cold, the opposite of the big man’s. ‘The sooner we do this, the sooner you can get back to work.’
‘I’m callin’ my brief. I ain’t sayin’ another word till he gets here.’
‘Fine,’ said Phil, sighing inwardly. As soon as a suspect got lawyered up, there was nothing he could say or do. ‘Get him to meet us at the station. I’m sure he knows the way.’ He gestured to the door. ‘Please?’
Brotherton turned to Sophie. ‘Get Warnock on the phone. Now.’
‘We’d like Sophie to come along too,’ said Phil.
Brotherton turned back to him. His rage had just reached a new plateau, Phil could see. He was waiting to take it a step higher and then it would be released.
‘We’d like a word with her too. So if you could both just come this way?’
Sophie looked between Phil and Clayton. She seemed to be about to say something to Clayton, but – and here Phil couldn’t be sure – appeared to change her mind on seeing Clayton shake his head. Just a small, surreptitious movement, and Phil couldn’t swear that he had seen it, but she fell silent after that. With a burning anger that seemed to match Brotherton’s.
‘I’ve got a fuckin’ business to run! Who’s goin’ to look after that?’
‘That’s not our problem, Mr Brotherton. We need to talk to you both. Right now.’
Brotherton looked at the two men, then at Sophie. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he said, and stormed out of the office, slamming the door as he went.
Sophie came out of her angry trance. ‘Ryan, no…’ She ran into the yard after him, but not without giving Clayton a hard, venomous look.
Phil looked at Clayton. ‘Don’t think she likes you,’ he said.
‘No,’ said Clayton, shaking his head. Was that fear on his junior officer’s face? Phil wasn’t sure.
‘What’s brought that on, then?’ he asked.
‘No idea,’ said Clayton. He took his eyes away from the yard, turned to Phil. ‘You didn’t say anything about her coming in for questioning too. Why?’
Phil shrugged. ‘Why not? She lied for him the other night, remember? If we’re going to break him down, she might be our best chance.’
Phil waited for a reply, but Clayton said nothing. From out in the yard they heard the angry screech of gears.
‘I think we’d better get out there, don’t you?’
They hurried into the yard. Suspecting that Brotherton might make a dash for his car and try to escape, Phil had blocked him in with the Audi. But Brotherton wasn’t going to give in easily. Sophie was standing in the middle of the yard, screaming at the cab of the grab.
‘Ryan, don’t…’
The other workers had stopped what they were doing and were watching what was going on. Phil could do nothing as the grab, with Brotherton at the controls, dug into the bin of metal it was in the process of transferring to the lorry container, coming up with a huge handful of scrap. But instead of placing it in its intended target, with another angry squeal of gears it swung round towards the centre of the yard. To right where Phil and Clayton were standing.
Sophie screamed and ran out of the way. Phil looked up and saw the huge claw wavering overhead; Brotherton had swung it so quickly it was shedding smaller pieces of metal, joining the rain in falling. Phil was no expert, but he was sure the arm of the grab was swaying dangerously.
He tried to catch Brotherton’s eye in the cockpit, call to him, make him stop, but the man’s features were twisted with rage, his powerful arms working the levers furiously. Phil realised there would be no reasoning with him.
‘Boss, run…’
Phil didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed hold of Sophie and pulled her back with him into the office. The other workers had scattered, most of them into the large storage area at the side of the office. He looked out of the window. Clayton had tried to follow him back inside but had been unable to. Phil stood watching helplessly as his DS was left standing underneath the grab, frozen, looking round for somewhere to run.
Phil heard the claws of the grab opening and the metal start to rain down in earnest. Clayton suddenly seemed to decide that the office was his best bet, and ran towards it. Fast. There was another squeal of gears: Brotherton was trying to swing the grab round, chase Clayton with the arm. The DS ran even harder.
Phil turned to Sophie, grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘What’s he doing?’
Sophie just stared, slack-jawed.
‘Can’t you get out there? Stop him?’
No response. Phil turned back to the window. Clayton was nearly at the office. He made it to the door, tried to open it. It was locked. It must have slammed shut behind Phil and Sophie.
Phil ran over to it, ready to open it. But he didn’t reach it.
‘No! Get away!’
Sophie was on his back, clawing at him, trying to pull him away from the door. She was surprisingly strong. Through the office window, Clayton saw what was happening, knew he wouldn’t be able to get inside in time. Instead he turned and started running in the opposite direction.
Once he had gone, Sophie relaxed her grip. Phil turned to her. ‘You’re in trouble now, missy.’
Sophie just responded with a brief, vicious smile.
Phil turned back to the window. Clayton was running towards the storage area. It had huge doors on the front, big enough to admit several articulated lorries at one time. Luckily all the doors were open. Clayton ran inside, diving the last few metres. Phil was sure he must have hit the concrete hard.
He looked at a door at the back of the office. ‘Does this lead to the storage area?’
Sophie nodded.
Phil ran towards it, pulled it open, ran through. The storage area was a massive corrugated metal and poured concrete shed. Clayton was lying on the floor, nursing his shoulder.
As Phil appeared, the scrap crashed to the ground outside. Amplified by the corrugated metal walls of the storage area, it sounded like a Stockhausen symphony played by a band of drunken maniacs. Phil screwed his eyes tight, as if that would somehow stop the sound clashing inside his skull. Clayton took a deep breath, let it go. Sat up.
‘You okay?’ Phil shouted to compensate for the ringing in his ears.
Clayton nodded, then winced. ‘My shoulder…’ He flexed his arm, clenched his fingers into fist. Nodded. ‘Least it’s not broken.’
Phil crossed to him, helped him to his feet. They stepped out into the yard again, crunching twisted metal underfoot. Phil looked up at the cab of the grab. Brotherton was slumped forward, his head in his hands, the reality of his angry actions having sunk in. Phil couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the big man was crying. At least he’d be no trouble for a while.
‘What d’you reckon, boss?’ said Clayton, still rubbing his shoulder. ‘Attempted murder?’
‘Reckon so,’ said Phil.
Going to be one of those days, he thought.
37
Hester stood before the mirror. Naked. She hated look ing at herself, couldn’t bear the sight of her body, but sometimes she just had to. It was a compulsion, a need, and she had no choice but to obey it.
Her body was her diary. It catalogued who she had been, who she was, who she would be. Every scar, every cut, every modification. Every change just one more signpost on the road map of her life. It told her story, and although there were parts she hated to face, she still felt the urge to view them over again. She had to remind herself who she had been to fully appreciate who she was.
The mirror was upstairs, in front of the newly repaired plastic sheeting wall. It was cold, the heat from the Calor Gas heater and the wood-burning stove not reaching this far. She tried not to shiver as she ran her hands over her head and body.
