‘It was my blood at the scene. My blood the police got a DNA profile from. I pulled one of those boys off you, and he punched me in the face. I cut my hands on the fence, on the barbed wire. It was my blood, Diane. My blood was on you.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You know what they say, Diane. Blood is thicker than water. You might not believe it right at this moment. But you’ll learn the truth soon enough.’
The truth? Fry didn’t expect to be overburdened with too much of that. But if she got a straight answer, it would be a start.
‘Mr Leeson, what is your relationship with Darren Barnes and Marcus Shepherd, and their crew?’
‘Relationship? That’s not exactly it.’ With one thin hand, he made a gesture which seemed to encompass the whole of Birmingham beyond his wrought-iron gates. ‘There’s a very delicate balance of power on the streets of this city at the moment. The m1 Crew are in danger of being wiped out, if it gets out of control. They’ve made themselves a target for rival gangs, who have far more firepower at their disposal. They’ve been encroaching on other people’s territory. That just isn’t done.’
‘I won’t weep for them,’ said Fry.
‘They’ve been very useful to us.’
‘Us?’
Leeson folded his lips closed as if he’d already given away too much.
‘There are people on your side, Diane,’ he said.
‘I’ve been told that. But I haven’t seen much evidence of it.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, then. There are bigger issues to be considered.’
‘I’ve heard that somewhere before, too.’
‘Seriously, Diane. You could ruin everything. Don’t interfere with Barnes and Shepherd and the m1 Crew.’
Diane felt the rage building inside her. Who was this man to dismiss her so casually, to tell her not to interfere? Her hands trembled as the adrenalin surged through her body, her fingers itching to latch on to a target.
‘Perhaps you should call the police, after all,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re in real danger now.’
But Leeson made no move. ‘You have no idea what’s going on, do you? You’re totally focused on yourself.’
‘Aren’t we all?’
‘No, you were always worse than anyone else. That single-minded ambition you had, that drove you for years. A pity it came to this.’
Fry stared at him. How was it that this man seemed to know her so well?
‘As I said, there are more important issues at stake. Control of the streets, preventing more young people from dying, I can’t say any more.’
‘So you’re some kind of crime-fighting super hero?’
‘No. I’m just a flawed human being who found himself in these circumstances.’
‘Barnes and his crew think you’re their man.’
Leeson smiled then. ‘Everyone thinks what they want to think. That’s the reason we so often put our trust in the wrong people.’
‘I’ll tell you what I think,’ said Fry. ‘I think you’re the cause I was sacrificed for, the reason my case will never go ahead. I think this whole charade has been about saving your pathetic skin. Well, I guess you must have the right bits of dirty knowledge about the right people in this city. Am I close?’
But Leeson was gaining confidence now. He stood up from his desk, and looked over her shoulder towards the French windows. Fry’s muscles tightened. She hoped he would make a wrong move, so that she could react. She only need one ounce of justification.
‘Didn’t you bring Angie with you?’ he said. ‘That would have been nice.’
And that was the final straw.
‘What do you know about my sister?’
Fry found she had hold of his arm and was twisting it. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but now that she’d made physical contact with him, she wanted to punish him, to make him bleed, to see that blood flow again that he talked about.
‘You’re hurting me,’ he said.
‘Good. I could hurt you a lot more.’
She spun him round and bounced his face against the wall. She saw the blood then — a trickle of it running from his nose, bright and shockingly red.
‘You know, Diane, I always thought Angie was the ruthless bitch of the family. But I got that wrong, didn’t I?’
His face twisted with pain, as she unconsciously tightened her grip.
‘Do you know what? I think she’s actually worse than me.’
‘No, she’s a pussy cat compared to you. You’d kill me, if you could. If you thought you could get away with it.’
‘No.’
‘Oh, don’t pretend. You’re no different from the rest of us. Everyone has it in them.’
Fry bit her lip. It was something she’d thought herself often enough. Everyone had the ability to commit murder, in the right circumstances. Or the wrong circumstances. Perfectly ordinary people could be pushed over the line by the most trivial of provocations. Some of them did it, and regretted it. Others would go through their entire lives without encountering the right situation. Those were the lucky ones.
‘Shut up,’ she said.
He smiled, as if he’d struck a blow home and achieved some kind of satisfaction.
‘The trouble is, Diane, you’re too familiar with the consequences, aren’t you? You can’t help thinking about what happens afterwards. How you’d ruin your career, and all that stuff. It’s thinking too much that stifles the real you, that kills your emotions. It’s what makes you less than human.’
‘I told you to shut up.’
‘Go on, go on. Do it. You know you want to.’
Fry tensed, but held back. His almost insane grin was the only thing that stopped her. She recognized a desperate attempt at provocation when she saw it. This man wanted her to hurt him. Really wanted it.
She let him go and took a step back.
Fry knew it was time for her to leave the house. She could sense some awful event about to happen, something that was completely out of her control. She made her way towards the French windows, checked the patio and the drive. The garage door still stood open, and the car was inside. No sign of security guards, or armed police. Not even the dog with tombstone teeth. It all seemed quiet. She stepped out on to the gravel.
And then her phone rang. It was Ben Cooper.
‘Ben, your timing is terrible. This had better be really important.’
‘Yes. It’s very important, Diane. It can’t wait.’
‘Out with it, then.’
‘That familial DNA match. I got some more information from my friend. This took quite a bit of arm-twisting on her part. I think.’
‘So? Do we know whose the third DNA profile at the scene was?’
‘No. Like I said, there was no CJ sample on the database to make a direct comparison with or the third person would have been identified immediately. But that third person had a relative who was on the database. That means he was a close family member, Diane. A brother, father, or son.’
‘And do we know whose DNA this familial match was made to?’
‘Yes, we do,’ said Cooper.
‘Whose?’
‘The victim’s.’
