‘You’re right,’ says Katie, cutting him off, certain Markham was going to reveal the truth about Maclean’s death to the superintendent, ‘like my dad – I’m very keen to do what’s best for your family.’
‘Whereas Nathan…’ Markham starts up again, his voice uncertain for just a moment, ‘Nathan wants to live out the pages of that wonderful journal of his I found. God, it’s so much better than his mum’s work. It feels so real. And, of course, it could so easily be real.’ He draws in a long, nasal breath. ‘Come on, Nathan, you wouldn’t believe how liberating it feels.’
‘Is that what you do it for, the liberation?’ says Katie.
‘That and the immortality. You’ve seen the press. Hell, you started the press. I’m “The Cartoonist”! I don’t have to hide away anymore, no name, no family, no reason to hide who I am. It’s all out there now for the whole world to enjoy.’
‘Are you going to come out for us to enjoy?’ she says before she can stop herself, the blood-soaked image of a slashed throat flashing up in her mind, her hand on her neck where the chocolate icing had been, where the knife might have been. And then there are the girls, and Felix and little Tate, still smiling, still fuelling her rage.
‘That’s more like it, detective,’ says Markham. ‘What about Nathan, though? Not hearing anything from him. You sure he’s okay? He doesn’t look too good, slumped down on the steps like that.’
Katie and Taylor’s eyes are scanning the trees in the distance, but her instinct tells her they’re wasting their time.
‘I hope that poor lad doesn’t go the way of his mother. Nasty business that was, to leave two young ’uns without so much as a word. Well, without those few words and a silly little photo. I mean, it’s fair enough if an individual like myself decides it’s time for Mum to go, but…’
Katie is only aware that Nathan’s risen when she feels the phone being snatched from her hand.
‘How did you know about that photo?’
‘Don’t you forget, lad, that I know everything. You, on the other hand, seem to know nowt.’
‘Where is my brother?!!’ he screams. ‘I swear, if you touch another fucking hair on his head, I will, I will…’ There is saliva hanging from the corner of Nathan’s mouth as the phone slips from his fingers.
‘There you are,’ says Markham, with the same emotionless delivery. ‘I knew it was in you. Your book described all that wonderful potential. And don’t you worry – you couldn’t put all that hate into words. Trust me, action is far more important, and far more fun. I think you’d find it easy, too. I bet if I came over there now there wouldn’t be no hesitation.’
‘Why don’t we see if that’s true,’ says Katie.
‘Part of me would love to, lassie. It would be worth risking death to see the same excitement in someone else’s eyes. But I think I’ve played with you two for long enough. It’s time for me to head for new horizons.’
‘What about Christian?’ Nathan shouts, his grip tightening again.
‘Do you really need me to spell it out for you?’
‘No,’ says Katie, grabbing the phone back and ending the call.
‘What have you done?’ says Nathan, with a disbelieving stare. ‘What the fuck have you done?’ He raises an arm as though he’s about to strike her, then something seems to switch off behind his eyes and he stumbles backwards and falls heavily to the floor. She wants to rush forward and grab him, to whisper in his ear and convince him that she’s not the cold-hearted bitch he must think she is, but the superintendent has blocked her path.
‘Your career is over, DI Rhodes,’ he says, holding her stare.
‘Has been for a while,’ she says, with a sigh.
‘But why would you…? Why?’
Katie draws herself upright and keeps her voice nice and steady. ‘He was giving us nothing.’
Taylor grabs her roughly by the arm, mouthing, what about his brother?
‘Do I have to spell it out?’
‘How can you be like this?’ says the superintendent, and again something inside of her starts to slip. ‘If we’d kept him talking he might have made a mistake.’
‘He doesn’t make mistakes,’ she says, certain this is true. The last piece of the puzzle had not been given by accident. Nathan would have spotted it too if he hadn’t been so distracted. She knows she shouldn’t keep it to herself, it’s exactly what ‘The Cartoonist’ would want, but that stubbornness is rising inside of her again; the need to get the result, no matter what the cost. Only this time it’s not just about catching a killer – it’s about creating a future that both she and Nathan can live with. ‘You heard him,’ she continues. ‘Every word carefully delivered. No emotion. No slip-ups. He knew exactly what he was doing.’
Superintendent Taylor shakes his head, but the anger is leaving him, only to be replaced by resignation and fatigue. He looks his age: the same age as her dad. ‘So, what next?’ he asks, reaching down to pick up his hat and weakly dusting it off with the back of his hand.
‘Not my problem,’ she says. ‘My career is over. I’m going up to see my dad.’
She turns her back on him and walks away, not once looking over her shoulder, stopping only very briefly in the doorway to the care home to order PC Kieran Smith – who hasn’t heard their conversation – not to take his eyes off Nathan.
* * *
Five minutes later and she’s kneeling next to her dad’s chair, lightly holding his hand. She’d needed to say goodbye first, just in case she didn’t get another chance. She also needed to express her intent out loud, as if that might help to make it real.
‘I’m going to kill him,’ she says. ‘For Nathan. And for you.’
She believes for a moment that she might have seen a response, the tiniest twitch to tell her he’s listening, but she’s been fooled that way many times before. She gets up and walks slowly to the window, the very window her dad had been looking out of when he’d let his own confession slip out. As she stands there, leaning heavily on the sill, she turns back to the remaining doubts, to the reason she hasn’t yet left. Is it selfish to risk so many lives to try and protect just two? Is it possible without anyone else ever finding out? Doesn’t an attempt to kill and never get caught make her the same as the monsters she hunts? At this point, it seems she’s unable to resist. She takes another look at her dad, picturing him all those years ago telling Markham he could walk away. Perhaps it’s in her nature. Perhaps it’s in her blood.
A movement in the car park below catches her eye. Everywhere police cars and officers are racing in and out, but this is different; it’s steady, it’s calm, as is the face looking up at her. Martin Coates offers a nod and a comforting smile, and she steps quickly back, as if he might somehow have read her thoughts and understand what she’s about to do. Then she steps forward again, realising that his presence might be exactly what she needs. The carer can help her see things more clearly, just as he had done before a drunken night ruined everything. She’s never felt more sober than she feels right now, and just a few words from him might make all the difference, guiding her away from such a reckless plan.
She heads for the door, stopping very briefly to kiss her dad on the top of his head, reminded, not for the first time, of how the tables have turned. Each time he left for work when she was a child he used to stop and kiss her on the top of the head and tell her he’d be back before she knew it.
* * *
She heads down the stairs and through the fire exit. She doesn’t want to be seen by anyone, not yet, not until she’s come to her final decision. The closer she gets to Martin the more convinced she is that she won’t go through with her plan; she’s not going to risk everything for the sake of two people. She feels a sudden sense of guilt, like she’s cheating on Nathan, like she’s deserting her dad.
She makes it to the car park without being spotted by any of her colleagues. At first she thinks she may have missed Martin, but then he appears from alongside a large black saloon car.