Broken Silence - Danielle Ramsay

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      ‘All right,’ agreed Brady unwillingly. ‘But tell me you’re not involved in any of this?’

      ‘You of all people know me better than that!’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘What the fuck’s got into you, Jack?’ snapped Matthews. ‘Did I ask you any questions when you came to me desperate for my help?’

      Matthews was right. Brady realised he had overstepped the mark. He didn’t know what had got into him. Matthews needed his help now. Quid pro quo. It was that simple. The problem was it didn’t feel that straightforward. Even if he didn’t end up inside because of this, there was a good chance he was going to lose his job. Matthews was asking Brady to keep quiet about his involvement with a murder victim hours before she turned up brutally dead. Too much was at stake. But they both knew Brady didn’t have a choice; he had rolled the die a long time ago.

      ‘All right, I’ll do what you say,’ conceded Brady. ‘But Jimmy, I need more than your word. You need to let me in on what the fuck is going on here.’

      Matthews didn’t say anything.

      ‘For fuck’s sake, Jimmy! This is me you’re talking to.’

      ‘I … I don’t want to get you involved,’ Matthews blankly stated.

      ‘Fuck it. You come to me with the news that you knew the murder victim. Not only that, but you were with her the night she was murdered. Bloody hell, man! Tell me how I’m not involved?’ demanded Brady.

      Matthews sighed and cradled his head in his hands.

      ‘You don’t understand,’ he muttered.

      ‘Too right I don’t understand.’

      ‘I’m … I’m in trouble, Jack. Way over my head. And … and if I’m honest I don’t even know where to begin,’ Matthews said shaking his head.

       Brady had never seen Matthews like this before. The man was scared shitless.

      ‘Jimmy?’

      Matthews looked up at him dejectedly.

      ‘You didn’t do it, right?’

      ‘No …’ mumbled Matthews.

      ‘Then we can—’

      ‘Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!’ Matthews shouted.

      He suddenly stood.

      Brady watched as he started to pace the floor.

      ‘You don’t get it! No, I didn’t fucking murder her. But that’s the least of my problems right now.’

      ‘So tell me what’s going on.’

      ‘I can’t.’

      Brady sighed. He realised that it wasn’t worth talking to Matthews in the state he was in. It was better to let him get some rest first and then they’d decide what to do later.

      ‘Go home, get some sleep and then we’ll talk,’ suggested Brady.

      Matthews looked at him and wearily nodded before making his way to the door.

      ‘Jimmy?’ Brady questioned. ‘The murdered girl, who is she?’

      ‘Like you said, I need to go home and get my head around what’s happened. After I’ve figured out what I’m going to do, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.’

      Matthews opened the door and then turned round to face Brady.

      ‘And remember, if this gets out I’m not the only one with something to hide.’

       Chapter Ten

      Brady did his best to sneak in. As usual, his best wasn’t good enough; at least not where Gates was concerned.

      ‘Ah, Jack! Pleased to see that you could join us,’ Gates greeted coolly.

      ‘Bugger,’ Brady muttered under his breath, feeling heads turn as he closed the door. The briefing had started at precisely 8.30 am and he was twenty minutes late; not a good thing with a boss who hated tardiness.

      He thought about joining Gates at the front of the room, but as soon as he spotted DS Adamson standing there, the idea lost its appeal. He made his way to the back wall and leaned against it.

      Brady caught the mocking stare of DS Robert Adamson. He held it for a second too long, forcing the uptight bugger to shift his arrogant gaze. Adamson belonged to North Shields CID and was presumably here because they needed extra bodies for the murder investigation. He was a young, arrogant man in his early thirties who typified the new breed of copper that accelerated their way through the ranks after graduating from University.

      Adamson was five feet ten but his stocky build made him appear much taller. Brady hated the way his reddish blond hair was trendily gelled to look messy and tousled. His heavy-set square jaw was typically clean-shaven while his intelligent bright blue eyes lacked any subtlety or compassion. Simply put, he was out for what he could get. Unlike Brady, Adamson toed the line. His suits were always dark and imposing, with matching ties and plain white shirts. Overall Adamson reminded Brady of a politician. In other words, he couldn’t be trusted.

      Brady had known from the first time that he’d been introduced to Adamson that he was a bullshitter. Adamson had tried to win Brady over with his false bravado but it hadn’t worked. Consequently, Adamson had since treated Brady with competitive contempt. Brady had the rank that Adamson so clearly thirsted after. But as Adamson stood beside Gates, Brady had the uncanny feeling that he was sizing up Brady’s position as DI.

      Brady looked about the crowded room and quickly found Conrad. He nodded at his deputy, relieved that he had Conrad by his side and not a backstabbing Iago figure like Adamson. Harvey then caught his attention, making no attempt at disguising his amusement at Brady’s typical tardiness. Brady surveyed the rest of the room realising that out of the thirty or so faces before him he only recognised about twenty. He had either been gone longer than he had realised or, as Adamson’s presence suggested, Gates had called in CID from other Area Commands; standard procedure with something as high profile as a murder investigation.

      Brady’s head was still foggy; the result of his conversation with Matthews. Consequently, it was too easy to drown out Gates’ voice, focusing instead on Anna Kodovesky. She was sat directly in front of him with her long legs crossed, forcing her skirt to ride up further than she would have liked, but Brady wasn’t protesting. And neither were the coppers on either side of her.

      Kodovesky had made it clear from her first day at the station as a Detective Constable that she was only interested in the job. And Brady didn’t complain; she was a damned good copper. But some of the guys at the station couldn’t see past her legs and were laying bets on who would get into Kodovesky’s knickers first. So far, no one had succeeded and the bet was now standing at a grand. Brady knew that Kodovesky was too smart to fall for any of his colleagues’ lines. If he really thought she couldn’t hold her own, then he might have broken up the wager. But Brady knew that if Kodovesky found out he was protecting her honour, she would have chopped his balls off.

      He suddenly started as he realised that Gates was bringing the briefing to a close. He relaxed his body against the wall as he thought about what they had so far, which was effectively nothing. All they had was an unidentified murder victim. And as for motive, nine times out of ten, it was sexual, which was the line Gates was following. But Brady wasn’t so sure. Nothing about the body suggested that the victim had been raped. Given the ferocity of the attack, there was one thing he was certain about; this was personal, the victim had known her murderer.

      He pulled out the packet of mints from his pocket, placed one in his mouth in preparation for Gates, who he knew would be more than eager to greet him on his first day back.

      ‘All

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