is he?’
Terry turned to face me. I saw that his denim jacket was covered in stains, and the sides of his shoes were splitting where his feet were forcing their way out.
‘Don’t you fucking know, arsehole?’ He launched spittle onto his chin when he said this, as his head bobbed and shook.
I grinned. Drunks like him didn’t bother me. He wanted to talk. The booze had just made him forget how. ‘You tell me, arsehole,’ I said.
Terry stared at me, in that way that drunks always do, concentrating too hard. He swayed and his feet shuffled slightly on the steps as he tried to steady himself.
‘Fucking King’s boy.’ He said it with a snarl. ‘That cunt owes me.’
‘King?’
Terry turned back, his teeth bared in anger. ‘Aye, fucking King. Jimmy King, whatever, bullshit fucker.’ He clenched his fist, looked like he was going to punch something. ‘He owes me, fucking owes me.’
I became alert. I knew of Jimmy King. Local businessman with a bad reputation turned into a pillar of society. Respectable. And his son was being escorted to the police station. Now, there was a story.
‘What’s his name? The son?’
Terry grinned at me. ‘Luke,’ he said slowly, relishing the sound. ‘Remember that name.’
I smiled at Terry and went for a walk, just to see where they were going.
Sam paused for a moment, surprised, not sure he’d heard Luke right. It sounded cold, like they were just words. ‘Don’t tell me any more.’
Luke shook his head, his eyes wide now, staring into Sam’s. ‘No, you’ve got to know. I did it. I killed the girl. And do you know what? I enjoyed it.’
Sam tried to pull away, but Luke’s grip was surprisingly tight, strong.
‘And do you know what else?’
‘Enough,’ said Sam, his irritation coming out in a hiss. ‘I don’t need to know this. Not yet.’
‘I’m going to do it again.’
Sam gave his wrist a yank and pulled it away.
Luke stepped in closer. ‘I’m going to keep on until someone catches me,’ he said, his mouth curled in a grin. ‘How will that make you sleep?’
Sam was stunned, quiet, not knowing what to say, when Luke walked away from him. He was heading for the steps, then he turned around.
‘C’mon, Mr Nixon. It is Mr Nixon, isn’t it? Not Sam?’ He smiled. ‘Catch up. The police want to speak to me.’
And with that, he stepped up onto the last step and went into the police station.
Sam looked around, back at the drunks outside the courtroom. Terry McKay lifted his hand, gave Sam a nod, but there was little warmth in it.
Sam realised then that he had no option. He had to follow his client into the police station. It’s what he did. That had always been his choice.
Harry and Jimmy stood at the office window and watched Sam walk towards the police station with Luke. When they went out of view, the men didn’t speak. Jimmy tugged at his shirt cuffs and turned away. When he sat down, he crossed his legs and waited for Harry to join him. He watched Harry as he went back to his desk. Jimmy’s head was still but his eyes tracked Harry’s movement.
Harry sat down and swallowed.
‘Can we trust Sam?’ asked Jimmy.
Harry nodded slowly. ‘He came from the gutter, so he knows how far the drop is. He won’t want to go back.’
Jimmy scowled. ‘It’s even further for us, Harry, so you’d better be right, for your own sake.’
Harry didn’t respond. He looked down at his desk and clasped his hands together. He didn’t look up again until Jimmy had left the room.
Laura looked through the glass in the waiting-room door. Egan was behind her.
‘Is that him?’ she asked, nodding towards the lanky kid in the bad suit. He had someone with him. A taller man in a suit. Short hair, flashes of grey around the temples. ‘Jimmy King’s boy?’
Egan nodded. ‘That’d be my guess.’ He sounded terse, his plan to covertly observe Luke King thrown away by the unexpected visit. The boy was either playing a dangerous game, or he was innocent. Egan pointed through the glass. ‘And he’s brought his lawyer. Sam Nixon’s not here to carry his sandwiches.’
‘Is Nixon any good?’
Egan smiled. ‘None of them is good. They’re just different shades of shifty.’
Laura looked back through the glass. She knew that most police officers didn’t like lawyers, but she knew something else as well: that when they got into trouble themselves, drink driving or with expenses fiddles, they always went to the trickiest defence lawyers in town.
As Laura looked through the glass, she put Eric Randle to the back of her mind. He had once been arrested for murder, but not convicted. And the scene in the waiting room now made the whole picture look rather different.
‘Maybe it’s not all bad,’ said Laura. ‘After all, not many witnesses come to see the police with a brief. But why come at all? And how did he know?’
Egan’s lips twitched at that. ‘I don’t know, but if there’s a leak, I’ll find it.’
Laura went to press the button to release the security lock, but stopped when she felt Egan’s hand over hers.
‘Let’s make him sweat for a while first,’ he said. He left his hand there.
Laura pulled her hand away, and she saw that Egan was smiling. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Saved by the bell. As she brought it out, she saw it was a message from Jack. ‘Is Luke King there anything to do with you?’
She shook her head and sighed. He didn’t miss a trick.
Sam felt edgy as he waited in the police station. He sat on an old orange seat, hard plastic bolted to a hard tiled floor, and he shifted about as he tried to get comfortable. A bored desk assistant trapped behind glass took details of driving documents as people brought them in. Sam watched her, just to avoid Luke’s conversation. He had been told too much already.
Sam knew he had to get Luke out of the police station, but Luke didn’t seem interested in that. He hadn’t said anything since the confession. Instead, Luke sat silently, the tapping of his foot on the floor the only noise. It sounded nervous, but whenever Sam looked across, the boy looked calm, almost happy.
Sam had told him only one thing: say nothing.
