Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
‘Why do you want to know about Seb?’ Garry asked, not taking the bait.
Jessica reached into the bag under her seat and scooped out a copy of the previous day’s
Manchester Morning Herald
. She pushed a ketchup bottle to one side and unfolded the paper
before turning it around so Garry could see the front page, pointing at Sebastian’s byline on the lead story.
‘Did you have anything to do with this?’ she asked.
The headline read ‘FLAMING HELL’ with ‘Killer Out This Month’ underneath.
Garry must have known what was coming but he still fidgeted awkwardly. ‘I didn’t write the headline but I knew about Seb’s story.’
Jessica pushed the paper away. ‘Didn’t anyone think about the implications? What if this guy gets hurt when they let him out of prison?’
The journalist sank into his seat and Jessica began to feel a little sorry for him. ‘That’s exactly what I said,’ Garry insisted. ‘I told my editor that. I told Seb that.
I said we should be careful if we were going to run it.’
From her earlier dealings with Garry, Jessica knew he had a pretty good grasp of what was right and wrong. Or, more specifically, what she considered to be right or wrong. She wasn’t as
prejudiced against the media as some at the station but, as with all professions, she knew there were good guys and bad guys. Garry was one of the better ones. He had certainly helped her in the
past, although she was loath to admit it – especially to him.
‘I’ve been assigned to keep an eye on Martin when he comes out of prison,’ Jessica said. ‘It’s not even our job but after this,’ she pointed to the paper
again, ‘we don’t have much choice.’
Garry looked a little apologetic, his eyes slightly wider than before. ‘You have to admit it’s a good story.’
Jessica knew it was and had made that exact point in the staff briefing the previous day. It was probably that which prompted Detective Chief Inspector Jack Cole to give her the job of escorting
Martin Chadwick when he left prison in a few days’ time. Unknown to Garry – she hoped – everything had been moved forward by a day in an attempt to avoid any further
publicity.
‘Where did Sebastian get the story from?’ Jessica asked, fully aware Garry would never give her the answer. She was curious because the day of a prisoner’s release wasn’t
the type of information that should have been freely available. All they had managed to come up with in the briefing was that the second subject of the article – who would have been told by
the prison service that Martin was due to be released – had taken it to the media.
Garry shook his head. ‘You know I won’t tell you that.’
‘Was it Anthony Thompson?’ Jessica asked, hoping Garry’s body language would give him away. As he had grown older, the man had clearly learned his lessons from dealing with
her. He sat impassively, refusing to answer. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Jessica added. ‘I know Anthony might have every reason to want to hurt Martin – but flagging it up
for the world to see isn’t going to do anyone any good.’
Garry nodded slowly and Jessica could see he agreed with her, although the congealed egg yolk on his chin did detract slightly from the serious conversation she was trying to cultivate. She
leant across the table and wiped the yellow liquid from Garry’s face as he writhed away from her. ‘You’re not my mum,’ he said with a smile.
Jessica grinned back, the atmosphere lost. ‘Believe it or not, I didn’t invite you to breakfast to simply bollock you. Whoever this Sebastian is should do his homework. There are
mistakes in the piece and, although it’s not my job to clean up after you, my boss and I thought it would be much better if we gave you some proper facts for next time.’
‘On the record?’
Jessica shook her head. ‘You give me your source and I’ll give you something on the record.’ Garry smiled back but didn’t answer.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Off the record it is. Have you got a pen?’
The journalist stacked his empty plate on top of Jessica’s and moved them into the middle of the table, before fumbling in a shoulder bag hanging over the back of his chair and taking out
a notepad and pen.
When it was clear he was ready, Jessica began. ‘You got most of it right. Martin Chadwick is due out of prison but you know I can’t confirm exactly when that’s going to happen.
Up until seven years ago, he was a bit of a pest with sporadic criminal offences, none of which was very serious. Then he set fire to a pub he thought was empty. Unfortunately, a
twenty-one-year-old man named Alfie Thompson was sleeping inside.’
Garry was making notes, although Jessica hadn’t yet told him anything he wouldn’t already know. She paused to let him catch up, continuing when his pen scratched to a halt.
‘Martin was so drunk, he was picked up sleeping on a bench less than a hundred yards away from the pub. The lighter and empty bottle of vodka he used to start the fire were still in his
possession. He didn’t exactly confess, largely because he said he couldn’t remember doing it. With the CCTV footage and forensic evidence, he pleaded guilty to manslaughter and received
his prison sentence.’
The journalist looked up from his pad. ‘We know this . . .’
Jessica interrupted. ‘What you don’t know is that Martin had an eleven-year-old son who was taken into care when his father went into prison. He is now eighteen and, apparently,
he’s been in regular contact with his dad. I don’t know much about his mother but the son is called Ryan. Although I’ve not met him yet, strictly unofficially we would rather you
be careful of mentioning him. He doesn’t have anything to do with this and I am only telling you because I know you will find it out at some point anyway.’
She let her words hang. Garry hadn’t written down any of the last pieces of information. ‘All I can do is ask,’ he said.
Jessica nodded. ‘Obviously you know about Anthony Thompson. It was his son killed in the fire. I’m assuming he was your source about Martin’s release because he was informed.
We don’t know that much about Anthony, except for what you printed.’
She picked the paper back up and began to read. ‘“There’s no bringing back my Alfie but everyone has to pay for what they’ve done”.’
She looked up to see Garry wince. ‘I know it’s ambiguous,’ he said.
‘Deliberately so?’ Jessica asked. She fell silent as a waitress came close to their table and picked up the plates.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ she asked sweetly, although the twang of her local accent made it sound as if she was offering them a fight. The woman was somewhere in her early
twenties, with bleached hair tied neatly in a bun on top of her head. Jessica watched Garry eye the waitress up and down, before stopping himself when he realised she was observing him.
Jessica giggled slightly, shaking her head. ‘No thanks, just the bill.’
When the woman had moved away, she raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you really a ladies’ man now?’
Garry offered an apologetic ‘No’ but Jessica already knew he was far from the type. He might have wandering eyes, as did most men she knew, but the journalist lacked the social grace
to be discreet.
Jessica lowered her voice. ‘From what Anthony says, I don’t know if he’s referring to the jail sentence as Martin “paying” for what he’s done, or if
there’s a veiled threat there.’
Garry spoke slowly and cautiously. ‘I don’t know. Sebastian did the interview. I know you can read it both ways. I said we should take it out.’
Jessica returned the paper to her bag. ‘I don’t think any of us want something stupid happening when Martin comes out. Whatever you think of the guy, or the punishment, he’s
done his time.’
Garry put down his pen and nervously wiped his chin with a napkin from the table.
‘How are things anyway?’ Jessica asked in a lighter tone.
He stopped dabbing his face and smiled. ‘Are you actually being nice to me?’
Jessica grinned. ‘Hey, I left my hair down for this impromptu bollocking. I’m not all bad.’
Garry shrugged. ‘I’m doing okay. I’ve been promoted and I’ve moved in with my girlfriend.’
‘Is she the blind one?’
The journalist snorted gently and shook his head. ‘I thought you were being nice?’
‘This is me being nice,’ Jessica replied with a wink.
‘What about you?’ Garry asked. ‘I heard you were loved-up, engaged and all that?’
Jessica tried not to fidget but couldn’t stop herself. Instead of answering his question, she shunted her chair backwards and picked up her jacket, before crouching to retrieve her bag.
‘I’ve gotta go,’ she said.
Garry laughed. ‘Thanks for the breakfast.’
‘Judging by the amount you left on your chin and shirt, it certainly looked like you enjoyed it.’ He glanced down at his clean shirt before looking back up at a smiling Jessica.
‘Gotcha,’ she said.
The journalist put his coat on while Jessica paid at the counter. As she turned, he looped his bag over his shoulder and stretched out his hand for her to shake. ‘It was good seeing you
again, Jess,’ he said.
Jessica rolled her eyes but shook his hand anyway. ‘Can you deliver a message for me?’
‘What?’
‘Tell this “Sebastian” that I will kick his arse if anything happens to Martin.’
‘So much for bringing it forward a day so no one knew,’ Jessica said agitatedly. She deliberately elbowed a reporter she didn’t recognise as she fought her
way through the crowd of journalists assembled outside the prison gates. She heard the man grunt but kept moving, wondering if the person she had ‘accidentally’ caught was Sebastian
Lowe. She didn’t know what he looked like but she could only hope.
Detective Inspector Jason Reynolds and Jessica stepped through the gate, where they were met by a man in a suit. Reynolds was around six feet tall but the man was taller and stooped, stretching
out a hand for Jessica and then the inspector to shake. He had brown hair combed and smoothed to one side and introduced himself as the deputy governor of the prison. Jessica thought he seemed
younger than other people in similar positions she had met in the past. She would have placed him somewhere in his forties, but his sharp eyes gave the impression of someone who knew what they were
doing.
The man turned and started to lead them towards the main part of the prison. ‘We’re not used to this sort of attention out here,’ he said, referring to the throng of
photographers and journalists waiting outside. ‘Have you ever been to Wymott before?’
Jessica exchanged a look with Reynolds but let him answer ‘No’. They had spent the best part of an hour driving through the back lanes of Lancashire, with Jessica complaining at
every turn how remote the institution was. Wymott was a category C prison not far from Leyland, around thirty miles north of Manchester. She had grown up in Cumbria, where the roads were even
narrower and harder to negotiate. Since then, she had lived most of her adult life in Manchester, largely forgetting how fiddly country lanes could be. Judging by the way Reynolds had ignored her
complaints, she guessed he didn’t share her annoyance.
Martin Chadwick had been moved to the low-risk prison a few years previously when it became apparent to the authorities that he posed no particular danger to anyone.
In the days since the original story about his release, Chadwick’s case had gradually received greater interest through the local media. Even a few national papers had got hold of it, all
adding to a feeling at Longsight Police Station, where Jessica worked, that they would have to play things carefully.
Both Martin and Anthony Thompson lived in their district and although supervising newly freed prisoners was largely out of their remit, the police were working closely with the probation service
over Martin’s release in an effort to prevent any trouble.
Unfortunately, someone with a big mouth had told the media that the man’s discharge had been brought forward, leading to the presence of journalists, photographers and television cameras
at the front of the prison. As ever, the police, prison and probation service blamed each other.
The deputy governor held a door open for them as they entered the prison’s visiting hall. Aside from the three of them, the room was empty. The man closed the door behind the two officers
and followed them into the room.
Reynolds spoke. ‘Do you have some sort of rear exit?’ he asked, although Jessica realised his choice of words was clumsy. ‘I know everything had been arranged for
Martin’s release but we didn’t expect all of this attention.’
The deputy governor screwed up his face awkwardly. Jessica knew prisoner releases were generally straightforward things, although, depending on the people and category involved, they might need
meticulous planning.
‘It’s a bit late to be changing things now . . .’ he said.
Jessica was regretting wearing one of her better suits as she stretched out her legs in an unsuccessful effort to get comfortable in the back of the van. She didn’t know
how clean the floor was and it was too dimly lit to make out exactly what she was sitting on. The man across from her offered a weak smile as if sensing her discomfort. He was also wearing a suit,
although it was far too big for him. As she peered through the gloom, Jessica could make out his thinning grey hair, the crinkles around his eyes making him look older than his fifty years.
‘You got the short straw,’ Martin Chadwick said with a small, unconvincing laugh.
Before Jessica could reply, the van bucked upwards over a hump in the road, sending her flying sideways.
After the deputy governor had told them it was unlikely he could find a better way to get them out of the prison without going through the media crowd, Jessica had uttered the words she was now
wishing she hadn’t: ‘Isn’t there a service van or something similar we could sneak out in?’
At the time, it sounded like a good idea. With Martin’s unwillingness to face the media, it became an even better one. Unfortunately, Jessica hadn’t thought through the part where
someone was supposed to be escorting the former prisoner off-site.
As the catering van reversed towards the prison’s main building after dropping off its daily delivery, Jessica had looked at the deputy governor and then Reynolds, before it dawned on her
that the inspector was going to pull rank. While he and the probation officer were to leave the prison via the gates they’d come in through – much to the confusion of the waiting media
– she would be in the back of a van with Martin.