Jack was outside the bar that had once been called Manero’s when he got the call. He had been waiting for the doormen to open the doors, to try and get some quotes on Don Roberts, in the hope that someone may have remembered stories from the old days. There was the germ of a good story there, and Jack wanted to make it stronger, for Emma’s sake, to bring some justice for her.
He looked at his phone and saw that it was Laura, but when he answered, there was no one on the other end.
‘Laura? Are you there?’
There were some deep breaths, and then she said, ‘I need to see you, Jack.’ Her voice sounded strained.
‘Are you okay?’
There was a pause, and then, ‘No, I’m not.’
Jack felt a stab of panic, his stomach lurching. ‘Where are you?’
‘The hospital.’
‘I’ll be right there,’ he said, and ran for his car.
The journey didn’t take long, because it seemed like he skidded around every corner in his rush to get there, chancing red lights and speed cameras. He dumped the car in the nearest parking space and ran towards the casualty department, passing rows of seats filled by people feeling sorry for themselves, faced by a counter and a receptionist who didn’t look like she cared either way.
He found out that Laura had been taken through just after her call. He heard her voice, and as he pulled the curtain back, Jack saw her wince as the casualty doctor inserted the last of seven stitches into a small patch shaved into the back of her head.
‘There you go,’ the doctor said, his Indian accent strong. ‘Should keep the sawdust from falling out.’ His voice was too cheery, and Laura faked a smile.
‘Could I have a moment?’ Laura asked, and gestured towards Jack.
The doctor looked doubtful for a moment, but eventually he nodded and left them alone. Laura wrapped her arms tight around Jack and he pulled her close, whispering in her ear, ‘What happened?’
Laura pulled away. ‘Rachel was attacked. She was his next victim, but I got in the way.’
Jack was surprised. ‘Tell me.’
She shook her head. ‘I’ll give you the full story later, but I’m sure you can imagine it,’ she said, looking vulnerable again. ‘Danger is part of the job, I know that, but this was different. It’s sexual violation. It’s too personal, too invasive. I’ve just been stitched, but what will Rachel be going through? Probed and examined, checked for injuries, for evidence, those small traces that get left behind, violated for the second time today. And why? So they can build a case and lock someone away for what, twenty years?’
Jack didn’t respond, because he knew what she meant. The judge will say life, but when does it ever mean that? There will always be some rosy-eyed do-gooder ready to fight his corner, to campaign for his release, to say that it is wrong to cage someone up for ever. Even the Yorkshire Ripper found someone to speak up on his behalf, as if a portion of regret could somehow make up for thirteen dead. Jack believed that some people should never get out, because they’d foregone their right to a decent life, but sometimes it only took for the memories to fade, for the press to forget, and killers walked the streets again. What would happen in this case, if he was ever caught? What about Deborah and Jane? And now Rachel. She would bear those scars for the rest of her life, long after the physical wounds had healed. Why didn’t that ever seem to matter?
They both looked around when they heard a voice, and then the privacy curtain parted and a familiar face came into view. Joe Kinsella. He looked confused, his face filled with pain.
Laura took a deep breath and pulled away from Jack. Joe came over to her, and Jack saw tears in his eyes. Joe clenched his jaw as he tried to control his emotions.
Jack stepped out of the cubicle, not wanting to intrude on Joe’s distress. The curtain didn’t close though, so he watched as Joe took a deep breath and tried a smile, but it was forced. Joe wasn’t ready to crumble yet, not in public.
As Joe got close, Laura put her arms around him, and as he pulled himself closer, Jack heard her whisper, ‘I’m sorry, Joe. I should have got there quicker.’ Joe stepped back and took hold of her hands. ‘No, you saved her,’ he said quietly, his voice breaking as he pumped her hands. ‘I don’t know what will be left of her, but whatever there is, it will be thanks to you.’
Laura gave him a watery smile. ‘So what now?’
At that, Joe’s gaze hardened and he dropped her hands. ‘We catch him, that’s what.’
‘But we’re too involved,’ she said. ‘We might make mistakes, and it will haunt us, because he’s dragged us closer.’
‘No, that isn’t how it is,’ Joe said, his voice sterner than before. ‘It will haunt us if we don’t go after him. You saw him, Laura. You can take us nearer. You can describe him. Have you got a voice recorder on your phone?’
Laura nodded.
‘Good. Go to a dark room, or somewhere quiet where you can close your eyes. Like you said to Angel, think of him. His age. His size. His smell. How he held himself. All of those things will take us closer. Do that, and then let Carson know.’
Laura agreed, though the thought made her stomach roll. ‘I will. And what about you?’
Joe stroked his stubble and then looked up at Laura. ‘I’m going to wait for Rachel, to make sure she can cope.’ Some more tears came into his eyes, and he looked down and chewed his lip until they’d gone. ‘I’m not sure I’m the right person for her just now.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We weren’t serious, you know that,’ Joe said. ‘She would stay over, and we would be there for each other, you know, fulfilling a need, but we both knew it wasn’t going to last. And now this. It makes it serious, but she needs someone she can rely on, someone who really loves her. But then it makes me feel like a coward, because I’m running at the first sign of bad times. I thought I was better than that.’
‘Maybe she won’t want you that close,’ Laura said. ‘Be there, as a friend. Forget about how you were. That’s probably all she wants.’
Joe nodded. ‘I’ve called her parents, but they’re on holiday, so it’s just me until they get a flight. She needs them though. It’s time she stopped being a cop for a while and went back to being someone’s daughter.’
Laura hugged Joe again, but he pulled away sooner this time. He seemed more determined than before. ‘What about you?’ he said.
Laura looked through the gap in the curtain and looked at Jack. ‘I want to go home,’ she said.
He was in his chair in the living room, his hands gripping the arms. His clothes were covered in dust and he was sweating, the exertion of his dash from the factory. He had left the van behind and escaped on foot, running through alleys. Now he was back, the house was silent but he was wincing from the noise. Laughs. Shouts. Screams.
He closed his eyes. He thought of Doctor Barker again, but the memory he had wasn’t from the day before, but more than twenty years earlier. It was the doctor’s voice, friendly, caring, but it hadn’t changed anything. Then there were faces through the years. First girls, then women. He hadn’t hurt all of them. Some he had just followed and then fantasised about, and those were the special ones, the ones that hadn’t disappointed.
He was still aroused, unfulfilled from the attack before. He’d heard the sirens and known that he had to get away. But he also knew he’d only delayed the inevitable. They would come for him.
His fingers dug into the fabric. He thought of his mother. He had heard her, had sat on the landing, listened as she argued with his adoptive parents. He’d always felt that there was something missing from his life, and as he listened, he had wanted to go down, to see her, to let her see him. But he had been scared, not wanting to meet her in case she didn’t like what she saw. He had stood up, ready to go down, when he heard the final shout from her, and then the back door slammed.
That’s when he’d first heard them, the noises. It was just whispers then, so quiet that he could hardly hear them, and so he had to concentrate hard to work out what they were saying.
He heard footsteps. At first he thought they were rumbles in his head, but as he looked to the window he saw that it was a real noise, not the ones he heard most of the time. They were marching up the garden path.
He stared ahead. He had been expecting them ever since he had failed. He wouldn’t do anything to stop them. The door was unlocked. They could get him. He was ready.
The door banged against the wall as they burst in. He could hear mocking laughter, but as he looked up, their faces were full of menace. No one was laughing.
He didn’t say anything as they grabbed his arms and pulled him towards the door. It was his time.