Mark Pearson - Hard Evidence

Upstairs in Siobhan's bedroom, Walker smiled as he heard the key turn in the lock. He looked at Andy and put a finger to his lips. 'Sit on the bed, Andy.' Andy sat next to Siobhan, and Walker smiled at the young girl. 'Shush. That's your dad now. Let's give him a nice surprise, shall we?'

Siobhan nodded and whispered, 'Daddy loves surprises.'

'He's going to love this one.'

Downstairs, Delaney picked up the slashed telephone cord and looked at the blood-stained Sabatier blade on the counter beside it. His daughter's scream rang out from upstairs and it felt like someone had plunged the knife into his heart. He snatched it and ran for the stairs; Kate caught his arm and whispered hoarsely, 'Be careful.'

Delaney shook her hand off and took the steps two at a time. Bursting into his daughter's room, he pulled up short as he saw that Walker had Siobhan held in front of him with a knife at her throat.

'Come on in, Detective Inspector.'

Delaney kept his face neutral. He looked down at his daughter and spoke softly. 'It's all right, pumpkin. Everything's going to be okay.'

'Put the knife down, Inspector.'

Delaney hesitated for a beat and then let the carving knife fall to the floor.

'Pick it up, Andy.'

Andy stood up from the bed and picked up the knife.

Delaney watched him as he moved back. 'You in on this, then, Andy?'

Andy shrugged. 'Not to start with.'

Walker nodded, his voice warm, amused. 'He disappeared for a little while, but I think he's rather glad I found him again. Andy enjoyed the filming work I gave him, didn't you, son?'

'Yeah.'

Delaney noticed the flat look in the young boy's eyes, and felt a chill in his soul.

'He used to help find the young stars for our films. He came and went as he pleased. Isn't that right?'

Andy nodded, and Delaney looked at him. 'So what changed?'

Andy shrugged. 'Uncle Billy found me. Saw I was holding some serious folding and wanted to know where I was getting it from.' He smiled humourlessly. 'He beat it out of me.'

'The thing was, Andy knew Moffett from when his mum was making Sin Sisters ,' said Walker. 'Billy went to Moffett and put the squeeze on him. Moffett hired Norrell to take care of the problem,' he shrugged, 'and the rest you know.'

Delaney looked at the young boy. 'So what now, Andy? Your mother loved you, you know. She'd have done anything to protect you.'

'Which is why I had Moffett dealt with, as soon as I knew what was happening.'

'So Jackie Malone's death was nothing to do with you?'

'Of course not. And Andy is a bright lad. He's learned from experience. Something it seems you're incapable of doing.'

Delaney turned the full glare of his hatred back on Walker. 'You think you can just walk away from all this? What do you think you're going to achieve here?'

Walker smiled thinly. 'Closure, Jack. Isn't that what we are all seeking in the end?'

'Closure?'

'Because you're taking the fall, as our American cousins would say. I had information that you were keeping young Andy here against his will, and I acted on it. Isn't that right, Andy?'

Andy looked at Delaney, deadpan. 'I told my mother about you and my uncle abusing me. That's why you killed them both.'

'And that's why you killed Sergeant Bonner when he put two and two together. Your DNA is going to be all over him. You couldn't have been more helpful if you'd tried.'

'Put the knife down, Walker, and I'll see you get help. You're a sick man.'

'Because I showed affection and love? Because I cared for those kids when nobody else did?'

'Love,' Delaney almost spat.

Walker was not fazed at all. 'Yes, love, Delaney. Something those runaway kids never knew. Why do you think they do run away? Living on the streets like animals. We helped them. The home Moffett and our associates set up for them was the first real place they had ever felt secure.'

Delaney looked over at Andy. 'Is that right, Andy?'

Andy shrugged. 'They were a lot better to me than my uncles ever were.'

'You see, Inspector.'

Delaney glared back at him. 'Enough talk. Just let my daughter go now.'

'All in good time.'

Walker nodded at Andy. 'Keep an eye on her.'

Andy held the blood-stained Sabatier knife up as Walker put his own knife down on Siobhan's lilac-coloured chest of drawers. The lethal blade obscenely incongruous amongst the toy ponies and the Barbie dolls. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pistol.

'It's an unregistered gun. The one used to kill your good friend Bonner. We struggled, you died. Everything is cleared up.'

Delaney looked at his daughter, his heart breaking as he saw the terror in her young eyes. 'And Siobhan?'

'She'll be cared for. She won't die, I can promise you that.'

'And my sister-in-law?'

'Already dealt with. You always were a violent man, Delaney. It's a matter of record.'

Delaney felt the rage build inside him, felt the impotence. 'Everything is disposable to you, isn't it? Nothing has a value.'

'That's where you're wrong. You see, I understand what is valuable and what is not. But look at you, Delaney. You value nothing. How can you value others if you don't value yourself? You say you love your daughter, and yet you leave her to the sister of your dead wife to bring up. What kind of love is it that throws children away?'

Siobhan whimpered as Walker adjusted his grip. 'Daddy?'

Delaney forced a reassuring smile. 'It's all right, sweetheart, everything is going to be okay.'

'Closure, Delaney. It's time for closure.'

'Why me?'

Walker laughed. 'Because nobody cares about you, Jack. Least of all yourself.'

Delaney looked into Walker's eyes; they were cold, intelligent and quite insane. He was sure of that. He ran through his options. If he reached into his jacket for his gun, Walker would shoot him before he had time to clear it. He calculated the distance between him and Walker. Did he have time to reach the superintendent before he pulled the trigger?

Walker read his mind and smiled. 'Don't even think about it.'

'Give it up, Walker. This makes no sense. I've spoken to people. They know what's going on. There is no way you can just walk away from all this.'

Walker laughed again. 'You've spoken to no one, Jack. No one of any importance. You have no credibility. You haven't had for years. I've got a squad car round the corner. A forensic team. My people. Trust me, this will all be taken care of and it will all be down to you, Cowboy. Everything and everyone. Closure.'

Walker's eyes hardened as Delaney heard footsteps behind him and Kate stepped into the room, Kevin Norrell's gun held in both hands and pointing at her uncle's head. 'Drop the gun now or I swear I'll kill you.'

Walker ignored her, keeping his attention focused on Delaney. 'Goodness me, Cowboy. Is this your new mount?'

Kate pushed her hands forward, her aim unwavering.

Walker brushed the back of his hand across his cheek. 'She used to be as pretty as your daughter once upon a time, Jack. Gave me this little scar late one night, so I could never forget how pretty.'

'If you don't think I'll do it, you're wrong. Drop the gun and step away from the little girl.'

Walker shook his head. 'You could pull the trigger, I'd still have time to kill her.' He looked back at Delaney. 'Here's the deal. You tell Kate to put down her gun or I will kill your daughter. Do you believe me?'

Jack looked into his eyes and did.

'Tell Kate to put the gun down, Jack. Or I will do it.'

Delaney looked over at Kate. Her long hair falling over her forehead in a curly tumble, her eyes bright with pure, glittering hatred as she stared at her uncle and said, 'I'm not going to put the gun down.'

The scream seemed to hang in the air like a parachute, the sound ripping into Delaney's consciousness like a dousing of ice-cold water as he realised what he was doing. But it was too late. The shotgun blasted, fire and destruction hurtling from both barrels towards their car. The windscreen shattering, the front nearside tyre ripping apart, the car spinning out of control. The screaming blended with the screech of brakes and the crumpling of metal as the car smashed into a barrier. Delaney was out of the car, oblivious to the people rushing towards them. Oblivious to the shouts and the screams, as though he was cocooned in an impenetrable fog. He had his wife in his arms and he could barely see for the tears in his eyes as he laid her on the forecourt floor. Her curly hair fanning around her head like a nimbus. The blood pooled a little behind her head as he took his jacket off to make a pillow. And he said a prayer, for the first time in twenty-five years, pleading with God not to let her die. He knew it was all his fault. He could have stopped being a policeman for one minute but he didn't, and now his wife was dying on a cold petrol station floor. As the petrol station manager called an ambulance, Delaney held on to his wife's hand as if he could transfuse his own life into her, and he begged God to make it so.