Mika raised her head and tutted. ‘I am an idiot. They were always talking to you. You’re the boss at Soteria.’
Kaiden nodded.
‘I was honest with you. Let you in. I feel betrayed. Don’t you feel betrayed Don?’
‘He’s grassed us up,’ said Don.
‘No, I didn’t … I wouldn’t,’ said Kaiden.
‘What did you say to that boy?’ asked Mika.
‘Nothing. I didn’t … you can trust me.’
‘He’s talking fucking bollocks,’ said Don.
‘Obviously, ’Mika said with a smile. She left the balcony.
‘Mika, please. Let me—’
Kaiden stumbled back as Don’s fist connected with his face, his nose breaking instantly. He screamed out as Don grabbed him by his shoulders, spun him around and punched him in the faceagain. Kaiden fell heavily against the bookcase and slid down to the floor. He felt warm blood drip down his face. Through his blurry vision he saw Mika pick up his mobile phone from the dining table.
‘No,’ Kaiden groaned as Don grabbed him by his feet and dragged him out towards the balcony. He twisted his body and grabbed the door frame. He screamed out, praying that his voice would be heard above the sound of drum and bass escaping from his neighbour’s window. He cried out for a second time as Mika kicked his hands repeatedly until he let go. Don released Kaiden’s legs and there was a crash as he kicked out. Kaiden’s foot connected with a large monstera plant, toppling it. He tried to get up, but Don pushed him down and punched him for a third time. Kaiden’s head spun as waves of concussion seeped into his brain. Don grabbed him by the waist but Kaiden was too weak to fight his way out of the macabre embrace. Don groaned and lifted him onto the balcony wall. There was a fleeting moment when Kaiden’s eyes caught a plane crossing the night sky as the crescent of the new moon rose in the east and fire engine sirens played a dying symphony on their way to an emergency. He stretched out his hand, his fingertips brushing against the balcony wall as Don pushed him over. Kaiden screamed. The air whipped around his face as he thrashed him arms, willing himself to fly. He didn’t hit the ground straight away. His neck connected first with the edge of the large communal wastebin and broke instantly. Kaiden was dead before he hit the cracked concrete.
44
‘Did you know that they used to hold executions here?’ Stanford asked, pointing at the entrance of HMP Manchester which, despite the name change more than thirty years ago was still referred to as Strangeways. ‘Had its own execution chamber and everything.’
‘I’ll try to remember that if I’m ever a contestant onWho Wants to Be a Millionaire,’ Eastwood replied. She raised her arms and stretched. ‘You can drive back. My back is fucked.’
‘Gladly. The sooner we get this job done and get back to London the better. Did I ever tell you that Gene wanted us to move up here a few years ago? He went to Manchester University and, according to him, those were the best years of his life.’
‘Aww, bless him. He’s got all of those lovely memories and now he has to wake up to your ugly mug every morning.’
‘Do you know what, Eastie, you’re very lucky that I don’t have self-esteem problems.’
‘No, you just have “I’m a snooty Southerner who doesn’t like to go north of the M25” problems,’ Eastwood said, opening her bag and pulling out the letter from the governor of HMP Manchester authorising their prison visits to see Gareth Humphreys and Karim Messenger.
‘I hope this doesn’t end up being a wild-goose chase,’ said Stanford. ‘This case is already doing a number on my head.’
‘It’s the scalping, isn’t it?’ Eastwood said, lowering her voice. ‘It takesthis case to a completely different level and the people doing it. They’re beyond wicked.’
‘Excuse me, Detective Sergeants Stanford and Eastwood here. Met Police,’ Stanford called through the speech panel on the reception desk.
A few seconds later a man appeared at the desk. Eastwood pushed their warrant cards and authorisation letter through the service hatch.
The receptionist wordlessly turned his back and walked to his desk at the end of the room.
‘Bloody hell, you wouldn’t think we had a murderer to catch, would you?’ Stanford huffed.
‘What’s wrong with you? I know we had to leave at the crack of dawn.’
‘We left before that.’
‘Whatever. As Henley would say, you spent most of the drive-up with a screwed face.’
Stanford leaned his head back and sighed. ‘We got a call from the social workers yesterday.’
‘Has the adoption fallen through?’ said Eastwood, reaching for Stanford’s hand.
