Twenty-three. Callie 7 page

And as for Dan . . . he was going to pay.

Him and McAuley.

They profited by biting huge chunks out of all of us in Meadowview. It was time for someone to bite back.

Forty-six

The following morning brought cooler weather, which was welcome, and some unexpected visitors who were not so welcome. Two guests, to be precise. DI Boothe and Sergeant Kenwood. Like I didn't have more than enough on my plate already. Mum wasn't too thrilled, to say the very least. Not only did she get woken up early, but it was the police. Mum was always warning me that she didn't want the police knocking on our door for any reason. At least the police car outside our front door was unmarked. I was grateful for that, otherwise I would never have heard the end of it. I don't know why they sent the same two coppers who'd interviewed me at the hospital. Maybe their bosses thought we'd established some kind of a rapport!

'Would anyone like a cup of tea?' Mum asked, more out of politeness than anything else.

'I'd love one, Miss Durbridge,' said Sergeant Kenwood.

'It's Mrs,' Mum bristled.

'Mrs Durbridge,' he corrected with a false smile.

'I'd love a cup too,' said the detective. 'Two sugars. If you're sure you don't mind?'

'No trouble at all,' said Mum, her tone indicating otherwise. 'Tobey?'

I shook my head. Mum headed off.

Sergeant Kenwood sauntered over to shut the door. All my senses ratcheted up another gear, though I didn't turn round to watch him directly. The cups of tea were obviously a ploy to get my mum out of the room.

'We wondered if you'd had a chance to remember anything else?' asked the detective.

I shook my head. 'I've told you everything I know.'

'But I don't believe you,' he said.

Well, that was hardly my problem, but from the look on his face, the detective was about to change that.

'I think it would be best if—' He didn't get any further.

My sister Jess flung open the door and stalked into the room.

'Is Tobey in trouble?' she asked straight out.

'And you are . . . ?' asked Sergeant Kenwood, breaking out his notebook.

Jess walked over to him to stand at his side as he wrote. 'Tobey's sister, Jessica,' she said. 'That's J-e-s-s-i-c-a.' She peered over the sergeant's arm to make sure he spelled her name right. 'God, that's rubbish handwriting. Don't you have to rely on what you've written when you go to court? How can you even read that?'

And in spite of everything that had happened the previous day, I don't think I've ever felt closer to my sister than I did at that moment. I loved the way she refused to let Sergeant Kenwood intimidate her. Jessica smiled at me. It was uncertain, as was mine, but at least it was shared. We had our moment of connection which had been missing the day before.

'Paul, put your notebook away.' Detective Inspector Boothe sighed.

The sergeant reluctantly did as he was told, by which time Mum had come back in with two cups of tea. She handed them to the officers before turning to my sister.

'Jessica, this doesn't concern you. Could you go to your room, please?'

'Mum, don't send me to my room like I'm a child,' Jessica argued.

'Then go to the kitchen, go into the garden, go and sit on the roof if you want, but I don't want you in here,' said Mum.

Jess and I knew that tone of voice. Mum only brought it out a mere handful of times a year, so it was seldom used, but very effective. Pouting like a trout, Jess flounced out. Mum turned back to the coppers.

'Now then, is there a problem, officers?' she said, getting straight to it.

'Mrs Durbridge, we'd like your son to come down to the station to make a second formal statement,' said DI Boothe.

'Why does he need to do that?' asked Mum, clutching her dressing gown even more tightly around her. 'He's already told you everything he knows.'

'We need a new formal statement,' Sergeant Kenwood reiterated. He turned to me, his blue eyes cold as a winter sea. 'Tobey, you're the only witness we've got. Apparently, you and Callie Hadley were the only ones in the park at the time of the incident – apart from the shooters of course. Amazing, that. Saturday afternoon and only you and your girlfriend in the park. Who would've thought it?'

Sarcastic git. He made it sound like his lack of witnesses was my fault. But then wasn't I doing the same as everyone else when it came to not telling the police what had really happened?

'My son isn't going anywhere without me,' said Mum.

'Of course, Mrs Durbridge,' soothed the detective.

'If you could wait here please,' said Mum firmly. 'I have to get dressed.'

Without waiting for their reply, she headed back upstairs. No way was I going to stay in the living room with the two coppers. I bolted, mumbling something about getting my jacket. I went to my room and sat on my bed, waiting until I heard Mum head downstairs again. Formal statement, my eye. I wasn't going to say anything that I hadn't already said, so why drag me and my mum all the way down the police station? This was harassment. Or intimidation. Or both. But if they thought they were going to scare me into saying anything detrimental to my health, they were very much mistaken.

When we reached the police station, Sergeant Kenwood ushered me and Mum into an interview room and left us there. I waited for the explosion from Mum, but she didn't speak, not one word. In a way, that made it worse. I sat there with the weight of her disappointment pressing down hard upon me. We sat on one side of a table. Recording equipment had been set into the adjacent wall. A CCTV camera sat self-consciously in one corner of the room, attached to the ceiling like some great black beetle.

After about ten minutes, DI Boothe entered the room with some Cross woman I'd never seen before. She wore a black trouser suit with a light-blue shirt and lace-up black shoes with low heels. Her hair was cut ultra short and neat. And though her face was expertly made up, she was pretty average looking. If I'd passed her in the street, I wouldn't've looked at her twice. She and DI Boothe sat down and the woman pressed the record button before even looking at me. Mum and I exchanged a look.

'Interview room three, twelfth of August, the time is nine-fifteen a.m. Detective Chief Inspector Reid and Detective Inspector Boothe in attendance, interviewing Tobey Durbridge, aged seventeen. His mother Mrs Ann Durbridge is also in attendance.'

DCI Reid faced me and I immediately revised my opinion of her. The rest of her might've been nothing to write home about, but her eyes were ruthlessly sharp and shrewd and didn't miss anything.

'Tobey, could you tell me exactly what happened on the afternoon of the tenth of July when Callie Rose Hadley was shot.'

So once again, I told my story. And throughout the whole retelling DCI Reid kept checking her watch. If I didn't know any better, I'd've said she didn't have the slightest interest in what I was saying. The moment my statement was over and signed, DCI Reid thanked me and announced to the recording that DI Boothe was leaving the room. The detective stood up and did exactly that. DCI Reid stopped the recording and we all sat in silence. DCI Reid didn't take her eyes off me. Not once. What was going on? Less than a minute later, Detective Inspector Boothe was back. A quick nod of his head and a thank you from the DCI and we were escorted from the interview room.

The scratching claws in my stomach told me that something wasn't right here. What was all this about? Why drag Mum and me all the way down here to make a statement they already had and obviously didn't want again? They hadn't challenged me on anything I'd said. They hadn't tried to make me change my story. There was none of the usual stuff I'd seen on the TV.

So what was going on?

The claws in my stomach grew more vicious with each passing second. This just didn't feel right. And then I saw him coming towards me, flanked by two Cross coppers.

McAuley.

In handcuffs.

'I'm going to sue everyone here for wrongful arrest and malicious prosecution.' McAuley's voice held quiet menace as he spoke to one of the officers at his side. 'This is harassment, pure and simple. I haven't done anything so you have no right to arrest me.' He was so steaming mad, I'm surprised the paint didn't blister on the walls. He saw me and did a double take. Then he smiled slowly. One of his all-knowing little smiles. Recognizing him, Mum gave McAuley one of the filthiest looks she could muster, but he only had eyes for me. As we passed each other in the corridor, he didn't take his eyes off me, not for a second.

'Don't worry about the police, Tobey,' he said, low enough so that only I could hear. 'Once I'm out, I'll take care of you.'

My heart went into free fall.

I'd been set up.

'What did that animal say to you?' Mum asked angrily once McAuley was out of earshot.

'Nothing, Mum.'

'Don't give me that,' she argued. 'He clearly said something. You're as white as a white thing. Did he threaten you?'

I shook my head. 'He just recognized me as Dan's friend. That's all. Dan knows him.'

Mum didn't look entirely convinced, but she let it slide. And as for me? A potent cocktail of fear and fury had me shaking inside. All that crap about making a statement. The police just wanted to have McAuley and me in the same place at the same time to make McAuley think that I'd been telling tales. And if the expression on McAuley's face was anything to go by, it had worked.

Forty-seven

When we got to the front desk, DI Boothe asked me, 'Are you ready to revise your statement now?'

'No,' I snapped.

DI Boothe took me to one side and lowered his voice as Mum signed the necessary paperwork at the desk. 'Tobey, we're the only ones who can protect you from McAuley. Tell us what really happened at the Wasteland. Be smart.'

DI Boothe and his colleagues had thrown me into the lion's den and were now telling me they could shield me? Yeah, right.

'I'll be fine,' I told him, knowing the words were a lie before they even left my mouth. I was a dead man walking.

DI Boothe shook his head pityingly.

'You want me to trust you? For all I know you could be the one working for the Dowds,' I said bitterly. 'Is that why you set me up? So McAuley can deal with me? Are you acting on Gideon Dowd's orders?'

The detective stared at me, genuinely shocked. It quickly morphed into anger. 'Are you suggesting I'm on the take?'

'It's well known that the Dowds own some high-up copper at this station – no doubt someone who warns them about forthcoming raids and sting operations and undercover cops and the like. That's why the Dowds are untouchable. And then you wonder why no one in Meadowview will talk to you?'

DI Boothe was taking in everything I said like he'd never heard of such a thing before. He was either a great actor or he really had no idea there was at least one crooked copper, and probably more, on his patch.

He looked around quickly. Mum was still at the reception desk and no one else was close enough to hear our hushed conversation.

'Tobey, you can trust me,' said the detective. At my look of scepticism, he added, 'I know I would say that anyway, but it's the truth. All I want is to bring down Alex McAuley and the Dowds. We in Meadowview deserve better.'

'We in Meadowview?' My eyebrows were raised as high as they could go.

'Yes, we,' the detective emphasized. 'Because contrary to what you may think, I live here too. Tobey, talk to me. Tell me what you know.'

'All I know is, McAuley thinks I've been in here, singing my head off, thanks to you. Strange that, don't you think? Gideon Dowd warns me to stay away from his sister and when I refuse, the next thing I know I'm dragged in here for McAuley to see. What a great way for Gideon Dowd to make sure McAuley does his dirty work for him. And now I'm supposed to trust you to protect me? You're a bent copper in Gideon Dowd's pocket and we both know it.'

'I don't work for the Dowds or Alex McAuley,' DI Boothe denied vehemently. 'It wasn't even my idea to bring you in.'

'Then whose idea was it? 'Cause that person is probably working for Gideon Dowd,' I said.

Boothe didn't answer.

I glared at him, saying scornfully, 'And I'm supposed to trust you?'

'It's safer if you don't know who arranged to have you brought in. I'll look into it,' he said, his lips a determined slash across his face.

'You do that,' I said with scepticism. 'Oh, and are you having me followed?'

DI Boothe didn't reply.

'Is that a yes?' I asked, knowing full well it was. 'May I ask why?'

Boothe considered whether or not to answer my question.

'We needed to know who you were covering for – the Dowds or McAuley. We were hoping to catch you in conversation with one or the other.' He smiled without any real humour. 'But you like to fly with the birds and swim with the fishes at the same time, don't you? As far as those following you could tell, you were working with both.'

'Tell your officers to stop following me,' I said angrily. 'For one thing, they're not very good at it. And if you want to know who I'm working for, all you have to do is ask.'

'I'm asking,' said the detective.

I smiled. 'I'm working for myself. No one else.'

'And if I don't believe you?'

'That's your problem. In the meantime, I'm outta here.'

'Let us protect you,' Boothe tried again.

'Thanks, but no thanks.'

'I personally give you my word that no harm will come to you or your family.'

'I can take care of myself,' I replied.

DI Boothe shook his head. 'Tobey, you're a fool. Don't you realize I'm on your side? When you finally figure that out, give me a call – but don't leave it too long.'

He walked away just as Mum approached us and before I could say another word.

By the time we got back home, Mum was livid at the police for, as she put it, 'dragging us down to the station for no good reason'. I left her still ranting as I headed for my room. I couldn't forget the look on McAuley's face when he saw me. Surely he knew that I wouldn't blab? I wasn't stupid. Everyone was using me, and if the police didn't get me, McAuley or the Dowds would. I needed some insurance – not for me, but for my mum and sister. I wasn't going to let anything happen to them.

If it was just me, then I could tell them all to go to hell. But it wasn't just me. Anything I did to McAuley or the Dowds would be returned tenfold by those who worked for them. They'd make sure that it wouldn't just be me who suffered. My family, my close friends, they'd all be fair game too. That's why I had to tread so carefully. I wasn't ready or prepared to take on McAuley yet. So I had to get things straightened out with him. This thing with Rebecca had resulted in me taking my eye off the ball. It was time to remedy that.

I lay down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. What had started off as a tentative saunter down this particular path had now turned into a roller-coaster ride over which I had absolutely no control. I'd known that if I started this, it would be very hard to stop, but no one had warned me it would be impossible.

Would that have stopped me from embarking on this course of action?

Probably not.

I lay still for almost an hour, just trying to gather my thoughts together into some semblance of order. What exactly was I letting myself in for? I was blundering into the unknown, but I wouldn't've turned back, even if I could.

The mobile McAuley had given me started to ring. I hadn't expected anything else. I knew the moment he got out of the police station, he'd be giving me a call. The moment I pressed the talk button, he launched in.

'I want to see you,' he said.

'Yes, sir.'

'I'll be outside your house in ten minutes.'

'Oh, but—' I began, thinking of the wobbly Mum would throw if she saw McAuley parked outside our house. He would be even less welcome than the police.

'Yes?' McAuley said brusquely.

'Nothing, sir. I'll be waiting.'

McAuley disconnected the call.

Ten minutes . . .

The countdown had begun.

Forty-eight

I stopped outside Mum's closed bedroom door. She was probably fast asleep by now and wouldn't thank me for waking her up. Jessica had gone out somewhere. I so desperately needed to say goodbye to someone. Anyone. But there was no one. With a sigh, I headed downstairs, leaving Mum undisturbed. I headed out of the house, my hands deep in jacket pockets. I looked up at the blue sky, hoping . . .

But I didn't get my wish.

McAuley arrived right on time. I cast an anxious glance up at Mum's bedroom, but her curtains were closed against the daylight. Byron was the only other person in the car and he was driving. McAuley pointed to the seat next to him in the back. I got in. The door was only just shut when Byron drove off. And with each second, the hollow space inside me grew bigger and bigger.

'Mr McAuley, you have to believe me, I never said a word to the police,' I launched in immediately. 'They dragged Mum and me down to the station to make a statement, but I didn't tell them anything because I don't know anything. They're trying to set me up so that you'll think I've been telling tales.'

McAuley leaned back against the luxurious leather seat, his laptop on the seat between us, a newspaper on his lap as his gaze dissected me. Was it just me or was it uncomfortably hot in his car?

'Why would the police set you up?'

'To make you think I'm a danger to you. That way, with you after me, they reckoned I'd have no choice but to co-operate with them.'

'Co-operate?'

'The police think I know more about the shooting at the Wasteland than I'm saying. But I don't.' I looked McAuley in the eyes as I spoke, desperate for him to believe me. 'When the shooting started, I hit the ground and stayed there. I didn't see a thing.'

McAuley studied me for a long time. I didn't look away or flinch from his gaze. Not once. Because that would've been fatal. My heart was skipping like a boxer in training.

Don't throw up,Tobey. For God's sake don't throw up.

Especially not in McAuley's car.

Or worse still, over him.

At last McAuley's expression relaxed, although his eyes stayed hard as ever.

'How's your job at TFTM?'

What was he up to now? Were his unpredictable conversational leaps designed to catch me out? Careful, Tobey . . . Impatiently, I wiped my forehead with the palm of my hand. Would it kill him to turn on the air conditioning or to open the windows? But why should he? McAuley didn't have a single bead of sweat on him.

'I don't work there any more, sir.'

'Oh? Why not?'

I decided to keep my story as close to the truth as possible. 'Gideon Dowd fired me.'

'Why?'

'For going out with his sister.'

'Rebecca.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And you two are still together?'

'I don't know, sir. I haven't heard from her in a while.'

'D'you like her?'

I shrugged.

McAuley contemplated me. 'So you're sleeping with the enemy.'

I opened my mouth to deny it, only for my mouth to snap shut. Even if McAuley didn't mean literally, he meant figuratively. It was the same difference to him.

'Mr McAuley, if you tell me not to see her again, then I won't,' I said after a moment's pause. 'I'm only with her to try and find out the name of the bent copper in the Dowds' pocket. Rebecca was the one who gave me that information in the first place.'

'You still haven't found out who it is yet?'

'No, sir. But I will. I just need more time.'

'And you don't think you've had enough already?'

'I will get you the information, sir. I guarantee it.'

McAuley turned to his driver. 'What d'you think, Byron? Is Tobey a man of his word?

Byron shrugged. 'I think he's too clever by half – or at least he thinks he is.'

McAuley smiled. And his smile sent a chill ricocheting around my body. Where were they taking me? What were they going to do? McAuley picked up his PC and placed it on his lap over the newspaper, before analysing the screen. His memory key was attached to one of the two USB ports at the side. Why did he need to carry his laptop around with him all the time? Was it just for effect? To make him look more businesslike? Or was there actually stuff on it that he needed at a moment's notice? I carried on watching him, but he completely ignored me. He appeared to be reading emails, but I couldn't exactly lean in for a closer look. Our conversation, such as it was, was over. At least for now.

I swallowed hard. Should I say something? Press my case? Did he believe what I'd said or not? I looked out of the window. I didn't recognize where we were and I didn't have a clue where we were going. After about twenty minutes of total silence in the car, I risked another glance at McAuley. His laptop was back on the seat between us and he was watching me. Sweat was dripping off my forehead.

'Too hot for you, Tobey?' asked McAuley.

'A little,' I admitted, taking off my jacket before I melted into a puddle on the floor. I put it on the seat between us.

'I like it hot,' said McAuley. 'I find I think better when the heat is on.'

I didn't doubt it. With a smile, McAuley picked up his newspaper and started reading.

Where the hell were we now? Somewhere countrified by the look of it. There were no houses now, just fields in various shades of green as far as the eye could see, and trees to my left, lining up on the horizon. Thoughts drummed in my head like rain on a corrugated roof. My intestines were tying themselves in knots. Where were they taking me? Byron turned left onto a single-track road and we drove for another few minutes. More and more trees appeared all around us. Byron turned the car to the left and took us off-road. The suspension on the car must've been state of the art, because I did little more than bounce a couple of times.

'Bryon, stop here,' McAuley ordered, closing his newspaper and folding it neatly.

The car came to a smooth halt. Byron had stopped the car, but the engine was still running. We were in the middle of leafy nowhere. Trees surrounded us like sentinels, silent witnesses to whatever was about to go down. I couldn't even hear the odd bird chirping. I didn't recognize where we were at all. We'd only been travelling for slightly under an hour, but this might as well have been another planet.

This was it.

'Tobey, d'you know where we are?'

I shook my head.

'Neither does anyone else,' said McAuley, adding silkily, 'You do understand, don't you?'

Oh, yes.

'Mr McAuley, I work for you now,' I said quietly. 'There's no way I would ever betray you.'

'Loyalty means everything to me, Tobey. Everything. I've told you that before.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Maybe you should give him a test, Mr McAuley? See which side he's really on,' said Byron.

'Maybe I should at that,' McAuley agreed slowly.

I glanced between Byron and his boss. What kind of test? Had I been granted a reprieve or set on the path to hell? Or was I already on my way?

'But maybe he just isn't worth it,' mused McAuley.

He smiled, enjoying the power he had over me. My life lay in his hands and he was making sure I knew it. And I did. He didn't have to bring me all the way out here to the arse end of nowhere to make his point.

'You're going to have to prove yourself to me, Tobey. I think that's only fair, don't you?'

'Yes, sir.'

The hollowness inside was gnawing away at me now. Godsake. What was McAuley going to make me do?

'First I want you to tell me everything, and I mean everything that happened at the police station earlier,' McAuley ordered. 'And take your damned jacket off my computer.'

'Sorry, sir.' I retrieved my jacket.

'That's a serious piece of kit and you just chuck your jacket over it?'

'I'm sorry, Mr McAuley.'

I slipped the object in my hand into my jacket pocket, trying to make my movements as unnoticeable as possible. If I never made it beyond this forest, at least . . . I was getting ahead of myself. One step at a time. I needed to survive. So whatever McAuley asked me to do, whatever test he gave me, I would do it.

No. Matter. What.

'Cause it had to be better than the alternative.

I told McAuley everything he wanted to know. I didn't leave out anything. He interjected with the occasional question, but that was it. When I finished, he scrutinized me some more.

'Well, Byron?' asked McAuley, never taking his eyes off me. 'Is he telling the truth?'

'I'd say so, sir,' Byron replied.

'You're still useful to me, Tobey – lucky for you.'

'Yes, Mr McAuley.' Very lucky.

'Take us back, Byron,' said McAuley.

And those words were like hard-rock music to my ears. Byron carefully turned the car round and headed back the way we'd come.

'Byron, I do enjoy my visits to the countryside, don't I?' said McAuley.

'That you do, sir.' I caught Byron's tiny smile in the driver's mirror.

The rest of the journey home was achieved in complete and utter silence. I looked out of the window, but had to wait over half an hour before I saw a landmark I recognized.

Once we arrived at my house, as I turned to open the car door, McAuley said, 'I've thought of a way you can prove yourself to me, Tobey.'

My hand froze on the door handle. 'Yes, sir?'

'When you've found out the identity of the crooked officer who works for the Dowds, I want you to make another delivery.' McAuley's smile held smug satisfaction. He was incredibly pleased with himself.

'Another package for Mr Eisner?'

'Not this time.' McAuley shook his head. 'I'll want you to make this delivery to me personally.'

'To you, sir?' My words were sharper than intended. What could I possibly bring him that he didn't already have?

'You have access to something that I can't get near. Rebecca Dowd, Tobey. I want you to bring me Rebecca Dowd.'

And just like that, the hollow, gnawing sensation deep inside me ceased. There was nothing left inside. I was now hollow all the way through.

Rebecca . . .

'Yes, Mr McAuley.'

'So you'll do it.' It wasn't a question.

'Yes, Mr McAuley. Anything you say.'

'I'll let you know where and when. Keep the phone I gave you with you at all times.'

'Yes, sir. I always do.'

McAuley turned away from me. I was dismissed. I got out of the car. Byron drove off the moment the door was shut. I watched the car until it turned the corner and was out of sight. And still I stared after it. Rebecca Dowd was now a package scheduled for delivery. And I was the one who had to deliver her. I couldn't jeopardize all my plans for Rebecca. I just couldn't. What about Callie? McAuley had to pay for what he did to Callie.

But could I really sacrifice Rebecca?

Yes.

No . . .

I didn't know. That was the scary thing. I really didn't know.

I entered my house, heading straight for my bedroom. Even with the door shut behind me, I couldn't relax. I flopped down on my bed, my head in my hands, willing the tension headache between my eyes to dissipate. Minutes passed before I stopped shaking. I emptied my pockets onto my bed. McAuley's memory key shone up at me, the one I'd swapped for my own. In his car, I'd really believed I wouldn't make it home again, at least not in one living piece. But if I was going to die, I wanted to make sure McAuley wouldn't get away with it. So using my jacket for cover, I'd switched his memory key for my own corrupt one. The fraught actions of a desperate man. And all the time I was swapping the memory keys, I expected to feel his hand around my wrist, followed by Byron's gun at my head. But I'd got away with it.

I wasn't even sure what I'd been thinking. Something about my body being found with McAuley's memory stick in my pocket. If that didn't directly incriminate him, then I'd hoped there would be something on it that the police could use to bring him down. Not exactly the way I originally had it planned, but I'd had to improvise.

So now what?

I had McAuley's memory stick.

And he had mine . . .

I sat bolt upright, staring a hole through my wall. Was there anything on that stick to link it back to me? I thought long and hard. My memory key was completely corrupt, totally unreadable. But what if McAuley found a way to retrieve data off it? Then he'd find my chemistry homework and the history presentation Callie and I had been working on. If he managed to retrieve just one file, I was screwed.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 604