anyway, but that wasn’t the point. They’d both been off, and his priority was sailing with his mates.

  And the time before that, it was football. He didn’t even like football, but going to the match with the boys was preferable to spending the day with her. He was happy enough for her to come to Inverness and pick him up later, of course, stinking of beer and meat pies, with only one thing on his mind.

  She got the calendar out and started trying to remember what they’d done over the last few months. Very little. Why had she not noticed this long ago, and dealt with it? What a mug.

  Her head was aching, and her chest was tender at the site of the bone marrow aspiration. The doctor had decided against a bone marrow biopsy, for now, but it might become necessary, depending on the results of the sample. She was tempted to go on the computer, and google the life out of leukaemia and white blood cell abnormalities. But that would be silly.

  So she lay on the couch and listened to Runrig. Her father had loved the band, especially as two of the founding members had family connections in North Uist. She remembered herself and her father in the car, singing at the top of their voices. Single track roads and curving passing places marked by diamond-shaped signs. Waving to everyone. Rabbits everywhere. Tumbling lapwings and busy oystercatchers. Stray sheep stuck in fences, and her dad stopping to release them and reunite them with their bleating lambs. Ronald, awkward and gangling, saying nothing as she followed him around the croft asking endless questions.

  Her mother had never liked Uist. Too many flies and not enough shops. Although it broke her dad’s heart when her mum left him for Rudy, a salesman from South Carolina, they’d never had anything in common other than Carla. Her father had spent his last years with Ronald and his mother in North Uist. Not long before he died, Carla’s mother married Rudy and moved to South Carolina. Maybe that was the final straw for her dad; he’d died just a few months later.

  That was the last time Carla had been in North Uist. She remembered the cemetery, and how the raised mounds at each grave had haunted her dreams, so much so that she didn’t go back a year later for Ronald’s mother’s funeral. She felt as if she’d abandoned her father there, left him all alone. She should have gone back and tended his grave. Maybe then she wouldn’t have those dreams of losing him in the sand dunes. The dreams had been so vivid lately. Was he trying to tell her something? She listened to Flower of the West, and she knew what she should do. She’d have to wait a couple of weeks for the results of all her tests. Why not wait in Uist? And why bother telling Joe she was going?

  She rang the airline, then Ronald. ‘I’ll be over tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ he said. ‘But I’ve no television. Will I get one?’

  ‘No. I hardly watch it anyway.’

  ‘And there’s not much in the way of shops.’

  ‘That’s fine; I’m not that keen on shopping.’

  ‘And I don’t know how the weather will be, though it’s been good lately. It could change.’

  ‘Ronald, are you trying to talk me out of coming?’

  ‘Heavens, no. That’s the last thing I’d do. I just don’t want you to hate it here.’

  ‘No way. I can’t wait.’

  *

  A year ago, when Sharon had no control over anything, she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from punching Christopher’s smug face. He was looking so chuffed with himself, so full of it. His mother was out of danger. Isobel was still with her, but the doctors were really pleased at her progress.

  Sharon tried to smile. He frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Not really.’ At least she had a good excuse for not being all right. ‘Ryan’s in New Craigs. He tried to kill himself on the Kessock Bridge.’

  ‘No? I’m so sorry, Sharon.’

  He was good, really good. If she didn’t know better, she’d even believe he was upset by the news. ‘Will you get that solicitor for him again? I’ll pay you back, I swear.’

  ‘I’ll do it now. And you’re not paying me back.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘We’ll see. I need to go home as soon as possible.’ And the first thing she was going to do was find a Legal Aid solicitor for Ryan.

  After Christopher had spoken to the solicitor, he tried the airline. The soonest they could get seats was midday tomorrow. ‘Could try the overnight sleeper. That would get you in early tomorrow morning.’

  A train from London to Inverness? The thought exhausted her. Probably wouldn’t take as long as his bloody laptop. Sharon waited. And waited. At this rate, there’d be no berths available. There weren’t. ‘I could hire a car. Leave now.’

  With his leg? That’d be right. Might be nice to watch him suffer, but she wasn’t putting her life at risk. She shook her head. ‘Tomorrow’s fine.’

  He called the airline and booked the seats. ‘Give me a minute to check my emails, love.’

  She sat across the table and waited. He looked apprehensive as he studied the screen. Then he looked worried.

  ‘Uncle Chris, will you come and play computer games with us in the attic?’ It was Robert, the oldest of his nephews.

  ‘Okay.’ He closed the laptop and smiled at Sharon. ‘Are you coming up?’

  ‘No, thanks; I’ll sit out on the patio.’

  Sharon stared at the laptop on the kitchen table. Other than those photos, she’d never spied on Christopher. Never looked at his phone, though she’d often had the opportunity and the inclination. It had been hard, but she couldn’t let herself. Every time she’d looked at her late husband’s phone, she’d found something she
didn’t want to see. She’d told herself Christopher was different. He wouldn’t cheat on her.

  She had no such qualms now. Only fear of what she might see. Probably nothing, she told herself, as she waited for the lap top to crank itself up again. Unless there was a great big icon saying ‘EMAIL THIS WAY’, she was unlikely to be able to find her way around his laptop. She didn’t have to. He’d left his email open at the last message. It had been sent at two in the morning from [email protected]

  Mate, are you all right? No email tonight. Worried about you. I’m heading south. Bit of bother. Don’t believe what you hear. Yours always. T

  T for Todd. Yours always? Were they lovers? Nothing would surprise Sharon. She closed the laptop and went out to the patio. Tall trees surrounded the garden, casting dark, moving shadows on the flawless striped lawn. They were regimented trees. Straight and green and identical. Nothing like the old wizened trees in Christopher’s garden, the ones that reminded her of endless summer days when she’d curl up in the branches of the trees on the canal banks and pretend home was somewhere far away, somewhere safe. There would be no climbing these buggers, with their flimsy pine-scented needles and their skinny trunks. They looked like giant toilet brushes.

  The bushes and plants were in bloom, their scent strong and heady. A painted wooden well sat in the middle of the lawn, the grass around it cropped to perfection. There wasn’t a thing out of place. Not a weed or a stone or a leaf. It was stifling.

  The only thing that interested Sharon, apart from the stairs leading down to the servants’ quarters, was a small white lodge at the bottom of the garden. It was tiny compared to the house, but to her it looked like a palace.

  No time to investigate the lodge; she had to find out if Todd was in the servants’ quarters. He could have been on his way to London when he sent the email this morning. He could have arrived before them. She looked around before going down the steps. There was a window by the door, but the curtains were shut. The door was locked.