Dying Eyes (6 page)

Ms. Stocks blinked rapidly. “That’s…‌But that’s her brother, isn’t it?”

“Her…her brother?
Nicola’s
brother?”

Ms. Stocks nodded. “Yes, yes, her brother. Nice lad. Got on well with our Danny in school, he did. Yeah, lovely boy. Lovely, lovely boy.”

“They never told us anything about their son,” Brian said to Cassy. “Do you remember Nicola’s brother’s name?”

“I…‌I don’t, I’m afraid. Lovely boy, though, I can assure you.”

“I’m sure he is. Ms. Stocks, would you mind if I kept hold of this camera?”

Ms. Stocks frowned. “Why? Why would you want to do that?”

Brian pulled his diary out and placed it in her hands. “It’s the missing person thing. This might help identify his location, and the sooner we do that, the sooner we can get your Danny back to you, okay?”

Ms. Stocks hesitated for a moment before shrugging and jotting her signature in the diary. “But I want that back,” she said. “He’s saved up so long for one of those things. Please, Officer. I’d hate him to be upset if it got lost.”

Brian patted Ms. Stocks’ shoulder. “I can assure you I’ll take very good care of it, Ms. Stocks. Thank you very much.”

Brian and Cassy left the house, and Ms. Stocks, who lit up another cigarette and leaned against her slug-infested garden wall, waved them off. Brian told her to be in touch if Danny returned home to her at any point, but she didn’t seem like the most cooperative of ladies.

“Well, aren’t you going to thank me?” Cassy asked, as they sat in Brian’s car.

“Thank you?” Brian pretended he didn’t know what she was talking about, but to her credit, she’d done well, fooling the old woman into the missing persons loophole. “For what?”

“You know damn well what for. Where would we be right now without me?”

“You did all right. But if anything, you’ve only gone and got us more questions than answers.”

“Like, why didn’t the Watsons mention they had a son?”

“Well, it depends how you look at things. Either they didn’t really see the need to, or‌–‌”

“‌–‌or they’re covering for him.”

Brian lifted the camera out of his pocket again and had a final look at the picture as Cassy stepped out towards her police car.

Nicola, Danny Stocks, and Nicola’s brother. Together, smoking weed, at eleven p.m. on 2
^nd
January. Last night.

The night of Nicola Watson’s murder.

Chapter Six

A school stood just around the corner from the Watsons’ house on a quiet, tree-lined street, one of the nicer parts of Preston. Brian had lived in the area when he was a toddler. The construction of a new water works forced his family to move out. Three years after the construction, the water works closed and had been abandoned ever since.

Brian and Cassy slammed the doors of their cars and walked towards the Watson household. Brian took another glance at Danny’s camera. This lead had to go somewhere. It just had to.

“I’ll do the talking,” Brian said as Cassy knocked on the frosted glass door of the traditional, semi-detached house. A bunch of cards were wedged in the low letterbox at the foot of the door. Red ones, blue ones…‌It was either somebody’s birthday, or the hand-delivered sympathy cards were already beginning to fly in.

Trevor Watson pulled the door open. His red-eyed face was vacant and distant. He gestured Brian and Cassy inside without saying anything and dragged his feet towards the kitchen.

Trevor placed the small pile of sympathy cards from the letterbox onto the kitchen worktop. Opening those couldn’t be easy. What was he expected to say? “Thank you for sending me the sympathy card…” It wasn’t like a birthday, or Christmas. Cards would be the last things you wanted when you’d just lost something, especially your daughter. Card after card, reminder after reminder…

Trevor walked over to the fridge and grabbed a colourful drawing from behind a magnet. He grinned and walked over to Brian and Cassy, dangling the green and blue crayon-covered sheet in front of them with shaking hands. “She drew this, back when she was in primary school. Always…‌always was an arty girl, my Nicola.” His voice was shaky, the tears in his eyes growing heavier.

Brian attempted a smile. “Your daughter sounds like a lovely girl, Mr. Watson.”

Trevor scrunched the drawing up into a little ball and pressed it in his palms as tightly as he could, then stormed over to the kitchen bin and tossed it inside. His face was completely red, and he panted like an animal.

Then, breaking free from his fixated trance in a split second, he perched on the side of his kitchen table and stared into space. “How can I help you, officers?”

Brian cleared his throat. “It’s actually your son we want to have a word with.”

Trevor looked between the two officers. “Scott? And why would you want to have a word with him?”

Cassy stepped forward. “We believe your son might have been one of the last people to see Nicola Watson with her boyfriend, Danny Stocks.”

Brian bit his lip. Why did she always have to interrupt and be so forward like that? A bit more subtlety wouldn’t go amiss.

Trevor wiped his fingertip against the dusty table. He looked back up at Cassy. “Well, I appreciate your honesty, Officer. But from what you’re saying, Danny did it?”

Brian’s stomach sank. Typical. This is why he’d told her he’d do the talking. He fired a stare at her and intervened. “No, we aren’t saying that at all.”

“We have reason to believe that Danny Stocks might have been the last person to see Nicola Watson, and we have evidence that he was with your son, Scott, sometime before her death.”

Trevor rubbed his hands against his cheeks. “Danny. Danny. If I see him…‌if I see him, I swear, I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.” His soft voice made the words even more sinister.

“That’s why we’d like your son’s help,” Cassy said. “Danny’s gone missing.”

“It’s him isn’t it? It’s him. I knew it. I knew it.”

“Mr. Watson,” Brian said. “My colleague is not saying that, only…” He realised Cassy and Trevor were staring somewhere behind him. He turned around slowly and saw him, standing like a model in the spotlight.

“Scott Watson?” Cassy asked.

The skinny, acne-ridden boy cowered and scratched the spot on the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses. “Y-yes?”

Cassy walked towards Scott. Brian and Trevor stayed put.

“We’d like to have a word with you about your friend Danny. What say we sit down for a cuppa?”

Trevor paced around outside the kitchen door. Talking to Scott where he was most comfortable‌–‌his home‌–‌was a ridiculous idea, really. He’d rather have done it in private. They could’ve brought him in as a witness and recorded what he had to say. But here they were, sat around his kitchen table.

Scott twiddled his fingers as Cassy pushed the camera towards him. The reflection of him, his sister, and Danny glowed in his thin-framed glasses.

“What were you doing out with Danny and your sister that night?” Brian asked.

Scott shook his head, mumbling inaudible words. He was hiding something, there was no doubt about it. The way he shook; the way he looked so uncomfortable and out of place in his own kitchen. Brian would have no trouble breaking him if he had to.

“Scott, you’re not getting yourself anywhere by staying silent. Now by all means, keep your mouth shut. You’re certainly making our job a lot easier.”

Scott looked up at Brian with bloodshot eyes. He opened his mouth to speak and gulped back an interrupting air bubble. “I know it looks bad. But I promise, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

Brian laughed. “Usually kids who do things wrong say they haven’t. Since when were you and your sister’s boyfriend such good friends, anyway?”

Brian nodded at Cassy, and she changed the picture to the one of just Scott and Danny together, smoking joints. Nicola was nowhere in sight.

Scott dropped his forehead into his hands. “I just didn’t want to say. I didn’t want to say because I knew it’d get me into trouble, and I…‌I just couldn’t.”

Cassy leaned in towards Scott, who couldn’t hold his gaze with either of the officers. “Couldn’t what?”

He took a nervous breath and glanced over at the door, where Trevor was staring into the kitchen, red-faced. “The weed,” Scott whispered. “I was getting it off Danny. It made me feel cool, I dunno. But we weren’t really friends. He just smoked with me a few times. I didn’t want to say. I didn’t want it to get me in trouble.”

Brian slumped back into his seat.
Weed.
That was all the kid was scared about. “Believe me, kid‌–‌a bit of green is the last thing on our list of priorities right now.”

Scott snivelled. “I just…‌I just want my sister. She wouldn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, kid,” Brian said. “I know it’s tough. But you can help us. I know it’s hard‌–‌all this bullshit with people you thought were your friends, losing family…‌Yeah. But right now, you are the only person who can tell us where Danny Stocks might be. I
know
he helped you out. I know he gave you weed, but between you and me, maybe we can ignore that, all right? We just need to know where you went to smoke. Where is that place on the pictures?”

Speechless and shaking, Scott looked up at the pair of them.

“Scott,” Trevor shouted. “You tell these officers where that scrote is, right now.”

“I don’t know,” Scott said, his gaze wandering. “I…‌There could be a few places. I don’t know.”

“You’re telling me you were so stoned that you didn’t even know where you were? How very convenient. Speaking of which, where were you when your sister went missing, anyway?”

Scott looked at his dad anxiously then slumped his shoulders like a school-kid being told off by a teacher. “I…‌I was at work. That’s why I couldn’t…‌The spliff, I couldn’t…”

“You irresponsible shit,” Trevor shouted, shaking his head.

Brian leaned back in his chair and shook his head at Cassy. Little bastard went out for a smoke before work, of course he did. Careless git. “Where do you work?”

Scott fiddled with his hands. “I drive. I was doing nights and…‌I drive.”

“Oh, now the plot thickens! So, you were not only doing drugs that night, but you were driving under the influence. Mr. Watson, I was beginning to think you were an intelligent lad, too. So admission of substance abuse
and
driving under the influence. Maybe we should head down to the station where it’s a little more…‌cosy. What do you think?” Brian had no real intentions of wasting petrol, but he just wanted to strike a bit of fright into him, break him down even more. From the way Scott Watson glared nervously at Brian, then the window and back again, he figured he was doing a good enough job of freaking him out.

“I‌–‌I’m sorry, I really am,” Scott said. “Just, please. My sister. I know I was stupid but…‌but my sister. Please.”

Brian let out a sigh. “The way I see it, you have two options: the easy option and the difficult option. The easy option‌–‌you tell us where you and your good friend Danny smoke those drugs, and perhaps we could send you on a nice, low-profile drug rehabilitation programme for a couple of weeks, keeping it quiet, y’know? Or the difficult option. Well, it makes it very easy for us, but for you…‌I can only offer my sympathies.”

Scott’s arms began to shake even more. His breathing intensified as he stared at the table with tired, reddening eyes.

“Scott,” Trevor called. “You tell them. You tell them right now, or I’ll fucking shake it out of you.”

Scott scratched at the table with his long fingernails. Then, like a burst balloon, he gasped and collapsed onto the table. “The old hospital,” he said, snivelling. He looked back up at the officers. “That’s where we usually go. Just‌–‌please, don’t tell him I told you. Please.”

Brian nodded and reached his hand towards Scott. “Thanks a lot for your help. We’ll be in touch about that drug rehab thing.” He patted Scott on the shoulder and departed through the kitchen door.

Trevor Watson gritted his teeth and stared at his son sitting at the kitchen table.

“We’ll need Scott in for an official statement later on. If you can contact my colleagues, they’ll be able to sort that out for you. And, um…‌go easy on him, Mr. Watson,” Brian whispered. “He’s been through a lot.”

Trevor looked right into Brian’s eyes. “He’s my son. I’ll deal with my own son, okay?”

Brian half-smiled at Trevor as he and Cassy let themselves out.

They could hear Trevor Watson’s shouts from outside.

Brian and Cassy returned to the station shortly after. They needed to pick up two Detective Constables to accompany them to the old hospital and drop off one of their cars. The department was low on cars, so they often had to double up nowadays. The budget was tight; they just had to make do with what they had.

“I don’t think we have to worry about Scott Watson so much,” Brian said as he and Cassy waited for the DCs. “But Danny‌–‌we need to get down to that old hospital. We don’t need any of this messing around or waiting for people.”

Cassy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re such a grumpy so-and-so. We could do with the cover. I swear, you’re gonna get your cock burned one of these days.” She jabbed Brian in the stomach playfully.

“Yeah, well, we all get our cocks burned from time to time.”

Cassy’s face turned serious, and she tilted her gaze towards the ground.

“If you don’t stop dicking around, I’ll cut your cock off, let alone burn it, DS McDone.”

Brian’s stomach sank as he turned ‘round to see DI Price’s bloodshot eyes staring at him. “Detective Inspector, I’m sorry about…”

“‘Course you aren’t. Now you’d better tell me where the fuck you’re at with this case. It’s five p.m., and I still feel like you’re doing a bloody dot to dot without a pencil.”

“We’re off to find the runaway boyfriend now,” Cassy said. “Danny Stocks. We were told to come back for some support? From two DCs?”

Price mulled the words. He looked at his watch. “You finish in an hour.”

Brian and Cassy looked at each other, unsure of Price’s intentions.

“Do you…‌want us to leave it ‘til tomorrow then, or…?”

“I want you to get your thumbs out of your arses and get the fuck down there right now,” he barked.