Chapter 8

Several hours later, on the old bridge, he jerks his head at the two men by him. “Over he goes.”

The screaming from inside the sacking rises to a wailing shriek, but regardless, the body is lifted up and over the bridge railings, then pushed.

There is a receding howl and a splash.

Klempner brushes his palms together. His tone brisk and cheerful, “Well, that's that sorted out. Now let's go and deal with her.”

*****

The Present - James

Michael leans back in his seat, fingers clasped behind his neck. “So, Frank, what exactly did you see? When you say that Klempner murdered Charlotte.. Sorry, Jenny, here.”

Conners blinking, “Um, who are are you?”

“I'm Michael, Jenny's husband.”

Mitch breaks in. “We have a son-in-law, Frank.” She smiles brightly and Conners’ face goes slack again.

“I saw him kill her. He shot her in the head and then threw the body to one side as though she was garbage.”

“Perhaps it was a different baby you saw?” I suggest.

“How close were you?” asks Michael.

Conners shrugs. “Not very close.” He looks to Mitch. “Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t her.”

Mitch stutters. “But... But you were chained up. You were only feet away. You must have recognised her. And it was her. I’d seen her from above. I heard her. Larry had Jenny. You'd have known Jenny from another baby. Any other baby.”

Conners is reddening up, spluttering. “Could have been wrong. They’d beaten me up…” His words are incoherent; nonsense. “Anyone can make a mistake…”

"A mistake? About something like this?"

Michael’s face is expressionless. Facing the man square on, “You're lying, Mr Conners. Why are you lying to us?”

His face scarlet, streaming sweat, Conners falls silent.

Mitch lays a hand on his arm. “Frank? What is it? Tell me.”

I break in. “You wanted Mitch to think Jenny was dead?”

Mitch swivels, stares at me, then swivels back, stares at him. “You lied?” she whispers. “You lied? About something like that? You made me believe my daughter was dead?”

He stutters, stammers. “I… I did it for you. I knew that if you thought she was alive you’d want to go after her…”

Mitch stands, rising from her seat like an angel ready to call fire down from Heaven. “Go after her? Go after her? Fucking right I’d have gone after her. My baby. I came after you, didn’t I?”

She raises fingers to her temples, walks, circling the room, stops, then levels a finger at him. “You didn’t do it for me. You did it to save your own skin. You coward.” Her voice is rising. “You weak-willed, piss-poor excuse for a man! You let Larry, a man like that, take our baby and you lied to me about it!”

Conners stands too, teeth bared, eyes bulging. “Your fucking baby! Not ours. Yours. And his. Do you think I’m stupid? That I can’t count? ‘Premature’ my ass. She was his. You tried to pass her off as mine… Putting my name on the birth certificate. But she was his. Is his. Let him fucking have her.”

Mitch shrieks at him. “She was a baby. An innocent. What had she ever done to you? You bastard! You absolute unutterable bastard. You took my daughter from me and left her with a man like that. I'd told you what he was like. And you saw it yourself. And you…” Her voice breaks and she starts sobbing. “You made me leave her behind.”

She turns to Charlotte. “We could have been together. All these years, we would have been together. Had each other. I could have watched you grow up…” She spins back to Conners, screaming at him. “And you stole that from me!”

Conners whirls on Charlotte who, through all this, has stood, watching, like a stone save for the vein pulsing at her throat. “Get out. You're not wanted here. Get out!”

He raises a fist but Charlotte straightens up, faces him, her knuckles bunching but both Michael and I step between them. “Don't even fucking think about it,” I say.

“Raise a hand to her,” says Michael, “and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Mitch, tears streaming, “Jenny, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but you’d better go.”

“I’ll be back.” Charlotte scrabbles in her pocket, pulls out a scrap of paper, scribbles on it and thrusts it into Mitch's hand. “Call me.”

I hook my arm through hers, “Charlotte, come with me.” She resists. “Charlotte.”

Still she refuses to move…

Not the time for an argument…

Braceletting her wrist with my hand, I pull her to the door. “You’re coming, like it or not.” Michael follows. Behind us, Mitch alternates between weeping and screaming.

The door closes behind us, the latch dropping, but from behind us, clearly audible, “How could you, you bastard? How could you…”

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that, you bitch. You were the one doing all the lying. Lying all these years. You knew she was…”

“She’s my daughter and you made me leave her…” The last word ends on a shriek, then a thump and a scream. “Frank, no!”

“My business ruined. One fucking dead-end job after another. No money. You fucked up my life, you bitch!”

The next door along opens and a head pokes out; an old lady with blue-rinse hair and a face like a wrinkled apple. She takes us in with gimlet eyes then, “Don’t mind me. I hear this too often. When I do, I leave my door open so she can run in here ‘til the whiskey’s worn off.”

From inside, another yell and a thump.

“That’s enough,” Michael mutters. “I’m not having this.” He turns back, knocks on the door. “Mitch, open the door. It's Michael again.”

There's a shout, a male shout; a scream, a female scream; a cry of pain, cut short by a bang.

“Open up!” He bangs his fist on the wood. “Open the fucking door.” He stands back, kicks. The door caves and gives but stays stubbornly closed. From beyond, footsteps then the rasp of a bolt being drawn.

Michael kicks again. Still the door holds. “Mitch, open the door!” He pounds on the timber, fist hammering. Still nothing.

Red-faced, eye white-rimmed. “Out of the way.”

Hastily, realising his intention, I stand back, tugging Charlotte with me. He moves back a few feet from the door, takes a step, then charges full-belt at the door.

It gives under him. Timber squeaks and metal whines. Rubbing at his shoulder he steps back and charges again. This time it opens, first bouncing then crashing open as Michael barrels forward.

*****