Madness Lies Page 29

Chapter 62

  Joe pointed to a rock lying on the ground close to Roberts. He nodded to his right, towards the other bridge. ‘That way, but wait until I signal.’

  Joe crept downwards, until he reached a massive tree close to Curtis. Sharon hadn’t moved.

  ‘Hurry up, you stupid cow. I haven’t got all – ’

  Joe gestured to Roberts. As the rock landed with a thump several feet away, Curtis spun towards the noise. Joe sprang forward. He saw Sharon throw herself at Curtis. He staggered backwards, the gun still in his hand. It was pointing upwards into the trees when Joe smashed a rock against Curtis’s head. A shot exploded in the trees before Curtis dropped the gun. He fell into the leaves, and Joe leapt for the gun. Roberts got there first.

  Joe heard a roar. He turned to see Curtis on his feet, blood running down his face. His eyes were enormous. Hands outstretched, he lunged for Joe. Above the gushing of the water, and the sound of blood rushing through Joe’s head, he heard Sharon. ‘Stay still, Liam! Stay still. I’m coming. Don’t look round.’

  ‘No. Sharon – ’ Curtis’s hands stopped Joe’s words. His eyes were bulging as he squeezed. Though his vision was blurring, and black stars were falling in front of his eyes, from the corner of his right eye, Joe saw Roberts. ‘Let him go, or I’ll shoot.’ He was walking towards them. He held the gun steady, and Joe remembered that though he’d had no formal training, Roberts had been shooting with his grandfather since he was a child.

  Curtis laughed and squeezed harder. As Joe’s legs lost all feeling, Roberts ran at Curtis and pressed the gun into his shoulder. Joe felt the impact of the blast running down Curtis’s left arm, and then he was free.

  Joe dropped to the ground, gasping for air, his head spinning. For a moment, as the blood rushed through his ears, he couldn’t grasp where he was. He looked up and saw Curtis stagger to his feet. He stared at Roberts, at the gun, looking bewildered as he clutched at his shattered shoulder, blood pouring through his fingers.

  ‘On the ground. Now!’

  Curtis ignored Roberts. He took his hand from his shoulder and looked at the blood. He turned towards the gorge, to where Sharon was sitting on the trunk, edging herself closer to Liam. Curtis started walking towards them. ‘Stand up, you fucking bitch. Stand up!’

  ‘Stop.’ Roberts’ hand was shaking a little. ‘I’ll shoot again.’

  There was no emotion on Curtis’s face. It was blank, as if he couldn’t hear Roberts. He wasn’t going to stop.

  ‘Roberts – ’

  But Joe didn’t have to say it. Roberts was aiming and firing. As his right knee exploded, Curtis let out a howl that echoed through the trees, and he dropped to the ground.

  Sharon reached out a hand and almost touched Liam. ‘It’s all right, honey. Don’t worry. Roberts and Galbraith are here. They’ve stopped him.’

  But they hadn’t. Again, Curtis struggled to his feet. His shirt and his lower right trouser leg were dark red with blood. His gaze focussed on Sharon, he started hobbling towards the gorge, grunting and moaning as he went.

  Roberts raised the gun again, and Curtis fell. There had been no shot, just enough blood loss to knock him out. His body was slumped against a tree, his face pale, his breathing shallow. They cuffed his hands around the tree, then Roberts pulled off his tie. He looked at it and shook his head. ‘Breaks my heart; Jill gave me this.’ He tied it round Curtis’s leg, above the wound, using a stick to twist the tourniquet until the bleeding stopped. He took a hankie from his pocket and pressed it against the wound on Curtis’s shoulder. Joe left him to it. He saw that Sharon had almost reached Liam. She was still talking. ‘Honey, I’m nearly there. I’m going to get you off…’

  Her words were stopped by a loud creak, then another. Joe rushed to the edge. Sharon turned and her eyes were wild and desperate. ‘It’s going.’ She tried to keep her voice low as she pointed at the trunk between her and Liam. ‘It’s going.’

  ‘Sharon,’ Joe said. ‘Shuffle backwards. Now.’

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t leave him.’

  ‘If we get your weight off it, it’ll hold. Liam weighs nothing. The roots are on the other side. It’s much more secure. Come on. You have to do it now.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Or we’ll lose you both.’

  With every inch Sharon gained, the creaking grew louder. She spoke all the way. ‘Don’t worry, son. It’s going to be fine. Keep looking ahead. We’re going to come round the other side and get you. Remember that time we went to the circus and you loved the trapeze artists? You’re just like one of them now. I reckon if you weren’t so keen on being a policeman, you could join the circus. You are so brave. Wait ‘til we tell Ryan. He’s going to be so proud of you. He’s going to – ’

  As the trunk broke, Joe grabbed Sharon and pulled her backwards. They fell into the leaves. Sharon was first to her feet. ‘Liam, don’t look round. It’s fine. We’ll get you.’ She ran for the bridge.

  The tree was still creaking. Liam was crying. Joe saw movement on the other side of the gorge. Was that Roberts, inching towards the fern-covered roots of the tree? Joe turned round and saw that Roberts was still with Curtis. The guy on the other side looked up. As their eyes met, Joe felt as if his scar had been tazered, as if it might just burst open. It was Stephen MacLaren. He was sitting on the gnarled mound of roots. Joe ran across the bridge.

  Stephen reached out a hand to Liam. ‘Hey Liam. Do you remember me?’

  Liam was clinging to the tree. It was at an angle now, sloping down behind him. He nodded. ‘Mac?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m your mum’s friend and I’m going to help you. You’ve been such a brave boy. Your mum’s fine. I need you to move towards me. Just a little bit, and then I’ll have you.’

  Liam shook his head. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Aye, you can. One hand at a time. Which hand do you write with?’

  ‘This one.’ He lifted his right hand a little and wiggled his fingers.

  ‘See, you can move. Just a little bit closer to me. That’s good. Now the other one.’

  Liam was bending forward.

  ‘Now you just need to shuffle your bum along towards your hands.’

  Liam shook his head. ‘I’m stuck.’

  Stephen laughed. ‘You’re not. I promise. Try.’

  He tried and he moved. Just an inch or so. In his rigid shoulders, Joe could see the tension. Stephen moved forward until he was sitting on the trunk. The creaking was louder. It could only be seconds before the whole thing went. Stephen stretched out his arms to Liam. ‘You need to reach out to me. You’re safe, Liam. As soon as I have your hands, I can lift you. Galbraith will catch you.’

  ‘Honey, do what he says.’ Sharon’s voice was firm. ‘Go on.’

  Though the leaves beneath Joe’s feet shifted, the ground was firm. He watched the concentration and trust on Liam’s face as he reached out to Stephen. With a loud groan, Stephen grasped Liam’s arms, lifting him above his head and passing him to Joe. Liam’s body was shaking. He made no sound as tears poured down his cheeks.

  ‘Well done, Liam. You were very brave.’ Joe passed the boy to Sharon. She held Liam and sank into the leaves, holding and hugging and crying.

  A loud crack reverberated through the gorge. Joe turned as the remainder of the tree crashed downwards, leaving nothing but a tangle of broken roots.

  ***

  Chapter 63

  The young trees that lined the gorge grew in all directions. Some sprouted upwards, others inwards, stretching towards the trees on the other side. As Joe sidled towards the edge, a slender branch twitched. And again. He looked down and saw a hand clinging to the branch, the skin scratched, the knuckles white. Joe lay on his front in the leaves and grasped Stephen’s wrist with both hands. There was no great weight, and Joe knew he must have his feet on a ledge. He heard a voice behind him. ‘Mam, will Mac be okay?’

  ‘Course he will, Liam.’

  ‘Sharon,’ Joe said. ‘Go and see if anyone else is in the car park.’


  Stephen’s eyes were huge. Joe tightened his grip. ‘Give me your other hand.’

  Stephen shook his head. ‘I can’t…my shoulder.’ His arm was hanging at an awkward angle, the shoulder dislocated or broken.

  Joe nodded. ‘Okay. We’ll have help soon. Keep your feet where they are. Try not to move.’

  Stephen closed his eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow. In his wrist, Joe could feel his pulse; it was rapid and weak. His eyes still closed, Stephen spoke. His voice was soft, and Joe had to strain to hear him above the sound of the water below. ‘Let me go. Please.’

  Joe didn’t answer. He tightened his grip.

  ‘No one will know.’ Stephen’s eyes were still closed. ‘Please. I won’t survive prison. You thought I was dead. It’ll be easier this way.’

  As the birds of the forest called to each other, Joe felt the dampness of the ground soaking through his clothes. Stephen opened his eyes. There was no trace of the madness of last year. Just desperation, determination, and the faint remnants of the boy Stephen had been, before he and Joe, their lives and their families, had collided so brutally.

  ‘Going to take my feet off the ledge. Don’t want to take you with me. Let me go.’

  Joe understood. There was a strong fresh scent rising from the earth. It smelled of freedom. He watched Stephen pull it into his lungs, as if for the last time. Wouldn’t it be easier for them all just to let him go? A hero’s death. No trial. The family secrets safely kept. Easier, perhaps, but impossible.

  ‘Stephen, I can’t.’ Joe had failed to save Jackson. It wasn’t happening again. And the dreams, they would never stop if he was responsible for Stephen’s death. Pain tore through the muscles in his shoulders as he felt the full weight of Stephen, a stronger, heavier man than the one he’d fought last year. He felt his body start to slip through the leaves.

  ‘Joe, I’m sorry, so sorry for everything. Tell the others. My mum. My dad. Lucy.’

  Joe groaned. It was hard to get the words out. ‘You can tell them yourself.’

  Stephen kicked against the wall of the gorge, forcing momentum into his body. The agony of cramp in Joe’s fingers, and the weight on his wrists, was almost unbearable. The chilling damp was soaking through his body, weakening him. He couldn’t hold on for much longer.

  Stephen kicked again, swinging his body outwards. ‘Please. Better for everyone.’ His voice was getting weaker. ‘Better this way.’

  Joe felt his fingers start to lose their grip. It was going to be just like his dreams; it was going to be his fault. Maybe there was no point in resisting.

  But he wasn’t the only one that would be affected. Joe had no idea how it had come about, but Stephen had risked his life and his liberty for Liam. ‘Stephen,’ Joe said, ‘how will Liam live with it?’

  Stephen groaned and tried to shake his head. When their eyes met, Joe knew he had won. The struggle stopped. ‘Bastard,’ Stephen said, but there was no venom in it.

  And then Roberts was behind Joe, holding him and pulling. There was a man gripping Stephen’s wrist and another loosening Joe’s grip. And two people to his side, on ropes, and they were lowering themselves down towards Stephen.

  ***

  Chapter 64

  As the van driver waited for the barrier to rise, the steady thumping beat from the back of the van grew louder. He looked at his companion. His face was pale. The constant sound had accompanied them from the prison. Not that the prison was far. It was only a few minutes, but the journey seemed to have lasted forever. There was only one prisoner in the van, and four guards. Two of the guards had sustained injuries getting the prisoner into the van. Nothing serious; a sore foot for one, and a tender cheekbone for the other. Enough to make them all dread opening that compartment, when they reached the Castle.

  The prisoner’s hands and legs were cuffed for transport, a step only taken with prisoners exhibiting a high level of violence. He would be further hand-cuffed on arrival, to two lucky officers. He shouldn’t have needed this level of cuffing. His leg was in plaster, and his shoulder in a sling, the joint and nerves having suffered extensive damage. He was scheduled for another operation next week.

  But he needed cuffed all right, and the process must have caused him excruciating pain. No one would have known. Anger, definitely, but no sign of pain. The cuffs hadn’t stopped him stamping on one guard’s foot, and elbowing another in the face.

  The barrier rose, and the van creaked its way up towards Inverness Castle, and the court. It was rumoured the court was to move to a purpose-built justice centre in the next few years. For now, the Castle was where it was at. They passed the main court building, turning left into the area between that and the North Tower, where the prisoners were unloaded and led to the cells.

  There was a van already there. The driver parked behind it, then he phoned the court. They were ready for him. That was a relief. They could take the prisoner straight into court, and back again, bypassing the cells and the prospect of more trouble.

  There were four police officers waiting. They frowned at the steady beat coming from the back of the van. A quick discussion about strategy and they were ready.

  The driver banged on the compartment door. ‘Mate; we’re here. There’s eight of us. You can come quietly or you can fight. Up to you. It’d be a shame to damage that shoulder even more. I’m opening up now.’

  An increase in the tempo of the beat and the sound of laughter made his hands shake. Was this bugger even fit to plead? Not that he’d be pleading today. It was the first appearance on petition, in a closed court, where the procurator fiscal would set out the charges and ask for the court’s approval to investigate the crime. The prisoner would be committed for further examination, and the question of bail would be addressed. There would be no bail for this monster.

  The compartment was small, and when the guard saw the prisoner sitting there, he thought of a huge stuffed toy, squeezed into a box. He backed off, keeping eye contact with the prisoner. ‘Come on, mate; time to go. You couldn’t just make it easy for everyone and come quietly?’

  The prisoner sighed. He got to his feet, his back crouched to clear the doorway.

  ‘Gently, okay? No need for any aggro.’

  The prisoner stamped his foot, and the guard jumped backwards. There was a shout. ‘Bastard!’ It wasn’t the prisoner. The guard had landed on the injured foot of his colleague. Behind him, it sounded as if a few toes had been stepped on. It amused the prisoner. His laughter was deep and loud, like his voice. ‘Just having you on, guys. Relax.’

  The two biggest guards each had a set of handcuffs. They closed in on either side of him, their backup behind them. The prisoner descended the steps of the van. He turned and looked up towards the row of houses in the Crown, above Castle Street. It was a warm day, the sky blue and cloudless. ‘Guys, can you give me a second? I’m not going to be any bother. Just want to feel the sun.’

  *

  The men took a step away. Just a step, but it was enough. Todd smiled and glanced behind him; there was no one there. He closed his eyes and lifted his face, then his arms, his hands together, as if in prayer. There was a buzz of pain from his injured shoulder, and he welcomed it. Pain made him stronger; it always had done. He breathed into it, allowing the sensation to surround him, to swirl through him, and to float from him. He was strong, invincible, exceptional. No court, no trial, no prison. Not for him. Up and up his arms went until they were above his head and his chest was exposed. He took a deep breath, then he nodded, smiled, and fell.

  *

  Joe had never slept so well. He’d expected the dreams to escalate as his mind dredged up all the new possible scenarios involving him and Stephen MacLaren at Black Rock Gorge. But they’d stopped; there was nothing. Stephen had pleaded guilty to the culpable homicides of Moira Jacobs and Jean Henderson, a hit and run, and assault to the severe injury of Joe and Lucy. Sentence had been deferred for reports.

  As for Todd Curtis, his DNA matched that found u
nder Danielle Smith’s nails. They’d found blood and DNA from Katya Birze, and an identical walking stick to the one Brent used, in the boot of Allingham’s Lexus, along with a selection of number plates. Curtis’s gun matched the one used to kill Gordon Sutherland.

  Enquiries into Curtis’s death were ongoing. He’d been killed by a sniper, situated on the flat roof of an extension of a house on Ardconnel Terrace. A professional killing, but who was behind it? James Allingham? Curtis’s former associates in London? Joe was in no doubt they all had plenty to lose if Curtis had decided to talk.

  The guards and police officers at the Castle were certain Curtis knew it was coming, had even welcomed it. Had he begged someone to do it? Was it Brent? The end of the life-debt? Joe doubted it. He didn’t think Brent had it in him, and there was no record of any contact between the men since Curtis was captured. Still…

  ***

  Epilogue

  The deep blue sky was reflected in the rock pool, the clouds opaque and shimmering. The warm, gentle breeze carried the scent of sand and wild flowers. It left a crust of salt on Joe’s lips. The caravan was gone and he was glad. He’d been here yesterday and only the low circular wall surrounding the fire remained. He’d sat on the wall and thought about Stephen. He couldn’t help pitying him. There were reasons Stephen had done what he did. Those reasons didn’t excuse the appalling crimes he’d committed, but the Stephen that rescued Liam was a different person from the one that had stabbed Joe; he was certain of it. How must he feel being incarcerated after living freely here for so long? The thought made Joe shiver.

  He felt someone touch his shoulder. It was Roberts. ‘Will we get on? Lucy and Drew are waiting with Jill at the picnic area. They’ve got the wellies.’

  Joe looked at his watch, then he stood. ‘Suppose we better. What do you think of Drew? Might have known she’d fall for another solicitor.’