Five minutes later, a doctor is standing next to Mark’s bed.
‘Mr Slater,’ he says, before Mark clutches at his white coat, cutting off whatever the man is about to say. Carefully, slowly, he eases his mouth open.
‘Police,’ he manages, amazed he can speak at all. Perhaps his jaw isn’t broken, then. Still one hell of an effort to talk, however.
‘They’ll be back later,’ the doctor says. ‘One of them came by earlier. Got an officer stationed outside the door, too. Totally unnecessary, in my view. You won’t be going anywhere for a while, not the state you’re in.’
None of this makes sense to Mark; he’s unsure how the police have become involved, unless one of his neighbours heard something and alerted them. Right now, he doesn’t care; he simply wants Adam Campbell arrested for murder. He opens his mouth again to impress on the doctor the importance of getting the officer on the door in here, right now, when the man silences him with a gesture of his hand.
‘Best not to talk too much,’ he says. ‘You’ve suffered a dislocated jaw. It’s been reset, but your mouth will be sore for a while yet. As to the rest of you…’
The doctor takes Mark’s notes from the foot of the bed. A recital of his other injuries follows. Severe bruising over most of his body; a broken nose, along with six cracked ribs. One testicle ruptured, now surgically repaired. Hairline fracture of the skull, mild concussion. He’ll be in the Bristol Royal Infirmary for a good while yet, but it’s all fixable by rest and time, helped by generous quantities of painkillers.
‘Police,’ he tries again. ‘Need to speak to…’ The effort is exhausting. ‘Tony Jackson. Number in my phone.’ Then he remembers Shaun’s boot cracking down on his mobile, and slumps into his pillows, defeated.
‘That was the name of the guy who was here earlier,’ the doctor says.
Thank God. If he has to deal with the police, at least let it be A.J. But how did Jackson…?
The doctor replaces Mark’s notes at the end of the bed. ‘Like I said, he’ll be back later.’
Mark sleeps.
When he awakes, Tony Jackson is sitting by his bedside.
‘You look like shit,’ he says.
Mark doesn’t reply. Too wary of his sore jaw, but also because he’s confused. Jackson’s tone is relaxed, despite his words. Not the voice of someone who’s intending to arrest him for parole violation. He’s reminded of Adam Campbell and the need to tell Tony Jackson where the police will find the evidence that’ll jail the bastard for life.
‘Didn’t think our monthly meeting would take place in a hospital.’ Jackson leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. As usual, sweat patches soak the armpits of his shirt. Mark remembers. Their regular session, scheduled for today. The one in which he’d intended to admit breaking parole, as well as informing Jackson who killed the two prostitutes.
‘Adam…’ he manages, before he’s cut off.
‘Probably better if I do more of the talking, seeing as how your jaw must be pretty sore right now,’ Jackson says.
Mark nods. Sore’s an understatement, despite the pain relief he’s getting.
‘Not here in an official capacity. Just wanted to give you the heads-up about a few things first. Adam Campbell’s in custody. Been arrested for the murder of two prostitutes. The ones killed in Southampton and Plymouth.’
Thank fuck for that
is the overriding response in Mark’s brain. But how…?
‘You’ll be wondering how we nailed the bastard, since Shaun Morgan prevented you from telling us,’ Jackson continues. ‘You wrote a letter to Natalie Richards. Your girlfriend, or rather your ex-girlfriend, although you managed to forget her existence each month when we had our meetings.’ His tone hardens.
Mark shifts uneasily under Jackson’s scrutiny, causing pain to prickle in his ribs.
Seems like the man’s prepared to let the issue slide, though. For now.
‘She gave us the letter. Told us about the audio recording. Your phone, the one you used to trap Adam Campbell, was smashed to bits, though. Then she admitted how she got Rachel Morgan’s mobile number. Said the police should check your computer. So we did. And found the copy of the sound clip.’
‘I always back up my phone.’ If Mark speaks slowly and doesn’t open his jaws too wide, talking is bearable.
Jackson grins. ‘If only everyone were as conscientious.’
‘What I had on it was doubly, triply important to keep safe.’ Yup, he can speak well enough, it seems. ‘Listen, A.J. Rachel’s number. How exactly did Natalie…?’
‘She’s a woman, Mark. Likes to snoop.’
‘Yeah.’ His grandmother’s letter edges into Mark’s mind. ‘You’re not wrong there.’
‘Seems she broke into your computer, found your contacts list. Called Rachel Morgan, told her brother where you live.’
His misaligned laptop. The biscuit crumb between his sofa cushions. Both make sense now.
‘Then she received your letter. Seems what you said caused her to have a change of heart.’
Hope flickers in Mark, before he quashes it down. Too much water has flowed under Natalie’s bridge – and his as well – for them to have any kind of a future.
‘Seems she came over all remorseful about setting Shaun Morgan on you. Went over to your place, interrupted him beating the crap out of you. Called an ambulance. She’s in custody now, along with the Morgan bloke.’
Mark’s confused and disturbed by this. His brain still isn’t working too well; why the hell has Natalie been arrested?
Tony Jackson clocks his puzzled expression. ‘Don’t forget she conspired with Shaun Morgan to commit grievous bodily harm towards you.’
‘I pissed her off. Told her I’d had lunch with Rachel Morgan. Twice. She didn’t take it too well.’
‘Understandably.’
‘You shouldn’t blame her.’
‘She broke the law, Mark. Almost got you killed. Vigilante action’s precisely the reason you were given a new identity.’
She called an ambulance, though
, Mark thinks. Once she read his letter. His pleading text obviously worked. Natalie now believes his innocence in the murder of Abby Morgan. Along with knowing her sexual abuser will spend the rest of his life in jail. Mark’s no longer in any doubt as to that. Adam’s been arrested. The police will find his little hoard of trophies. They’ll match his presence in both Southampton and Plymouth to the times of the murders, uncover forensic proof, backed up by the evidence Mark’s gathered. At least we don’t have the ‘fruit of the poisonous tree’ rule here in the U.K., he thinks, recalling the crime dramas he watches. In the U.S., trapping Adam the way he’s done might well bar the evidence from being taken into consideration. Whereas over here the recording from his mobile phone should be admissible in court, no matter how he obtained it.
‘She’d like to visit you. Once she’s released on bail. Doesn’t think she’ll be welcome, though.’
Mark turns Jackson’s words over in his head, savouring the effect they have on him. ‘She’s wrong about that,’ he says. ‘Do me a favour, would you, A.J.?’
‘What?’
‘Pull some strings. Make sure charges aren’t pressed against her.’
‘Doesn’t work that way, mate. Like I said, she committed a serious offence in instigating the attack against you. Christ, she almost cost you your life! Don’t tell me Shaun Morgan didn’t intend to kill you.’
‘He didn’t.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘It’s the truth.’ Mark harbours no qualms about lying about this. He’ll gain nothing by Shaun Morgan going down for attempted murder, and Rachel will lose heavily. No matter what Shaun said about her getting professional help, she’ll be far better off with her brother around to shore her up emotionally. A lesser charge will mean a lighter sentence for him. ‘He never mentioned wanting to kill me. Hurt me, yes. Rough me up, definitely. But murder? No way.’
Tony Jackson’s sceptical expression tells Mark his bullshit radar’s not fooled, but what the hell. ‘If you say so. We’ll let the courts decide. Natalie Richards will definitely be charged, though, Mark. Odds are, given it’s her first offence, together with the particular circumstances, she won’t be dealt with harshly.’
Mark’s relieved, although not totally. The idea of Natalie going to court, being sentenced, doesn’t sit well with him, but there’s fuck all he can do about it. Seems he’s fixed the main thing, which is getting a murdering bastard sent back to prison.
‘Let’s talk about Adam Campbell.’ Jackson rests his elbows on the bed, leaning in towards Mark. ‘We’ll be able to match the voice on the audio recording to him. In it he says you weren’t involved in Abby Morgan’s murder.’
‘I wasn’t. I had no choice. He made me go along with it.’ Even now, true as they are, the words sound childish, as though he’s making excuses. Tony Jackson nods his understanding, though.
‘Never could picture you as a child killer. Didn’t fit somehow.’ A question edges into Jackson’s expression. ‘Can I ask you something? Why confess to Abby Morgan’s murder when you weren’t guilty? OK, so I’ve read what you wrote in your letter to Natalie Richards. I’d prefer to hear it from you, though.’
‘Two reasons.’
‘Shoot.’
‘First one. Scared stiff of the cops. I was eleven years old, remember.’
‘The police shouldn’t have been rough on you. I get what you’re saying about how young you were, though.’
‘They were sweetness and light in comparison with Adam Campbell. Second reason? He said he’d kill me if I ever blabbed. He’d already demonstrated he’d use his knife on me if I didn’t do what he wanted. I assumed – wrongly – we’d end up being sentenced to the same detention unit. He scared the hell out of me. Still does.’
‘Yeah. That bit in the recording when he threatens to stick a blade in between your ribs. He’s one fucking violent bastard.’
‘You’re not wrong there. Anyway, I always mistrusted the police after I got put inside. Yeah, I know it’s partly down to me being unable to stand up for myself as an eleven-year-old. When all this kicked off, though, I couldn’t come clean to you, A.J. Didn’t feel able to admit the parole violations and put the cops on to Adam Campbell for the murders of those two women.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Had to do it myself.’
Jackson nods. ‘More to it than that, though, wasn’t there? You wanted to get the fucker to admit, whilst you were recording him, your innocence in Abby Morgan’s murder.’
‘Yeah.’
‘How exactly did you trap the bastard?’
‘With a bracelet,’ Mark says.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘He likes to take trophies from his victims. You’ll find ones from those women he killed. He refers to them in the sound clip. A silver charm bracelet and a gold ankle chain. Anyway, remember the green stuffed hippo he took from Abby Morgan? Well, it’s always pissed him off how he didn’t get to keep it. So I pretended to be as sick as he is.’
Jackson nods again. ‘I’m guessing you lied to him. Told him you took something of Abby’s.’
‘Yeah. Reeled him in like the proverbial fish. Bought a pink plastic child’s bracelet from Tesco, dirtied it up a bit, handed it over to him. Gave me the perfect excuse to meet with him again.’
‘Smart.’
‘So I could get him to admit to the murders. And to confirm I played no part in Abby Morgan’s. You’ll find the receipt from Tesco for the bracelet in my flat. Proof it was never hers.’
‘Won’t find any of her DNA on it either. Skin cells, for example.’
‘No.’
‘Something I’m curious about, though.’
‘What?’
‘Given Adam Campbell’s fully aware you had nothing to do with killing Abby Morgan, why did he believe you’d be sick enough to swipe her bracelet?’
‘Again, I played him. Told him I couldn’t kill anyone myself, but I’d come to realise I got off on seeing him hurt Abby Morgan. That I was the same as him, in wanting a trophy.’ Shame forces his eyes away from Jackson’s. ‘He always loved having me as a sidekick, the lesser half of himself. Fancied us as some great partnership, mentioned murdering twosomes I’d never heard of. Sick bastard compared us to Brady and Hindley.’
‘Fucking prick.’
‘He had delusions of us killing more women together.’
‘He reckoned you’d get off on watching him hurt other victims?’
Mark nods. ‘Told him I was too chicken to murder anyone myself. Made out I admired him for having more guts than me. He fell for it.’
‘People believe what they want to believe. Must have taken some balls on your part.’
‘You’ve no idea. The adult version of Adam Campbell makes the eleven-year-old one seem like Peter Pan.’
‘I’m guessing it’s no coincidence none of what you’ve just told me is in the audio evidence?’
Mark shakes his head. ‘Pressed stop as soon as I got what I needed. Not going to record myself agreeing to such twisted shit. What with the trophies and the audio, I’m hoping you’ll have enough proof to nail the bastard. I’m betting once he’s back inside, he won’t be coming out again. Ever.’
‘Amen to that.’
‘What happens next? With me, I mean?’
‘You’ll be receiving a formal police visit, probably tomorrow, so you can make a statement. We’ll need to interview you about the attack by Shaun Morgan, but also about your involvement with Adam Campbell. Not to mention contacting Rachel Morgan.’ Tony Jackson shakes his head. ‘You won’t be getting a free and easy ride, Mark. No matter what that recording says.’
Mark nods. He didn’t expect any of this to go smoothly; hell, his life’s been a bed of thorns ever since he laid eyes on Adam Campbell, and believing it’ll be silk and satin from now on would be naïve.
‘I get that. Straight back to prison once I’m discharged from here.’
Jackson shakes his head. ‘No.’
Mark’s stunned. ‘How come? I broke parole. Not once but several times.’
‘Don’t forget you also recorded Adam Campbell confirming you weren’t involved in Abby Morgan’s murder. Suggesting your original conviction was unsound.’
‘Won’t I go back inside in the short term, though? For the parole violations?’
Jackson shakes his head. ‘Most likely scenario is you’ll be released on bail pending the new evidence being lodged with the Court of Appeal. If you were wrongly convicted, the powers that be won’t want to compound the problem with extra jail time.’