Out of Promises (19 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Valerie said to Bill, ‘I have some question I need answering.’

It was 18:15 and they were heading to Bill’s office.  The whole Ada Trent thing was eating away at her and adrenaline flowed.

Bill was focussing on the road ahead, relaxed.  ‘Questions?’

‘Yeah, Bill.  Like what the hell happened in there?’

Before he began, he sighed and got more comfortable, shifting in his seat.  ‘All right, Valerie.  When I couldn’t get over the wall they shot at me.  I managed to run to the car and drive to the house.  Then everything stopped, like they just up and went.  I pressed the button for the gate and left.  That’s when I found you.’

He cracked open a window, letting in a biting cold air.

‘OK.  So how did Freddie’s murderer know your name?’

They stopped at an intersection.  Bill didn’t take his eyes from the red light, willing them to change to green.

The hustle of the shopping day was growing thin now.  The nights were drawing in early on these cold winter days.  Few people remained buying late evening gifts – men and women with no time in the day to shop were out in the icy evening trying to scavenge what they could from the depleted shelves. 

Christmas.  The only time of the year that people make an effort.

An elderly lady crossed the street in front of them, slowly struggling to put one foot in front of the other.  Valerie watched children with their parents smiling happily without a care in the world.  She saw herself on the street, alone, afraid, and hungry.

‘Answer me, Bill.’

‘I don’t know.’

She was getting a shiver on now from the open window.  ‘He had the perfect chance to kill me in the church, and now at Ada’s house.’

‘What do you want me to say, Val?  I don’t know why he didn’t shoot you.’

The car behind them sounded its horn; the light had changed to green.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asked.

‘Nothing.  I just didn’t see it, that’s all.’

They continued on in silence as the city breezed by.

‘Bill?’

‘What now?’

‘Why did you walk into the kitchen knowing full well there could be a murderer there?  I mean, he took shots at us through the door, but you just walked in,’ she said and reached down to the window controls between the seats.

‘Hey, I’m hot.’

‘I’m cold.  Now answer my question, or I’m walking.’

‘I had a gut feeling he left, that’s why I went in, all right?  Look, I’ve helped you, I’ve stuck by you, what does it take to earn your trust?’

She said nothing, knowing she’d have to take a leap of faith sooner or later.

Neither of them spoke until they came to his office when he slammed on the brakes, stopping just behind Valerie’s car, launching them forward.

‘What the hell?’ she shouted.

‘You want to come up for a drink and rethink on where to go?  Or do you want to get in your car and leave?’

She got out of the car and headed for the office building.

The lock to Bill’s office door was busted. Through the frosted glass, a blurred shadow violently tossed things around before disappearing into bathroom on the right.

‘Oh what now?’ said Bill.

She didn’t answer.

‘Keep watch behind me, I’m going to take a look.’

‘Don’t do this again.’

‘Just trust me, all right?’

She didn’t want to, but did as he asked, this time, positioning herself so she could keep watch on the stairs with the office door in her sight the entire time.

Entering quietly, Bill pushed the door behind him, not closing it fully so Valerie could hear everything.

The office was a mess.  Filing cabinets were open with files sprawled everywhere, his desk drawer locks were smashed and the plant in the corner was overturned with soil spoiling the clean cream carpet.

To get the drop on the guy in the bathroom, Bill waited behind the door.

Valerie came in.

‘In there,’ he whispered and pointed to the bathroom.

She nodded, understanding what she had to do: distract.

Seconds later, the door creaked open.  ‘Well, hello again,’ said the intruder.

Valerie’s face dropped with a mixture of anger and fear.

The voice was familiar, though Bill couldn’t quite picture the owner.

‘You fucking bitch,’ said the intruder before darting for her.

Bill acted fast, grabbing the guy’s neck and pulling him to the floor.  It was Sharpe in a fresh clean suit.

‘Well, hello again to you too,’ said Bill.

‘You! I’ll fucking kill you!’ he yelled and shot up from the ground, pouncing at him, fists flowing left and right, all of them missing.

Bill ducked and weaved, planting his fist hard into Sharpe’s face.  ‘Not so tough really are ya?’

Sharpe lunged again, this time throwing in kicks.

Although impressed with Bill’s fighting skills, Valerie could see he wasn’t getting anywhere.  Sharpe didn’t let up, leaving no chance for a clear strike.  She walked up behind him, grabbed his throat and pulled him backwards, falling to the floor together, knocking the wind from her.

‘Not a nice feeling is it?’ she huffed.

He fought hard to break free and she held tight.

Bill pulled him up and said to Valerie, ‘I need you to wait downstairs.’

‘No way,’ she said, breathless.  ‘I want this little fucker.’

‘Valerie, just go, OK?  I don’t want you apart of this.’

‘Would you go if you were me?’

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.  ‘Valerie, please.  Just go and wait in the foyer.’

She exhaled impatiently and kicked Sharpe in the face, knocking him out.  ‘You fucking bastard!’

The door slammed shut.

Sharpe stayed on the floor in a daze.

Bill righted his chair and lifted him onto it, taping Sharpe’s hands to the arms.

He sat on the desk facing him. ‘What do you want?’

Sharpe said nothing, his eyes were closed.  The only noises from him were low murmurs, nothing comprehensible.

Bill shook him fiercely.  ‘What are you doing in my office?’

‘F-fuck you.’

‘Do you know what we used to do with pricks like you in the force?  We used to put them in cells with the big, friendly men and leave them alone to do their thing.  I think you’d like that, being a fag boy and all.’  He got in his face.  ‘Are you a little fag boy, Sharpe?’

He said nothing.

‘You ignoring me?’ he asked, slapping him.

Still nothing.

Bill walked into the bathroom for a glass of water.  ‘Are you thirsty?  You must be.  You’ve been sweating a lot I see.  You fucking stink.’  He threw the water into Sharpe’s face.

It made no difference.

‘For fuck sake, Sharpe!’ he yelled, taking hold of the glass at its bottom and lifting it upside down above Sharpe’s head, smashing it into his skull, the small shards of glass implanting into his scalp.  The rest fell to the ground.

With an ear piercing scream, Sharpe jolted in the chair and started squirming, trying desperately to sooth the pain.  Blood trickled from his head to his chin and dripped onto his suit.  The pain was so intense, he started crying.  Any attempt to move his arms only hurt his wrists.  He was powerless to move and he knew it, now realizing the reality of the situation, scaring him like never before.

In the foyer, Valerie paced up and down in front of the elevators.

It is about time I trusted him.

Although difficult, she was willing to give it a go.  His words in the car had hit home –
I’ve helped you, I’ve stuck by you
– and she knew he was right.

Cars screamed by outside on the street.  The working day was all but over now and the building was basically empty.

She’d had enough bad luck for the day and after everything she had seen and been through, she felt enough was enough, needing a breather from her life dying around her.

Sitting on the bench between the elevators, she let herself go.  This was the first time she’d had this much time to think properly since meeting Bill and she didn’t like it.  She thought of him and how good he had been to her and how he’d saved her life at Ada’s house.

Ada.

She could see her body in the kitchen with a hole through the head.  What that innocent lady had done wrong, she didn’t know.  She felt a tear for her.  She’d been caught up in a mess totally out of her control and now she was dead for it.  All she wanted was an answer for her husband’s death.

How many more people were going to die before the day was out?  She hoped Jackson wasn’t one of them.

‘I won’t say anything!’ yelled Sharpe, his face dripping blood.

‘You will!  Now stop shouting, you’ll draw unwanted attention, all right?’

‘Fuck you!’

‘Tut tut tut, you never do as you’re told, do you?’  Bill hit him again and asked, ‘What do you want in my office?’

Sharpe laughed stubbornly.

With his patience pushed to the limit, Bill pressed his hand into Sharpe’s scalp, the small shards of glass digging further into his head, as well as Bill’s hand.

Sharpe screamed again, taking the pain.

‘This is getting boring now.  Tell me what you’re doing here in my office.’

He looked up at Bill’s eyes with his own, slurring the words, ‘I’m not saying anything.’

Bill smiled.  ‘What’s the matter?  Cat got your tongue?  I’ll ask one more time.’

‘Ask away.’

Completely losing his patience, Bill grabbed a pencil from his desk, snapped it, and lifted one of Sharpe’s fingers, jamming it under his fingernails.

Pain shot up his arm and he screamed.

One by one, Bill moved in turn through his left hand, forcing the splintered wood as far as he could.  ‘Talk!’

He shook his head.

Bill hit him again.  ‘Damn you Sharpe,’ he said, starting with his right hand.

Finally, Sharpe said, ‘Matherson.’

‘What?’

‘Matherson...he sent me...to find out who you are.’

‘I’m your worst nightmare.  Why does he care who I am?’

‘You’re a cop,’ he said.  ‘Cops and robbers don’t mix.’

Bill let him finish.

‘Don’t you understand?  You’ve put Valerie in danger.’

‘Why is that?’

‘It’s because you’re a pig cop.’

Bill asked, ‘Who has Matherson got left he can send after you?’

Sharpe said nothing, knowing Matherson’s resources were running thin.

‘Fine.  I’ll find out for myself.’  He searched through Sharpe’s pockets and found his cell.

‘Nice phone.’

Flicking through the recent call list and gallery, he found the pictures of Jackson tied to the chair with other pictures showing Matherson beating him, others showing his lifeless body.

‘Who’s this?’ Bill asked.

No answer.

‘Is this Jackson?’

Sharpe smiled.  ‘He’s dead because of you.’

Bill put the phone in his pocket.  ‘How could you!?  Valerie’s been through enough, don’t you think?’  Red mist descended over him and he lost control.  ‘Stick out your tongue, fag boy.’

He clamped his mouth shut like a child refusing to eat.

‘Stick out your tongue!’ Bill said again.

Trying to take hold of Sharpe’s mouth wasn’t easy, even in his vulnerable state.  Moving his face wildly with what energy he had left made hard work of it.  Bill slapped him and grabbed his face.  Prying his jaw open, he pulled his tongue from his mouth, closing his jaw around it, holding it in place.  Sharpe fought to pull it back in while looking through begging eyes, but Bill had a firm hold.

With Sharpe’s tongue in his left hand and his right hand under the chin, Bill pulled his head forward and smashed his knee into his jaw.  The power forced the jaw up so hard his teeth cut right through the tongue, dislodging one another.  Blood poured from his mouth as he screamed and writhed in agony.  Coughing and spluttering, he was choking on his own blood.

‘Enjoy the rest of your life,’ Bill said, hitting him again and whispering in his ear: ‘By the way, you remember your brother Preston?  Well, he’s still alive.  He didn’t die all those years ago.  Freddie lied about the whole thing.’

Sharpe stared at him full of questions, his eyes wide open and filled with betrayal and hatred.  Crying and shaking, he moaned, trying to speak, knowing it was over.

‘I think he’d be happy to see you like this,’ Bill said.  ‘He hated you for being such an ass licking shit.’

With Sharpe fading into darkness, Bill changed his shirt with one in the bathroom before walking out without looking back, a smile on content on his face.