Blacklight (Dark Yorkshire Book 2) Page 23

  “Vincent Meechan. I’m a neighbour of your father’s.”

  “I see. What is it I can do for you, Mr Meechan?” Caslin asked absently, heading in Hunter’s direction with his mind pondering his next move.

  “I’m so sorry to trouble you but your father gave me your number to call, if necessary. I think he was worried after that fall he had.”

  “Fall?” Caslin asked, stopping in his tracks.

  “You remember; the one he had last year,” Meechan said, matter-of-factly, “when he sprained his wrist. It scared him, I think.”

  “Oh that,” Caslin lied, whilst contemplating why his father hadn’t spoken of it to him.

  “As I say, I’m terribly sorry to bother you, I know-”

  “What’s wrong, Mr Meechan?”

  “Well, I heard some commotion from his place, earlier today. I wasn’t listening in, you understand but voices rose and it seemed to be getting heated.”

  Caslin sighed, wondering which of the two, his father or brother, had overdone it by mid-afternoon, “My brother is stopping at the moment. Sometimes our family can be a little…exuberant.”

  Meechan laughed nervously, “Happens to the best of them. It did appear as if it was more than that, though. I didn’t pop round, I’m not one to pry but for a moment I considered phoning the…” he hesitated.

  “Police?” Caslin finished for him.

  “Well, yes,” Meechan replied. The anxiety in his voice was evident. “I don’t want to cause any trouble but your father is an elderly man, as am I-”

  “It’s okay, Mr Meechan,” Caslin reassured him, disguising his irritation. The last thing he needed was uniform attending a domestic at his father’s house. “You did the right thing. Tell me, has it settled down or is it still going on?”

  “Oh, it went quiet an hour or two ago but like I said, there was one heck of a rumpus. I wasn’t sure if I should call you but-”

  “Leave it with me,” Caslin said in as upbeat a manner as he could manage. “I’ll stop by and make sure everything’s okay. I appreciate the call.” Hanging up, Caslin knew he would have to go out to his father’s, in Selby. A phone call would be quicker but most likely the skills of diplomacy, well-honed in his youth, would be required. That necessitated face to face conversation. Heading downstairs he considered why his father would communicate his worries and frailties to a neighbour, rather than his son? Turning his thoughts to Stefan’s impromptu visit, he had been expecting something like this to happen sooner or later. It was only ever a matter of time where his brother was concerned; trouble followed him like stink on shit. Upon reaching the yard he was disappointed to find there wasn’t a pool car going spare and he silently cursed. He gave Hunter a call.

  “Sarah, I need a lift somewhere,” he said after she had picked up.

  “Right now, Sir?” she asked. “I’m pretty busy up here.”

  “In that case, can I borrow your car? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  Hunter thought on it for a moment. Caslin knew how much she hated his driving and the response was predictable. “No, I’ll come down and drive you. Where are we going?”

  “Tell you once we’re on the way,” Caslin said, hanging up. He didn’t have to wait long before she joined him. They made their way to her car. She unlocked it just as he revealed where they were heading.

  “Are you bloody kidding me, Sir?” she protested. “I’ve just had to blag my way out of CID and you want a lift to your father’s?”

  “I know what it looks like but it’s important, trust me,” Caslin said, brushing aside her indignation. He could feel the piercing stare burning into him. Glancing towards her, his expression conveyed the fact that he wasn’t lying, “Please, Sarah. I need-”

  “I don’t want to hear any more about it,” she said, opening her door and getting in. He too, climbed into the car, closing his door softly. Glancing over, once again drew a repetition of her statement. “Not one word,” she said, firing the engine into life.

  The journey to Selby didn’t take long at that time of night. The house was in darkness but that meant nothing. Caslin knew they’d be home. His father’s car was in the driveway and seeing as it was nearing ten-thirty, he expected to find both men passed out in front of the television. Caslin got out of the car. Leaning in, one hand on the roof and the other, the door, he spoke to Hunter.

  “I shouldn’t be long. Hang on here for a bit, would you?”

  “Sure,” she replied curtly. “I’ve not got anything better to do.”

  Caslin ignored the sarcasm and turned his back on the car. Trotting up the path to the front door, he rapped his knuckles on the glass. After a few moments with no response, he knocked again, rattling the letter box with his other hand just for good measure. With still no answer, he went down the side passage and entered the rear garden, as he had done many times before. He was surprised to see the door to the kitchen slightly ajar. Giving it a nudge inward he called out into the darkness, only to receive no reply. Realising that there was no sound emanating from inside, Caslin felt the hairs on his neck standing up. He took two steps into the kitchen and stopped. Nothing.

  Reaching out towards the light switch, he waited a few moments for the neon tube to stutter into life. The kitchen table appeared to be set for lunch with plates, cups, bread and cheese, lying untouched. Tentatively, he walked towards the living room. In the gloom of the interior, he saw a figure lying on the floor. Unmistakably, it was his father. Rushing forward, Caslin turned on the nearest light, only to reveal a scene of carnage. The living room had been overturned in somewhat of a violent fashion, furniture and debris were scattered everywhere. His father lay amongst broken glass, blood seeping from a head wound that made Caslin fear the worst.

  Kneeling down, he inspected the injury, searching for a pulse whilst reaching for his mobile. The handset was caught in his jacket pocket and Caslin cursed openly, whilst wrestling to free it. He called for an ambulance. His father was breathing but it was shallow and after initially struggling to find a pulse, he now found it to be scarily faint. He made a second call to Hunter, telling her to get inside. Meanwhile, supporting his father’s head, he sought to stem the blood flow as best he could. Calling out to Stefan, he listened intently but again there was no answer.

  “Damn it!” he said harshly. Hunter burst through the kitchen door moments later.

  “Jesus!” she exclaimed.

  “Grab a clean towel from the kitchen. They should be in the second drawer down,” Caslin nodded roughly in the right direction. She returned swiftly. “Take over from me, would you? I need to check the rest of the house. Ambulance is on its way.”

  “What’s happened here?” she asked but Caslin didn’t reply as he set off. Unsure of whether they were indeed alone, he took his time. Rapidly ascertaining that the downstairs was clear, he reached the stairs. Further progress was taken with caution. Peering up with each step, he tried to pre-empt what might come from above. Every sense was heightened as he listened for the tell-tale signs that someone was waiting for him. Finding his brother unconscious would be the lesser of the two scenarios that currently occupied his thoughts. On the landing, he moved with more confidence. Going room by room, he found each untouched in comparison to the havoc wrought below, his mind went into overdrive with the possibilities of what had occurred. Satisfied that they were alone, Caslin called down to Hunter.

  “It’s clear,” he shouted. “There’s no-one else here.” He didn’t hear her response but he was pleased to recognise the approaching sirens of an ambulance. For once the response times were decent. Before heading downstairs, he ducked back into Stefan’s room, making a beeline for the drawers that his brother had caught him sifting through previously. Fearful of what he’d find, he wanted the opportunity before others began looking for answers. All of Stefan’s gear was still present and a quick check saw that included the drugs. For a moment Caslin lingered on the blister strip of Zyprexa, playing thoughts over and over, before tossi
ng them onto the bed. Opening the last drawer, he rummaged through the contents. His fingers brushed against something cold and smooth. Without looking, he knew what it was. Removing the semi-automatic pistol, Caslin’s heart skipped a beat.

  Examining it, he found it was a Makarov and evidently quite old. There were dings and scratches from grip to barrel. It was a cold-war relic but Caslin found the slide in perfect working order, a round already chambered. Removing the clip, he found it full. Hefting the weapon, he smelt the breach in an attempt to determine whether it had been recently fired. Thankfully, it didn’t appear so.

  “Shit, Stefan,” he muttered to himself. “What the bloody hell are you into?”

  A call came to his ear from downstairs. The paramedics had entered the house. Caslin had to think fast. Slipping the Makarov into the rear waistband of his trousers, he hurried downstairs just as the first of the paramedics knelt alongside his stricken father. Caslin was pleased to hear the old man groan. Despite everything, that was promising. Hunter came to stand next to him.

  “He’s taken a beating, Sir,” she said, apologetically. “Any sign of your brother?” Caslin shook his head. “What do you think happened?”

  “I can’t see any sign of forced entry but the back door was open when we got here.”

  “Anything upstairs?” Hunter asked.

  Caslin looked her square in the eye, the internal battle of his conflicting emotions, buried deep beneath the surface. “No, nothing,” he said as convincingly as he could. He felt her gaze linger on him for a moment before she too, looked down at his father, lying between the medics.

  “I phoned DCI Inglis, Sir,” Hunter said. “I had to, under the circumstances.”

  Caslin glanced in her direction and nodded, “Yes, that was the right thing to do. Don’t worry. What did he say?”

  “Not a lot. He’s coming out but said he’d see you at the hospital, later.”

  “I’ll be here when he arrives-”

  “Nathaniel,” Hunter interrupted him, she seldom used his first name. “You need to be with your father.”

  “I need to work out what’s gone on here,” Caslin countered.

  “Inglis runs things by the book. You know that, as well as I do. There’s no way he’ll let you be in the middle of this.”

  Caslin momentarily let his frustration show, “Whether it’s official, or not, do you think I’ll let it go?” he hissed at her.

  Hunter took a deep breath, “No. I don’t doubt that but at the moment you should be with him. What if he wakes up and wants to tell you what happened and you’re not there, or what if…?” she left the last unspoken.

  Caslin hated to admit it but she was bang on. One of the paramedics advised them that they were going to make the move in a couple of minutes, seeking help with the lift. Caslin acknowledged that, before addressing Hunter. “You’re right. Tell Inglis I’ll see him at the hospital.”

  “Do you think…look, we know you’re in this guy’s sights. Do you think this is him, trying to hurt you?”

  Caslin shook his head in a manner more aligned with uncertainty than rejection of the notion, “Why would he target my family like this, specifically?”

  “To make you suffer, maybe. He doesn’t appear to be playing by the book. Perhaps you have come across him, after all?” Hunter appeared thoughtful. “Your brother isn’t here.”

  Caslin met her eye, desperately trying to read her thoughts and not betray his own, “No, he’s not. What’s your point?”

  “Just that we should consider the possibility…that he’s…”

  “What?”

  “Been abducted…it’s got to be a consideration.”

  “It has,” Caslin said solemnly, looking towards the paramedics, one of whom signalled for assistance. The thought hadn’t occurred to him. Even now, he figured that to be the least likely of the scenarios currently running through his head. However, he chose to keep his thoughts to himself and remained silent.

  Chapter 23

  “Tell me about your brother.”

  Caslin stood at the window, staring at any number of nondescript points of the city, visible from their elevation. The third floor waiting area within York Hospital was scant of detail, tired and sterile. The warm, orange glow emanating from the city centre, in contrast, appeared attractive in the small hours. “What is it that you want to know?” Caslin replied.

  John Inglis was seated behind him, where he had been for the past half-hour, waiting. His patience must have worn thin. “You don’t appear particularly worried about Stefan.”

  “Should I be?”

  “Hunter is of the opinion that your father’s attack is linked to our case.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “But you don’t think so, do you?” Inglis pressed.

  Caslin turned away from the window, taking a seat opposite the DCI, “Stefan can take care of himself. He always has done.”

  “With respect, Nathaniel. You’re not answering my question. I need to know if I should be reallocating resources in this direction, or not?”

  Caslin shook his head. How was he supposed to walk the line between familial loyalty and professionalism? His father had been admitted, assessed and moved directly into theatre for surgery. Little beyond seeking permission for the operation had been offered by the medical team and now he waited. Time to think, to ponder. Time to realise what had, in all likelihood, occurred. “If I were you, I would leave everyone where they are.”

  Inglis appeared taken aback. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “If there is the possibility that your brother has been abducted-”

  “Doubtful,” Caslin interrupted. “Although preferable, under the circumstances.”

  “Please explain,” Inglis asked, sitting back in his chair.

  “A friend of my father’s, called me this evening. He overheard an argument earlier in the day. It wasn’t entirely a surprise, for me, to find things as they were. I didn’t expect my father to be…well…as he was. My brother has had his problems, over the years,” Caslin stated. Inglis was unimpressed with the ambiguity and showed it. Caslin offered up the detail, “He saw active service in the army and, let’s just say, has failed to reintegrate into civvy street. He’s always been something of a misfit and, after leaving the military, struggled with…illegal drugs…authority…stuff like that.”

  “Is he prone to violent behaviour?” Inglis asked softly.

  Caslin met his eye, “No, never. At least, not until now but…”

  “But what?”

  “I’m loathe to link the two but he has a…at least, I understand that he has a disorder of some kind. The fact of the matter is that his medication could and I stress, could, give leave to outbursts, if he’s not been taking them consistently.”

  “I see,” Inglis said, processing the information. “You said understand. Does that mean you don’t know?”

  “Correct. We haven’t discussed it.”

  “And yet, you believe this is most likely to be the cause of your father’s attack?” Caslin nodded in response. The DCI exhaled slowly, “So we had better put his description out there and get him picked up. Is there a chance that he might harm someone else?”

  Caslin looked to the ceiling, his expression one of genuine anguish, “I have no idea, I’m sorry. We’re not particularly close.”

  Conversation broke off when a doctor appeared at the nurses’ station and was redirected towards them. Caslin felt apprehensive as she approached, trying to infer his father’s condition from her body language. He failed miserably.

  “Mr Caslin?” she asked, he nodded. “I’m Doctor Ramirez, consultant neurosurgeon, here at the hospital.”

  “How is my father?” Caslin asked. Her flat expression and matching tone indicated to him that the news was not positive.

  “Your father is in a critical condition,” she began. Caslin’s felt his heart sink. “I’m sure I don’t need to
tell you that he’s is an elderly man and his injuries are worse than we originally thought. He came through the procedure without developing any further complications and is therefore stable, which we must take as a positive, at this point.”

  “What’s…wrong…?” Caslin asked, struggling to find the right words.

  “He suffered a severe trauma to the brain and like any other muscle, it has begun to swell. This puts greater pressure on the brain as it pushes against his skull.”

  “What can you do?”

  “Until the swelling subsides, not a great deal. We have removed a section of your father’s skull in order to enable us to drain away the leaking blood, from the haemorrhage. This in turn, will alleviate the pressure caused by the swelling. For now, we must wait and see how he responds in the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”

  Caslin rubbed at his face gently with both palms, “Did he regain consciousness?”

  Dr Ramirez shook her head, “No, he didn’t come around at all. We have placed him in a medically-induced coma for the time being and will keep him that way until he stabilises. I’m sorry. I wish I could give you better news.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Caslin said almost inaudibly.

  “I don’t wish to appear negative regarding his prognosis…there are no guarantees in these cases. Your father is in recovery, where he will be monitored throughout the night. The nurses can arrange for you to spend some time with him. Please excuse me.” Caslin thanked her once again. Returning to his seat, he found the weight of the world descend upon his shoulders.

  “Perhaps you should take some time to be with your father?” Inglis offered. “We can crack on without you. Once his condition…you know.” Caslin raised his head and looked across. He didn’t speak but merely nodded. “Is there anyone that I can call for you?”

  Caslin shook his head, “No, thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Have you tried to contact your brother?”

  Caslin nodded, “The call went straight to voicemail. I couldn’t find his mobile at the house, so I’m assuming that he still has it.”