‘So, put in for a transfer yet?’ As soon as the words had slipped out Brady hated himself.
Conrad was thrown.
‘No, sir. Why, should I have?’
‘You tell me!’
‘You’ve lost me, sir?’ replied Conrad.
Brady could hear the hurt in Conrad’s voice making him feel even more like a bastard.
‘Forget it…’ he muttered. ‘Forget I said anything.’
‘No, if you have something to say then say it,’ demanded Conrad.
Brady looked at him, mildly surprised, but impressed at Conrad’s ballsy outburst.
Brady shook his head.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘I disagree. The fact that you could even think I’d put in for a transfer says it all,’ Conrad stated.
‘All right! You want me to tell you what really pissed me off?’
Conrad looked at him, locking his steel-grey eyes on Brady’s.
‘You of all people knew what Claudia did destroyed me. I mean fuck it, Conrad! You were there! She didn’t even respect me enough to tell me in private. She insisted you stayed in the room so you could witness my humiliation. What the hell do you think that did to me, eh?’
Conrad steadily held his gaze without saying a word.
‘So why then would you go to Gates? Why go over my head to my superior and tell him that I was a liability to myself and the job?’
‘Because it was the truth,’ answered Conrad simply.
Brady shook his head as he looked at his deputy.
‘You left me no choice,’ added Conrad.
Brady turned away. He couldn’t look at Conrad. He didn’t want him to see the pain in his eyes. He knew that Conrad was right; he had left him no choice.
Brady knew that what Conrad had seen in the hospital that night had scared him. Brady had scared himself. But it had affected Conrad so much that he had gone to see Gates without a word to Brady. Conrad had suggested that Brady needed a psychologist to help him get over being shot. In reality what he needed was a bloody good solicitor to help him get over his wife.
He couldn’t believe it when the police psychologist casually dropped by the hospital. Brady had the feeling that Gates had been secretly hoping that he had finally lost the plot and that the psychologist would recommend he should retire early from the force on medical grounds.
It didn’t take long before Brady found out that Conrad was responsible for his shrink sessions. After that he refused to see him, knowing that he would do something to Conrad that he would later regret and then really would be in need of a shrink. When he finally discharged himself from hospital he ignored the barrage of phone messages and texts left by Conrad.
‘You know why I couldn’t tell you,’ explained Conrad. ‘You were in no state to hear reason, not after …’ His voice trailed off, reluctant to bring up Claudia’s part in Brady’s self-destructive meltdown.
Brady knew Conrad was right. Nothing Conrad could have said would have stopped him that night. Nothing.
His memory of exactly what had happened that night after he had come round from surgery wasn’t that clear. But what he did remember was Claudia coming in and handing him divorce papers and Conrad being forced to stand there, not knowing what to do. Then Claudia turned on her high heels and left without giving him a chance to absorb what she’d done. After that, he couldn’t really be sure of what followed. He vaguely recalled pulling the wires from his body as he tried to get himself out of bed to go after her. And then Conrad perilously trying to stop him. Despite his condition he came at Conrad with a strength he didn’t know he possessed.
It had taken two male nurses to get him off Conrad and to forcibly hold him down until a doctor came with an injection so strong that it knocked him out for the rest of the night. Conrad had dutifully stayed by his bed for the next twenty-four hours, despite Brady having broken two of Conrad’s ribs in the struggle. But Brady had no memory of Conrad’s vigil. Nor did he remember repeatedly calling out for Claudia, unaware of what had happened. The days following came and went in a painful, drug-induced blur until eventually he accepted that Claudia wasn’t coming back.
Not that Conrad had told him that. It was his psychologist who had shared this information. Allegedly, Conrad had refused to even tell Gates how he had sustained the injuries, despite visibly having a broken nose and stitches zigzagging over his top lip and across his eyebrow. Add to that the medical report that had been filed on Brady’s sudden insanity. Even a fool would have realised that Conrad had got caught in the crossfire. But Conrad was loyal and he had done his best under the circumstances to protect Brady. And even Brady had to acknowledge that Conrad was protecting him when he went to Gates.
‘Look … Conrad, I understand. All right?’ Brady quietly conceded.
It wasn’t until now with Conrad stood in front of him that he realised he wasn’t angry at Conrad. He was angry with himself for putting Conrad in that situation in the first place. And he knew the real reason Conrad went to Gates wasn’t because he wanted him to lose his job; it was the opposite, he wanted him to hold on to his job. And if that meant bringing in the police psychologist, then Conrad had no qualms in requesting that Gates did exactly that.
‘Honestly, I understand,’ he repeated.
Conrad nodded, grateful that they had finally cleared the air.
‘Jack? Jack? What’s going on?’ interrupted a soft voice from the top of the stairs.
Brady felt as if somebody had stuck a knife in his stomach and twisted it. He’d completely forgotten about her.
They both turned and looked up. Sleeping Beauty was standing shivering in what appeared to be just her T-shirt and skimpy knickers. She pushed her dark tousled hair out of her sleepy face as she stared in bewilderment at the two men below her.
‘It’s nothing. Go back to bed,’ Brady answered, embarrassed. His throat felt dry and tight. He didn’t want anyone knowing his private business; especially Conrad.
Looking at her standing there, vulnerable and still drunk, he felt disgusted with himself. He realised in that moment that Claudia was right about him. He was a bastard. He would never change, not really. And here in front of his and Conrad’s eyes was the evidence. He couldn’t believe how low he had stooped. He could now see what had eluded him last night: her age. If she were twenty-one it would have surprised him.
‘Come on,’ he said as he turned to Conrad.
Conrad didn’t say a word.
Brady knew what he would be thinking. And if he were in Conrad’s shoes right now, he’d be thinking exactly the same thing; that he deserved to lose Claudia.
‘Jack? Jack?’ she called out in a tremulous voice.
He turned and looked up at her still standing there, shivering.
‘I’ll … I’ll leave my number so you can call me about tonight … yeah?’
Brady nodded and then walked out into the black, empty night after Conrad. He knew for her sake the best thing to do was not call her back. Let it go and pretend it had never happened.
He could see nothing but blackness as he reached the path at the end of his long, front garden. But he could hear the thunderous crashing of the heavy waves as they beat against Brown’s Bay below. He lived on