dependent on him.’
As Jim and Amy strode towards the lift, Amy asked, ‘Why does it matter who had access to the safe?’
‘Maybe the safe was open because that’s where Stephen Baxley kept the DVD. I’m trying to figure out whether or not his wife knew about its existence.’
Amy thumbed over her shoulder towards Mark’s room. ‘Let’s hope for that poor bastard’s sake that she didn’t. I wonder why Stephen Baxley put the DVD on for Mark to see? Do you reckon he got some kind of power kick out of knowing that was the last thing Mark would ever see?’
‘I’m not sure I want to know what the bastard got out of it.’
‘You guessed the boy in that film was Mark, didn’t you?’
Jim nodded. ‘When I thought about when it was made and how old Mark is, it seemed like the logical conclusion. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. The thought that someone could do that to a child they’re supposed to love, it’s just too…’ He shook his head, signifying his disgust was beyond words.
‘Mark obviously has no memory of what happened.’
‘They had him drugged up to the eyeballs. The poor little sod wouldn’t have had a clue what was going on.’ Jim ground his knuckles against the lift wall. He felt like hitting something – hard. He closed his eyes and the shadowy figures from the DVD emerged like phantoms from his raging brain. And he knew the only way he would ever drive them out was by hunting them down and bringing them to justice.
‘You look done in, Jim. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? I’ll cover for you with Garrett.’
Jim shook his head. He was tired, but not in the way Amy meant. He was tired of the job, of manning a seemingly endless conveyor belt of misery. He wanted off. He wanted out. But the look he’d seen in Mark’s eyes – both as an adult and a child – pinned him in place like a butterfly to a board. ‘Thanks for the offer, though.’
The cindery glow of dawn touched the chimney pots of Pitsmoor’s terraced houses as they drove to South Yorkshire Police Headquarters, a squat, rectangular concrete-and-brick building on the edge of the city centre. Jim pulled over outside it. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Faint lines of confusion spread across Amy’s forehead. ‘I thought you wanted to keep working.’
‘I do.’
‘So what about those old case-files the DCI wants us to review?’
‘You’ll have to start without me. There’s someone I need to see.’
‘Who?’
‘Bryan Reynolds.’
The wrinkles on Amy’s brow grew more pronounced. ‘I don’t think that’s advisable, Jim.’
‘Maybe not, but I’m going to do it anyway. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just want to look into his eyes and gauge his reaction to the news of his old pal’s death.’
‘Perhaps I should come with you.’
Jim shook his head. ‘There’s no point both of us getting in shit with the brass. Besides, Reynolds and I go back a long way. I know how the bastard operates. He won’t speak to me if you’re there. If I’m alone, it’ll get him wondering if maybe I’ve come to deal for information.’
‘OK, but call me as soon as you’re done with him.’
‘Ditto you if you find anything in the files. Pull Reynolds’s file as well.’
‘What do you want me to tell the DCI?’
‘The truth,’ said Jim with a crooked little smile, knowing it would get up Garrett’s nose big time.
Amy got out of the car. Flicking her a wave, Jim accelerated away. He lit a cigarette, thinking about Bryan Reynolds. The guy was a sociopath of the worst kind. Friendship, love and affection were alien to him – or at least, Jim had thought so before tonight. The knowledge that Reynolds had done time for Stephen Baxley had changed his thinking. The two men obviously shared some sort of deep connection. The question was, did that connection have anything to do with the DVD? Reynolds kept a string of women. He made a great show of lavishing gifts on them. But
As Jim and Amy strode towards the lift, Amy asked, ‘Why does it matter who had access to the safe?’
‘Maybe the safe was open because that’s where Stephen Baxley kept the DVD. I’m trying to figure out whether or not his wife knew about its existence.’
Amy thumbed over her shoulder towards Mark’s room. ‘Let’s hope for that poor bastard’s sake that she didn’t. I wonder why Stephen Baxley put the DVD on for Mark to see? Do you reckon he got some kind of power kick out of knowing that was the last thing Mark would ever see?’
‘I’m not sure I want to know what the bastard got out of it.’
‘You guessed the boy in that film was Mark, didn’t you?’
Jim nodded. ‘When I thought about when it was made and how old Mark is, it seemed like the logical conclusion. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. The thought that someone could do that to a child they’re supposed to love, it’s just too…’ He shook his head, signifying his disgust was beyond words.
‘Mark obviously has no memory of what happened.’
‘They had him drugged up to the eyeballs. The poor little sod wouldn’t have had a clue what was going on.’ Jim ground his knuckles against the lift wall. He felt like hitting something – hard. He closed his eyes and the shadowy figures from the DVD emerged like phantoms from his raging brain. And he knew the only way he would ever drive them out was by hunting them down and bringing them to justice.
‘You look done in, Jim. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? I’ll cover for you with Garrett.’
Jim shook his head. He was tired, but not in the way Amy meant. He was tired of the job, of manning a seemingly endless conveyor belt of misery. He wanted off. He wanted out. But the look he’d seen in Mark’s eyes – both as an adult and a child – pinned him in place like a butterfly to a board. ‘Thanks for the offer, though.’
The cindery glow of dawn touched the chimney pots of Pitsmoor’s terraced houses as they drove to South Yorkshire Police Headquarters, a squat, rectangular concrete-and-brick building on the edge of the city centre. Jim pulled over outside it. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Faint lines of confusion spread across Amy’s forehead. ‘I thought you wanted to keep working.’
‘I do.’
‘So what about those old case-files the DCI wants us to review?’
‘You’ll have to start without me. There’s someone I need to see.’
‘Who?’
‘Bryan Reynolds.’
The wrinkles on Amy’s brow grew more pronounced. ‘I don’t think that’s advisable, Jim.’
‘Maybe not, but I’m going to do it anyway. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just want to look into his eyes and gauge his reaction to the news of his old pal’s death.’
‘Perhaps I should come with you.’
Jim shook his head. ‘There’s no point both of us getting in shit with the brass. Besides, Reynolds and I go back a long way. I know how the bastard operates. He won’t speak to me if you’re there. If I’m alone, it’ll get him wondering if maybe I’ve come to deal for information.’
‘OK, but call me as soon as you’re done with him.’
‘Ditto you if you find anything in the files. Pull Reynolds’s file as well.’
‘What do you want me to tell the DCI?’
‘The truth,’ said Jim with a crooked little smile, knowing it would get up Garrett’s nose big time.
Amy got out of the car. Flicking her a wave, Jim accelerated away. He lit a cigarette, thinking about Bryan Reynolds. The guy was a sociopath of the worst kind. Friendship, love and affection were alien to him – or at least, Jim had thought so before tonight. The knowledge that Reynolds had done time for Stephen Baxley had changed his thinking. The two men obviously shared some sort of deep connection. The question was, did that connection have anything to do with the DVD? Reynolds kept a string of women. He made a great show of lavishing gifts on them. But
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