Adrian thumped on the door to Jimmy Chilton’s house. It was afternoon and there was no indication that anyone was there. Still, Adrian had a bad feeling – not entirely unusual these days but still, something was off to him. He cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed them up against the glass part of the front door. There was no movement inside.
‘The receptionist said he was home,’ Imogen said.
‘Apparently. Said he left a little while after ten this morning.’
‘If he’s not here, then where is he?’
‘At the Corrigans’?’ Adrian said.
‘I doubt it; I think he was finally wising up to the fact that Corrigan wasn’t going to be getting away with this for ever.’
‘I’ll check the perimeter.’
Adrian walked to the side of the house. The bins were leaning against the wall and he could see through the side gate into the garden. No activity there, either.
At the other side of the house he noticed the garage door was jutting out a little at the bottom, as though unable to close properly. He lay flat on the ground and looked underneath. The car was inside but it was sticking out further than it should and the garage door was closed down on it. The room was dark, so Adrian fished around inside his back pocket and pulled his phone out.
The light from his phone torch illuminated the floor. He could see paint pots in the corners, smashed glass on the floor. He thought he could see a boot by the front wheel. He couldn’t quite tell if the boot was on a foot or not. There was barely any room to get in or out of the car. What was going on? There was enough space for him to slide underneath, but he would have just ended up under the car.
‘Give me a hand with this,’ he called to Imogen.
He grabbed the edge of the garage door and pulled upwards, trying to force it far enough so they could at least see inside the car. Imogen grabbed the other side and pulled with him. The mechanism groaned and creaked, but eventually the door was past the boot.
Adrian looked through the back and front windscreen to see Jimmy Chilton slumped over the bonnet. The windscreen had been smashed to let whoever was driving the car out and the door to the inside of the house was open.
‘It’s Chilton,’ he called to Imogen. ‘He’s in there. Phone it in and call an ambulance. Someone’s going to have to move this car. I’m going to go around the back of the house and see if there is another way into the garage.’
‘Be careful,’ Imogen said, pulling out her phone.
Adrian heard her on the phone to the station as he zipped past the bins on the other side of the house and opened the gate into the garden. He ran around to the kitchen door which, fortunately, was just a latch lock.
Adrian took his coat off and wrapped it around his fist before punching through the small pane of glass. Reaching inside, he unclipped the latch and let himself into the kitchen. Before venturing into the garage, Adrian opened the front door so Imogen could get inside the house; he didn’t want to walk into that garage alone.
They found Jimmy Chilton pressed up against the wall, his legs invisible to them, his body sprouted from the headlamp.
‘He didn’t do this to himself,’ Adrian said.
‘Do you want to check his pulse or should I?’ Imogen said.
‘Either way, he’s a dead man,’ Adrian said quietly, in case by some miracle Jimmy could hear them.
Adrian had seen something like this when he had just joined the police, back when he was a PC. He had held the hand of the man until they moved the car, at which point he died instantly. Adrian reached across the bonnet, his fingers barely touching Jimmy’s wrist. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could feel a faint pulse. It was a blessing that he wasn’t conscious, at least.
This must be one of the worst ways to go, just waiting and knowing that you are going to die – the car a part of your body and the only thing completing the circuit and allowing you not to bleed to death.
‘How long do you think he’s been like this?’ Imogen said.
‘I don’t know. We know he left work at ten and it’s a twenty-minute drive, assuming he came straight home. It’s coming up to two o’clock now – around three hours, give or take. I hope he passed out soon after. His pulse is very weak, but it’s there.’
‘He’s facing the car, so he saw it coming,’ Imogen said.
‘Someone might have seen something.’
‘I doubt it. Corrigan is always so careful. We can get the uniforms to canvas the neighbourhood. I think we can safely assume this was Corrigan’s doing. Maybe Chilton got those names for us in the end. Or Corrigan just decided he didn’t trust him anymore.’
‘It might be enough to persuade Angela Corrigan to speak to us,’ Adrian said.
‘Add to that the body they are digging up in Oswestry, she might,’ Imogen said hopefully.
‘Even if we can prove it is Clive Osborne’s body, what are the chances of us being able to pin the murder on him? He is one slippery customer,’ Adrian said.
He wasn’t sure he even wanted Corrigan to go to prison. Men like that thrive on the inside.
‘We should go and speak to Angela again, after we go back and brief the DCI. She said she wanted information on any major developments. I would say this is pretty major.’ Imogen stood up. ‘You coming?’
‘Did they give you a time on the ambulance?’
‘It should be here within ten minutes, they said. The uniformed police might take a little longer.’
‘You want to go back and brief the DCI without me? I’ll stay with him. I can get a lift back to the station with one of the uniforms,’ Adrian said, hoping she would say yes.
He wasn’t even cleared for duty yet. The truth was he didn’t want to see Reece Corrigan.
‘Actually, I might. I just need to pop home and get something,’ Imogen said.
Adrian was alone in the garage with Jimmy Chilton’s broken body. He had obviously outlived his usefulness. Could Corrigan feel the net closing in on him? Is that why his behaviour was getting more rash? He must have known this would come back to him.
Chilton groaned and started to stir. His eyes opened and Adrian could see the exact moment when he realised that he was going to die. He looked up and saw Adrian.
‘It’s OK, there’s an ambulance on its way,’ Adrian said, knowing that the ambulance wouldn’t be able to save Chilton but wanting to give him some hope.
‘I’m sorry,’ Chilton said breathlessly.
Adrian had no idea what he was saying sorry for.
‘Just hang in there.’
Adrian leaned across the bonnet and took hold of Chilton’s hand. No one deserved to go like this.
‘I tried to tell Reece to stop, told him I was going to tell you …’ he trailed off.
‘Tell me what?’
What was Chilton talking about? Was he talking about what happened to Adrian? Did he know something? Did Adrian want to know what he knew? Chilton wasn’t going to live through this, Adrian knew that much, and so now might be the only chance he had to ask the question.
‘Jimmy. What are you sorry for?’
‘I should never have covered for him. Angela … she shouldn’t be there …’
‘What about Angela?’ Adrian said, almost relieved that Jimmy had probably been talking about her all along. Glad he didn’t have to confront his situation right now.
‘I didn’t know at first. I should have stopped him when I found out …’ Jimmy whispered before losing consciousness again.
Was Jimmy talking about the domestic abuse or something else?
Sirens approached the house as soon as he had finished the sentence. The ambulance had arrived, although the chances of them being able to help Jimmy now were worse than slim.
Adrian stood up and took a deep breath before stepping away from Chilton’s barely living body so the paramedics could get to him and see if they could do anything. He watched Imogen drive away and was immediately flooded with a mixture of relief and guilt. He knew he wasn’t being fair to her. He just didn’t know how to be any way else right now. He was trying to get back to the man he used to be.
The paramedic looked up and shook his head. There was no hope for Jimmy. If they could just get Angela to testify, they could stop Reece Corrigan. Adrian daren’t get his hopes up at this point, but there it was. It seemed as though they might actually have a chance to nail this shitbag.