Crossing the Line (Kerry Wilkinson) (39 page)

home.’

‘You’re lying.’

Jessica knew that Tony was – if he’d called home, his mother would have called her.

‘I’m not!’

A sickening thwack echoed around the room and then there was the sound of scrambling. Jessica

could feel the weight of the phone in her pocket. She could go back down the stairs and call the

station – but no one would arrive quickly enough to help Tony.

Shite, shite, shite.

Jessica pushed the door open slightly, expecting to see a fight. What she actually saw was all the

more shocking: Tony was prone on the ground, Scott straddled across his stomach. He was wearing

the same type of smart suit in which she’d seen him before but his sleeves were rolled up for action,

light gleaming off the top of his shaven head. Tony was limp but there was a needle hanging from his

arm which Scott wriggled around slightly and then pushed the plunger.

‘There, that’s better, isn’t it?’

Tony groaned, his mouth hanging open uselessly.

‘Expensive stuff, this. I’m going to keep coming back until I get what I’m due.’

Scott let Tony’s arm flop back onto the floor, the needle still dangling. Jessica wanted to turn, to

run, to get help, but she couldn’t move. It wasn’t Tony who had got himself hooked on the drug again –

it had been done for him by someone who wanted as much money as he could get. It didn’t matter if

Tony paid, he would keep asking for more.

No wonder he had taken to sleeping rough in areas unfamiliar.

As Jessica stepped backwards, the door creaked a high-pitched ominous groan. Scott turned, face

screwed up in confusion. At his full height, he was massive – not just towering over her but wide too;

thick shoulders and a powerful rhino-like chest.

‘Who are you?’

The question hung in the air – he hadn’t recognised her from either the alley, or the time she’d first

seen him when leaving Tony’s flat.

There was only one answer she could give: ‘I’m Detective Inspector Jessica Daniel and you’re

under arrest.’

Scott’s upper arms tensed slightly, eyes narrowing as he weighed her up. ‘What’s the charge?’

‘Grievous bodily harm, possession of a Class A drug and being a big bald fuck-bag.’

He smiled slightly, holding his arms out to his side to show he was unarmed. Jessica’s heart was

thumping so loudly, she was convinced he must be able to hear it. She was trying to stop herself from

shaking.

‘I want you to put your hands on your head, turn around and kneel.’

‘Do you now?’

‘Hands on your head.’ Scott did as he was told slowly, not taking his eyes from Jessica. ‘Now turn

around.’

This time he didn’t obey. ‘Can I ask which army it is you think you’re going to take me in with?’

He ain’t scared of you boys in blue.

Jessica ignored him, glancing quickly towards the ground. ‘Tony, are you all right?’ The only

response she got was a slight groan from Tony and a wider smile from Scott. She turned her attention

back to the man in the suit. ‘I thought I told you to turn around and get on your knees.’

‘And I asked which army it is you think you’ve got.’

‘There are three patrol cars directly outside with both ends of the road blocked off. We’ve been

following you for weeks – we were just waiting until we had you where we wanted you. Now turn

around and get on your knees. I won’t ask again.’ She tapped her ear, tilting her head slightly away

from Scott in the way Esther had done to her. ‘Yep, that’s the suspect’s voice. We have a second man

down too. Can you hear what’s being said?’ Pause. ‘Roger that – firearms on standby.’

The smile evaporated from Scott’s face and this time he seemed rattled. He ran his tongue along his

teeth, still staring at her.

‘Knees.’

Thump, thump, thump
. Could that really be her heart? Surely, he could hear it?

Scott turned around, fingers interlocked behind his head. He continued standing as Tony rolled onto

his front, close to Scott’s feet. He was still groaning with what sounded like pleasure, needle hanging

out of his arm.

‘Knees!’

Jessica realised she was holding her breath as Scott slumped forwards until he was kneeling. She

unclicked the handcuffs and marched towards him, reaching for his hands. She was ready for him to

react but he was far too quick for her. The moment she touched him, his fingers slipped out of each

other and he grabbed her wrist, rolling sideways without letting go. Jessica heard the snap before she

felt the pain. She lunged towards him with her free hand, going for the windpipe but he effortlessly

kicked her legs out from her. Jessica fell sideways but Scott continued holding her wrist, his

unflinching grip like a vice. There was a second snap and this time Jessica did feel the pain,

screaming in agony. He was holding her where she already had the scars, running his fingers roughly

along them, adding to the sting. She tried to kick up at him but his legs were like tree trunks and he

didn’t flinch.

Jessica finally pulled her wrist clear but Scott fell forwards onto her, straddling across her waist in

the same way she’d seen him with Tony. He was so heavy that she couldn’t wriggle out from under

him. His saucepan hands swung back and slapped her across the face. Jessica’s head bounced into the

ground, leaving her with green and pink stars dancing in front of her eyes.

The next time she knew where she was, Scott had turned around, still straddling her but facing

away. Jessica tried wriggling again but his ankles were pinning her arms to her side and she was out

of breath from where he was sitting on her. All she could see was his backside but Jessica could feel

him tugging at her shoes.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What happened to your firearms squad?’

‘They’re—’

‘Yeah, they don’t exist. Don’t even try it – I’m not one of your usual idiots. You should’ve probably

found out who you were dealing with before you stormed in: Little Miss Stupid without an army.’

Jessica could just about see the prone shape of Tony. He was still moaning.

‘Scott Dewhurst.’

His body straightened but his grip didn’t relax and Jessica suddenly felt the cooler air on her feet.

He had taken her shoes and socks off.

‘So you do know who you’re dealing with?’

‘You answer to Christian Fraser. He has a bunch of shithole clubs and pubs which he uses for

dealing drugs and laundering money. You’re under arrest.’

‘Fuck me, I must’ve hit you harder than I thought – do you really think you’re in a position to do

anything about this?’

‘About what?’

Scott twisted his body just enough so that Jessica could see one side of his face but he was so

balanced that his weight didn’t move at all. He reached into his pocket and took out a second needle

that contained a light brown, almost yellow liquid. ‘Fascinating stuff, opiate, don’t you think?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know that the first time after you shoot this stuff, depending upon your make-up, it might

only be six or seven hours until you start sweating and craving more. Take our friend over there, I

reckon he’s a six-hour man, don’t you? It can be anything up to twenty-four hours but everyone has

some sort of reaction.’

Jessica tried to struggle but her arms had gone numb and her legs were pinned. ‘Don’t do it.’

Scott leant back onto her wrists, making her squeal. He sounded so calm that even the tone of his

voice was terrifying. ‘I’m going to tell you a story about a little pit bull puppy I had as a teenager. He was called Bull and I loved that little dog. The thing was, he’d always come back for more. You’d

throw it into the ring with the other dogs and he’d charge in, even when he was outnumbered and the

other animals were much bigger. Even when he got hurt, he’d still come back to me. It got to the point

where I was trying to see what I could do to him and still have him return. I took a lighter to his tail, threw him down the stairs, held him under the bathwater for minutes at a time. You name it and I did it

to that little pup. Every time, he’d shake himself down and then be sniffing around my feet again,

wanting more.’

He sighed wistfully, remembering the good old days.

‘My point is that this stuff turns people into my little Bull. People think it does bad things to you but it really doesn’t. It’ll stop you having a shit but aside from that, all it does is make you come back for more. The only other side-effects are if it’s been cut badly and you’ll only get the best stuff from me.

It’s all about how you look after yourself. People fuck around with their arms and make a mess, so I’ll

give you a little lesson. Consider this a freebie.’

Jessica felt a stabbing sensation next to her big toe. She tried to scream but the sound was lost

somewhere in between her lungs and her mouth. Scott hauled himself to his feet and rolled his sleeves

down, straightening the rest of his suit. She tried to move but her body didn’t feel like her own. As her head began to spin, Jessica heard Scott’s final words. ‘If you want more, he’ll tell you where to find

me. Talk to you soon.’

She heard the sound of glass crunching into the carpet nearby and then the rush came.

41

Jessica’s stomach was on fire as she crouched over the toilet in Tony’s flat feeling the contents of her bowels ripple up her throat and then blast the sides of the bowl.

Everything hurt.

She felt Tony behind her, pulling her hair aside, whispering something she couldn’t make out. After

two dry heaves, she rolled away, reaching up to flush the toilet but missing. Tony stretched across to

do it and then helped her rest against the wall. She could see the outline of his face: the straggly hair, pale skin, thin, so thin. He took her hand and she realised she was shaking.

‘You’re sweating,’ Tony said, running a hand across Jessica’s forehead.

‘I feel . . . I don’t know how I feel.’

‘It’s warm.’

‘Yes, it’s warm.’

Tony drank some water and then passed the glass to Jessica. It tasted cold and beautiful, sliding

down her throat and then—

More heaves.

‘Ouch.’

‘It’s not like that every time. Everyone’s different after the first time. Some are sick, some are

barely affected. It depends on all sorts of things but mainly your own tolerance and how pure it is.’

Tony sounded completely coherent – the exact opposite of how Jessica felt.

‘What time is it?’

‘Four o’clock. He left around two hours ago.’ Jessica groaned slightly and Tony pushed her hair

away from her face. ‘Why did you come?’

‘I’ve been trying to help you.’

Tony seemed shaken by what she’d said, pulling away and leaning against the basin. ‘I didn’t want

this to happen.’

‘I know.’

‘You don’t have to be ashamed of how it felt – it’s like that for everyone.’

Jessica’s head felt cloudy. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

He stared at her, almost through her, as if he was in her mind. He knew. ‘Everyone thinks it’s awful,

that it hurts, but those first twenty minutes . . . the rushing, the swimming. It builds and builds and then it takes you. It’s like you’re being hugged so hard. Flying, falling and flying again. When I come

down, it’s like landing in bubble wrap. I can almost hear the pop, pop, pop.’ He closed his eyes and

breathed in.

Jessica didn’t want to talk about it.

Tony pulled himself to his feet but didn’t seem too steady either. ‘Do you want some tea?’

‘If I can keep it down.’

Tony helped her up and then closed the door behind him. Jessica realised she was still bare-footed

and sat on the toilet, wrenching her leg around so she could see the small red dot in the webbing next

to her big toe. With another grunt of effort, she hauled herself up using the basin and stared into the

mirror. She was still the same, wasn’t she? Her hair was drenched with sweat but her skin wasn’t

pale like Tony’s. She could see herself clearly; her eyes were more green than brown today but the

pupils hadn’t shrunk like Tony’s either.

Six or seven hours, Scott had said. That was how long before she started wanting more if she had a

low tolerance. Two hours had already gone.

Tick-tock.

She knew the basics about addiction from the years in uniform; all those nights of arresting people

who needed help, not incarceration. She knew that what Scott had told her about heroin was true – the

only real direct side-effect was that it constantly made a person want more. The evil was in the

simplicity because there was never enough. An addict would sell everything he or she had to get

more, then steal whatever was around to keep the habit going.

I used to look at everything as a method to getting something else to drink, or go up my arms
.

Tony knew what it was like. The only side-effects were the ones that tore everything about a person

apart.

Jessica stared into the mirror and pulled her eyelids up to inspect the top of her eyeballs, then she

looked up her nose, underneath her gums, poked, prodded and pulled each part of her skin.

‘I’m still me.’

She looked herself in the eyes.

‘I’m still me.’

In the living room, it was like nothing had happened. Whatever had crunched had been cleaned up

and Tony had rearranged the chairs around the table. A steaming teapot was sitting between two cups

and Tony poured a drink for her. The first mouthful scalded the back of her throat but that was good.

Let it burn.