Only the Brave (5 page)

Trying to stop from freaking out entirely, she tapped out a
message
.

‘Are you okay, babe? Just busy last night? Call me, I’m
worried
.’

Her fingers hovered over the send button for a second. If this wasn’t what she was thinking, he was going to be pissed off with her. But if it wasn’t what she was thinking, she wouldn’t care. She would tell him off too, for worrying her and not getting in touch. And then she would hug him and not let him go for a very lon
g time.

It was less than a minute later when the phone began to ring. Sophie still had it in her hand. The caller display showed
Jordan’s name.

‘Jordan!’ she almost cried with relief as it was answered. ‘Are you okay? Where were you last night? I’ve been worried sick. There’s been a –’

‘This is Staffordshire Police – who am I speaking to please?’

Sophie pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it.

‘Hello, is anyone there? This is the –’

She disconnected the call and switched it off, her hand covering her mouth. She walked slowly to the window, oblivious to the tears filling her eyes. Peering around the curtains, she could see a man downstairs by the side of the tent. He wore a white suit and was putting something into a plastic bag.

Sophie looked closer – was it a mobile phone?

‘No,’ she sobbed, dropping to the floor. ‘Please don’t let it be Jordan.’

Steve Burgess switched the radio on and turned down the volume to almost nothing. He made a mug of coffee, hoping not to wake anyone with the noise. The last thing he wanted was to wake his wife. Most of the family had been at Flynn’s for her birthday party until way after one a.m., despite the glitch around eleven when Kirstie had turned up.

He pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down. It had been easy to fool people into thinking he was drinking his usual tipple last night but he’d made sure to switch to Coke early in the evening. Even still, his head was pounding, caused by tension he assumed. He’d be the next one to reach a big birthday – it was only three years until he’d turn fifty. He
wondered
if he was getting too old for this kind of thing as he thought about the day to come. He closed his eyes for a moment. Once the money had been delivered, things would get interesting.

Steve had lived in Stoke-on-Trent all his life. He’d met his wife, Lorraine, when they were both in their early twenties. They’d stayed in the city and brought up three children. Life was good. They lived in a big house in a decent enough area. They had no money worries, something he was proud of despite some of it having been gained illegally. His background was one of
poverty
, getting by with handouts and hand-me-downs, another thing he’d vowed never to put his own family through. His parents had worked in the pottery industry and had both died early through breathing in all its dust and debris. He’d worked in the industr
y f
or a while, too, when he’d left school but he soon realised it wasn’t for him. So began a life of flitting from one job to another, mixing with
criminals
to get the best for his family. So far he had avoided jail – he wasn’t quit
e sure how.

Like a lot of people, he was proud of where he came from, ashamed of its people at times but for the most parts happy with his lot. Stoke-on-Trent was a city with a heart and a wealth of
history
to be proud of. The six towns were more than just areas: they were like individual neighbourhoods. Yet, with a population of just under a quarter of a million, people could slip under the radar fairly easily.

Steve had known Terry Ryder for years before he’d been sent to prison and had been delighted when he was put in charge
of th
e Longton branch of Car Wash City after Joe Tranter had been murdered last month, something he knew Ryan was pissed off about.

The Johnson brothers had lorded it in Terry’s absence for far too long, and Steve had had enough. Once he’d heard how much Terry was offering to set them up, he’d jumped at the chance.

He was halfway through his coffee when the news bulletin came on.

‘Police are looking into a suspicious death in Smallthorne. A man, believed to be in his early thirties, was found brutally attacked at the side of Harrison House, off Ford Green Road, in the early hours of this morning.’

The vein in Steve’s temple began to pulse as he stared out of the window onto the manicured garden he lovingly tended. He saw nothing of its beauty – not the dew glistening on the hedge like the jewels on the bracelet he’d given to Lorraine yesterday, nor the birds squabbling over the feed on the table. Instead, he listened to the rest of the bulletin with his blood rushing.

He picked up his phone and dialled a number. When there was no reply, he waited to be connected to voicemail.

‘You’d better pick up this message soon and get over to the office right now. You have some fucking explaining to do.’

8.15 A.M.

Two mugs of tea in one hand and her iPad in the other, Stella Elliott nudged the bedroom door open with her bottom. She put the drinks on the bedside cabinet and sat down on the bed.

‘Cup of tea,’ she said.

A grunt but no movement.

She swung her legs up and rested her back on the headboard. She was due some new clothes, she reckoned, especially if the stench coming from her husband who lay snoring beside her had anything to do with it. She could always nag him in to parting with a bit of money when he had a hangover. She checked her watch: she’d give him a few more minutes and then she would wake him up.

Ten minutes later, he turned towards her and stretched an arm in the air. ‘What time is it?’

‘It’s nearly eight thirty. I made you a cuppa.’

Craig sat up and ran a hand over his bald head, scratching at it with his palm. He was a small, squat man with a paunch that had been growing steadily over the years. With his smoke-stained teeth and a drinker’s nose, he looked like a washed-up boxer who had lost too many fights. His squashed features often reminded Stella of a bulldog when he was in a temper. He’d been so much better-looking when she had married him fifteen years ago, although he must still have had something about him. If the rumours were true, he’d managed to pull a fair few women in the time they’d been together. She’d caught him out a couple of times; always taken him back afterwards, soft sod her.

But then again, she’d let herself go too. Even at thirty-five, Stella could clearly see her mother looking back at her in the
mirror
and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Too many frown lines, the sam
e l
arge nose, thin lips and high forehead.

She passed him his tea.

‘What’re you looking at on there again?’ His tone was
derogatory
.

‘The news.’ Stella gritted her teeth as she heard him slurp his tea. ‘Something happened outside last night. There are police everywhere downstairs. Rita Pritchard found someone dead in the bushes and –’

Craig reached for his phone.

Stella ran a hand up his bare back. ‘Fancy a quickie?’

‘Give it a rest.’ He slapped it away. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘Charming.’ Stella pouted. ‘I don’t know why I bother.’

‘Look, shut up will you?’ He held the phone closer to his ear. ‘I’m trying to listen to a voicemail.’

Stella sighed, knowing she was beat.

Craig threw back the duvet and leapt out of bed, knocking her off balance. Drips of tea slopped onto her leggings.

‘Ow, be careful! What’s the big hurry?’ she asked, watching him pull on clothes quickly.

‘Something’s come up at work.’ Craig pushed his feet into his boots but left the laces undone. He pulled a jumper over his T-shirt before heading out of the room. ‘I have to go in.’

Stella shuffled to the end of the bed and followed him into the living room. ‘Aren’t you going to have breakfast first? I’ve bought some oatcakes.’

‘No time.’ He spotted his keys on the floor by a pile of change and pocketed them both.

‘Well, when will you be back?’ Stella folded her arms as he reached for his coat.

‘I don’t know!’ He pushed past her and opened the front
doo
r. ‘Shit.’

‘What is it?’

‘Police everywhere.’

‘I told you so!’

They both stepped out onto the walkway and looked over the wall onto the ground below. They stood in silence watching for a few seconds. Stella could hardly hold in her glee. There was far more going on than when she’d been down there earlier.

‘I have to go, but before I do,’ Craig grabbed her arm and began to squeeze, ‘I didn’t hear a thing, did you?’

‘No, I couldn’t believe it when I opened the blind this
morning. I –’

‘What time did I get in last night?’

‘I can’t remember.’ Stella tried to wriggle from his grip but he squeezed harder.

‘I said what time did I come in last night?’

‘Ow! About half past three.’

‘Wrong. I was in about midnight, wasn’t I?’

She stared at him. He was asking her to lie for him again and she wasn’t sure she should. It was one thing to fib to his friends and family on the odd occasion but not to the police.

He squeezed a little harder. ‘What time did I get in?’

‘Okay, okay, I got it,’ she cried. ‘Just after midnight.’

‘Good.’ Craig glared at her, menace clear in his expression. ‘And keep your big mouth shut today. I don’t want you gossiping, do you hear?’

She nodded in response.

As he hurried away, Stella rubbed at her arm. She was sure she’d already have red marks on her skin where his fingers had dug in. What the hell was all that about? Had something dodgy happened at work?

Stella loved nothing more than a good gossip but when it came to keeping secrets, she was always the first to spill. The ‘don’t tell anyone I told you but’ line was one of her favourites. She loved catching up with the girls at the fat club, or down at the pub after their weigh-in, or even at work at the chippie. She prided herself in wheedling out information. But she knew when to keep quiet as far as Craig was concerned. Maybe if he’d stopped to think for a minute, he’d perhaps realise how useful to him she might be. She could find out what was really going on inside these flats.

She went back inside and into the bathroom. Once she’d had a shower, she’d ring her friend Leah and they could go downstairs together. Whatever was going on was serious, and she was going to be the first one to find out about it.

9.00 A.M.

While she’d co-ordinated what she could, Allie had knocked on a few doors on ground level as she waited for Nick to get back to her. Rita had been right: most of them on that floor were over the age of seventy. Allie loved chatting to the elderly. Despite their moans and groans about the good old days and the
community
spirit that had gone missing, they were often so much more
accommodating
.

But none of the tenants she spoke to had heard anything. Two of them were hard of hearing and the other, although up for most of the night with sciatica, had had a radio on for company so she doubted he would have heard anything anyway. Three of them were sitting outside on the walkway now on plastic garden chairs, a pot of tea stewing and a packet of ginger nut biscuits to share.

She saw Perry speaking to two uniformed officers and walked across to him, checking her phone as she did. There were a few texts relating to work plus two from her friends Kate and Ruth, asking how Karen was. Allie didn’t have time to reply to them now but she did want to give Mark a quick call.

‘Hey,’ he answered.

‘Hey.’ She smiled, glad to hear his voice, although it wasn’t three hours since she’d spoken to him in person.

‘I’m just going to ring to see how Karen is. Is there anything you need me to ask?’

She felt her shoulders drop. ‘No, thanks, but you’re a star.’

‘I know – I can’t help myself. How’re things going for you?’

‘Deadly.’

‘Oh, very funny.’

‘If I didn’t joke about it, I’d cry. Will you ring me when you’ve spoken to the ward sister?’ She stopped. ‘If I’m busy, I’ll have to deny the call but I’ll ring straight back when I get the chance. Or I can call you in an hour?’

‘Okay.’

She paused. ‘Mark, are you sure you’re all right with me not – ?’

‘You don’t have to convince anyone that you want to be with her. You stayed with her for two solid weeks after she was take
n ill.’

‘I know but I feel so –’

‘But you have to be at work. Besides, it’s a waiting game, isn’t it?’

She nodded even though he couldn’t see her.

‘And you’re keeping a watch out?’

Allie felt unexpected tears well in her eyes. ‘I don’t deserve you,’ she whispered.

A silence followed and she wondered if he had been cut off. She pulled the phone away from her ear to see it was still connected. ‘Mark?’

‘I’m here. I was just wondering what I could get you to think about to take your mind off Karen.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ His laugh was dirty. ‘Hmm-mmm.’

‘Are you listening to me?’

‘I’m – fantasising.’

‘Bugger off.’

She disconnected the phone with a smirk. He was trying to keep her spirits up, make her stop thinking of the inevitable, and she loved him so much for it. But the next instant, she let out a sigh. She sniffed and flicked away the lone tear that had escaped. A roller coaster of emotions flooded through her – grief, ang
st, anxiety.

But right now, she needed to compartmentalise her own feelings for a little longer because there was something else she had to deal with – guilt. It hadn’t felt right yet, either, to let Mark know that she would be involved with another member of the Ryd
er family.

‘Perry,’ she drew level with him, ‘can you do a PNC check, please – see if any of the cars here are registered to Jordan
Johnson
? And if it’s not here, get someone to walk some of the surrounding streets, see if it’s parked nearby.’

‘Will do, boss.’

She pointed upwards. ‘Rita Pritchard mentioned that Stella Elliott lives on floor one.’

‘Yeah, I’ve already seen her hovering around.’

‘Me too. I’m going up to speak with her and that layabout husband of hers. Although he hasn’t been in trouble recently for
fighting
, it’s a bit too close to his front door for my liking.’

‘I was hoping to collar him too,’ said Perry, ‘but I’ve just spotted him going out. He was too far away to shout back.’

‘Ok, let’s leave that until later then. I’d like to chat to them together. I’m sure they’ll cooperate the way we want them to much better that way.’

When Craig arrived at Car Wash City in Longton, there were already several vehicles lined up waiting to be scrubbed down, spruced up and polished, despite the bitter cold morning. He couldn’t see the big attraction himself, hardly ever keeping his car clean. He
preferred
to use it as a bin until he had to empty it because the
re wa
s no room for his feet.

To steady his nerves, he had a bit of banter with the lads before heading for the office at the back of the building. He counted nine of them today, all under the age of twenty, keen despite the weather, dressed in many varied layers and hats. He couldn’t remember ever being that keen to do a job himself.

In front of him, the office door loomed. He didn’t know what he was more scared of: going in to face the music or not going in and being on the run. There could be any number of people waiting for him in there or it could be just him and Steve. Either way, he was going to get it in the neck. No one was going to believe he hadn’t been involved in Jordan’s death. It had been tempting but he knew the job could lead to more of the same. He’d done several jobs like this for Steve over the past year. Craig got on with him, mostly because he scared the shit out of him.

He blew out his breath, tapped a knuckle on the office door and went in. Steel-dark eyes bore into him as Steve looked up from behind a desk. Craig swallowed.

‘I’ve been ringing you,’ Steve said. ‘Where the fuck have
yo
u been?’

‘I overslept.’ Craig shrugged, deciding to play it cocky. He plonked a bag down on the desk.

‘Close the door.’

‘Prefer it open, if you don’t mind.’

‘I do fucking mind. Close it.’

Craig did as he was told. As he turned back, those eyes were on him again, this time flitting from him to the bag.

Steve opened the zip, his shoulders drooping when he saw that there was money inside. ‘Do you want to tell me how the hell he ended up dead?’ he said finally.

‘I don’t know.’ Craig held up both hands. ‘He was battered when I left him but that’s all.’

In an instance all semblance of calm was gone, and Steve flew across the office, pushing Craig up against the wall. He punched him in the stomach.

Craig coughed as the wind went from him. ‘I wasn’t carrying a knife! I used a bat.’ He pointed. ‘It’s in the bag.’

‘You brought it here?’ Steve looked like he would combust.

‘I’m about to get rid of it. Could have done without waking up to coppers crawling around everywhere this morning. Luckily, I didn’t take the bag home.’

When Steve remained silent, he continued.

‘I’d moved my car before I went out last night – I’ve been
seeing
a bit of stuff over in Regina Street so I left it at her place, got a taxi there and back from Flynn’s. That’s where I was until it was time to do the job. After that, I took the money and the bat back to my car and hid them in the boot. Then I legged it in the back way.’

‘I thought there was only one entrance to Harrison House, at the front.’

‘There is. I’m still nimble enough to climb up a floor from the outside, though.’ Craig felt the grip on him release.

‘But Jordan shouldn’t have died!’

‘I heard on the news that he’d been stabbed. Someone must have got to him after me.’

Steve snorted. ‘Like everyone is hanging around the flats at that time of the morning.’

‘I’m telling you it wasn’t me. You need to start thinking who it could have been.’

Steve let him go, moved around to the other side of the desk.

‘Have you any ideas?’ said Craig.

Steve stacked up the bundles of money. ‘No, but they’ll wish they’d never got involved when I get my hands on them. Wait a minute.’ He counted the bundles again, frowned after a moment. ‘Ryder said thirty-five grand.’

‘Yeah.’

‘There’s only twenty-five grand in here.’

Craig shuffled forward, looked inside the bag as if more would miraculously appear, and then at the bundles of notes. A film of sweat began to develop on his forehead. ‘That’s all I collected, I swear!’

‘Don’t take me for a fucking mug.’ Steve made fists of his hands and leaned on the desk. ‘Where’s the rest of it?’

‘That’s all there was!’

‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘I haven’t been in the bag! I wouldn’t do that. I know the risks – plus you paid me good money to collect it.’

‘Money I want back. You fucked up on the job. You don’t deserve payment. I want my five grand, too.’

‘No, I –’

‘You must be on a death wish stealing from Ryder.’

‘Do you think I’d be stupid enough to do anything like that right outside my own front door?’ Craig tried to pacify him. ‘I’d be prime fucking suspect with my record.’

‘It seems more than a little convenient that you live close by and some of the money goes missing.’

Steve still didn’t drop his eyes. Craig felt his life depended on a little grovelling.

‘When I left, he was breathing, I swear. A beating, you told me: face, body and legs. I know when to stop.’

‘What about the flats? You think anyone from there is stupid enough to take it?’

‘I don’t know.’ Craig felt the sweat begin to pool at the middle of his back. His right eye twitched, the pressure to stop it increasing every second. He wanted to be any place but here in this office, stifled by the threat of violence.

‘You know why he was there? Why we chose that meeting place?’

‘No.’

‘He’s knocking off a bird in Harrison House. Maybe you could start by finding out who she is. She might know something.’

Craig nodded.

‘I want it back by this evening, Elliott.’ Steve glared at him. ‘Nine p.m. – no later.’

‘But there are police everywhere around the flats!’ Craig stepped forward, a pained expression on his face, ‘I can’t just –’

‘Just fucking find it!’ Steve came round the desk and grabbed the collar of Craig’s jacket. He slung him in the direction of the door so hard that he fell to the floor. He kicked him in the stomach. ‘If you don’t have it by this evening, it’s not my feet that I’ll be using on you the next time I see you. You got that?’