40

‘Right!’ Seb clapped his hands together, making sure he wasn’t standing in the spreading pool of urine radiating out from underneath the chair. He ripped the gag from Maynard’s mouth. ‘Let’s get started.’

‘Ah, the Golden Child,’ Maynard said, his eyes narrowing as he looked past Seb to Sam. ‘I’m glad you’re here, bitch. I’ve waited years to tell you what you really are.’

Seb backhanded Maynard. ‘Don’t speak to her like that. You’ll answer my questions, cunt, so don’t get clever.’

Sam stiffened as she studied Maynard. ‘What’s the matter with him?’ she hissed to Andrew. As well as the beating John had obviously received, he looked manic, wild-eyed. Deranged.

‘Just a bit of stuff to make him chirpier,’ Andrew grunted. ‘The vast majority has worn off now, but all night he’s been completely fucked up. Doing my head in, he was.’

‘Which questions do you want answering, hard man?’ Maynard sneered. ‘That I killed your brother, that wasn’t your brother… or who she is, or what?’

Seb’s jaw clenched, aware it would be difficult not to total this twat from the off, but he couldn’t. Not until he’d got the truth.

‘I didn’t kill him,’ Maynard continued. ‘I’ve already told you that.’

‘Then who did?’ Neil stepped forward, only to be restrained by Seb.

Maynard raised his eyebrows. ‘I can’t tell you that,’ he smiled. ‘Well, I could, but I won’t… Actually, come to think of it, it might have been me…’

‘He’s playing with us,’ Neil growled, chomping at the bit to lay into Maynard.

‘Irritating you already, am I? That’s good to know.’ A sneer twisted Maynard’s face, the dried blood on his cheeks pinching his skin, making him look even worse.

‘John,’ Sam said, moving forward. ‘What’s got into you? Why are you being like this?’

‘Why am I being like this? Ask your trained fucking monkeys. They’ve kept me trussed to a chair all night and fed me with shit.’ Maynard’s eyes rested on Seb. ‘And for what?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘They’ll never get what they want. And neither will you!’

Sam didn’t like this. John had always been controlled and methodical, but now he was acting strange. Crazy. ‘Look, if you’d ju…’

‘Fuck off, whore,’ Maynard screamed. ‘This is all your fault if you ha…’

Slamming his fist into the side of Maynard’s head, Seb knocked the chair and the man over, the back of the chair snapping in two on the concrete. ‘I told you not to speak to her like that, didn’t I?’ he roared, delivering several more punches to the man’s face.

‘Seb!’ Sam yelled, pulling at his arm. ‘We want him to talk. We need answers.’

Gritting his teeth, Seb reluctantly dragged Maynard up from the floor by his hair. ‘Thanks to her, you’ll get the opportunity to explain yourself properly. If it were up to me, I’d…’

‘You’d what?’ Maynard spat, his right eye already swelling. ‘You want me to tell you what you want to know?’ He laughed again – a strange gurgling sound. ‘Well, you’ll have a long wait! I’d rather die than give you or her any answers.’

‘I’m fucking sick of this!’ Neil spat, pushing forward. ‘Let’s just get on with it.’

‘NO!’ Sam moved forward once again. She had to try things her way first. She had to make sense of this. Squatting down in front of Maynard’s broken chair, she forced herself to look into his battered face, but wished she hadn’t. His eyes were scarily wrong.

‘Why have you been working against me? Against all of us? Why would you do that?’ Sam stared into Maynard’s manic eyes. ‘Did you kill Gary Stoker, John? Please tell me.’

Saying nothing, Maynard enjoyed the silence. He knew these bastard Stokers were waiting for him to admit it and then they’d kill him. But if he didn’t admit it, they’d kill him anyway. He could tell them it was Bedworth, sure, but where was the fun in that? He was finished either way, so why give them the answers?

During the drawn-out night he’d had a long time for his scattered mind to work overtime and he’d come up with the goods. The best and only way forward. And this was it.

Maynard’s face crunched into a sickly looking grin. It didn’t matter that it hurt. It would rile the Stokers no end and that was all that mattered.

‘John?’ Samantha pushed, aware the continuing silence would only last so long before the men standing behind her reacted. She could feel Seb’s anger growing exponentially with every second that passed. ‘Listen, I don’t believe it was you who killed Gary, but were you behind it? Something to do with it? Or know who was?’

Maynard began humming ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’, the sound echoing through the large space.

‘Let me try things my way.’ Andrew pulled out a machete.

‘NO!’ Sam cried, seeing the large blade glinting in Andrew’s hand. She looked at Seb, her eyes pleading and gratefully watched him give his brother the nod to stand down.

She turned back to Maynard. ‘I can only help you so much, but if you tell me what’s really going on, then we can go from there. We’re family and you need to re…’

FAMILY?’ Maynard screeched with such venom it almost made Sam topple. ‘We’re not family! You’ve never been family!’ Hawking, he spat a ball of phlegm into Sam’s face.

Yelping with disgust and shock, Sam scrambled to her feet, her hand hastily scraping the green filth off her face.

‘You disgusting bastard!’ Seb roared, dragging Maynard over to the nearest workbench with one hand. ‘Give me that!’ he yelled, snatching the machete from Andrew.

Sam’s eyes widened. ‘No, Seb, don’t!’

Ignoring Sam’s protests, Seb slit the binding around Maynard’s wrists. Knowing he worked faster than the man could think, he whacked one of the Maynard’s hands down flat on the wooden countertop, then effortlessly lopped off four of the fingers from his right hand.

Watching with satisfaction as Maynard howled like an animal, Seb smiled. ‘Perhaps now you’ll stop jerking everyone around and treat your cousin with the respect she deserves. Answer the fucking questions!’

Sam stared in horror at the bleeding stumps remaining on Maynard’s hand. Feeling vomit rise, she forced herself to stay in control.

Grabbing Maynard’s hair, Seb yanked his head around to face Sam. ‘Apologise for what you just did, you bastard,’ he spat. ‘Apologise to her! Do you hear me? Sam’s your cousin and families don’t turn on each other.’

‘She’s not my cousin!’ Maynard roared, the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut staring malevolently at Sam. ‘She’s fuck all to do with me!’ He glanced dismissively at his missing fingers and then looked at Seb. ‘This cunt, this slag is fuck all to do with me or my family!’

Maynard’s head jerked back to Sam as she stared at him in confusion. ‘That’s right, bitch! You’re the usurper here, not anyone else!’ He nodded to the Stoker brothers. ‘You lot were the ones stupid enough to take that bullshit rumour to be aimed at your family.’ His head jerked at Sam. ‘But it’s her! She’s stolen my inheritance. I’m the only one with a blood tie to Len Reynold.’

His strange high-pitched laughter filled the cavernous space, echoing off the walls. ‘You’re the adopted kid, Samantha. The fake. The fucking phoney. The Orchid should be mine. It always should have been mine.’

Sam’s heart pounded as she digested what was coming out of her cousin’s mouth. Adopted? She was adopted? No. It wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be right.

Seb watched Sam’s reaction, could see she was contemplating whether this was feasible. ‘Don’t fall for it. He’s playing you.’ His jaw clenched. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’

Maynard laughed once again, knowing he’d gained control, if only for a split second. ‘Yeah, Samantha-perfect-Reynold. What a joke! My father was the only one who knew anything of this. Even I wasn’t supposed to know, but I overheard him and Len and it was that which spawned my plan.’ His eyes glinted. ‘All of this stems back to you, Samantha. You’re the one to blame.’

His face twisted further. ‘Do you not want to know who your real parents are, Samantha? Do you not want to know why Len and Gloria never told you the truth?’

His eyes rolled in his head, enjoying the suspicion and fear behind Sam’s eyes. ‘Because your real parents sold you, Samantha. The oh-so-perfect daddy who gave you the Orchid, instead of me, bought you!’ Maynard’s lips split into a wide smile. ‘Like a dog…’

‘I’ve heard enough of this utter shite,’ Seb snapped, giving Andrew and Neil the nod. ‘You killed our brother and so now we’re go…’

‘I should have had control of the firm, not her!’ Maynard screeched, unperturbed. ‘That’s why I offloaded my own father!’ He laughed shrilly. ‘Yes, I did that! I killed my own father on your birthday, Samantha. Remember? Because it meant that I could step into his shoes and be in place for when Len went the same way.’

Sam couldn’t process this. Was John being serious? He’d killed his own father to get closer to gaining control of the Orchid? He’d killed her Uncle Jimmy?

Fear escalated. Her father died in a car… Was John saying he’d killed her father too? That the accident with the tree had been down to him?

Sam staggered slightly, light-headed, her blood rushing from her head to her toes. ‘Did you… Were you the one who…’

‘Did I kill Len?’ Maynard’s eyes sparkled with malice, witnessing Sam’s growing realisation. Oh, this was good. Far better than he’d hoped. ‘And did I kill Gary? Did I kill everyone? Oh, so many questions, so little time.’

He could see the Stoker boys were about to pounce. It was almost over. He hadn’t got long and he knew it, but they wouldn’t have the last word. They would not have the last word at all. It was perfect.

‘Just answer the fucking questions, you wanker!’ Seb barked, going in for the kill.

With surprising speed, Maynard’s remaining hand reached down to his ankle for his knife. He only just made it and the pain almost crippled him, but he had to get in first. Had to get in first. The thick fuckers may have taken his gun, but they hadn’t bothered looking for this. Stupid, stupid. ‘Fuck you!’ he screamed.

Emitting a piercing scream that didn’t sound like anything Sam had heard herself make before, she darted forward, her hands scrabbling towards the blade in Maynard’s hand in what seemed like strange, staccato time-lapse bursts.

‘NO!’ Seb swiped Sam out of the way and lurched forward to knock the knife from Maynard’s grip. But he was too late and watched as Maynard drove the blade deep into his own chest.

With hands slipping on the blood-soaked handle of the knife, Seb frantically pulled the blade from Maynard’s heart, the blood spurted in a gushing arc into his face. He wasn’t having this. He was finishing Maynard. He would not let him finish himself.

A euphoric grimace froze over Maynard’s face and with gnashing teeth, Seb could do nothing but stare in abject horror and frustration as the remaining life behind the man’s eyes rapidly diminished.

‘You bastard!’ Seb roared, smashing Maynard over and over in the face with his fists, the splintering of bone excessively loud in the stunned silence of the warehouse. ‘You fucking coward!’ He continued driving his fist into what had once been Maynard’s face, but was now little more than pulp.

Sam remained paralysed in shock at the unrecognisable body of her cousin as the extent of the situation seeped slowly into her frozen brain. John had killed himself rather than give the answers to the questions?

Her eyes darted to Andrew and Neil, also standing in stunned silence watching the spectacle unfold. Seb’s face was a paroxysm of manic frenzy as he scrambled to his feet, raised his boot and brought his entire weight down on Maynard’s skull, the cracking of the bones sickeningly loud in the quiet space.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Andrew muttered, moving towards Seb. ‘Leave it, for fuck’s sake!’

Neil followed his brother’s lead and, with difficulty, together they pulled Seb away from the mangled body of John Maynard, glistening glutinous chunks of brain tissue scattered around the floor.

Seb, wild-eyed and panting, eyed the mess surrounding him. ‘The bastard,’ he muttered to no one in particular.

Sam leant on a workbench the other side of the lock-up. Taking in great gulps of air, she fought to stop the rising bile from spewing from her mouth. She couldn’t look at this any more.

Slowly coming to his senses, Seb looked at Sam’s pale face, then turned to his brothers. ‘Take her home. I’ll sort this out.’

Andrew shook his head. ‘No, we’ll sort it. You take her and get yourself cleaned up.’

Sam was glad Seb was driving. She didn’t think she’d have been able to keep her legs still enough to operate the pedals had she been the one behind the wheel. Not that she had a car at the moment and hadn’t needed one since moving to the city centre.

Even though she’d wanted to immediately make the journey to her mother’s after leaving the warehouse, she’d known it wasn’t possible. In her trance-like state, Seb had led her to his car, leaving his brothers behind to clear up.

Aside from the state of Seb’s clothes, she herself was in no fit state to have the conversation needed, but now they were finally on their way to Edgbaston, the rush of dread as to what she might hear from her mother assaulted her once again.

Sam gazed blankly out of the passenger window, the well-known sights of Broad Street gradually morphing into those of the Hagley Road.

She knew Seb kept glancing at her, but she couldn’t face turning her head to look at him. She was glad he’d insisted she accompany him to his apartment, though. If she’d been left alone, she would have screamed and screamed and screamed until her voice box melted.

Of course, it would have achieved nothing. She couldn’t relax until she’d heard the refutation straight from her mother’s mouth and even then, not much, if anything, would erase what she’d seen in that warehouse.

Despite already having showered that morning, when she’d stepped into Seb’s place and caught a glimpse of herself in the tall mirror in his hallway, she’d experienced the uncontrollable urge to shower again. There wasn’t a speck of John Maynard’s blood on her, but his death and lies had seeped into every single pore and fibre of her body.

Seb had insisted she shower first, even though he was the one caked in that… that filth, but she was grateful by taking him up on his offer she’d no longer had to look at the glutinous residue on his trousers, the splashes on his forearms, or the lumps in his hair. Her heart thundered. She hadn’t wanted to see it again, that mess on his clothes, knowing where it had come from.

The hot jet of water in Seb’s shower might have cleansed her body, but it hadn’t cleansed her mind.

The car came to a halt behind a double-decker bus and Sam absentmindedly watched people disembark – their movements playing in slow motion, like she was part of a film showing at reduced speed.

She glanced in the vanity mirror of the sun visor. The reflection was the same as what she’d seen staring at herself in the brightly illuminated mirror of Seb’s bathroom. Was any of what John said true?

She kept telling herself it couldn’t be, but there was only one way to find out. And this was it…

Sam glanced down at her black skirt. Spotless, just as it had been before, but having no other clothes to wear, she’d had to put the same ones back on – the ones she was sure were impregnated with the memory of death.

She slapped the button for the electric window, needing some air – anything to deflect from her racing heart – and listened for a hint from the ether which would explain things. She may outwardly appear controlled, but inside her brain churned.

‘I’m not quite sure I understand why you want to do this.’

Seb’s low voice threw Sam off kilter. For a moment she’d completely forgotten where she was and who she was with. She pulled her stare away from the window and risked a glance at Seb, his green gaze on the heavy traffic and wondered, not for the first time, how he had reverted back to normal from the rabid, possessed lunatic she’d witnessed thrashing the corpse of her cousin.

‘You know Maynard was talking shite, don’t you?’ Seb continued. ‘Deflecting even though it was obvious he was responsible for everything.’

Sam nodded, more to herself than to Seb. ‘I know, but I…’

‘You need to hear it from her,’ Seb interjected. ‘I understand, but what will you say? How will you explain the questions?’

Sam stared at Seb’s hand on the steering wheel. It looked like a normal hand, with clean nails. It looked like the hand that had touched her face so gently when he’d left her apartment the other night, not the hand that battered the life out of people. Not the hand that killed.

‘Your mother will surely want to know why and where you’ve got these absurd questions from?’ Seb pushed.

‘I don’t know what I’ll say yet,’ Sam muttered. And she didn’t. All she knew was that she had to ask. She had to hear her mother tell her what John had said was untrue, otherwise there would always be a tiny little glimmer of ‘what if…’?

Sam’s nerves fluttered anew as Seb turned the car into the road she knew so well. The road where she’d lived for the first nineteen years of her life. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to offend her mother in the worst way possible.