Twenty-three. Callie 13 page

'Now you, Trevor.'

Trevor took a gun out of his jacket and put it on the desk.

'Trevor, you'd better get lost,' I said. 'Unless you want to stay here and wait for McAuley to realize that you're the one who works for the Dowds, not Byron.'

'What the hell . . . ?' McAuley gasped.

'Oh, didn't I say?' I said. 'Byron didn't work for the Dowds. That money was put in his bank account by Owen Dowd to make you think otherwise. But when I worked at TFTM, I saw Trevor coming out of Gideon Dowd's office. And Gideon's brother Owen told me that one of your men was passing on information. So it has to be him.'

Trevor looked from me to McAuley like he didn't know what to do.

'Are you staying or going?' I asked impatiently.

Trevor took off like his shoes were on fire. Honour amongst thieves.

Three against one. Plus the two outside. Much better. I could breathe easy now!

I glanced down at Byron. There was a small pool of blood around his neck and head. One bullet and Byron's life was over. One thrust of a knife and Rebecca was gone. Life was too precious to be so fragile. Or maybe life was precious because it was so fragile.

'All of you.' I waved them out from around the table. 'Walk over to the door, please.'

McAuley stayed his men with one gesture of his hand. 'Suppose we stay where we are?' he said. 'Suppose I don't think you've got the balls to shoot anyone?'

He reached for one of the guns on the table. I aimed and squeezed the trigger in the space of less than a second. The gun McAuley had been reaching for shot off the table, propelled by the bullet from my gun. Splinters of wood flew off in all directions. McAuley and his mob flinched away from the ricocheting debris.

'Suppose the next bullet goes straight through your heart?' I told McAuley. I might not have shot a gun at living targets before, but that didn't mean I didn't know how to shoot. My dad had seen to that. 'Now all of you – move.'

I swept the rest of the gun hardware onto the floor with my arm. I certainly didn't need one of McAuley's men getting any bright ideas. If we all headed out of the warehouse, then I could get a signal, phone the police and we'd wait for them to arrive. And maybe, just maybe I might make it out of this in one piece. Scott and Dave led the way, followed by McAuley, with me following behind all three of them. The moment Scott and Dave were through the office door, they sprinted off in opposite directions. There was no way I could stop them. I ran in front of McAuley and slammed the door shut before he could pull the same stunt. Never taking my eyes off McAuley, I locked the door behind me.

McAuley's men were somewhere in the warehouse, just waiting to pounce once I left the office. They couldn't get in. We couldn't get out.

Now what?

'Half a million pounds to the one who kills Tobey Durbridge!' McAuley shouted out.

Bastard! What a time to raise his voice.

The slamming against the office door started almost at once.

'Sit down on the ground,' I ordered McAuley, my gun in his face.

He did as I said, a look of intense satisfaction on his face. 'You're dead, Durbridge. Deal with it. And when I get out of here, I'm going to take care of your girlfriend too.'

'You already took care of Rebecca,' I said bitterly.

'The Dowds needed to be taught a lesson.'

'Rebecca had nothing to do with her family's business,' I told him. 'She was innocent—'

'She was a Dowd,' McAuley dismissed. 'I had hoped to swap her for my merchandise, but you refused to play ball, so I had to opt for plan B – which was fine with me. And you made it so easy to get to Rebecca. Thank you, Tobey. I couldn't have done it without you.'

My index finger stroked over the gun trigger. Shooting McAuley would be a public service.

'But we both know Rebecca wasn't your girlfriend,' McAuley continued.

At my puzzled look, his smile broadened. 'No, I'm talking about Callie Rose Hadley. I was aiming at you that day at the Wasteland when she got in the way instead. But next time . . .'

I raised my fist and brought it down against McAuley's face. I forgot I was still holding his gun. Blood started gushing from his nose almost immediately. McAuley cried out in pain. The pounding on the office door grew more frantic. It didn't matter whether McAuley's minions were trying to save him or earn the reward money he'd promised, I'd be just as dead. I looked down at the gun I was holding. The Glock 23 felt heavy and seductively comfortable in my hand. The pearl stock, warmed by my body heat, fitted snugly against my palm. I now held McAuley's custom-made semiautomatic.

A real, honest-to-God gun in my hand.

A proper killing machine.

Or was that me?

'You're dead, Durbridge – and there's nothing you can do about it.'

Seventy

I pulled Eisner's bag of white powder out of my trouser pocket and dangled it in front of McAuley's face.

'You know what this is?' It was a question that didn't need answering. Of course McAuley knew what I was holding. This stuff paid for his white suit and the blood all over it. It paid for the drug houses he had all over Meadowview, and for Ross Resnick's life and my sister's pain. McAuley revelled in the stuff I held in my hands. The harder life got in Meadowview, the more profit there was to be made. Simple economics.

McAuley's eyes narrowed. He spat blood out of his mouth and wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his nose before speaking.

'You want your cut?' he asked. 'Is that what this is all about? You want to go into business for yourself ?'

I said nothing. McAuley took my silence to mean that I was listening to him.

'You're a smart guy, Tobey. I could use someone like you working for me. I could show you what it's all about. In five years you'd be rich beyond your wildest dreams.' McAuley's voice flowed like warm honey. 'And whether you like it or not, you need me. Rebecca died after a meeting with you. What d'you think the Dowds are going to make of that? I'm the only one who can protect you.'

He really thought he had me. I walked around him, my gun still pointed at his head. The banging on his door was getting more insistent. I had about a minute, if that, before the door gave way. McAuley tried to twist his body to follow my movements. My gun against his temple soon persuaded him not to. But he wouldn't stop talking.

'You and me, Tobey, we live in the real world. We know the way things really work. Those that don't know, don't want to know. It's too much for them to take in. Life in Meadowview doesn't happen to them, so it doesn't happen at all. But we know different, don't we?'

Standing behind McAuley, I pulled the top of the small plastic bag apart. The top of the bag gaped open like a transparent mouth.

'It's that knowledge that has made me rich,' McAuley continued. 'And it will make you even richer than me, 'cause you're a smart guy, Tobey.'

'You don't get it, do you, Mr McAuley?' I said. 'This was never about money. This was about you. Why d'you think I did all this? I know you tried to kill me and Callie got hurt instead. All I cared about was bringing you down.'

'Then why didn't you just go to the police?'

'The police were my last resort. I didn't know how many of them were in your pocket. Besides, it's not exactly the Meadowview way, is it?'

'Seems to me that wouldn't've stopped you.'

'You're right. If there was no other way to get you then I would've taken my chances with the police.'

'Don't you see, Tobey,' said McAuley, 'you and I are the same. We go after what we want and we're ruthless about getting it.'

'In your dreams, McAuley. I'm nothing like you.'

'No?' He smiled. 'Look at yourself. Tell me that gun in your hand doesn't make you feel powerful. Tell me this situation isn't giving you the adrenalin rush of your life. Tell me otherwise and I won't believe you.'

I didn't want to hear any more. I couldn't think straight with his words dripping like poison into my ears. Time to shut him up.

'Open your mouth,' I ordered.

McAuley tilted back his head. 'What?'

'You heard,' I said. 'Open up.'

He slowly did as I'd asked. I tipped the whole bag of white powder into his mouth. He writhed on the ground, kicking frantically as he tried to spit it out, but I clamped my hand over his lips, forcing him to swallow.

'This stuff means so much to you?' I hissed. 'Choke on it.'

His eyes raged against mine, but I couldn't hear or feel a thing. I kept my hand against his mouth and my gun against his head. He was the one who'd tried to shoot me down in cold blood, only he'd hit Callie instead. He was the one who'd decided I was a danger to him because I'd unknowingly delivered Ross Resnick's finger to his wife Louise and the police had become involved. If he'd just left me alone, none of this would be happening.

The door was beginning to splinter. It was all over.

Outside the door there was a loud unexpected bang. Then another. And another. Gunshots. Each shot was loud as the devil's shout and reverberated right through me. Did McAuley's men have guns salted away throughout the warehouse? Maybe they'd got tired of banging on the door and were shooting out the lock. Another gunshot, louder than before . . . closer than before. I pressed my gun against McAuley's head, my finger on the trigger. He was coughing and retching. He could dish it out to anyone who wanted it and could pay, but he sure couldn't take it. The door burst open. I was ready. When I went down, so would McAuley.

Standing in the doorway was . . . Dan.

He had the P99 in his hand and two dead men at his feet.

'Get out of here, Tobey,' he said grimly. 'The police will be here any minute. The guards outside must've woken up by now.'

'Dan . . .' I stared at him. 'I thought . . .'

'I know what you thought. Go, before I change my mind.'

'But I can't just leave . . .'

'Yes, you can. You need to go,' Dan ordered.

'McAuley's got more men on their way.'

'The police will get here first.'

'Dan, I don't understand. What made you change your mind?' I couldn't help asking.

'I'm damned if I know,' he said. 'I owe you. You owe me. Everything is screwed up. Tobey, there are times, like now, when I hate your guts.'

'Then why?'

'The McAuleys of this world can't always win. Not all the time,' said Dan. 'And you and me, we were friends once.'

'We were friends,' I agreed. 'Once.'

Dan walked over to McAuley, watching with contempt as he vomited all over his suit, white powder smeared around his lips and frothing in his mouth.

'Dan, you don't have to stay here. Come with me,' I said.

He shook his head, adding with a defeated smile, 'Tobey, haven't you figured out by now, this is my proper place. But don't worry about me. McAuley and I have some business to take care of. Then it's every man for himself.'

I wanted to argue with him, but it would've been futile. I looked from Dan to McAuley, who was still retching. I didn't know if McAuley had brought it all up and I didn't care any more. I just wanted to be away from here. Away from all of them, including Dan. They made me heartsick. I went to walk past Dan, but he put out a hand to bar my way.

'Give me McAuley's gun,' he said.

We regarded each other. Laying the gun in Dan's open hand, I carried on walking. Would I feel the bullet tear into my back or hear the gun go off – which would be first? I looked straight ahead as I left the room. I could see nothing but Callie's warm, brown eyes smiling at me. I held onto her image. If Dan was going to kill me, then at least I'd die with her on my mind, at least I'd die happy.

I got McAuley for you, Callie, I thought with a grim smile. I got him.

Just as I'd promised her and myself when I'd cradled her in my arms at the Wasteland.

All this because of packages and deliveries and Ross Resnick and money. Thanks to my greedy impatience, I'd let myself get caught up in it. And thanks to my naïvety, so had Callie Rose. And because of me, Rebecca . . .

Rebecca.

Forgive me . . .

Who was I talking to? What was I hoping for? I was seeking absolution in a warehouse filled with blood. I blinked as I walked out of the building and into the moonlight. I was still standing. But only just. Behind me a single gunshot sounded. I flinched instinctively. The sound had come from inside the warehouse, from McAuley's office. Without turning round, I carried on walking away just as fast as I could. In the distance, I heard sirens approaching. I ran for cover, ducking out of sight behind some bins and staying there until the police cars had passed by.

I walked all the way home, my head down, my gaze turned inwards. I turned into my street, my whole body aching. But I didn't stop outside my house. Instead I went up to Callie's, intent on seeing her again. But I didn't knock and I didn't ring her bell. I just stood, staring at the closed door.

I did it for you, Callie.

But in doing so, I'd lost myself. I wasn't the same person as before and I couldn't bear to watch Callie turn away from the person I'd become. And she would turn away, maybe sooner, maybe later, but it would happen.

Slowly I trudged up the path to my house and went indoors.

The Reckoning

Seventy-one

'Tobey, Callie's here,' Mum called out from downstairs.

Five days had passed since McAuley had been shot. And my friend Dan Jeavons was wanted for his murder, as well as the murders of two other men who worked for McAuley. But Dan was still on the run and the police hadn't tracked him down. Yet. The DCI in charge of the case insisted that it was not a question of if Dan got caught but when. And all I could do was hope that Dan kept his head down and never stopped moving. And all I could do was wish he would stop running and give himself up, just to find some peace.

If it wasn't for him . . .

Dan and me. We were friends. Once.

Gideon Dowd and DCI Reid had both been arrested and charged on several different counts. I'd thought DCI Reid would be done for gross misconduct and kicked off the police force and that would be the end of that, but not so. The authorities wanted her skin, not to mention all her internal organs in a pickle jar. The deputy commissioner, no less, was at pains to assure the public that DCI Reid, if found guilty of the charges levelled against her, would be going to prison. The police were obviously on a roll. They'd even got Vanessa Dowd on a charge of tax evasion – not that she cared. She was still openly grieving over the death of her daughter Rebecca. The fatal stabbing had been all over the newspapers and the TV. Everyone seemed to be judging Rebecca and the circumstances of her death by the infamy of the rest of her family. She didn't deserve that. The press were still trying to establish a link between her death and the death of Alex McAuley as everyone knew about the enmity between the two factions. There was even speculation that Dan had been working for the Dowds.

My name hadn't been mentioned anywhere.

So Alex McAuley was out of the picture. And Owen Dowd now occupied the whole frame. Two days ago, I received a banker's cheque for a lot of money. Owen hadn't sent me a personal cheque – that'd be too easy to trace – but he'd sent me the money just as he had said he would. It arrived in an ordinary envelope with a first class stamp. And if the cheque had gone astray? Well, Owen had plenty more where that came from. Just touching the slip of paper made me feel unclean. I folded up the cheque just as small as I could, but I couldn't make it disappear. I went for a long walk to try and clear my head, dropping the cheque into the first charity collection box I came across. But I still felt contaminated.

Owen Dowd . . .

Not the outcome I would've hoped for as far as he was concerned. None of this was what I'd hoped for. I read a story once about a king who was greedy enough to wish that everything he touched turned to gold. Well, thanks to my desire for money and then revenge, everything I'd touched had turned to crap. I wasn't about to touch anyone I cared about ever again. Dan was right about me. So was Sephy. And Lucas. Everyone saw me more clearly than I saw myself.

I swung my legs off my bed to head downstairs. Too late. My door opened and Callie walked in. Her hair was loose, falling like a dark cloud around her face and shoulders and covering the scar on her temple. But in time, her scar would heal. She'd lost weight, but she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She was wearing a white dress and white sandals and my insides started hiccupping at the sight of her. I remembered the last time Callie had been in my room. That'd been the first, last and only time in my entire life I'd been truly one hundred per cent happy. But that was another lifetime ago. And now I was broken inside.

Callie walked towards me and I froze. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the now permanent scar on my cheek, courtesy of McAuley. Her touch made my skin tingle.

'Your eye is a bit puffy and yellow,' she said softly. 'Does it hurt?'

I pulled away from her. 'I'll live.'

Callie's hand dropped to her side. 'Who did that to you?' she asked, indicating my face.

'Callie, I haven't got time to talk to you now. I was just on my way out.'

'Can I come?'

'No,' I said, pulling on my trainers. 'I have a date.'

'With who?'

'Misty.'

'I see,' said Callie. She studied my carpet as if she'd never seen it before.

'Why did you want to see me?' I prompted as I stood up. I had to get her out of my room. Seeing her like this was doing my head in.

'I came to tell you that Mum has invited you to come with us tomorrow to Bharadia and Hammond.'

'To who and what?' I frowned.

'Bharadia and Hammond. They're Nana Jasmine's solicitors,' Callie explained. 'We're going to hear Nana's will being read. Mum says you can share our car. We're leaving at two tomorrow afternoon.'

'Why do I need to be there?'

'You're mentioned in Nana's will,' said Callie.

I frowned at her. 'Why?'

She shrugged. 'No idea.'

Silence.

'Tobey, I was sorry to hear about what happened to your friend, Rebecca.'

I shrugged.

'Are the police any closer to finding out who did it?'

I shook my head. 'They'll never find out who's responsible.'

'You mustn't give up hope,' said Callie.

Hope? What was that? Every day was like standing at the gateway to hell. The knife McAuley had used on Rebecca hadn't been found on his body, so he'd obviously disposed of it before he got to his warehouse. They would never find it now. Rebecca's death would remain an unsolved mystery, at least officially.

'Callie, have you remembered anything about the day . . . the day you got shot?' I asked.

Callie shook her head. I waited for her to say more, but she was silent. So she probably still didn't remember the night before the shooting either. She didn't remember the two of us together. I smiled bitterly. I didn't even have that to silently, secretly share with her. The memory was mine and mine alone.

'Tell me something,' I began. 'If you found out who shot you, what would you do?'

Callie flinched at my question, her gaze sharp. 'Tobey, d'you know who it was?'

I shrugged. 'It's just a hypothetical question.'

'Then my hypothetical answer is – I don't know,' Callie replied. 'I'd probably tell the police and get them arrested and sent to prison.'

'And if they were above the law?'

'No one is above the law.' Callie frowned.

I looked at her pityingly.

'OK, then. No one should be above the law.'

'What should be and what actually is are two completely different things,' I said with derision. 'The Equal Rights bill should've been made law decades ago, not a week ago. We shouldn't've had to wait for a bent copper in a gang-leader's pocket to be found out before the police started cracking down on the gangs taking over Meadowview.'

'Well, the law is man-made so of course it's going to be fallible,' said Callie. 'But there is such a thing as justice. Justice isn't the same as the law.'

'So what would you do to make sure you got justice, if you knew the person who'd shot you was above the law?' I persisted.

Callie shrugged. At my impatient look, she exclaimed, 'I really don't know, Tobey. I'd want revenge, of course I would. I'm human. But the desire for revenge is like hatred or anger, it eats away at you. And I should know.'

'And what if it was your mum or Meggie who got shot?' I asked.

Why was I doing this? Maybe I just needed to hear her say that what I'd done was not correct, but it was right, that it wasn't lawful, but it was justice and she would've done the same.

'I honestly don't know, Tobey,' Callie sighed. 'Why?'

I shrugged. 'I was only wondering, that's all. It doesn't matter.'

I tried to step past her, but she moved to stand in my way.

'Tobey, you and Misty? Is it serious?'

'Very,' I instantly replied.

'I see.'

This time she let me pass. I opened my bedroom door for her to leave first. As she walked past me, I inhaled deeply but discreetly. Callie didn't smell of my perfume any more.

'I'll see you tomorrow at two,' I confirmed.

Callie headed back downstairs with me following behind. I stretched out my hand towards the back of her head. Was her hair as soft as I remembered? I forced my hand back to my side.

'Oh, before I forget, I think this belongs to you,' Callie dug into one of the pockets on her dress and held out the letter I'd sent to her, the one with all the information about McAuley's shipments. 'Am I right? Is this yours?'

I nodded, wondering what she had made of the information on the sheets of paper. Had she read it? Did she believe I worked for McAuley? I wasn't about to ask.

'I'm afraid I opened it as it was addressed to me, but I stopped reading when I realized what it was,' she told me. 'I thought maybe it was sent to me for safe-keeping?'

I didn't answer.

'I take it you don't want me to hold onto it?'

'No. I'll take it,' I replied.

'Tobey, what happened when I was in hospital?'

'The Earth went round the sun. The tides ebbed and flowed. Life carried on,' I replied evenly.

Callie lowered her gaze momentarily. 'I'd better get back.'

'See you, Callie.'

'Bye, Tobey.'

Callie headed back to her house. I set off in the opposite direction. A conversation I'd had with my sister a while ago kept playing in my head. Jess told me that I'd never understand her until I experienced what all miserable, lonely, unhappy people shared. Only now had I finally figured out what she meant. Failure. I couldn't bear to look at myself in the mirror any more. I was someone I no longer recognized. I thought I could take my revenge on McAuley and emerge unscathed at the end of it. I had failed.

I thought about the stuff I'd poured down McAuley's throat and the gun I'd held against his temple. In that moment, I'd wanted so badly to hurt him. No, that's not true. I'd wanted to kill him. And if it had been anyone else but Dan who'd entered the office, by now I'd be a murderer. Who was I kidding? Rebecca was dead because of me, as was Byron. McAuley should've been dead because of me. The drugs I'd made him swallow would've done the job sooner rather than later. Dan had merely put him out of his misery.

Five people dead because of me. Rebecca. Byron. McAuley. The two guards Dan had shot . . .

I was a murderer. Now I truly knew who and what I was. No one should ever find out for certain exactly what they're capable of. It left you with no place to hide.

I walked around the block, then headed back home.

Seventy-two

Mr Bharadia's conference room was truly impressive. The oval mahogany table was solid wood, not just mahogany veneer. At least I think it was, I'm no expert. I glanced under the table. The legs were carved like birds' claws on a stand. The ten chairs around the table all matched each other and had the same design on the front legs. The back legs were plain. The backs of each chair were also intricately carved . . .

Tobey, what're you doing?

I mentally shook my head. I knew exactly what I was up to. I was trying to take in everything in the room so that I wouldn't have to think about the one thing I was desperate to avoid. Callie Rose. She sat next to me, watching me with puzzled eyes. She was still trying to figure out what was wrong.

We all sat, waiting for Mr Bharadia to make an appearance. Minerva and Sephy were discussing Sephy's forthcoming wedding to Nathan, talking about the best places to buy a wedding dress. I wished Callie would join in their conversation. That way I wouldn't have to speak to her. Deciding to make myself scarce until the solicitor put in an appearance, I tried to stand up, but Callie's hand on my arm stopped me.

'Tobey, we need to talk,' she said softly.

Which was just what I was afraid of.

'How come I've hardly seen you since I've been home?' Callie's voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to keep the conversation strictly between us. Unlike Misty, she didn't believe in making a scene.

'I've been busy.'

'Too busy to even come round and say hello?'

'I've been busy.'

Callie looked at me, hurt clouding her eyes. 'Have I done something to upset you?'

''Course not.'

'Then why won't you even look at me?'

I turned to glare at her, my expression pure biting frost.

She flinched. 'Tobey, what have I done? Why am I getting the treatment?'

'Godsake, Callie. Can we just get through the will reading without all this drama?'

'Tobey . . .'

'Callie, leave me alone. For God's sake, just leave me alone.'

The whole room went quiet. I jumped up and left the room before I did something incredibly stupid – like holding Callie and telling her the truth. I hid out in the men's loos until after the meeting was scheduled to start. It was the only way I could make sure that Callie and I didn't enter into the same conversation again. I went into the meeting room, grimly pleased to see that the solicitor had arrived and everyone else was waiting for me.

I sat down again, drawing my chair away from Callie as I did so. Callie kept looking at me, and I kept pretending I didn't see her. The solicitor started spouting some legalese which had me zoning out in seconds. I didn't even know what I was doing here. So Jasmine Hadley had mentioned me in her will. So what? She was probably using this opportunity to warn Callie off or something. This was a complete waste of time.

'Mr Bharadia, could you skip over all the legal jargon, please?' said Sephy, interrupting the solicitor's flow. 'I'm sure everyone here would rather just get to it.'

Apart from a slight tightening of his lips, Mr Bharadia's expression didn't change. He was too much of a professional for that. 'Very well, Miss Hadley. I'll get to the details of the will as you've requested.'

'How long before Mum died did she draw up this will?' asked Callie's aunt Minerva.

'Er, three . . . just a moment.' Mr Bharadia checked the top of the will and another document in the pile of papers before him. 'Yes, three weeks.'

The solicitor was obviously the kind of man who didn't yawn without confirming its date and validity first.

'Three weeks?' Minerva said slowly. 'So when she drafted this, she knew her cancer was terminal?'

Mr Bharadia frowned. 'I believe so.'

Terminal? I didn't know Jasmine Hadley's cancer had come back and was terminal.

'Minerva, what difference does it make?' Sephy asked her sister.

'I just wondered, that's all,' Minerva replied.

The solicitor turned to Minerva first and told her that she and her husband had been left a substantial six-figure sum and that half that sum again had been left in trust for their son Taj, which he would obtain when he was twenty-five years old. Minerva's husband was already a very rich man, but now they were richer. Taj was a lucky boy. How lovely to grow up knowing you had all that money waiting for you. I couldn't even begin to imagine what that would be like. Well, actually I could imagine. I could dream, just like everyone else. Minerva nodded at the solicitor, her face sombre.

Mr Bharadia turned to Meggie. 'Mrs Hadley wrote this letter one week before her death. She asked that it be read out to you before I tell you how much you've been left.'

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 576