Building it up in his head, he finally had the courage to tell his housemates that he was homosexual. They laughed and told him they knew, and that they’d always known. Relieved beyond words, he used his new-found confidence and confessed all to his parents. He made his mum cry. His dad ordered him out of the family home.
The black sheep of the family, Colin went in on himself. He started using cocaine more, which affected his performance at his office job. Out on the streets, meeting unsavoury people, he was introduced to his biggest love, and greatest enemy, heroin. He could only afford it for six months, before he couldn’t contribute his share to the house anymore. His friends threw him out.
Colin rubbed shampoo into his hair. Turning to face the door, his eyes closed, he thought he heard a scream. Stopping, he listened. He thought he heard a pop. Listening again, he turned back, shrugged, and continued washing his hair.
Out on the streets, he squatted for a couple of years with some unsavoury types. Who was he kidding? He was unsavoury himself, stealing to buy his heroin. Shoplifting, beating people up for their wallets and handbags. He hated himself for so long, he used that hatred to commit these vile acts.
If it wasn’t for his gorgeous sister, Charlotte, he didn’t think he would ever make it off the streets alive; they’d have swallowed him up. He finally reached rock-bottom when he beat his dad up, and stole his wallet.
Charlotte took him to rehab, where her husband, Samuel, paid for the best treatment available. It didn’t take one trip, but two to rehab to sort Colin out. He relapsed in between, back on the streets, until Charlotte came to the rescue again. Richard wouldn’t speak to him after beating up their dad, not that he could blame his brother.
After rehab, Charlotte and Samuel put Colin up in their guest cottage, which was really an annex on their house. For the first time in his life, he had a lovely place to live, and he wasn’t taking drugs anymore. On his first night out – with good friends – he went to a gay bar in the city, where he met his future husband, Henry Curtis.
Attraction was immediate. As soon as he saw the dashing radio station owner at the bar, Colin knew he had to have him. They conversed for hours that fateful night, laughing over drinks into the early hours of the morning. Henry invited him back to his house, which was more like a country manor, surrounded by an eight-foot wall topped with razor wire.
For the first time in his life, Colin found himself in a loving relationship. He was with Henry a good couple of years, working in offices on the phones generally, before his partner offered him a spot on the radio once a week. Henry found Colin funny, all the time, so he thought the humour would translate well over the airwaves.
In time, Colin’s role within the radio station changed. He went from part-time to full-time, learning the ropes until he was the main voice of Accord FM. At the centre of his role within the radio station was inclusion. Henry wanted the listeners to be involved in every aspect of the broadcast. It was a radio station chosen by the people, for the people, with no playlists. All day, listeners sent in requests, and it was the presenters’ job to spin those tunes.
There was another pop. Colin turned off the taps, wiped his face with his hands, and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist. A third pop, louder this time, made him jump.
Curious, he stepped out of the bathroom into the dressing room, where his clothes were waiting on his chair. Colin was about to reach for his trousers, when the door burst open and a thickset man in jeans and a leather jacket stood in the doorway, carrying a pistol with a long muzzle. Looking at it, Colin realised it was a silencer.
“Found him!” Leather Jacket said, stepping inside.
Swallowing hard, Colin tried to speak, but he was too afraid. His bladder made its presence known when Leather Jacket raised the pistol to chest height. “What do you want? If it’s money, I’ll get it for you. I’m married to Henry Curtis; he’ll pay you whatever you want. Please, don’t hurt me.”
A second intruder entered the room carrying a pistol. Colin noted he was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. “Don’t take it personally. It’s just a job.”
Wanting to run, Colin couldn’t move, even when Black T-shirt raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. The force of the bullet hitting Colin in the chest lifted him off the floor. Landing with a dull thud on his back, the carpet burned him.
He thought maybe he was winded, unable to take a breath in, until he realised his lungs were shredded. Blood was pooling on his chest, dripping down his side. When he couldn’t breathe, panic set in.
Black T-shirt stood looking down at him. He placed a foot on Colin’s chest, aimed the pistol at his face. “This’ll be over quickly, I promise.”
Colin gasped for air, looking up at the smirk on his attacker’s face.
The last thing Colin saw was the muzzle flash.
2
“God, I’m bored.” Detective Sergeant Rachel Miller drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “You see stakeouts on TV, and they make out they’re so exciting. No one tells you at the training centre how dull they are.”
“The clue’s in the name.” Detective Inspector Amanda Hayes sat in the passenger seat, watching the front door of the block of flats through binoculars. “It’s called surveillance for a reason.” A guy in a bomber jacket approached the building. “Wait! This could be him.” She sensed Miller’s excitement. “Oh, no, false alarm.”
“At least let me look through the bins for a bit.”
Hayes sighed. She handed her glasses over and sat back in
