Page 137 of Killing Mind
‘Britney, I don’t hate you,’ Tiff said. ‘In spite of what you’ve done, I still don’t hate you. You welcomed me and took care of me and made me feel as though I’d met someone I could totally trust. I was going to leave, but I was leaving this place. I wasn’t leaving you.’
Kim heard the sob that came from the girl on the ground.
Kim was satisfied they had their killer but there would be no celebration in the squad room tonight.
Britney was not a mindless, ruthless, brutal murderer but a kid damaged by being abandoned. She had found some measure of security at the Farm, where her weaknesses and vulnerabilities had been manipulated and used to satisfy the feeling of betrayal of someone else.
Kim tapped Tiffany on the shoulder.
The officer looked back up at her with reddened eyes.
‘Okay, Tink, time to step aside. I think it’s best if I take it from here.’
One Hundred Twelve
It was almost eleven when Bryant stepped out of the taxi.
The boss had insisted he get himself to hospital for a check-up, but he’d diverted the taxi she’d ordered. His ankle was a bit stiff from the initial jolt of the rope but his years on the rugby pitch told him that nothing was broken, and there was something he needed to do before he could put Peter Drake and the week from hell behind him.
Damon Crossley answered the door on the second knock.
‘What the fuck?…’
‘Oh, Damon, shut up and let me past,’ Bryant said, in no mood for his hard man act. He was hungry and tired and he still hadn’t told Jenny about the car.
Bryant had thought long and hard about what he was going to do, especially when he’d been sitting alone in the woods with a trap around his ankle.
Bryant knew that Richard Harrison had killed Alice Lennox and that Peter Drake was innocent of the crime, despite his confession. In his own twisted mind Richard had not understood that in taking the life of an innocent girl he had been doing exactly what he’d feared Peter Drake would do himself. He had only seen that the man needed to be punished further for the horrific murder of Wendy. Whether his suicide was from the guilt of what he’d done or to reach the afterlife to protect his daughter, Bryant couldn’t say for sure but he suspected it was a mixture of the two.
Richard had never been able to free himself of the horror, terror and pain his daughter had suffered. He had relived it every day allowing the guilt to eat away at the decent person he had once been, although that knowledge did nothing, in Bryant’s mind, to absolve him of the brutal murder of Alice Lennox.
He had no proof except for the feeling in his gut that would not go away. If he pursued his suspicions there was a chance someone might listen if he shouted loud enough. There was no person to charge with the crime because the man was dead. Alice Lennox’s family would never have closure.
Peter Drake would be allowed to walk the streets again and the Crossleys would never again know a minute of peace. A lot of lives ruined in his quest for black and white justice.
The other way only he carried the burden of knowing the truth.
Bryant looked at the empty space where Tina had sat before attempting to kill her husband; the man who acted hard as nails to protect the woman he loved.
‘So, the bastard struck again, did he?’ Crossley asked, dropping one layer of hostility.
And this was where he made the final decision.
‘Yes, Damon, Peter Drake struck again. He confessed to the whole thing.’
Bryant prepared himself for the onslaught about shit police and crap parole board before being ordered out of the house.
Damon remained uncharacteristically quiet and stared sadly at Tina’s empty space by the window.
‘Time to drop the charges and bring her home, Damon,’ Bryant said, wearily.
Damon said nothing.
‘Nice wound you gave yourself, mate. Took some guts but you didn’t much care about yourself when you were trying to get her put back in the only place she’s felt safe in decades. You knew just the thought of him being free was putting the fear of God into her and it was the only thing you could do to make her feel safe.’
Damon let out a long breath before dropping down onto the sofa.
‘She’s always been waiting, you see,’ he explained. ‘Every day she’s known he’d be free someday. It’s shaped her life, the fear.’
