Chapter Twenty-two

Darien

The ID check was straightforward. The pat-down was fine because I knew they wouldn’t go as far as asking me to take my shoes off. It was the dog, just as Levi had pointed out, that would be the real test.

The brown and white English Springer Spaniel was currently straining at its leash as its handler made his way down the line. Five people away. My palms were sweaty, the tiny recording advice in my shoe feeling like a boulder. This suddenly seemed like an incredibly stupid idea. How was I supposed to explain this to work if it all went tits up? To Hayden? To Felix?

Three people away. I’d never been a man who let lust or romantic feelings get in the way of common sense. It wasn’t about that, though, was it? It was about justice. It was about righting a wrong, and giving Felix the future he deserved. Him detailing the abuse he’d suffered at Julian’s hands had lit a fire in me, and that fire required me to put things right. Which, when I thought about it, wasn’t that different from the approach I took on a day-to-day basis in my job, anyway.

One person away. I was next. Sweat trickled down my back as I did my best to appear relaxed and at ease. And then the dog was right there. At my feet. Why on earth had I thought my shoe was the best place? I’d picked a place right next to its super-sensitive nose.

The world seemed to stop as it moved closer, and then it was passing me by and moving onto the next person. Either my gamble of dogs only being trained for specific things had paid off, or I’d been lucky and the Springer Spaniel was having an off day. Either way, I’d thank my lucky stars and not question it too much.

My legs felt like jelly as I took a step forward. It confirmed what I already knew, that a life of crime wasn’t for me. Security checks passed, a prison guard waved me into the main room of the visitor’s center. With fifteen minutes still to go until my allocated visiting time, I detoured to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and taking some time to regain my composure. The last thing I wanted was to be jittery when facing down Julian Blackwell. I’d need to have my wits about me from what I knew about him.

After making sure there were no external signs of being flustered, I exited the bathroom and made my way over to the seats allocated for my visit. They were both empty, leaving me pondering the possibility of Julian not showing up. Other visits were already ongoing, the steady hum of conversation filling the large space.

I took the seat facing the door where inmates were escorted in, shifting restlessly as raised voices came from the corner, a prison officer quickly intervening to offer a warning to the inmate and his much younger girlfriend. Or possibly his wife. It wasn’t as if I could see whether she wore a ring from this distance, and to be honest, I didn’t want to stare in case either of them took offense. I checked my watch as they quietened down again, the threat of the visit being brought to a premature end enough to stop them from airing their dirty linen in public.

Five more minutes ticked by, taking it past the time when we’d been due to meet. I was just about to flag a guard down and enquire about Julian’s whereabouts when the large double doors opened to admit the man I’d come to see. Just like Felix, he’d bulked up during his time in prison and now sported muscles shown off to best effect by the white tank top he wore—a recent policy change allowing prisoners in Belmarsh to wear their own clothes. It hardly seemed fair when Belmarsh housed some of the most infamous prisoners in the UK, terrorists among their number, that they got that level of freedom when other prisons didn’t.

A prison guard led him my way, and I automatically stood. He was still a good-looking son of a bitch, seven years inside not having done anything to change that. It was easy to see why Felix had fallen for him, a ball of something that could have been jealousy, if I allowed myself to analyze it to that degree, forming in my gut.

Julian gave a toss of his head when he reached me, dark hair falling rakishly across his forehead in a practiced gesture that made him look boyish despite being on the wrong side of forty. He smiled and held out his hand, charm oozing from him. “Darien Quinn, I assume. Julian Blackwell.”

Accepting his handshake was one of the most difficult things I’d ever had to do, the contact between his skin and mine making my flesh crawl. I kept it as brief as possible and congratulated myself on resisting the urge to wipe my palm on my trousers once it was done. “I am. Darien Quinn, that is.” I returned the smile, wondering at what point someone would nominate me for the latest round of academy awards .

Julian took the empty seat, and I sank back into mine. There was a moment of silence while he studied me, his blue eyes quick and intelligent. Hopefully not that intelligent that he could see straight through me. “So, you’re an author?” he finally asked.

“I am,” I lied.

“What sort of author?”

There were different sorts! Perhaps I should have done a bit more research on the subject before coming here. Most of my focus had been on the recording device currently burning a hole in my shoe and hopefully picking up every word Julian was saying. “Non-fiction.”

Julian laughed like I’d made a deliberate joke. “Of course. I didn’t think you were going to turn me into the dashing hero of a crime thriller.”

Dashing hero. Was this guy for real? I laughed, the sound convincing enough. “No, you’ll need another author for that one.”

“So… you want to talk about the past?”

“I do.” I took a moment to take stock. No apology for arriving late—although I appreciated that likely hadn’t been on him—and he was keen to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. This was a man who liked to be in control. Which, given what I already knew about him, shouldn’t come as a surprise. He’d molded a younger lover into what he wanted him to be, ostracized him from his friends and family, locked him in a basement, and then when his world had fallen down around Julian’s ears because of his actions, had dragged that same man down with him. And all without a shred of conscience. Or at least it was safe to assume so when at any point during Felix’s sentence, he could have spoken up. He hadn’t, choosing to continue the lie instead.

Julian hitched an ankle over the opposite knee, fingers resting on his thigh in a relaxed pose. “And what, precisely, is it you want to discuss? ”

“I thought your case might be something I could include in my book.”

“Your book about miscarriages of justice?”

“That’s right.” Was I sweating? It felt like I was. Was there a way to stop yourself?

Julian regarded me silently for a few moments. “It’s difficult to talk with my throat so dry.” When I stared at him blankly, he jerked his head toward the vending machine at the side of the room. There’d been a constant trickle of people to and from it while I’d been waiting for Julian to show his face. “You did get some tokens?”

I had a feeling that if I answered that question in the negative, this conversation would be over. Thankfully, previous experience of meeting clients had taught me to be prepared, so I had purchased some. I stood. “Sure. What would you like?”

“A Coke.” I started to walk away. “Oh, and some crisps… salt and vinegar. Maybe some chocolate too… a Snickers or a Mars Bar would be nice.” Julian furnished his list of demands with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “Only if it’s not too much trouble. If it is, then…”

“It’s not too much trouble.” I hurried away before he could add more to the list. Perhaps he’d request a car next. Or maybe a house for his mother to live in. I got everything he’d requested, the vending machine unfortunately not stocking any cyanide to add to the Coke. With my remaining tokens, I got a bottle of water for myself before returning to Julian and depositing his pile of treasures in front of him.

“Thank you, friend.”

Friend! Not while I still had breath in my body. If I wanted to sell my soul to the devil, I’d find some other way to do it. Julian opened his Coke and took a sip, but didn’t touch the rest. No doubt he’d take them back to his cell with him once this meeting reached its end, which I was hoping would be soon—every extra minute I spent with him souring my stomach that bit more.

“How many books have you written?”

The question caught me off guard. “A few.”

“Only…” Julian cast me something of a sly look. It was a look that said he was far cleverer than I was and I’d have to get up early in the morning to catch him out. “I asked a friend to do a bit of research on you and they couldn’t find a single book written under the name Darien Quinn. You’re not telling fibs, are you?”

“I use a pen name.”

“What’s your pen name?”

Every single name in the world suddenly deserted me. “Roger Abraham.” Roger Abraham had been my English teacher at school. I couldn’t help but appreciate the irony that Roger Abraham had been a great believer in coming up with your own unique ideas rather than borrowing from other people. Julian would have someone check up on the name and work out that it was a lie, but by then I’d be long gone. Hopefully, with what I’d come for. Which served as a reminder that a sizeable chunk of the designated hour had already gone, and all we’d achieved so far was small talk and filling Julian’s stomach at the vending machine.

I reached for my notepad on the table. I didn’t need it with the recorder in my shoe, but of course, Julian didn’t know that and it paid to look the part. “Tell me about Lily Reynolds.”

Julian’s body language didn’t alter in the slightest. Anyone observing us might have thought I’d brought up the name of a family friend. “What do you want to know?”

“You were in a relationship with her, right?”

“Not a relationship, no. She was only sixteen.”

There was nothing fake about my frown. “The media said— ”

Julian sat forward. “Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who believe everything they hear. Isn’t that something of a liability in your profession? You must need to fact check, surely, before you include things in your books?”

“Why don’t you tell me what the relationship was between the two of you? You never denied knowing her, right?”

“I knew her. We were friends.”

“Friends?” I did my best not to sound judgmental. Julian’s expression said I hadn’t been wholly successful. I vowed to do better. “How does a friendship between a sixteen-year-old girl and a thirty-plus-year-old man come about?”

Julian shrugged. “She needed someone to talk to, and I was happy to be that person for her. I was something of a father figure to her.”

“She had a father.”

“She did, but he worked abroad a lot.”

I decided to cut through the bullshit. “Did you kill her?” My question was so direct that I almost expected the noise in the room to fall to church-like levels and for everyone to turn our way. It didn’t, everyone continuing with their conversations.

“No, I didn’t.” Julian’s brow furrowed. “I thought that was why you were here, that you’d looked at the case and seen how problematic it was.”

“Problematic?”

“It was a sham from start to finish. They’d already decided what the verdict was going to be.”

“If you didn’t kill Lily Reynolds, who did?”

“Felix Church.”

Even though I’d known what he was going to say, the name still packed a punch. Realizing I was gripping the pen so tightly that it was in danger of cracking ,

I forced my fingers to relax. “Felix was your boyfriend, right?” I waited for Julian’s nod. “Why would he kill her?”

“Why would my boyfriend kill a girl I was spending a lot of time with?” Julian’s voice dripped with derision. “You can work out a motive, surely?”

“Jealousy?” He nodded, and I pretended to write something on my notepad—the words absolute gibberish. Not even words, really. More like random squiggles. I hadn’t reckoned on him trying to pin the entire thing on Felix. It was the opposite of what I’d come here for.

“You see, Felix was always so volatile.”

I forced myself to lift my head and meet his gaze. “In what way?”

“He used to fly off the handle at the slightest thing. You’re probably aware there was an age gap between us?” My turn to nod. “Well, I used to put a lot of it down to him being much younger than I was.” He laughed. “You know, immaturity. I thought he’d grow out of it, but he never did. I never had him killing one of my friends as a possibility, though.”

The water tasted like acid when I lifted the bottle to my mouth, my throat muscles needing coaxing to swallow. “So… he killed her… he buried her in a shallow grave, and you had nothing to do with it?”

“Correct!” Julian sat back in his chair and looked pleased with himself. “He just fluttered those long eyelashes of his and the jury fell for it. The only saving grace was he didn’t get away with it completely. He’s out now, though. Did you know that? He got out last month.”

Lie or tell the truth? “I did know that.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Have you spoken to him?”

“Would it matter if I had?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, it would.”

“Why? ”

He took an angry swig of his Coke. “Because he’ll feed you lies and you might be stupid enough to believe them. Just like the judge did when he only sentenced him to thirteen years while I got life.”

For a moment, I allowed myself to consider a world where Julian was telling the truth and Felix had lied to me. I’d seen Felix’s face when he’d talked about how Julian had abused him. No one could be that good an actor, surely? One thing was for sure. I wouldn’t get a better opening for what I needed to say. “I spoke to him as part of my research. Obviously, he was easier to get hold of than you… no visiting order required.” I stretched my right leg out in front of me, nudging the recording device closer to him. “He claims it was all you, that he was innocent.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “That old story! Did you get the violin out and play it for him?”

“He claimed you’d locked him in a basement while the murder was taking place.”

Julian’s sigh said, here we go again. “A basement that didn’t have a lock. There were numerous witnesses who attested to that on the stand. Not to mention my family who’d been down there and never noticed a lock.”

“You took it off.” I’d given up on the he-said game, anger slowly building in my gut. “You had ample opportunity to do that because you knew what he was going to say.”

“Did I?” Julian cocked his head to one side and studied me as if seeing me in a new light. “You think I’m the sort of man who needs to lock his significant other in a basement?”

A hard glint in his eye said I should think carefully about how I answered. I’d already shown my hand, though. All backtracking would do was make me look weak. “Yeah, I do. ”

“I see.” Julian took a leisurely swig of his Coke. “Who are you really, Mr. Quinn? You’re not writing a book, are you? I would guess you’re on some sort of crusade. What exactly were you hoping to gain from this meeting?”

I leaned forward slightly, refusing to blink. “The truth.”

Julian’s lips twitched. “The truth, or what you’ve decided the truth is?”

I held his gaze. The key was to use his ego against him. If I did, I might have a chance of getting him to admit something. “The thing is, this whole, it was Felix that did it, and I knew nothing about it, and I was too blind to see what he’d done makes you look stupid.” I let the statement hang there for a moment. “And I don’t think you’re a stupid man. Far from it. I think you’re highly intelligent. Intelligent enough to see in Felix someone who could be bullied into what you wanted him to be. You abused him emotionally and physically until he didn’t know which way was up. You cheated on him because you wanted to have your cake and eat it, and probably because a sixteen-year-old would be even easier to control. God knows what she did that made you flip and kill her. We’ll probably never know. But you sitting there and pretending you’re a victim just doesn’t wash. And even facing a murder charge, you still had to prove to Felix that you controlled him, that he couldn’t be free of you.”

I stopped for a breath, Julian’s eyes like chips of blue ice now. “And I have to admit that I’m impressed. To convince an entire courtroom that you never laid a finger on Felix, and have him sent down for something he didn’t do, is manipulation at its finest. A masterclass. So, come on, just between you and me, why don’t you admit how clever you are? Here’s your chance to boast about how you controlled Felix like a puppet. ”

A surge of euphoria coursed through my body as Julian opened his mouth, his expression decidedly smug. I only had a few seconds to celebrate my imagined victory before he replaced the smugness with concern. “It saddens me that Felix is still confused about what happened. I’d hoped that seven years of thinking time might have given him clarity, but apparently not.” He affected a shrug far more exaggerated than it needed to be. “But then he was always mixed up. Perhaps you could suggest to him he has some therapy. He needed it when he was younger, and it sounds like his need hasn’t lessened any. Especially if he’s roping strangers into doing his dirty work for him.”

Something must have shown in my expression, a knowing look appearing on Julian’s handsome face. “Except you’re not strangers, are you? Oh, dear!” He sat forward. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Mr. Quinn. Whatever he’s told you, whatever he’s saying, don’t believe a word of it. Or you’ll find yourself in the same situation that I did, with him making allegations about all sorts of things. Run while you still can. And whatever you do, don’t let him move in with you or you’ll never get rid of him.”

He didn’t wait for a response, scooping up the crisps and the Snickers and rising to his feet. “I presume we’re done here, and that I won’t receive any further requests for visits.” He crossed the room without further ado, catching the guard’s eye, who dutifully escorted him out. I released a breath as the door closed in his wake. Well, that hadn’t gone the way it was supposed to.

Levi twisted round in the passenger seat as I climbed back into the Toyota. “Well?”

I wanted to laugh, but I suspected if I started, I might never stop. Instead, I sat back in the seat and stared out at a young woman climbing out of her car clutching a baby. Poor kid got to visit Belmarsh before he or she was even a year old. I hoped that wasn’t a sneak preview of the rest of their life. I might be a probation officer, but I’d rather people avoided me and my colleagues altogether.

In my peripheral vision, Levi grimaced. “That good, hey? I’m guessing he didn’t give you the confession you were after?”

“Not even close.” I could feel his eyes on me as I unfastened my shoe and retrieved the recording device from my sock. After switching it off, I flung it in the glove compartment where it would no doubt live forever more. I certainly wouldn’t be listening back to the recording.

“Did you really think he would?”

“I wouldn’t have gone in there if I hadn’t thought there was a chance.” I wouldn’t have risked my career to smuggle a recording device in either. I didn’t have to say it for us both to be thinking it.

Levi cleared his throat, trying to choose his words carefully. “Well… you’re no worse off than you were before.”

The woman and her baby disappeared out of view, forcing me to concentrate on a lone starling instead, the bird apparently an optimist if the way it was pecking at the concrete was anything to go by. “Julian made out like it was all Felix, that Felix lied about stuff constantly, that he was a difficult person to be with.”

Levi went still. “And you believe him?”

The starling flew off. Presumably to find an area where food was more plentiful. “No.” I’d paused too long before answering, though, and Levi knew it. He was many things, but he wasn’t a fool. “I don’t know.” I heaved out a sigh .

“Let’s imagine for one minute,” Levi said, his voice a study in caution, “that Julian was telling the truth and Felix is lying… and I’m not saying it’s true, I’m just getting you to think about it.” I closed my eyes against the stab of pain that hearing those words spoken aloud evoked. “What would you do about it?”

I heaved out a sigh. “I’d need him out of my house.”

“He could blackmail you. He has a lot of power over you when it comes to your job.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Levi laughed. “We’re talking about a scenario where he’s a murderer, remember? I hardly think he’s going to draw the line at blackmail.”

“He’s not a murderer.” Even I could hear the doubt in my voice. I sat up straighter and started the engine. “You can’t tell Hayden about this.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it. If he even gets a whiff of Felix not being the innocent party I made him out to be, he’ll throw him out bodily, and there’ll be nothing I can do to stop him.”

“He’s not a neanderthal.” Levi smirked. “Well, not unless I ask nicely.”

“That is definitely TMI.”

Levi shifted in his seat. “Seriously though. You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“Hayden or Felix?”

“Felix. Hayden can wait.”

“Yeah, I’m going to talk to him.” And what a fun conversation that was going to be. It would mean having to come clean about what I’d been up to today. Which would no doubt go down like a ton of bricks.