Crossing the Line (Kerry Wilkinson) (40 page)

Jessica found her socks and shoes and put them on again, running her finger across the mark,

remembering. She took another sip of tea, enjoying how it hurt her tongue. ‘Did Scott get you hooked

again?’

Tony nodded. ‘Do you remember him on the other side of the road when you were here?’

‘Yes.’

‘That was the third time I’d seen him. He’d been offering me stuff for weeks but I kept saying no. I

thought he’d go away but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He ended up pushing his way in here –

he’s so big. I was screaming but the pub’s next door and no one could hear me over that. He stuck the

needle in my arm and that was that.’

‘You could have come to us.’

Tony shook his head, sipping his tea and looking away, embarrassed. He spoke softly. ‘I enjoyed

it.’

‘Oh.’

‘I still . . .’ Tony took a deep breath and snatched a tissue from the table. He wiped his arm and then

blew his nose. ‘I know I shouldn’t, I know what it does. I know . . .’

Jessica wanted to say something comforting but she didn’t know what the correct words were. Her

head still didn’t feel right.

‘He came back the next day and said he had more but he wanted three hundred quid. I said I didn’t

have anything like that but he knew about my parents. They’ve got money and—’

‘I know.’

‘Right . . . I, er . . .’ Tony blew his nose again before continuing. ‘He said he knew all the people

you can get stuff from and that no one would sell to me. If I wanted more then the only way to get it

would be through him. I said I didn’t want any and he walked away.’

‘But then . . .’

‘I could feel it inside of me, itching, scratching. I’ve got it under control now but it wasn’t like that then because I’d been away from it. It felt like there was a worm under my skin and I couldn’t get

away from it. I called me ma and said I needed a bit more cash before I moved. She put it into my

account straight away and I went to the bank and took everything out.’

That at least explained the bundle of money that had fallen from his pocket when Jessica had been

with him in the alleyway at the back of Great Northern.

‘So you’ve been paying Scott’s higher prices?’

‘He keeps wanting more. It’s five hundred a time now. I say I can’t get that sort of money but he

knows my parents have it. I’ve not called them for any more because it’s not fair, is it?’

Jessica still didn’t have an answer, although the tea was at least helping the emptiness in her

stomach. She could feel him staring at her and finally glanced across to meet his eyes. ‘What are you

going to do?’ he asked.

‘How do you mean?’

‘I know what it’s like, how it feels . . . How you want more.’

‘I could just report him.’

Tony tilted his head to the side as if it was something he’d not considered. ‘If you do that, how can

you prove you didn’t inject yourself?’

Damn.

42

Jessica stood in the alleyway hidden between the towering buildings at the back of Great Northern.

The air was cool but nothing like it had been a few weeks before. Jessica only needed a jacket, not

her heavy coat. Summer was on the way and it was definitely going to be a good one this year, it had

to be.

At the end of the ginnel, the shiny red sports car came to halt, its sleek curves illuminated in the

light from the street lamps. The whiteness caught the top of his head too, reflecting as he looked both

ways and then began to walk towards her. She could see the swagger in his step; he was never going

to let her go, the way he would never let Tony go. There was dampness around her hairline – it had

barely disappeared in the three days since she had walked away from Tony’s flat, constant beads of

sweat pooling, matting her hair together. Her hands were in her pockets but they were shaking, her

wrist still aching.

Jessica blew out, wanting to see her breath swirling away but there was nothing there. It wasn’t

even cold and yet her hands were still trembling.

Scott’s footsteps boomed around the enclosed alley, the age-old cobbles providing a perfect

platform for him to intimidate her one step at a time.

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

Tick-tock.

As he got nearer, she remembered how big he was, the thick legs, the wide, strong shoulders, the

unmoving neck.

He bowed his head ever so slightly as he moved from the shadow into the light, keeping his own

hands in the pockets of the long woollen coat. ‘Detective Inspector.’

Jessica took a small step backwards and looked behind her at the empty alleyway.

He stretched out a hand towards her. ‘Hey, hey – no need for that, we’re both friends here. We

know the score. It was very nice of you to contact me through your little friend and arrange this little meet. I’m surprised it took you three days. What’s it been like?’

He reached further, stretching towards her face but Jessica batted him away.

‘Hey, what did I say? We’re both friends here – I’m concerned for you. Have you been sweating

much, perhaps feeling your heart racing for no reason? You don’t need to worry, I’ve brought what

you’re after.’

He patted his top pocket.

‘I can see it in those pretty little eyes of yours that you want more. Come on, tell me, what did it

feel like?’

Jessica didn’t have to lie. ‘Like an itch.’

Scott scratched his chin. ‘That’s what some of them say. Do you know, one of my favourite clients

used to be a Shakespearean actor – doth this and all that. When I asked him that question, he said,

“Out, damned spot”. I didn’t know what he was on about but I looked it up and it’s from “Macbeth”.’

‘It’s Lady Macbeth when she’s sleepwalking.’

Scott nodded. ‘Aren’t you the clever one? Is that what it was like for you? “Out, damned spot”?’

‘Sort of.’

Scott grinned, relaxing back, legs apart, in his element. ‘That first dose was free but it’s like

anything in this world, the price goes up.’

‘How much?’

‘A hundred this time and I’ll keep it quiet that you’re a copper – but you should beware that prices

keep going up and up. That’s the market, I’m afraid.’

‘Why did you go between my toes?’

Scott pursed his lips, having not expected the question.

‘When you go into your arm, it’s usually for ease or because you don’t care. Some say it feels

better in that instant but I wouldn’t know. What I do know is that if you want to keep things quiet from those around you, then you need to find a spot where they’ll never see. You could try the tops of your

thighs . . .’ He paused, licking his lips, eyes dancing down Jessica’s torso. ‘ . . . But if I were you, I’d stick to between your toes. It might not be as intense but you won’t get yourself into any bother.’

‘Okay.’

Scott held out his hand again. ‘So . . .’

Jessica took a handful of notes from her pocket and put them in his palm. He counted them from one

hand into the other. ‘Twenty, forty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, one hundred. Very nice and I prefer twenties, for future reference. Never fifties.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Scott pocketed the money and reached into the top flap of his jacket, taking out a small foil packet

and pressing it into Jessica’s hand. She didn’t look at it before putting it into the back of her jeans.

‘Do you know about the heating and—’

‘I know.’

‘Good. I might ask you for a little favour here and there too. Nothing too tough but it’s always good

to have someone on the inside.’

‘I can’t compromise my job.’

Scott had begun to turn away, the back half of his head in shadow, his features still lit by the mix of

moonlight and embers of the street lamp at the far end of the alley. He was nodding slightly and for a

moment she thought he was going to walk away. In a flash, he was on her, slamming her into the wall,

forearm pressed against her breastbone, other hand gripping her already-pained wrist. He was so

close that she could smell his stinking aftershave and see the veins pulsing in his neck. She tried to

press back against him but he was like a machine.

His eyes were narrow, glaring into hers. ‘You’ll do what I tell you to do. All it takes is an

anonymous phone call and your bosses will have you taking a drugs test and where will that leave

you?’

Jessica grunted, still trying to push back but Scott laughed in her face. He wasn’t even using much

force. Suddenly, as quickly as he had grabbed her, he stepped away again, smoothing down his suit.

‘Next time it’s two hundred and if you can’t pay, we’ll have to come up with something creative for

you to do.’

He reached into his pocket and took out the cash, followed by a lighter from his back pocket. With

a flick and a flash, the notes were ablaze. Jessica could feel the warmth as he held them in front of her face before dropping them on the floor. ‘That’s how little your money means to me – now what are

you going to do about it?’

Jessica could still feel the pain above her breasts from where he’d pressed into her. Each breath

was heavy. ‘Nothing,’ she mumbled.

‘Pardon?’

Louder this time: ‘Nothing.’

He nodded, grinning. ‘Exactly – nothing. There are no shades of grey here, this is black and white.

When I call you up and tell you to jump, you say, “Yes,
Sir
, thank you,
Sir
, how high,
Sir
”. If I tell you to get on your knees and do the one thing you sluts are good for, you look me in the eyes and say, “Yes,
Sir
, thank you,
Sir
, my pleasure,
Sir
”. Got it?’

‘Yes.’

Scott raised himself up onto tiptoes and then spun on the spot, turning and walking towards his car.

His footsteps echoed loudly again, as he retreated into the shadows.

On the ground at Jessica’s feet were the smouldering remains of the notes, flickering orange until

they burnt themselves out. Jessica took the foil packet from her back pocket and dropped it onto the

floor, using her foot to brush it and the larger fragments of the ashes into the nearby drain.

As she stared towards the car and Scott’s silhouette at the far end of the alleyway, Jessica’s heart

was still pounding. It was hurting even more than the pressure he’d put on her chest or her wrist. This

was what her career had come down to.

In the distance, Scott reached his car and started to walk around the front. The city felt empty, as if

all of the traffic had stopped and the steady stream of people going home from the pubs had finished.

Shush.

Out of the shadows stepped a figure in a hooded top. Scott noticed him, turning at the sound of the

noise but he was too late.

Blam.

Blam.

Blam.

Three shots from the closest of ranges. Jessica saw the spray of blood illuminated as it splattered

out of Scott’s head to the ground. She heard the gentle patter and then there was silence.

The hooded figure turned towards her but didn’t say a word, his shape caught in the faded light.

Jessica had no idea what would happen next but he turned again and sat cross-legged on the cold,

hard floor.

Perhaps some things are black and white?

43

Jessica’s phone rang at fourteen minutes past three in the morning, not that she’d been to sleep. She

dressed, got in the car and drove to the station. By the time she’d arrived, she couldn’t remember the

journey; everything had happened on autopilot.

She went through the motions but it felt like somebody else was performing them. She was so good

at being laughing, funny, cocky Jessica that that was autopilot too.

Hours passed until she was sitting in Cole’s office, staring blankly at the wall. She could feel his

eyes on her. ‘You were brilliant in there.’

Jessica shrugged – she couldn’t remember.

Izzy was in the room too, so was DS Cornish. Izzy was talking too quickly. ‘We’ve been back to

Max Winward’s house and there’s a floorboard that’s been ripped up in his bedroom. The weapon he

used to shoot Scott Dewhurst is an old one that was registered to him in the army. Somehow he must

have got it away from the regiment – we’ll have to look into it.’

Cornish cut in. ‘I’ve been speaking to his doctor. He says Max has got a few weeks at most to live.

He can barely stand – I have no idea how he managed to get to the centre; I can only think he had an

accomplice.’

‘Jessica?’

Cole was looking at her but she was thinking of Tony again. She’d watched him get into a car the

previous evening with his mother and drive away. Had he really gone? She hoped so. Someone

whose life would be better from now on.

‘I’m not sure – we couldn’t interview him for too long. He said he was working alone.’

Izzy’s turn: ‘We found his electronic tag at his house – it had been sliced off with bolt cutters. We

searched his shed but there was no sign of them. He might have dumped them somewhere on the way

to the centre, I suppose. I’ll get onto taxi firms to see if they’ve had a pickup, as well as the trams and buses.’

Cole was nodding approvingly. ‘Good. What about a link from Scott to the hospice?’

‘Nothing,’ Jessica replied.

Cornish was shaking her head too. ‘The night crew were looking into it and then handed over to the

day lot. We’ve checked everything. There’s all sorts in Dewhurst’s past and the SCD’s drugs team

have wanted him for ages but no links to that hospice. I’m sure there won’t be too many people

shedding tears at his passing, but wherever Max got his name from, it wasn’t there.’