Broken Silence (23 page)

Hot, salty tears trickled down Evie’s mascara-smudged cheeks.

He immediately kicked himself realising that he’d upset her. But he’d wanted to shake her until she understood that drinking and having sex at fifteen wasn’t a laugh. Depending on the roll of the die, the price could be higher than you ever anticipated.

‘Look, I’m sorry … I didn’t mean it,’ Brady apologised.

She didn’t answer him. Instead she continued to stare at her phone.

He waited, giving her time to calm down.

‘Did you know about the tattoo she had?’

Evie nodded, refusing to look at him.

‘When did she get it done?’

‘'Bout a month ago. I thought she was stupid doing it,’ she whispered.

‘Why?’ asked Brady, surprised she wouldn’t have thought it was cool.

‘Cos she did it because of him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He had one,’ Evie answered reluctantly. ‘She told me her tattoo was identical to his but a smaller version. Apparently his covers most of his back.’

Brady shifted forward in his seat. This was the most detail they had so far on the victim’s boyfriend.

‘Do you know where she went to get it done?’

Evie shook her head.

‘Some place in town was all she said.’

Brady nodded. It wouldn’t take them long to track down the tattoo parlour now that he knew where to start looking.

‘Why did Sophie ring you?’ he eventually asked.

She looked at him, startled.

‘We know from a record of the calls she made that she rang you at 12.51 am?’

More tears flowed down her cheeks.

‘She … she rang me because she’d lost her keys. She thought she’d left them in my bedroom. But she hadn’t …’

He watched as she wiped her face roughly with her dressing gown. As she did, Brady suddenly caught sight of her wrists. They were covered in neatly wrapped bandages.

She caught him staring and abruptly pulled her sleeves down over her hands.

‘Evie?’

‘She … she asked if she could sleep at my house …’ she stuttered, trying to ignore his penetrating gaze.

Brady was concerned. It was more than clear that she wasn’t really coping with Sophie’s murder.

‘She was scared of him …’

‘Who? Who was Sophie scared of?’ Brady asked, suddenly realising the significance of what was being said.

‘Her step-dad … Paul.’

‘Why?’

Evie shook her head as more tears trailed down her face.

‘Evie?’

‘He used to touch her … You know?’ she conceded reluctantly.

The allegation matched his gut feeling about Simmons. Together with the autopsy findings and Evie’s evidence, Simmons’ problems had only just begun.

‘I … I promised I would never say anything. Sophie didn’t want anyone to know …’ Evie mumbled, scared.

‘Things have changed, Evie,’ Brady reassured her. ‘Sophie would understand.’

Evie looked at him with eyes filled with distrust.

‘What did she tell you?’ he asked gently.

‘She never talked about it. Only when she was really pissed …’ She suddenly faltered, remembering. ‘Then … then she’d go crazy. Didn’t care what she did. Didn’t worry about getting hurt or even …’

Brady waited for her to continue.

‘He knew about the tattoo …’ she suddenly stated. ‘Went off it when he saw it but he couldn’t do anything about it, you know?’

Brady nodded, realising what she meant. With clothes on no one would ever have known Sophie had the tattoo.

‘He was still …?’ Brady gently asked.

‘What do you think? She was desperate to get away from him. That’s why she would stay out so late, you know? Just to avoid him. And she’d stay behind at school just in case he’d got back from work early. She’d wait until she knew her mum was definitely home.’

Brady nodded.

‘Thanks for telling me that, Evie. I know it must have been really difficult for you.’

Brady mentally prepared himself for asking the question that had been plaguing him.

‘Evie? Why would Sophie have your father’s mobile number?’

She looked at him blankly.

‘Why?’ he repeated.

She shook her head numbly as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

‘I … I … said that she could ring Dad if she got scared. So … so he could go pick her up. I knew he was at work last night and … and that he could stop, you know …?’ Evie faltered as more tears fell down her cheeks.

Brady breathed a sigh of relief.

He had needed to hear that. He had to admit that he’d been thrown when Conrad had shown him the logged calls and Matthews’ number had shown up as the last number called by the victim. It hadn’t made any sense then. But now it did.

‘You see she was up a height when she rang me. She was really worried about going home without her keys … He used to get angry with her … I mean really angry and then if she didn’t … you know?’

Brady nodded in response.

‘It’s my fault,’ muttered Evie.

‘No, Evie—’ Brady began.

She turned and stared at him.

‘You don’t understand. If it hadn’t been for me it would never have happened. Instead of just letting her come back to mine I … I told her to stand up to him … to tell him …’ She shook her head as tears licked their way down her cheeks.

‘Evie, believe me, what happened to Sophie had nothing to do with you or what you said. It would have happened regardless,’ Brady reassured her.

Brady looked at her, waiting for an acknowledgement. But she had already forgotten him and had her earphones on, listening to music as she wrote a text.

He walked into the kitchen and saw Kate standing by the window, arms folded, blankly staring out into the darkness.

‘She told you then?’ she asked without turning.

‘Yes,’ answered Brady.

‘She’s scared, Jack. She’s still just a little girl …’

‘I know.’

Brady waited, not knowing how to say it.

‘I saw her wrists,’ he finally said.

Kate kept her back to him as she nodded.

‘She didn’t realise I’d come back. I walked in on her …’ Kate said, her voice trembling. ‘That’s when I forced her to talk. To tell me what would frighten her so much that she’d harm herself.’

Brady didn’t answer.

‘I mean, Christ? Can it get any worse?’

‘Do you want me to organise someone to talk to Evie? To help her with … well, you know?’ Brady gently suggested.

Kate spun round and looked him at him with blazing green eyes. She was angry, but he didn’t know if it was with him or the situation.

‘What’s going on, Jack?’

‘What?’

‘All of this?’ She theatrically gestured to the room. ‘For fuck’s sake! What’s really going on here? Why am I hiding out in your house for Christ’s sake?’

‘You know why. Jimmy’s got himself into a bit of trouble
and I’m just looking out for you until he sorts it,’ Brady answered.

‘At what price? Or is this just you on another Jack Brady crusade?’

Brady looked at her, thrown.

‘No,’ he muttered, hurt. ‘Jimmy and I go back. You know that.’

‘I know Jimmy’s in it up to his neck, that’s what I do know. And that DCI Gates is desperate to find him. But what I can’t figure out is what part you play in all of this?’

‘I owe Jimmy, that’s all,’ Brady quietly replied.

‘How?’

‘He got rid of someone for me.’

Kate looked at him, surprised.

‘What did Jimmy do?’ she asked after some deliberation.

‘I never asked,’ muttered Brady. ‘He just dealt with it.’

Kate looked at Brady questioningly. They both knew what Matthews was capable of.

‘Problem?’ Conrad asked as Brady climbed into the car.

‘For Paul Simmons,’ Brady answered.

‘Why?’ Conrad asked, realising from Brady’s expression that something was wrong.

‘He needs to be brought into the station for questioning.’

Conrad looked at him.

‘I know. I know, I’m going to look like a real fucking bastard but I don’t give a damn.’

‘Nothing new there then, sir,’ Conrad stated.

Brady leaned across the table and looked Simmons straight in the eye.

‘So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to tell me the truth or are you going to keep feeding me the same bullshit?’

‘I’m not taking this any more!’ Simmons snapped as he stood up.

‘I’m not done with you yet,’ Brady answered as he pushed him back down.

‘I’ll have you done for assault, Detective!’

‘It’s Detective Inspector, sir,’ Brady pointed out.

‘You’ve got nothing on me,’ Simmons stated defiantly.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure, sir,’ replied Brady.

‘I’ll make damned sure Chief Superintendent O’Donnell and the press hear about this!’ he threatened.

He turned accusingly to Conrad.

‘You got me in here on the grounds that this was just an informal chat. Do you even know what time it is? It’s nearly 11 pm for God’s sake!’

‘I’m afraid that the situation has changed somewhat, sir,’ Conrad replied.

‘I’ve already been here an hour. How long are you planning on holding me?’

‘Given the gravity of the investigation, we have the right to detain you for up to twenty-four hours without legal representation,’ Conrad answered.

‘I came here in good faith. If I had known that I was going to be treated as a suspect then I would have brought a lawyer,’ Simmons objected.

Simmons then turned to Brady.

‘And you,’ he said as he narrowed his eyes. ‘Whatever you’ve got better be bloody good or you’ll find yourself out of a job.’

Brady opened the file beside him and pulled out sheets containing printed downloads of the victim’s blog.

‘Doesn’t quite match what you told me this morning. Does it, sir?’

Simmons froze.

He looked at the words and the photographs as he shook his head in dismay.

‘Not only did she drink, she took drugs and had casual sex repeatedly. But then, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, sir?’

‘You bastard,’ Simmons muttered thickly.

‘So what happened then, sir? It’s late, the door bell goes; it’s her. She’s drunk and she’s lost her keys. You start raging and she gets scared?’

‘You’re one fucking sick bastard.’

Brady leaned towards him.

‘What happened next?’ he asked slowly and clearly. ‘What did you do to her to make her run from you?’

Brady paused as he stared at Simmons’ contorted face.

‘And then you found her, didn’t you? Hiding in the farmhouse ruins behind your house? And then … well, we know the rest.’

‘Goddamn you, you sick son of a bitch!’

‘Did she threaten to tell? Was that it?’

Simmons shook his head.

‘No … no … I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Or had you found out that she was having sex with her new boyfriend?’ Brady questioned. ‘I imagine that must have made you furious? Enough to—’

‘I didn’t do it!’

‘No?’ Brady asked, unconvinced. ‘We’ve found the stone that was used in the attack, sir. It’s only a matter of time until the lab finds your fingerprints and DNA.’

Brady scrutinised him.

‘Maybe you will be needing that lawyer after all?’

‘I’m telling you I didn’t murder her!’

‘You were fucking her though, weren’t you?’ Brady asked quietly.

Simmons’ lip trembled.

‘I have a witness, sir, whose statement supports the autopsy findings.’

Simmons’ face drained as his jaw hung slack.

Brady nodded.

‘Extreme trauma and scarring was found in and around the victim’s vagina and perineum. The autopsy states that the trauma is suggestive of sexual abuse presumed to have started as far back as when the victim was eleven.’

Simmons didn’t move.

‘How old was Sophie when you and her mother got together?’

Simmons remained deathly silent, his face pale.

‘Let me remind you, shall I?’ questioned Brady. ‘She was eleven, sir.’

Simmons shook his head.

‘No … no … this is a mistake. I want to see my solicitor.’

‘Interview terminated at 11.07 pm,’ Brady instructed.

It was giro day in The Fat Ox. Every second Friday of the month and the pub would be heaving from lunchtime straight through to chucking-out time.

‘What’ll it be, Jack?’ a small blonde woman in her late forties yelled over to him.

‘Pint of the usual.’

After the interview with Simmons he needed a drink. He’d left Simmons in one of the holding cells waiting for his solicitor to turn up. Given the fact it was eleven-thirty on a Friday night, Brady reckoned Simmons could find himself sweating for quite a few hours.

He looked around for Conrad but couldn’t see him. They had come to see The Clashed. Not that Brady had particularly wanted to, but he knew they had to check out exactly why the victim had the band’s flyer for the gig that night.

‘Make that two pints and a double Scotch,’ a deep voice grunted from behind.

‘You sleazy bugger! How do you always manage to turn up when I’m at the bar?’ Brady asked, smiling as he turned round. ‘It better be worth it.’

‘Isn’t it always?’ Rubenfeld said as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his fat, sausage fingers.

‘Ahh! You don’t know how much I need this. It’s been a bloody hell of a day!’ Rubenfeld grunted as he knocked back the short.

‘Tell me about it,’ Brady agreed as he took a much-needed drink of his own cold, dripping pint before settling the bill.

‘One for yourself,’ he added as he handed a twenty over. Nowadays a tenner wouldn’t even cover it.

Rubenfeld rubbed his two days’ worth of scraggy stubble as he scowled at Brady.

‘That bitch Harriet Jacobs is after your blood. What have you done to piss her off, Jack? You haven’t tried to shag her, have you? Bloody hell, Jack, when will you learn to keep it in your pants?’ Rubenfeld goaded with a sleazy smile.

‘I don’t know her,’ Brady answered uncomfortably, accepting that his brief affair with DC Simone Henderson would follow him for the rest of his career. That and his infamous days before Claudia as a bit of a player.