Danielle Ramsay - Vanishing Point

Brady sat silent. He couldn’t answer Conrad’s question.

He wasn’t even sure if he had the right answer anyway.

Brady shrugged as he looked up at his deputy.

‘Your guess is as good as mine, Conrad,’ answered Brady.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Brady picked up his jacket from the back of his chair just as his phone started to vibrate.

He grabbed the phone, recognising the number immediately.

He knew he had no choice but to take it. He looked at Conrad’s concerned face.

‘One minute, yeah?’ Brady said. ‘I’ll be straight up after this call.’

He waited until Conrad had left.

‘Yeah?’ he quickly answered.

‘Figured out who’s playing games with you then?’

‘Fuck you!’ answered Brady.

He didn’t have time for Matthews’ games.

‘Sounds like you haven’t,’ stated Matthews sourly.

‘Don’t you have better things to do with your time than hassle me?’ demanded Brady.

‘What do you think? Banged up in here with the worst shits possible. Constantly watching my back so I don’t end up in a fucking morgue …’

‘Look, Jimmy, I haven’t got time for this,’ Brady pointed out.

‘What happened to you visiting me? Didn’t I say I had something that might interest you?’

‘You know the score better than anyone! I can’t come and see you because everyone here thinks you’re some bent ex-copper on the take. Now if I visit you, what does that make me look like?’ answered Brady. ‘Add in the fact that I have my hands full here with a murder investigation.’

He was started to lose his patience with Matthews. He had bigger problems to contend with than whatever it was Matthews thought he had over Brady.

‘Your worst nightmare is just beginning, Jack. And being seen talking to me is nothing compared to what’s going to happen if you don’t get your arse over here and find out what I have to tell you.’

‘Why can’t you just say it now? Save me a hell of a lot of trouble. Especially considering I’m heading a murder investigation here. I haven’t got time to shit let alone take a couple of hours out to visit you.’

‘If you don’t make the time that’ll be the least of your worries,’ warned Matthews.

‘Says who?’

‘How about your old man who you and that shit Madley set up?’

‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,’ answered Brady.

He clenched his right fist tight as he waited for Matthews’ response.

‘Fuck you do. And so does Ronnie Macmillan,’ answered Matthews.

‘What do you mean?’ questioned Brady as his heart started to beat faster.

‘Let’s say I saw him and his boys here making a special visit to see your “Da”. Remember him, Jack? Or did you think he’d been got rid of like that fucking tramp that Madley had torched to death?’

Brady was speechless.

His heart wasn’t racing now. It had stopped.

‘I … I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ answered Brady.

‘Fuck you do! Anyway, get your arse in here first thing tomorrow and don’t forget my fucking baccy!’

With that Matthews hung up.

Brady stood still. He couldn’t move.

Madley, he thought. He needed to talk to Madley.

Brady pressed Madley’s number.

‘Yeah, Martin … it’s me. We’ve got a problem …’ Brady began.

Brady had no idea why Ronnie Macmillan would want to talk to his old man. But it was clear there was trouble coming his way. Or should he say, even more trouble.

Ronnie Macmillan was trouble of the nastiest sort. The kind of trouble that Brady could do without.

Brady wearily sighed.

He knew he should go and visit Matthews but he didn’t have the time. The day was running away from him and he still hadn’t held the briefing.

Brady put his jacket on and left his office, locking the door behind him.

He didn’t trust anyone.

And after the day he’d had, who could blame him?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Brady attempted to run up the stairs to the second floor but failed miserably. His leg was now giving him so much jip, coupled with the pain from his bruised ribs, that he found himself limping. He paused for a moment, wincing as he bent down to massage the old wound, waiting for the agonising spasm to cease.

Too many months behind a desk, he mused. Six months of paper-pushing to suddenly being thrown a case of this magnitude was taking its toll. Both physically and mentally.

He had a briefing to hold and he was late. Add in that the briefing had already been put back by too many crucial hours.

He forced himself to make the final steps up to the second floor, cursing inwardly at the debilitating burst of pain. He desperately needed some more painkillers. But first, he had a briefing to give.

He limped along the corridor, heading for what had been assigned as the team’s Incident Room.

As he reached the room his phone vibrated.

‘Brady,’ he answered.

Three words hit him.

‘It’s her, sir,’ stated the liaison officer who had accompanied Brian Ryecroft to ID the body.

Brady paused, digesting the news.

He could hear the agitated mumbling of his team from behind the closed door. Every so often the name ‘Simone’ was thrown in, swiftly followed by ‘bastards!’ It was clear that tempers were frayed. People were on edge. Angry at what had happened to one of their own. Scared even, that whoever did it might strike again. Worst case scenario, they could have a cop killer on their hands.

‘He’s certain?’ demanded Brady.

Given the condition of the body, he had to ask.

‘Yes, sir. No question.’

Brady couldn’t imagine the pain that Brian Ryecroft would be feeling after seeing the horror of what had happened to his daughter.

‘Tell Mr Ryecroft I’m really sorry for his loss, will you?’ replied Brady, knowing that his words would carry little comfort.

‘Of course, sir.’

Brady disconnected the call and steeled himself before facing his team. This radically changed the investigation. Instead of some unidentified body they now had the victim’s name.

Steadying himself Brady opened the door and walked in. The first person to catch his eye was Claudia.

‘Sir, can I have a quick word before you start?’ Conrad asked before his boss had a chance to question Claudia’s presence.

Brady nodded, aware that Claudia was watching him. Closely; too closely.

Then he realised why. He looked as if he’d had the crap kicked out of him; which he had.

Brady walked back out, followed by Conrad who shut the door discreetly behind them.

‘What is she doing in there?’

‘She’s got some information about the branding found on the murder victim, sir,’ answered Conrad.

Brady narrowed his eyes.

‘What exactly has she got?’

‘She hasn’t said, sir. She’s saving it for the briefing.’

‘I don’t think so, Conrad. She has no jurisdiction here.’

Admittedly he had asked her to look into the branding marks found on the victim’s body, but he hadn’t expected her to turn up at the briefing without talking to him first.

‘She seems to think she does,’ Conrad replied uncomfortably.

‘Yeah? Well, let’s see about that, shall we?’

Before Brady opened the door, he looked at Conrad.

‘While I have a word with her can you let the team know that the body’s been positively identified as sixteen-year-old Melissa Ryecroft?’

Conrad looked mildly shaken. But he quickly composed himself.

‘Yes, sir.’

He looked the way Brady had felt when he heard those fateful words.

Conrad waited for his boss to make a move but Brady looked distracted. His face dark, troubled.