The Book of Revenge (15 page)

James was struggling to perform as the girls eyes burned with hatred. ‘Make her look away.’ James pleaded.

Andrew yanked her top up exposing her breasts and covering her face.

Matt staggered forward, still slow to grasp the reality of what he was witnessing. He pointed to the girl on the floor. ‘Is she alright?’

Kevin span around and punched Matt hard in the stomach. He dropped to his knees and threw up. Kevin leant down beside him and whispered menacingly into his ear. ‘She’s having the time of her life.’

Matt was hauled to his feet by Brian Chard and then shoved forward by Kevin, towards the girl on the bench. Matt couldn’t see her face; Andrew was still holding the top up.

Kevin pushed Matt from behind. The lads were chanting his name. Kevin leant forward, ‘we’re a team. We won together, we celebrate together...’ Kevin paused, then raised his voice and looked around the group. ‘We are all in this together.’

The next morning Matt woke up in a state of confusion. He was still dressed from the night before, his clothes are crumpled and dirty and his head was pounding so hard he had to hold it for fear of it falling off. He stood up a little unsteadily and tried to re-orientate himself. Then the realisation and the memory hit him. He dashed to the bathroom and threw up. He splashed his face with water and cleaned his teeth with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking. He looked at himself in the small mirror that stood on the window sill. The face that stared back at him could belong to a stranger. Hope and innocence had been ripped away, unable to bear the image any longer; he picked up the mirror and launched it against the door shattering it into tiny splintered pieces.

Matt ran down the stairs, stepped into his shoes and out of the house. He didn’t stop running until he reached Bidbury police station. He paused, just briefly, before hurrying up the steps and into the building.

     
‘Well that’s quite a story, lad,’ the detective opposite him said, ‘are you sure you didn’t imagine it?’

     
‘No, Sir,’ Matt said seriously. He was in an interview room sat across the table from the detective and a younger uniformed policeman. The detective had a comb over and a wispy moustache. He seemed very old to the young Matt, but was probably only in his late forties.

The detective looked at Matt’s crumpled clothing. ‘Easy to get it wrong after a heavy night out.’

‘It happened.’ Matt didn’t sound or look any more convinced than the Detective was, could he have imagined it all? He had been very drunk.

‘You wait outside; I'll call in the other lads, see if anyone supports the story. But we haven’t had any reports of the crime come in...’

Matt sat in the station reception area and waited. One by one his Rugby mates filed past him in and out of the interview room. As Andrew passed by he clenched his fist in a threatening gesture making sure that only Matt could see. Andrew was followed out by Kevin who paused in front of him and turned his head to speak to the detective.

‘He’s a piss poor drinker; he’d already had a belly full. We tried to stop him, but...’ Kevin shrugged his shoulders in a what can you do type way and glanced from the detective to Matt. ‘Guess it was a bad trip.’

‘You’re a liar!’ Matt said, jumping to his feet.

Kevin walked away with a satisfied smirk on his face.

The detective looked at Matt. ‘I should caution you for wasting police time.’ He said sternly, his moustache twitching. ‘Now sod off. You’re lucky I didn’t call your parents in. Lay off the drink and stay away from ecstasy, it addles the brain…’

Matt stared at the man, he felt totally confused.

‘Might already be too late in your case.’ The detective added, chuckling to himself as he walked back into the interview room, slamming the door.

In the days following the attack Matt tried to justify his actions, he was drunk, he was young, he was threatened. He even tried to kid himself that the girls had been willing participants. But he knew it was all nonsense and there was no excuse, no justification and no forgiving his actions. So somehow he’d had to learn to live with the knowledge. 

He expected to be arrested. Once the smug detective heard from the girls then he would know the truth. But the police never came, and there was no report in the paper of the rape. He tried to find the girls; he went back to the pub and hung around, night after night, for weeks. But he never saw them again.

His shame and self-loathing grew until one day he realised that the only way for him to stay alive and find some normality was to join the police force. At least then he could lock away his shame and spend every day trying to rid the streets of scum like him. So that’s what he did, and in the early days he had been vigilant and enthusiastic. Until cynicism and disappointment took over and he realised that the likes of Andrew, Kevin and Brian still walked the streets, cocky and cunning and free to bully and abuse again.

Matt looked at the book, he wanted to read on, but he realised he had no time. He had to stop her, save her from the consequences of her actions. He flicked on through the book, past her journal which gave an account of each hit. There was a newspaper cutting which showed the victorious rugby team with an editorial that listed each of their names. Another newspaper cutting was a small piece about the tragic suicide of a local girl. Matt didn’t need to be a genius to guess that must have been Liz’s sister.

At the back of the book were files. A separate one for each hit, names, photos, addresses, life style the attention to detail was incredible. It must have taken years to plan. He stared at a picture of himself, at his life under the microscope, even a photo of Avril standing outside their house. All their habits were detailed, the times he usually went to the gym, the restaurants they ate in, the hours they worked, the details of his wife’s affair with Brian Chard. So Liz knew more about his marriage than he did himself!

Right at the back of the book were pockets with keys. Several were missing. He pulled out the list of names from his pocket and started looking down.

Suddenly Sam and Craig busted through the door, he’d been so engrossed he hadn’t heard them get home.

‘What are you doing?’ Sam demanded. ‘I thought we had burglars.’ She took in his grave expression. ‘What is it? Is it mum? Is she alright?’ Sam looked at the book and the cuttings and steps closer. ‘What is all this?’

Matt looked at her sadly. ‘I can’t explain now.’

‘Is it mum? Is she alright?’ She repeated.

‘Probably not. I need to find her… fast.’

He stood up and quickly checked down the list against the keys. He ignored the houses that he had crossed off hoping that the occupants had taken his advice and changed the locks. His key was still in the pocket, so was James's. It left him with four possible targets.

His mobile phone rang and he quickly answered it. ‘What is it Jen?’

He listened while Jen told him about the latest victim. He didn’t care about the details. ‘Who is it?’ he asked, cutting her off.

He crossed another name of his list. Just three options left.

‘Where’s mum?’ Sam demanded.

Matt stared at the three remaining names. He had to make a decision and hope it was the right one. ‘I think I might know.’ He said, as he picked up the book and all its accompanying bits. He hurried to the door. ‘No time to explain now.’

‘I’m coming.’ Sam said, rushing after him.

He ran out of the house and into his car. ‘No, stay here’ he said ‘I’ll deal with it.’

‘Like hell’ Sam replied, putting on her crash helmet.

‘What’s going on?’ a bewildered Craig asked.

‘Follow that car.’ Sam said.

Liz parked her blue mini and walked slowly down the street. This time, instead of heading for the front door, she walked past and keeps going until she reached the end of the row of terraces. She ducked down an ally at the end and followed it round to the back of the houses. She counted her way along the rear garden gates until she found the target house, then she slipped into the garden closing the gate behind her and hurried to the back door.

Matt saw Liz’s car and slammed to a stop beside it. He was barely out the door before Sam and Craig pulled up alongside him. He adopted his sternest police inspector pose and voice and addressed the pair of them. ‘You must wait here.’ He looked at Craig, ‘keep her safe.’

Craig nodded his head in understanding. Matt ignored the protests and questions coming from a confused and panicking Sam. He ran to the end of the terraces and into the alley. As soon as he was in the garden he saw that the back door glass was smashed and it was slightly open. He pushed it forward and entered cautiously through the kitchen. He stopped to listen but heard no sound, so he crept forward carefully into the hall and from there into the lounge. As he stepped into the room he was relieved to see clear carpet without a dead body. But the relief was short lived as a gun was shoved into the side of his head.

‘How did you know?’ Liz said from behind him.

‘Are you going to shoot me?

‘When did you know?’

‘Not until today,’ he said, turning slowly around to face her. He looked into her eyes; the gun was still pointed directly at him. ‘Liz, let me help you.’

‘You can’t,’ she replied, ‘I have to do this.’

‘You don’t, it can end now. I’ll cover it up, make it go away.’

He could see the pain in her eyes and it tore at his insides, surely she wanted it to end?

‘I have to do this,’ she said, shaking her head sadly. ‘Steve tried so hard to do it legitimately. He built files on everyone, he followed them, gathered evidence and every time one of them stepped over the line he ‘helped’ the police. He would send in anonymous evidence, find witnesses…’ she fought back the tears, ‘but the bastards kept getting off. What is it they say? The devil looks after his own?’

Matt took a small step closer, but despite her despair the gun stayed pointed at his head.

‘How can I live and love while the bastards who killed my sister and my husband walk free? Do you know Steve spent two years building a dossier against Trevor Neam?’

Matt knew that Trevor Neam had been Hillard back then, the team called him Hithard because once he’d smashed into another player on the field and the guy had gone down so hard he had to be carried off the field. Matt hadn’t known him well but knew that his parents divorced and Trevor changed to Neam to take his mother’s maiden name. Then he left Bidbury and moved to London.

‘Neam built his financial empire on lies and fraud and my husband put together all the evidence. He was charged but the bastard had the money to buy and bribe his way out of the allegations. He walked free and it broke Steve’s heart. So he killed him…’

‘But Neam died in a car crash.’

Liz looked at him sadly, ‘So did my husband.’

‘The same crash?’

She nodded her head. ‘He gave his life. I promised him I would complete the work…’

 
‘Liz, let me go after them. I’ll get every one of them convicted and behind bars for something.’ He paused.Thinking it through, he made a decision. ‘And when I’ve got them all banged up I’ll put my hands up for the killings you’ve already done and get myself locked away.’ He meant it, every word. He was well aware what happened to police in prison, but he didn’t care. He needed to do something, anything, to save her.

‘Why would you do that?’ she asked, clearly stunned.

‘Because I love you, because I owe you, because I deserve it and because Sam needs her mother.’

They both fell silent while the implications registered. Liz lowered the gun and Matt reached out to take it. A noise from behind made him swing round quickly. He saw a flash of metal before a large frying pan crashed down hard on his skull and his knees buckled beneath him.

He could hear his name being called, from somewhere far away. He liked the sensation of floating, somewhere between being drunk and dreaming. But consciousness was winning him round. He opened his eyes and groaned at the throbbing pain in his head.

‘Shit Matt! What are you doing? Thought I had a burglar.’

Matt tried to sit up. Ivor the man who had just hit him helped him to his feet. His memory returned as the grogginess faded and he looked around him for Liz. Clearly she’d gone.

‘Matt? What’s going on?’

Matt looked at the man who was still holding the offending frying pan and wearing a cycling helmet. ‘I think you just got lucky…’

‘Lucky? Have you seen my back door?

Matt was already on his way out the damaged door, ‘You’re alive, aren’t you…’ he tossed over his shoulder as he hurried out.

He ran to his car, Sam was waiting beside it, pacing impatiently.

‘What happened? I saw Mum run out. I called her but I don’t think she heard me. I wanted to follow her, but…’ she threw an angry glare at Craig, ‘he wouldn’t let me, insisted that we had to wait for you.’

‘Which way did she go?’

Sam pointed straight ahead.

Matt mentally flicked through the pages of the book and the remaining names. He knew where she was going.