CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Amy Pike did not cry when she saw her father.
Leah respected her for that.
Not because crying would have made her weak.
Because Gareth had spent enough of Amy's life treating her emotions like instructions.
The hospital outside York had turned one private room into something halfway between a ward and a custody suite. NCA officers sat outside. Gareth had undergone surgery. The bullet had missed his liver, clipped muscle and left him with tubes, monitors and one wrist cuffed to the bed.
Amy stood at the foot of it.
Owen waited by the window.
Leah stayed near the door because Calder had asked her to be present and because Drew had refused to come.
Gareth opened his eyes.
"Amy."
She held up one hand.
"No."
He stopped.
"Don't use my name yet."
Gareth looked smaller without the cut.
Leah had expected that.
She had not expected how much older he looked.
Amy took a breath.
"I need you to answer one question."
"Anything."
"Why did you go back to Renn?"
Gareth looked toward Owen.
Amy snapped her fingers once.
"Me. Look at me."
He did.
"Why?"
"Because he said he could make it stop."
"For who?"
"All of us."
"Wrong answer."
Gareth swallowed.
The heart monitor increased by three beats.
Amy stepped closer.
"You said you sent routes to Venn because of me. You met Rigg because of me. You lied to Drew because of me. You handed Daniel over because of me. Every time you were frightened, you put my face on it and called it protection."
"I was trying to keep you alive."
"I was alive before you started."
That landed.
Owen looked down.
Gareth said, "You don't understand what those men do."
Amy laughed once.
No humour.
"I was kidnapped twice this week. I have a working knowledge."
Leah almost smiled.
Gareth closed his eyes.
Amy continued.
"Drew took the club."
His eyes opened.
"Temporarily."
"Doesn't matter. It's not yours."
"Amy—"
"Still no."
He stopped.
She moved to the side of the bed.
"Tell the truth without me in it. Why did you do it?"
Gareth stared at the ceiling.
For a long time, the only sound was the monitor.
Then he spoke.
"I didn't know who I was without North End."
Amy's face changed.
Not forgiveness.
Relief, perhaps, because the truth was finally ugly in the correct direction.
Gareth continued.
"Dad built it. When he died, everyone looked at me. I solved every problem by making the club bigger—more routes, more money, more people owing us. Then Hale and Venn owned half of what I thought was mine. Daniel came back. Drew stopped cleaning up after me."
Owen said, "Drew stopped cleaning up after you."
Gareth looked at his brother.
"Maybe."
Amy leaned closer.
"And Renn?"
Gareth's voice was quieter.
"He offered me the chair back."
There it was.
Leah watched Amy absorb it.
No daughter.
No protection.
A chair.
Amy nodded.
"Thank you."
Gareth frowned.
"For what?"
"For finally not blaming me."
She turned and walked out.
Gareth called after her.
"Amy."
This time she stopped.
He looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
She stood in the doorway.
"Good."
Then left.
No forgiveness.
Leah respected that too.
Owen stayed.
Gareth looked at him.
"You voted?"
"Yeah."
"Against me?"
"Yeah."
Gareth nodded slowly.
"Dad would hate that."
Owen looked at the hospital floor.
"Dad's been dead a long time. Maybe we should stop letting him vote."
Leah left them alone.
Drew was in the corridor leaning against a vending machine with two coffees.
He handed her one.
"How bad?"
"She was excellent."
"And Gareth?"
"Finally told the truth."
Drew looked through the small glass panel in the door.
"That's new."
"He admitted he went back because Renn offered him North End."
Drew breathed once through his nose.
"Amy okay?"
"Ask her."
"I did. She told me to stop asking if she's okay."
"Then she's definitely okay enough to be Amy."
His mouth moved.
"Fair."
Leah took the coffee.
"Daniel?"
"Other end of the corridor. Doctors stitched him. Apparently he has opinions about hospital food."
"Shocking."
"Michael's awake too."
That removed the humour.
Leah looked at her coffee.
"Calder said."
"You going in?"
"Eventually."
"Professional avoidance?"
"Family tradition."
Drew understood enough not to push.
He went to Daniel first.
His brother sat upright in bed despite instructions not to. A clean dressing covered the shoulder. Someone had found him a black T-shirt and jeans. His face still carried bruises from Gareth and Renn's men.
He looked infuriatingly alive.
Drew closed the door.
Daniel glanced up.
"President."
"Acting."
"Even worse."
Drew sat in the chair beside the bed.
"How much did you know?"
Daniel's smile disappeared.
"About Gareth?"
"About all of it. Leah being put inside North End. Michael being alive. Venn. Hale. Me being the person you used to pull half the threads together. Pick one."
Daniel stared at his hands.
"More than I told you. Less than you think."
"Convenient."
"True."
Drew leaned forward.
"You don't get to come back from the dead and start deciding my life again."
Daniel looked at him.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"I learned it yesterday when you took Gareth's club before you came to get me."
Drew almost laughed.
"You angry?"
"Proud."
That was worse.
Drew looked away.
Daniel said, "Dad would have hated it."
"Owen said the same about Mick Pike."
"Dead fathers have a lot of opinions this week."
"Apparently."
Silence settled.
Daniel broke it.
"I'm sorry."
Drew looked back.
"For which bit?"
"Making you bury me."
The words hit harder than expected.
Daniel continued.
"I told myself staying dead protected you. Then each year made coming back harder. Once Hale started watching the family, the excuse even became true. I still used it to keep going."
Drew thought of Gareth.
Amy.
Protection becoming permission.
"Sounds familiar."
Daniel nodded.
"I noticed."
"And Leah?"
Daniel hesitated.
Drew saw it.
"What?"
"Ask Michael."
Drew stood.
"Daniel."
"I mean it. That part isn't mine to tell."
Drew stared at him.
"If you've hidden another dead person, I'm going to be annoyed."
Daniel smiled faintly.
"No dead people."
"Low bar."
"This week? Very high bar."
Drew left before he said something he could not take back.
Leah was already in Michael's room.
Her father looked worse than Gareth.
The gunshot from the maintenance shed had required surgery and a transfusion. His skin had the pale grey of someone who had spent years hiding and then chosen the least convenient week to stop.
Leah sat beside the bed.
Michael looked at her.
"You have your mother's angry face."
"Mum's angry face involved throwing plates."
"True."
"Don't romanticise this."
"Wasn't."
She folded her arms.
"When you're fit, Calder interviews you under caution. You tell her everything."
"Yes."
Leah waited.
He did not add a condition.
That surprised her.
"How much prison?" she asked.
"Depends how charitable the Crown feels about a corrupt detective who spent sixteen years collecting evidence while still committing enough offences to require a spreadsheet."
"Not very?"
"Probably not."
"Good."
Michael smiled.
"There she is."
Leah's eyes stung.
She hated him for making that happen.
"I don't need you to be innocent."
His smile disappeared.
"I know."
"I need you to stop editing yourself into one of the good men."
Michael stared at the blanket.
"I was dirty before I was useful."
Leah said nothing.
"Hale caught me taking money from a port contact—information, missing evidence, cash that never reached a property bag. By the time I understood his network, I was already owned. Mick gave me the ledger because he thought shame might finally make me useful."
"Did it?"
"Eventually."
"Sixteen years eventually."
"Yes."
Leah stood.
Michael watched her.
"There's something else."
She stopped.
Daniel's hesitation returned in her mind.
"What?"
Michael looked toward the door.
"Not here."
"Dad."
The word hurt less this time.
"Leah. I need to be certain first."
She laughed in disbelief.
"You have had sixteen years to be certain."
"About this, I haven't."
She walked out before she could throw the water jug.
Drew was waiting.
"Bad?"
"He's alive."
"Not what I asked."
"Then yes."
He took her hand.
No speech.
No attempt to solve it.
That helped more than speeches ever had.
Four hours later they were in a hotel Calder had arranged because apparently the NCA had decided anonymous serviced apartments were now unlucky.
The room had beige walls, one framed photograph of a bridge and a bed too large for two people pretending they were going to sleep.
Leah stood by the window removing the tape from her shoulder.
Drew came out of the bathroom wearing only jeans.
She looked at him.
"That seems deliberate."
"What?"
"No shirt."
"It was wet."
"There are towels."
"Didn't trust them."
"Of course not. Small assassins?"
"Exactly."
She laughed.
It surprised both of them.
Drew crossed the room.
The humour went first.
Then the distance.
He touched the side of her neck.
"Tell me if you want to be alone."
"I have been alone all day."
"You've been surrounded by people."
"Exactly."
She kissed him.
Hard.
No hesitation this time.
His hand slid into her hair and pulled her closer. Leah felt the whole week in the kiss: fear, anger, too little sleep, too many dead men becoming alive and too many living men behaving like ghosts.
She pushed him backward until his legs hit the bed.
Drew looked at her.
"Bossy."
"Temporary job title."
He smiled.
Then she pulled her shirt over her head and his smile disappeared.
His mouth found her shoulder, careful around the bruising, then lower. Leah closed her eyes as his hands moved over her waist and hips, slow only because neither of them had anything left to prove.
The first time between them had been hunger and suspicion with nowhere else to go.
This was different.
Still hungry.
Less frightened of admitting why.
She unfastened his jeans.
He caught her wrist.
"Leah."
"Don't start giving me a speech."
"Was going to say the door isn't locked."
She stared at him.
"You checked the dishwasher in an apartment that didn't have one."
"I was distracted."
"Clearly."
She locked the door.
When she turned, Drew had removed the jeans.
"Efficient," she said.
"Professionally."
She pushed him onto the bed.
The rest was heat and skin and the relief of not thinking for a few minutes.
His mouth on her. Her nails across his back.
His hand between her thighs until she bit his shoulder to keep quiet.
Then him inside her, slow at first, forehead against hers, both of them holding on harder than the movement required.
Leah wrapped her legs around him.
"Stop being careful."
His eyes met hers.
"You sure?"
"Drew."
"Right."
He stopped being careful.
The headboard hit the wall once.
Then repeatedly.
Leah started laughing halfway through and that nearly ruined them both.
"What?" he managed.
"Nothing."
"You're laughing at me."
"The bridge picture is crooked."
"Concentrate."
"Trying."
He kissed her until she stopped laughing.
Afterward she lay across his chest listening to his heartbeat slow.
His fingers moved through her hair.
"This is a terrible time to mention I'm technically police."
"Suspended."
"You remembered."
"Romantic detail."
Her phone vibrated on the floor.
They both ignored it.
It vibrated again.
Drew sighed.
"Different chain."
Leah reached down and picked it up.
Calder.
She answered without moving.
"If someone's kidnapped, I resign."
Calder said, "Venn wants to talk."
Leah sat up.
Drew watched her face.
"About what?"
"Renn's midnight load. He says the drugs are only half of it."
Leah looked at Drew.
"Where is Venn?"
"Leeds. Secure interview suite."
"We're coming."
She ended the call.
Drew looked at the ceiling.
"I knew the bridge was unlucky."
Leah pulled on her clothes.
"Move, President."
He sat up.
"Acting."
"Move, Acting President."
"Worse."
Twenty minutes later, they were back on the road.
At eleven twenty-three, Marcus Venn sat behind reinforced glass and smiled when Leah entered.
"You look tired."
She sat opposite him.
"You look arrested."
His smile faded.
Drew remained standing behind her.
Venn looked at him.
"New patch?"
"No."
"Give it time."
Leah put both hands on the table.
"Goole."
Venn leaned back.
"Renn is moving forty-three kilos of cocaine, two evidence cases of cash, six seized phones and one encrypted laptop belonging to Hale."
Calder stood in the corner with a recorder.
"Source?"
"I built the recovery route for him."
Leah stared.
Venn continued.
"Hale's system depended on police officers. Renn improved it. Private evidence contractors. Security companies. Storage firms. Half the people moving the material don't know it's dirty. They see sealed property and transfer documents."
Drew said, "Where does it go?"
"Old bonded warehouse at Goole. Midnight transfer to a Dutch workboat."
"Who buys it?"
"Redmile remnants. Plus two men from Rotterdam."
Leah frowned.
"Rigg's in custody."
"Redmile was never one man. Neither was North End."
Drew's eyes narrowed.
Venn smiled faintly.
"You understand that now."
Leah said, "What aren't you saying?"
Venn looked at her.
"Renn isn't only leaving."
"Then what?"
"He's cleaning the board."
Calder stopped writing.
Venn continued.
"At twelve ten, an anonymous call reports armed bikers robbing police evidence at Goole. North End vehicles are cloned, Redmile bikes planted, Hale's firearms left inside. Armed response arrives to dead or arrested suspects while Renn disappears."
Drew looked at Leah.
"He's framing both clubs."
"He's burying the week," Venn said. "Gang war over stolen cocaine. Missing evidence explained. Hale dead, Rigg arrested, Gareth discredited. Daniel and Michael become desperate criminals inventing a conspiracy. Leah becomes the undercover officer who lost control."
Leah's skin went cold.
"And you?"
Venn smiled without humour.
"I become the disgraced detective who acted alone."
Calder said, "Why tell us?"
"Because I dislike prison more than I dislike David Renn."
"Touching."
"Practical."
Leah stood.
Venn said her name.
She looked back.
"There's one more thing."
She waited.
"Your father knew you were going into North End."
Leah stared at him.
"Obviously. You approved the operation."
"No."
Venn leaned forward.
"Michael knew before I did."
The room went very quiet.
Drew's hand settled on the back of Leah's chair.
Venn continued.
"He asked for you."
Leah did not move.
"You're lying."
"Ask him."
Her father's unfinished sentence returned.
There's something else.
Not here.
She stood so fast the chair hit the wall.
Venn smiled sadly.
"Dead fathers, Leah. Dangerous things to believe in."