Danielle Ramsay - Broken Silence

Dora harrumphed, and shook her head in defeat before walking away.

‘Have you seen Jimmy yet?’ Harvey asked as he turned back to Brady.

Brady sat upright.

Harvey shot Conrad a look which told him that he wasn’t wanted.

‘I need a fresh coffee,’ Conrad said, taking the not too subtle hint.

Harvey waited until Conrad had moved off before speaking.

‘He’s in a bad way.’

‘What the fuck’s going on, Tom?’

Harvey leaned forward. ‘I don’t know why exactly but from what I heard he lost it for a few minutes at the crime scene. He was one of the first called out and … Fuck! Your guess is as good as mine,’ Harvey said as he shook his head. ‘Bloody took his coat off and put it over the victim’s body! I mean … fuck it! What the hell would possess him to do that?’

Brady remained silent. It just didn’t sound like Matthews; he was one of the best DIs on the force and had in his time encountered worse murder scenes than this one. Brady knew that sometimes a grisly murder could send even the most hardened cops over the edge, but not Matthews. Brady had grown up fast and furious on the desperate streets of the Ridges, Matthews in war-torn Benwell, each learning to survive on instinct and fists alone. Neither believed that their work in CID could change what happened in the Ridges and the Benwells of the world, but they would do their best to contain it.

Brady had seen as many murders as any other DI during his time stationed at Wallsend and the West End of Newcastle, but as of yet, nothing had significantly thrown him. He casually put it down to the fact that he had had a tough childhood, tougher than even Matthews’ thuggish upbringing; one that had prepared him well for being a copper.

Brady looked up at the dim, grey light squeezing through the bars of the basement window. He couldn’t think straight, it just didn’t make sense. Matthews was different; Brady would never make it beyond Detective Inspector, whereas Matthews had the makings of a Chief Superintendent. He was ruthless, that was all there was to it; bloody ruthless.

‘Got to go,’ apologised Brady as he stood up. He had to find Matthews.

His leg had stiffened again making him wince.

He turned to Harvey.

‘Tell Conrad that I’ll see him at the briefing.’

‘Sure,’ replied Harvey. ‘The Incident Room is being set up in the first-floor conference room, so you’ve got no excuses for being late. Remember, 8.30 am sharp. That gives you fifteen minutes, even you should make it in time!’

Brady managed a faint smile despite the irritating throbbing in his leg. They both knew his time keeping was poor.

‘Just so you know, we really tried to get those bastards who did that to you,’ Harvey said as he glanced at Brady’s leg. ‘Especially Conrad. There were times during the past six months when he worked two straight shifts.’

‘Yeah, he’s a good bloke,’ Brady acknowledged as he looked over at his deputy.

Chapter Eight

‘You look like shit!’ Brady said to Matthews as he entered his office.

He had expected to find Matthews waiting for him. It’s exactly what he would have done in his situation. But he couldn’t help being thrown. Matthews’ face was sickly pale and his eyes, which watched Brady’s every move, shone with a feverish madness.

Brady limped over to his desk and sat down. He could see that Matthews had already helped himself to a generous measure of the Glenfiddich he kept in his drawer for when things got too much.

‘You want another?’ Brady asked as he jerked his head in the direction of the malt.

Matthews nodded dejectedly.

Brady obliged him with a liberal refill. He picked up another mug off his desk and thought about pouring himself a small measure. Something about Matthews’ silence told him he was going to need it. He then thought the better of it and put the malt back. The last thing he wanted to do was rile Gates more than usual and drinking on the job on his first day back wasn’t a good tactic.

Brady watched as Matthews gratefully downed the malt before letting out a low, wounded sigh. He shook his head in disbelief before lifting his eyes to meet Brady’s. They had the despairing look of a rabid dog condemned to die.

‘I’m in deep shit, Jack,’ Matthews started, his voice quivering.

Brady waited tensely.

‘I … I don’t know where to start …’

Brady felt his stomach objecting to the greasy breakfast.

‘I … I knew her … I fucking knew her …’ muttered Matthews shaking his head.

‘Who?’ asked Brady, not wanting the answer.

‘The girl … the one who was …’ Matthews’ voice trailed off.

‘You can’t have done.’

Brady cleared his throat as he waited for Matthews to agree with him.

‘Jimmy? Come on, man.’

‘Don’t you think I’d fucking know?’

‘Come on, Jimmy. You can’t have known her. There was nothing left of her face to recognise.’

Matthews didn’t answer.

Brady swore to himself.

‘For fuck’s sake, Jimmy! Do you know what you’re saying?’

‘What kind of question is that? Do you think I’m crazy or something?’

‘Do you want the honest answer?’

Brady tried to get his head around what Matthews was saying. But it didn’t make sense. None of it was making sense.

Matthews stared hard at Brady, trying to anticipate his response.

‘I … I took her home in my car last night and—’

‘You what?’ Brady asked, incredulous.

He realised then that Matthews must have been screwing her, or at least attempting to. He tried to control the panic he could feel rising through his body.

‘When I got to the crime scene … you can’t imagine what it was like,’ Matthews said through trembling lips. ‘When I saw her lying there … what had been done to her … I … Oh Christ!’

He paused and looked at Brady with the hollow eyes of a man who had death shadowing him.

‘I panicked, Jack! I fucking panicked …’

Brady was speechless.

‘That’s why I covered her with my coat. Don’t you think I realised that my DNA might be on her? I mean I… fucking hell! I drove her home in my car … and then she turns up hours later … dead …’

Brady could feel the knot in his stomach tightening. It explained why Ainsworth, the senior SOCO, was so pissed off when he and Conrad had arrived. He had had enough of CID literally messing up his crime scene.

‘At first I thought … I thought it was Evie … it was her jacket … She was wearing Evie’s jacket …’

Brady sat upright, his head buzzing.

‘I … I don’t follow?’

‘The long blonde hair … the clothes. Fuck, Jack! When I first saw her I thought it was Evie! I thought it was my little girl lying there!’

It was at that moment that Brady realised that Matthews was in shock. He didn’t know what he was saying. He couldn’t, because it didn’t add up.

‘The last time I saw Evie she was still a skinny kid with pink braces. There’s no way that the victim was her age,’ he stated, relieved.

Matthews just stared at him as the madness slowly returned to his eyes.

‘Come on, Jimmy, she looked as old as the girl I took home last night!’

Suddenly the atmosphere in the room chilled. Matthews’ green eyes had dangerously narrowed to glinting slits.

‘You bastard! You sick bastard!’ Matthews hissed between gritted teeth.

‘Whoa!’ Brady said, holding his hands up as he tried his best to defuse the situation. Matthews wasn’t the kind of guy that you wanted to piss off. ‘She was just a kid … a dumb kid!’

‘Come on, Jimmy! She looked at least twenty. She was no doubt out drinking and shagging last night before this happened to her,’ Brady perilously insisted.