Fear the Past Page 27

  “Fair enough,” Ollie said, squeezing the trigger twice in quick succession. The first round struck Louise in the chest and the second, her shoulder. The force of both shots struck her like hammer blows and she was punched from her feet and thrown backwards taking both her and Caslin to the ground. The air flew from his lungs as he hit the pebbles, Louise on top of him.

  “No!” Tarbet screamed from the rib only a second before Mark Bridger put a round into him as well. Tarbet flipped backwards from the stern and into the shallow sea water. Caslin struggled to break free from the weight of Louise atop him in a desperate attempt to give him options. Ollie was coming to kill him, he was certain and he’d be damned if he would lie there and wait for it. His would-be assassin appeared in his peripheral vision and Caslin felt a surge of panic. Then there was a shot followed by another which caused Ollie to duck out of Caslin’s view. Another round struck Louise. She didn’t make a sound. Nor did she when there was a forth.

  Further shots came and Caslin angled his head to the bottom of the path where it met the beach. Chas Freeman and his team were on the beach and approaching. They were exchanging fire in the direction of the rib. Caslin felt a degree of safety and he managed to roll Louise off of him. He did so gently and once he was clear, he knelt alongside and looked at her. Her face was expressionless and her eyes wide. She was dead. A bullet fizzed past him far too close for comfort as he felt the change in the air pressure and what sounded like a crack as it went by. Throwing himself forward onto the beach, the overpowering smell of rotting seaweed filled his nostrils.

  Staring towards the shoreline the rib was afloat, Mark Bridger hunkered in the stern attempting to steer them out to sea. Ollie was alongside, lying against the port side and sending volley after volley at the advancing police officers. The two were heavily out-gunned and now there were no hostages in play, Freeman’s team openly returned fire. There was an audible bang as the outboard motor was struck and it gave out billowing smoke from within the housing. The rib floundered having not yet fully escaped the breakwater. With nowhere near enough momentum to carry them out to sea it was only a matter of time until the tide would return them to land.

  Caslin wondered whether they would give up but he dismissed it rapidly. Mark Bridger turning his own weapon towards the beach answered that question. The Bridgers began firing in unison despite their vessel being holed in multiple places and the desperation of their situation acutely apparent. The battle was short lived. From Caslin’s vantage point, he watched as Mark was struck first slumping backwards into the rib and disappearing from view. Ollie reached down, reappearing with his brother’s gun and attempted to use both. He was hit in the chest a number of times and one final shot took him in the head and he fell forward dropping both weapons into the sea.

  It was over.

  With no one in charge of the rudder, the rib turned sideways and was carried to the beach by the swell. Caslin stood upon wobbly legs watching as the boat was first swamped by a large wave and then picked up and flipped by the next. Looking behind him, he saw the approaching forms of Hunter and Kyle Broadfoot, both bore concerned expressions. Hunter appeared relieved when she saw he was unhurt. Turning back towards the shore, Scott Tarbet’s body was retrieved by two of the armed officers wading knee-deep into the water with the breakers crashing against them. Judging from their reaction, Caslin assumed he was also dead. They dragged his body further up the beach so that it wouldn’t be carried back into the water and eyeing the tide as it retreated, Caslin saw it tinged red as blood flowed from the dead man.

  “Are you okay?” Hunter asked, placing a hand on Caslin’s forearm and noting how battered his face was.

  “Yeah. It’s fine,” he said, with a weak smile. “I… I’m… fine.”

  “Is that all of them?” Broadfoot asked.

  Caslin inclined his head in the direction of the lighthouse. “There are two more bodies back up there. MacEwan and one other. They’re both dead. The Bridgers killed them.”

  “Right,” Broadfoot said, glancing towards the water. Ollie’s body was being carried to the beach, prostrate and face down among the breakers. Broadfoot flicked his eyes to Caslin and asked in a soft voice, “Jody?”

  Caslin nodded, “Yes. I think Jody worked out what was going on and they used Scott Tarbet’s daughter, Louise, to get close to him. A classic honey trap. Then they exploited Jody’s connection with his business partner, Mason, and lured him into a situation where they killed him. I’m sorry.”

  Broadfoot’s expression took on a faraway look, staring out to sea. “Thank you, Nathaniel. That’s all of them then?”

  Caslin felt a pang of guilt. Toby Ford was still at large. A serving police officer and a senior rank. A man supposedly held to a higher standard than most in society but how Caslin could square this circle, he didn’t know. The Bridgers were right. In bringing down Ford, his own father’s involvement would be revealed. Morally, there was only one course of action but loyalty to his father was pushing him in another direction.

  “I believe so,” Caslin said quietly. Hunter caught his eye. She knew him well. Very well. Broadfoot reached across and offered Caslin his hand. He took it. The handshake was brief and Broadfoot turned away setting off to speak with Freeman. There were tears in his eyes. Caslin felt for him. He had lost his Godson, someone he loved and cared for. Caslin chose to keep Wyer’s motivations for his investigation to himself. Destroying the lad’s reputation in death wasn’t necessary and would serve no purpose. Whether he was looking to lay his hands on the proceeds of the robbery was largely irrelevant now. Besides, the Bridgers were hardly the most credible of witnesses.

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” Hunter asked once their senior officer was out of earshot.

  “Later,” Caslin said. “I’ve got one more conversation to have first,” he added, making it very clear he held no desire to discuss it further and walked away.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  During the drive back to York, Caslin found himself ruminating on the complexity and intrigue of this case. For all the horrendous actions carried out by the Bridger brothers enacting their Machiavellian revenge plot, Ollie made one point that Caslin found undeniable as much as it was inescapable. It was this thought that kept repeating on him. Many times, throughout his career, he chose to look the other way and on those occasions the decision was always related more to his inherent sense of justice rather than a desire to circumvent the law. People often referred to such moral dilemmas as grey areas. A case could be made for acting in whichever way necessitated their desired outcome. No matter which angle of approach he took in his reasoning, this wasn’t one of those times.

  Arriving at the hospital, Caslin was lucky to find an empty parking bay and left the car. Every step towards the entrance felt heavy, weighed down by the decision he knew was inevitable. To keep his father from suffering, Caslin had to allow another to walk free – a murderer, a thief, a disgrace to the uniform – none other than Chief Superintendent Toby Ford. He fed the Bridgers all of the information they needed and may well have influenced their course of action. All to ensure that he would walk away without ever needing to look over his shoulder. All to fulfil one of the negative base desires of humanity – that of greed. There was no way Caslin could bring a case against Ford without, as Ollie so colourfully described it, burning his own father. There was a distinct possibility that even if he was prepared to do so, it may not lead to a successful conviction. If they could attribute any of the money to Ford or find some communication between him and the Bridgers, then maybe. However, if Ford was adept at covering his tracks as so many others in this case appeared to be, then Caslin could see his father on trial and gain nothing in return.

  Taking the stairs rather than the lift, Caslin made his way up to the second floor. A memory came to mind. When he and his brother, Stefan, were children they found themselves momentarily unsupervised in the local newsagent. Their mother was searching for something, he couldn’t recall what it
was and as a result the member of staff was with her at the rear of the shop. The two boys, no strangers to mischief, saw an opportunity to help themselves to the sweets their mother had already denied them. Egging each other on they took as much as they dared. Leaving the shop minutes later exhilarated by their achievements, both he and Stefan shared satisfied looks with one other. The scale of their theft was completely missed by the adults. Only much later when their father stumbled across them sharing out the stash was the truth revealed.

  Caslin remembered anticipating his father’s wrath, expecting a beating or at the very least to be verbally abused but no, his father sat calmly with them and talked. The image of that face, one of such profound disappointment remained fresh in his mind to this day. They discussed what they had done why it was wrong as well as what the consequences should be. Following that conversation both boys made the walk back to the shop to not only return what they had taken, pay for what they couldn’t but also to apologise. That walk – a very long walk at the age of seven – carried with it the strongest sense of shame that he could remember. Of all the words his father said to him that day one sentence crystallised in his mind.

  “You can’t hide from what you’ve done,” his father had told them, “and you have to accept the consequences of your actions. Only then, can you move forward.”

  The message was understood, even at such a young age. The current situation he found himself in was worth far more than a handful of sweets but the path forward was clear. No matter how painful it would be to walk it.

  Coming to the ward’s entrance, a young couple were leaving and kindly held the door open for him and Caslin slipped through, avoiding the wait to be buzzed in by the staff. The nurses’ station was unmanned as he walked past heading for his father’s room. Strangely, the armed guard was no longer present which irritated him. News travelled fast but until he was certain the threat had passed, he would have expected the protection to remain in place. He tapped lightly on the door and entered.

  The curtains were open with sunshine streaming in but he found the room empty. The bed was made with fresh linen. Monitoring equipment was switched off and pushed to the side of the room. Caslin noted the absence of personal effects and considered whether his father had been discharged without his knowledge. Perhaps they had switched him to an open ward. Turning on his heel he left the room and walked back to the nurses’ station. At which point he was met by Karen. Caslin’s face lit up as he was able to confirm the case was over and their children were safe but something struck him as odd. A subtle shift in her demeanour as she set eyes on him. Her response was fleeting and yet telling.

  He approached her. “Karen? What is it?”

  She opened her mouth but words didn’t follow. She met his eye and tears welled. The nurse accompanying her stepped forward. Her expression was solemn.

  “Mr Caslin,” she began. “We’ve been trying to reach you for the past few hours.”

  “My phone…” Caslin said, moving to retrieve the mobile from his pocket before remembering Ollie Bridger smashing it at the lighthouse. “Why? What’s…” the words tailed off. Karen came closer and reached out, taking his hand in hers.

  “I… I’m so sorry, Nate,” she said, tears falling down her cheeks. Caslin looked into her eyes and then to the nurse alongside.

  “I’m afraid there were complications overnight,” the nurse explained. “I’m sorry but your father passed away this morning.”

  “No… no, that can’t be right,” Caslin mumbled. Karen threw her arms around him and Caslin crumpled. His legs felt hollow, almost unable to take his weight and he felt the strangest sensation pass over him. They took a step backwards and Caslin almost stumbled but Karen guided him to a chair set against the wall in the corridor. He sat down. She knelt before him. “But… he was going to be okay…”

  “I’m so sorry,” Karen repeated, staring into his eyes and cupping his cheeks with the palms of her hands. She pressed gently and Caslin’s head dropped into them, tears flowing. She pulled his head into her chest. “There was nothing anyone could do.”

  They stayed like that for the next five, maybe ten minutes. Caslin didn’t know how long for sure. The moment passed and he regained his composure. Moving his head away, Karen stroked the side of his face, smiling.

  “Your father loved you, Nate. I know he had a hard time showing it but he did… very much.”

  Caslin nodded. “I know,” he replied. The statement felt inadequate under the circumstances. His father was a man who struggled to convey positive emotions. They were far more alike than either cared to admit.

  “They said they can arrange for you to spend some time with him, if you would like,” Karen said.

  “I would like that very much,” Caslin replied, standing. He approached the nurse sitting behind her workstation. “Could I borrow your telephone? I need to make a call.”

  “Of course.”

  Caslin withdrew from Karen’s grasp, she was reluctant to let him go. “I can come with you,” she said. He smiled. Following the nurse, she led him into an adjoining office to give him privacy.

  “I’ll just be a moment,” Caslin said, using the back of his hand to clear his eyes. Picking up the receiver, he dialled Kyle Broadfoot’s personal mobile. The call was answered within three rings.

  “Nathaniel,” he said. “I’m terribly sorry to hear about…”

  “Thank you, sir. That’s very kind,” Caslin cut him off. “There’s one more name we have to pick up, sir.”

  “There is?” Broadfoot said, surprised.

  “Chief Superintendent Ford, sir.”

  There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line. “On what charge?”

  “Start with conspiracy to commit the murder of Jody Wyer… misconduct in public office… and then we can go from there…”

  “Understood, Nathaniel,” Broadfoot said, his tone conveying his shock at the revelation. “Do you want to make the arrest?”

  “No, sir,” Caslin replied. “This one is all yours,” he said and hung up. Replacing the receiver, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I love you too, Dad,” he said quietly to himself.

  The Sixth Precept

  (DARK YORKSHIRE – BOOK 6)

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  Preview – The Sixth Precept

  Dark Yorkshire - Book 6

  Chapter 1

  The cells on the spreadsheet appeared to merge as eye-strain overcame the desire to continue. Closing her eyes, she pressed thumb and forefinger to the lids and gently squeezed them towards one another, meeting at the bridge of her nose. Blinking furiously, the figures on the screen blurred momentarily until her eyes refocussed. Glancing at the mobile on her desk, set beside the keyboard, she noted the missed call. The second of the evening. Checking the time, it was pushing eight o’clock.

  Returning to the screen, she saved the document and resolved to pick up where she was leaving off first thing in the morning. Closing down the applications, she switched off the monitor and detached the laptop from the hub, sliding it into her carry bag. Lastly, she turned off the desk lamp and got to her f
eet. Crossing the office and taking her coat from the stand, she put it on and slipped the straps of her back over her shoulder and left the office, closing the door behind her.

  The carpeted corridors were deserted and were now illuminated only by secondary lighting, in place to allow the contract cleaners to set about their routines. They paid her no attention as she reached the lift, accompanied by the grating sound of a vacuum cleaner. Summoning the lift to the fourth floor, she waited, checking her watch once more. Thomas would be annoyed. Another figure came into view, turning the corner from the far end of the passage. Despite the lack of light, the sizeable frame gave away the identity of the night shift security guard, smiling to her as he approached.

  “Working late again, Miss Ryan?”

  “Heading home now, Marcus,” she replied.

  “You work too hard.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” she replied. A ping sounded and the doors parted before her. Entering the lift, she turned and pressed the button for the basement parking level. “Goodnight, Marcus.”

  “Goodnight, Miss Ryan.”

  The doors closed and the lift began the descent. Moments later, she stepped out into the underground basement. There were perhaps a dozen cars scattered around the parking level. Apparently, there were employees outdoing even her with their commitment to the cause. Moving to the left, the sound of her heels echoing through the parking level were the only sounds that carried. Rounding a corner, she set eyes on her Audi, parked in her designated space. Alongside was a transit van and she was irritated by the proximity of it to her own. To be fair, the spaces were narrow and not marked out with wider vehicles in mind but even so, she cursed the driver under her breath for being so thoughtless.