56

When I arrived at Coulson’s cottage, an early-evening calm had descended on the loch that fronted the road leading to the house. A pair of small boats were moored just off shore and the water was so still it looked as if the craft had simply settled on top of a stretch of glass. The grass verges were full of daffodils, crocuses and tulips, and the moor grasses and heathers on the far hills were being burnished gold by the setting sun.

In the drive was Coulson’s car. And just behind it sat Thomas’s ancient people carrier.

I’d expected to see it there, but nonetheless I still felt a surge of fear and disappointment. Pulse heavy in my neck, I got out of the car and walked as quietly as I could up the slope to the door. Should I knock? Should I just go in? What if Thomas really had come here to simply confront the man who’d done so much harm to him all those years ago? Who was I to barge in? But what if he was intent on a final revenge? No one walks away from that kind of act unmarked.

I put my ear to the door, and heard shouting, but the words were unintelligible through the wood. Hand on the door handle, I turned it slowly. It was unlocked.

Judging from the sounds there were two people talking, so if Thomas was planning on violence that hadn’t happened. Yet.

I pushed the door closed again, and settled my back against the wood. If I heard something worse than shouting, I’d go in and separate them.

I didn’t have long to wait.

There was a loud crash, followed by some grunts, another crash, and a scream. I opened the door, and rushed in to the front room, but what I saw was not what I expected.

Thomas was on the floor, holding his head, while Coulson glowered over him with a hammer in his hand.

‘What the hell?’ I shouted.

‘Good,’ said Coulson turning his face towards me – a beacon of satisfaction. ‘I can see to you as well.’

‘You touch him and I’ll…’ Thomas began.

‘You’ll what?’ Coulson kicked him in the ribs. ‘You’re done, boy.’

‘Nobody’s done,’ I said and edged my way into the room, palms up.

Thomas twisted and looked up at me from the floor, and as he moved his head I could see one side was coated in blood.

‘Jesus,’ I whispered and reached for him.

‘Stay where you are, Mr Docherty,’ Coulson said as he brandished the hammer.

‘Get the fuck out of here, John!’ Thomas shouted, and then gave a groan as if the effort caused him huge pain. If he’d taken a hit to the head from that hammer in Coulson’s hands he needed help and soon. I could only guess at what harm it had done.

‘Sit down,’ Coulson said to me, indicating the sofa and holding the hammer over Thomas’s head, suggesting what he would do if I didn’t obey him.

I complied.

Thomas groaned. ‘You should have left when you had the chance…’

‘Love it,’ said Coulson. ‘You two already have that brotherly love thing going on.’

‘What do you intend to do, Mr Coulson?’ I asked carefully.

‘Collins called me…’ he took a step back and looked over his shoulder. I followed his line of vision and saw a small, blue suitcase ‘…I was going to leave for a while, until everything blew over.’ He kicked Thomas’s leg. ‘If you hadn’t come here.’

‘I only wanted to talk,’ Thomas protested.

‘With this…?’ Coulson held up the hammer. ‘That’s the kind of conversation I only get into when I run out of options.’

‘Yeah, so it is. You’re the picture of restraint.’

‘I’m a changed man, Thomas. Or is it Robbie?’ He smiled as Thomas winced at the name. ‘I always thought that was a bit sick – how you took your dead friend’s name.’

‘You guys gave me no choice, I had to go under the radar so they…’ he looked over at me ‘…wouldn’t come looking for me.’

‘And yet…’

‘Can I at least get up?’ Thomas moved into a sitting position, still holding his head.

‘Stay where you are,’ Coulson said and kicked out at his foot. He turned slightly and rubbed at his face, and as he did so I saw that there was some swelling there. So Thomas had managed to get something on him during their brief struggle. That cheered me a little.

‘I get that you wanted to be incognito, but why take the boy’s name?’ Coulson asked.

‘It was Elsa’s suggestion,’ Thomas replied. ‘She’d read something in the papers about undercover cops taking the names of dead people and thought it would be a good idea for me.’ Thomas pulled his legs up towards his chest. ‘And it seemed a good thing – a kind of homage to Robbie,’ he added quietly.

At the mention of Robbie’s name, Coulson’s eyes took on a strange light, and his mouth curved into a smile. It didn’t last long, but it was there long enough for me to see it, and read the satisfaction in it.

Realisation struck me.

‘You sick, sick, bastard,’ I said.

Thomas looked over at me, questions in his eyes.

Coulson raised an eyebrow. ‘At least one of you brothers got some smarts.’

‘Thomas didn’t let Robbie die. You killed him.’ I pointed at Coulson, anger sparking through every cell in my body.

‘What?’ Thomas said and tried to get to his feet.

‘Stay where you are,’ Coulson snarled and raised the hammer in threat. ‘Jesus, you were such a sucker.’ He grinned, and there was such evil on his face I took a step back from him. ‘Memory’s such a tricky thing, innit? And it was such an easy suggestion to plant.’ He shifted the hammer in his grip, as if preparing to put it to use. ‘What’s the harm in telling you the truth now. You’re not going to see tomorrow.’

‘What did you do, Seth?’ Thomas demanded, using the man’s former name, and I could see Thomas was back in that moment, a boy, discovering his friend was dead. The horror of it bleak in his face.

‘He was on the way out anyway,’ Coulson said with a sneer. ‘None of the men wanted him anymore. He was used up, washed out, the drugs were wasting him away. He wouldn’t have lasted the month.’

‘What did you do, Seth?’ Thomas shouted.

‘Wasn’t nothing,’ Seth shrugged. ‘Like putting a mongrel out of his pain.’

I could see that Thomas was readying himself. I was sure he was going to charge at Coulson, and when he did I would too. So I surreptitiously scanned the room for something, anything, I could use as a weapon. We just had to keep him talking.

‘Elsa’s dead,’ I said, aware that Coulson was in a talkative mood and needing to know if he had a hand in that as well. ‘In case you’re thinking of going to see her after you’ve dealt with us.’

‘Poor Elsa. Couldn’t handle the guilt of handing over all those kids,’ Coulson said. And something in the way he said it gave me pause. He knew already. There was a little bit of pleasure in his tone and in the slight twist of his lips.

‘How do you know?’ I asked, frowning.

‘Goodness me,’ said Coulson with a camp little grimace. ‘You got me.’ Then he grew serious. ‘What does it matter. I’m going to end you two as well.’ His smile was tight, baring a set of stained and broken teeth, the light in his eyes a flare of danger. ‘She always was a mouthy cow.’

‘Wait,’ Thomas said. ‘You killed Elsa?’

‘Well, I went back, didn’t I? The old man said no loose ends.’ He said like someone reporting that they’d taken some trash to the local dump.

‘What did you do to her?’ I asked.

‘It was quite easy to set up, really. I take it the police had it down as an accident?’

‘You bastard.’ With a roar Thomas was on his feet and propelling himself the short distance at Coulson. But in his damaged state he was no match for the older man. In moments, Thomas was on his back on the floor and Coulson was astride him, hands around his neck. Squeezing for all he was worth.

The vase. It had a heavy glass base. Without thought, but with every bit of malice I owned, I picked it up and brought the thick glass end crashing down on the back of Coulson’s head. And I was back in the woods, with Paul, striking him with the stick and exalting in the loss of control, feeling stronger than I ever had, feeling I’d at last taken some power back.

Coulson fell on top of Thomas and between us we managed to flop his slack body to the floor – it was as if every muscle in his body had been switched off.

‘Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,’ I intoned, bending over him while making sure not one part of me touched any part of him. ‘Is he dead?’

‘I fucking hope so,’ said Thomas as he got to his feet. He staggered a little before righting himself.

‘Fuck. I’ve just killed someone. Fuck.’ I felt as if I was outside my body. Numb. And hot. And drenched in sweat. My pulse was a metronomic thump battering through every cell in my body.

‘John. John. John!’ Thomas was in my face. He shook me. ‘We have to go.’ He shook me again, more violently this time, and this brought me back to myself.

‘Jesus. What do we do? We should call the police.’

‘Not happening, brother.’ He bent over the body, and checked Coulson’s neck. ‘Still a pulse.’

I breathed out. ‘Thank you, God.’ Then. ‘We should call an ambulance. Say we just arrived and found him like this?’

‘And why are we here? Two total strangers just popping by on the off-chance we can make a friend? Get real, John. No one can know why we were here. And anyway, he got what was coming to him.’ He bent down and picked up the vase in one hand and the hammer in the other. ‘We’ll get over to the ferry at Hunter’s Quay and phone in for an ambulance from there, if that makes you feel better.’

I nodded. I could see the sense in what Thomas was saying. We didn’t want to be associated with this, but neither did I want to be responsible for the man’s death.

‘What are you doing with them?’ I asked, nodding at the vase and hammer.

‘Evidence,’ he shrugged. ‘In case the bastard dies, we’ll drop them over the side of the ferry into the Clyde. No murder weapon. Less chance they catch us.’

At the thought of being caught by the police I winced. ‘We need to wipe everything we touched.’

‘Yeah,’ Thomas nodded. ‘I like the way you’re thinking. Cool head in a crisis. Who would have thought it?’ he said, and we set to work.

Outside the house, on the doorstep, I rubbed vigorously at the door handle with my sleeve. Then we both scanned the surroundings to see if anyone might see us. There was no one about, thankfully.

‘We were never here,’ Thomas said.

‘Never happened.’

I shuddered at the memory of me wielding that vase as if it was an axe. Hearing again that thump as it connected with Coulson’s head. It was either him or us, I told myself. I turned towards my car, pushing my hands deeper into my pockets as if burying my shame over my all but forgotten capacity for violence.