Page 121 of D for Dead

As he left the room, she looked over to her father who’d remained quiet through the whole episode. His lips were pulled in a tight line, his jaw twitching, a sign Rebecca knew meant he was irritated. Unlike her mom, he tended to shy away from drama, preferring a quiet life. The way he was looking at her made Rebecca feel as though she was sixteen again.

‘Um, Dad, I’m sorry I…’

‘I don’t want to hear it, Rebecca. Alan is the one you should be apologising to. You should go find him. I’ll get your mother to give you a call tomorrow when she has cooled down.’

He paused by her, as he started to walk out of the room, touched her arm and started to say something, before changing his mind. Instead he just shook his head and left. Wendy was hot on his heels with Keith trotting after her. She always had been the goody two shoes and deep down probably loved that this would earn her extra brownie points with their parents.

Jess caught Rebecca’s hand, squeezed it. ‘It’ll blow over. Give it a few days. I told Mom this was a really stupid idea.’

That was her older sister, so laid-back and optimistic. Rebecca just hoped she was right.

* * *

He whistled cheerfully as he made his way to the storage unit. Everything was going to plan; the pieces all falling into place. Once inside, and certain he hadn’t been seen, he hit the light and closed the door, before popping the lid on the trunk.

He went about feeding the man inside. It was McDonalds again; a little repetitive and not good for a regular diet, but in this case it was of no consequence. Fast food burgers wouldn’t be the death of him.

The man ate and drank greedily. The first time he had struggled, trying to escape. Now he realised it was futile and, as his strength waned and his body cramped in the small trunk, he was reliant upon the one meal a day, knowing he needed it to keep him alive.

Not that being alive was a mercy. The trunk was beginning to stink, filled with the pungent odours of sweat, urine and faeces. With the warm June weather it must be hell being locked up all day in such a confined space, but he couldn’t risk taking the man outside to go to the bathroom. Besides, it wouldn’t be for much longer. Soon it would be time to move this player into position. The years of careful planning all came down to this.

The game was about to move to a new level.

35

‘I killed someone.’

Amy wasn’t expecting that. She took a large sip of wine, studied Sullivan’s face, expecting him to smirk, tell her he was kidding, but he didn’t.

‘Okay, but you’re a cop. You killed a bad guy, right?’ When he didn’t answer, she reached out, grabbed hold of his hand. ‘What happened?’

‘I was a rookie, couple of years into the job, and my partner and I were first responders to a domestic. It was an address we were familiar with. Bruce Corbin and his wife, Loretta, lived there. Bruce worked construction. He was an okay guy when he was sober, but he had a temper, and a jealous streak. Add alcohol to the mix and he became paranoid, violent.

‘We’d gone to his address before. He would have a few beers, use Loretta as a punching bag, we’d get a call from the neighbours, show up, arrest him and he’d sleep it off in the cells. Next morning Loretta always turned up begging us to release him. She’d claim she’d fallen or walked into a door. We tried to get her to press charges, but she wouldn’t consider it.’

Amy knew the type. She’d had a friend at college who’d been beaten up on by her boyfriend, had refused to accept his actions, preferring to blame herself every time he hit her. She understood Sullivan’s frustration, but also the woman’s perspective. David had never been physically violent towards her, but he had been mentally abusive, slowly wearing her down. She had been strong enough to tell him to leave, but she’d had to build the strength up to do it. It hadn’t been an overnight decision.

‘So what happened? Bruce Corbin – he’s the one you killed, right?’

Sullivan didn’t answer her; instead he gave a hand a slight squeeze before continuing.

‘So, Christmas Eve ’97, dispatch gets a call. It’s Corbin’s neighbour. Bruce has been drinking and there are screams coming from inside the house. I’m on patrol with my partner and we’re closest, so we take the call. We pull up out front and as we’re getting out of the car there’s a gunshot.

‘We radio for backup. They tell us to wait, say another car is on its way. But then there’s a scream and my partner, Denny, he doesn’t think there’s time to wait. Corbin has a couple of young kids. If he’s drunk and waving a gun around the situation could turn bad fast. I was with him all the way. Back then I was reckless, too cocksure. I wanted to be the hero, take him down and save the day.’

He smiled bitterly, looking annoyed at himself for who he had once been.

Huckleberry brushed past Amy’s leg. He stopped by Sullivan, settling down by his feet.

‘So you went in the house? I don’t think that was stupid. You put yourself in a dangerous situation to try and help someone. I think you were both very brave.’

‘Okay then, brave and stupid. We’d been told to wait. They tell you that for a reason. We should have followed procedure.’

‘What happened when you went inside?’

‘Denny knew Corbin. He took the front door, saying he’d try and reason with him, while I went round back. We figured if he tried anything stupid I’d have the element of surprise. I came in through the kitchen, could hear Denny and Corbin arguing. Denny was trying to persuade him to put down the gun, but Bruce was a mean drunk, and he wasn’t listening. Loretta was screaming and then there was another gunshot. Bruce was yelling, sobbing, and Loretta had gone quiet. As I turned the corner I could see Loretta lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

‘Denny was reaching for his sidearm, still trying to reason with him, pull him away from the body, when Bruce turned and punched him in the face. The gun went flying. I had my weapon drawn; I told him to drop the gun. He moved quickly, had Denny in a headlock and the gun pointed at his temple.’