Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
Apart from the tinted windows at the rear, the rest of the back of the vehicle was enclosed, a wooden panel separating Jessica and Martin from the driver’s compartment. She tried to steady
herself, thinking it was almost certainly illegal to be travelling in such a way without seatbelts. The plan was for the van to drive them to a nearby petrol station, where they would transfer back
into Reynolds’s car.
‘Sorry about this,’ Martin said, sounding genuinely apologetic.
‘It’s all right, it isn’t your fault.’
Jessica was wary of getting into too much of a conversation with Chadwick. Although when she’d told Garry Ashford that Martin had served his time, she meant it, that didn’t mean she
had to like a person who had burned someone else to death, whether it was on purpose or not.
‘At least it’s not raining,’ Martin added, clearly trying to make conversation.
Regardless of her personal opinion, the more he spoke, the harder Jessica found it not to be charmed by him. She couldn’t explain it but there was a fatherly tone to his voice. Some people
came out of the prison system broken but Martin’s voice had no resigned quality to it. Instead, there was hope. She wondered how he’d got to the point years earlier where he was so
drunk he burned down a building.
‘It’s not been wet, just cold,’ Jessica told him but the man didn’t seem to be listening.
They went over more bumps as Martin continued. ‘My son Ryan visited a few days ago. He says he’s been getting the house ready for us to move back into.’
Jessica was curious. ‘Is it the house you used to live in?’
Martin barely stopped for breath. ‘Yes. I’ve lived there since I was a boy. It was passed through the family, so there was never any rent or anything. I’ve been . . . away but
Ryan was too young to live on his own so one of my cousins stayed in it for a while. It’s been empty for some time though.’
‘Has Ryan been living there since he turned eighteen?’
Martin sounded pleased with Jessica’s interest. ‘Yes. It’s in his name – it’s his house now. I told him I’d sign the papers when he became an adult.
It’s only fair after what . . . I did to him.’ The man’s voice tailed off as he finished the sentence.
The van momentarily dropped into a pot hole before leaping out, sending Jessica and Martin sprawling again. Jessica was beginning to think she should find out exactly who Sebastian Lowe was, so
she could blame him for her predicament, when Martin began crying.
At first, she just heard him sniffing but then it became a full-blown sob. Jessica felt a moment of panic she wasn’t used to. She had seen people break down in interviews but this was an
entirely new situation where she didn’t feel comfortable offering any form of reassurance. She wanted to stay neutral, reminding herself that the person across from her, like it or not, was a
killer.
She reached into the inside pocket of her suit. ‘Tissue?’ she asked, trying not to sound as feeble as she felt. Martin shuffled across the hard floor as Jessica reached forward,
passing him a small packet. After various accidents with food over the years, she kept tissues on her just in case.
Chadwick pressed himself back into the side of the van and blew his nose loudly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said just loudly enough for Jessica to hear over the sound of the engine.
She didn’t want to get into a conversation about it but, for some reason, couldn’t stop herself. ‘What are you sorry for?’
Martin continued to sniff. ‘This. Everything. I’ve made such a mess of it all.’ He ran his hand through what was left of his hair. ‘You know what I did, don’t
you?’
Jessica replied firmly. ‘Yes.’
The man gulped and blew his nose a second time. ‘My wife left me and I lost my job. I couldn’t deal with having Ryan on my own and I . . . got pissed all the time.’ Martin
paused for a moment and the quiver in his voice had gone when he spoke again. ‘Looking back, it doesn’t feel like me. I haven’t had a drop since I was arrested. I don’t know
why I did it with the fire and everything. I guess it was one of those things that seem clever when you’ve had too much to drink.’
Martin let out another sob and tried to dry his eyes. Jessica was lost for words. It would have been unsettling in any situation but as the van they were sitting in bumped along the country lane
and she shuffled to try to get comfortable, it was almost surreal. She thought about the types of people the man would have encountered over recent years. As well as fellow inmates, there would
have been counsellors and chaplains who might have heard similar confessions. She wondered if Martin had spoken to any of them, or if the contrition was something that had grown inside him as his
release date neared.
‘I’m sorry for doing this now,’ Martin added.
‘You don’t have to apologise.’
‘I can’t believe I’m out. I can’t believe I’m going to live at home again. It doesn’t feel fair, not after what happened to that boy.’
Jessica never knew how to take statements of remorse. When she was younger, she would take everything at face value but years of seeing people’s sentences reduced because of guilty pleas
and the ‘remorse’ they showed had left her cynical about the whole thing. Despite that, Martin did appear to be sorry for what he had done. Jessica couldn’t think of a reason why
he would break down in front of her. He certainly had nothing to gain by doing so because he had already served his sentence.
‘It’s up to you what you do with your second chance now,’ she said.
Jessica was wondering whether the rapid switch in Martin’s mood was something that should worry her as the revs of the engine dropped. The vehicle was slowing, presumably because they had
reached the garage where they were swapping back into the car. As she watched Martin nodding gently in the dim light, she thought the media attention could be the least of her worries.
Reynolds parked the car outside Martin’s house and switched off the engine. The journey from the petrol station to Manchester had been an almost silent affair although,
somehow, their plan had worked and none of the assembled media had followed them. Martin and the probation officer opened the rear doors as Jessica opened the one on the passenger’s side.
Together with the inspector, they all walked towards Martin’s house.
The man’s property was on a tight maze of roads just south of Crowcroft Park, barely a mile away from Longsight Police Station. On one side of the road was a long row of dark red-brick
terraced houses but the homes on the opposite side were semi-detached and had been built in a different era. An empty driveway ran along the side of Martin’s house but the tarmac was
beginning to crack and chunks of it had been swept to the side. As he opened a small metal gate, Jessica looked to her left where a scruffy paved area was becoming overrun with weeds growing in the
gaps between the slabs.
Before Martin could knock on his own front door, someone opened it. Jessica knew Ryan Chadwick was eighteen but he looked a year or two younger. He was thin with short spiky blond hair and was
wearing a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a hooded top. Ryan reached forward and pulled his father towards him into an embrace. As they held each other, Jessica watched the younger
man’s eyes stare over his dad’s shoulder, darting from Reynolds to the probation officer before fixing on her. They may have been blue but, in the light, looked grey and had a piercing,
steely quality to them. Jessica suppressed a shiver as Ryan watched her before he eventually released his father.
‘Welcome home,’ Ryan said, turning to lead them into the house.
As the younger man went towards the rear of the house to make tea, Martin took them into a living room with wooden floorboards where the varnish had long since started to rub off. From the
smell, it seemed as if the walls had been repainted recently but Jessica guessed the rest of the furniture was exactly as it had been seven years ago. A cream-coloured sofa with a faded pink
pattern was pushed towards the wall facing them, with an armchair in a matching pattern opposite the bay window. A large mirror hung on the wall above the sofa and, aside from a low coffee table
and television, the room was otherwise empty and felt cold.
The probation officer opened his briefcase and set down some papers on the table as Jessica and Reynolds sat on the sofa. The officer talked Martin through some formalities regarding when they
would have to meet and handed over some contact numbers. He didn’t seem too keen on hanging around and was packing up his papers when Ryan returned with five mugs of tea. Martin showed the
officer out as Ryan put the cups on the table and then sat cross-legged on the floor leaning up against the wall. Jessica could feel him staring at her but refused to meet his eyes, instead
reaching forward and taking one of the teas from the table, cradling it in her hand.
A few moments after the front door closed, Martin returned, picking up a mug and settling in his armchair.
‘We just wanted to make sure you were happy with everything before we left,’ Reynolds said. ‘I know we have spoken briefly about the recent media coverage but you should know
we haven’t had any specific threats made towards you.’
Ryan snorted. ‘Didn’t you see that stuff in the paper?’
Martin shushed his son. ‘I appreciate you coming around,’ he said, addressing the two officers and sounding sincere.
Jessica sipped her tea before replying. ‘I’ll leave you my direct number but you’ve also got the number for the station and, of course, you should call 999 if you feel
unsafe.’
Martin leant back in his chair and smiled gently. His earlier tears seemed long gone and he had reverted to the gentle fatherly type. ‘You didn’t have to go to all this
trouble.’
Reynolds picked up one of the full mugs from the table. ‘Are you likely to be alone much? Obviously that’s not a problem, it would just help us to know.’
Martin scratched his head and ran his hand through his hair. It was the second time Jessica had noticed him do it and it appeared to be some sort of nervous reaction.
‘I’m not sure,’ he replied. ‘Ryan goes to college a few times a week and works at a local garage. I’d quite like to get myself a job but I’m not really sure
how things like that will work. The probation guy told me we’ll talk about it at our first session. I think being out here is going to take a bit of getting used to.’
The man was interrupted by a clatter of crockery as Ryan loudly put his mug down on the floor. Jessica had been deliberately ignoring him, feeling his stare but not acknowledging it. As she
turned to look at him, she could see the fire in his eyes. Their colour hadn’t changed since he moved indoors – grey, focused on Jessica, and furious. ‘This is utter shite,’
he spat. ‘You read what was in the paper. Why haven’t you arrested this Thompson clown? Are you going to wait until he’s actually done something?’
Martin started to intervene but Jessica spoke over him, meeting Ryan’s eyes. ‘We saw what was in the paper and officers have been to speak to Mr Thompson. He says he was misquoted in
the article and that he didn’t threaten your father.’
‘And you believe him?’
Jessica could see the venom in Ryan. Whereas his father sat passively and – at least from what she’d observed – let his emotions overflow through tears and remorse, his son
expressed himself through anger. She said nothing at first, watching the teenager’s fists ball and arm muscles tense.
Jessica held his gaze. ‘I think you should calm down.’
She knew that telling people to calm down was frequently one of the biggest causes of people actually flaring up. The policy of certain forces was to avoid using the words because of the
negative effect they could have on people, especially those who were drunk. Jessica didn’t for one minute think Ryan was affected by drink but she wanted to see how he would respond. She felt
the inspector next to her shuffle uncomfortably and wondered if he knew why she had said what she had. On the floor, Ryan’s back straightened, his eyes narrowing. His fists were still
clenched tightly, his lips thin.
Just as Jessica was wondering what the teenager might say, Martin spoke. ‘It’s okay, Ry. They’re trying their best.’
Reynolds stood quickly and awkwardly, placing his empty mug on the table. It was clearly an indication they should go. Jessica stood too, turning to face Martin.
She reached into the pocket of her jacket and handed him one of her business cards. ‘Call me any time of day or night if you have a problem but always dial 999 first if it’s an
emergency.’
Martin took the card and stood, before ushering the two officers into the hallway. ‘Thanks again for coming,’ he said, closing the door that separated the living room from the rest
of the house. He lowered his voice. ‘Sorry about Ryan. He’s really not a bad lad; he’s just not had his dad around for all this time. I don’t know everything but some of the
things that happened to him in care . . .’
He didn’t finish his sentence but didn’t need to. With Ryan’s aggression, it was easy to forget he hadn’t had much of a life for the past few years. That didn’t
stop Jessica thinking she might need to keep an eye on him.
The two officers exited the house after a final ‘Thank you’ from Martin, Reynolds leading them back to the car. A few years before, they had shared an office when they had both been
sergeants. After his promotion to inspector, very little had changed initially but recently Jessica had begun to feel less comfortable around the man. It was something that was hard to pinpoint. A
few months previously, while investigating the case of a missing child, she’d had what was a minor disagreement with the chief inspector. Largely because of her stubbornness, things
hadn’t been addressed. Anyone who wasn’t familiar with the internal dynamics between Jessica and her colleagues might not notice anything different and she sometimes thought it was all
in her head. Regardless of the truth, Jessica was feeling a little ostracised by her workmates.
It didn’t help that she was struggling to deal with the guilt of how she had broken the law trying to solve that case. Apart from Detective Constable David Rowlands, whom she had involved
in her plan, no one knew what she had done.