That was why he needed the darkness, because unlike those memories, unlike the past – dulled by time, by heartache – the ones from today were so, so bright. Like they’d been seared into his brain, would probably never, ever fade. And they hurt. By Christ, did they hurt, worse than anything physical he’d ever endured. These were wounds that wouldn’t, couldn’t ever heal as far as he could see.
And now, in spite of the way he was working his way down that bottle – having already been in the hotel bar the last few hours – those memories were playing out in front of him like a projector throwing out images on the cinema screen. Or a home cinema, like he had back at his own place: hi-def, the sound crystal clear. Maybe it helped to think of all this as a movie … No, he decided, shaking his head and almost falling off the end of the bed, it didn’t help at all.
That was still Matt, his old friend, now a copper, waiting for him when he pulled up outside his old home. Not some character in a script, not an actor playing a part, but his actual best buddy. Waiting there in the doorway to confirm his worst fears. That there hadn’t been some kind of mistake, a mix-up; you heard about those all the time in cases like this. Mistaken identity, people getting the wrong end of the stick. Families suing because of the trauma of getting it wrong.
But no. Matt’s face said it all. He knew this particular family, knew Jordan as well. He wouldn’t be putting them through this if there wasn’t just cause.
Jake couldn’t remember getting out of the car, or even closing the door again, locking it – that didn’t matter anyway, not in the great scheme of things – but suddenly he was at the door with Matt, who was just shaking his head. Didn’t have the words, clearly.
So Matt was stepping aside instead, letting Jake pass through. It felt weird to be back, and if this really had been a film he was directing or something, he would have noted how the carpets had changed; the wallpaper and pictures, photographs hanging from those walls. All reflecting how things had moved on, how it was no longer a place he shared with—
Suddenly there she was, in the living room: the woman he’d spent so many years with. The love of his life, he would have said at one time – still was, probably, there’d been no one else who’d been serious since her anyway. She was rising, albeit shakily, getting up off the couch. He was aware of someone else in the room, another woman standing, Matt saying something behind him, maybe trying to introduce her, something about liaising? Jake wasn’t really listening, because all he could see and hear was Jules.
Standing there, as striking as he remembered her with that auburn hair falling about her shoulders. Those freckles on cheeks that were still wet with tears, reminding him again why he was here. Her green eyes doing the same, moist, cloudy; looked like they could barely focus on him. Yet she knew who he was, instantly, just as he had when he walked in. There had always been that unspoken connection between them, they could always tell when the other one was nearby.
If he’d needed any more proof that she recognised him, she provided it by saying his name, though it came out as more of a squeak than anything; a noise that would have been comedic in any other circumstances. ‘Jake … Oh, Jake.’
She was shaking her head as well, just as he was back in that hotel again now – mirroring her actions, playing them out with her. Jake drank deeply from the bottle and watched as more of it unfolded, as he was about to go to her. About to take her in his arms and try to comfort her, if that was at all possible, drawn by that look on her face he’d seen many times before (not least when she’d told him she was pregnant), scared and in desperate need of a hug.
But then realising that there was yet another person in the room with them, someone who’d come through from the kitchen or even upstairs; yes, the sound of a toilet flush. Someone who’d shoved past Matt and caused Jake to start. Someone who’d skirted around this newcomer in his house. Who was stepping between them, ensuring that Jake could not reach Julie. Someone snaking a hand around her waist, not to try and tell her that it would all be okay, but telling everyone else that this woman was his property … that’s very much how Jake saw it, anyway.
The action made him feel physically sick and his eyes flicked away, coming to rest on another new addition to the décor of this house: their wedding photograph, Julie and Greg Allaway, the happy fucking couple. About two stone lighter in that, there was a meanness to the man’s face even back then. Jake had to ask himself again, as he did when he first heard the news: what the hell had Julie been thinking? And the answer, not that it was anything to do with him anymore, was that Greg had been there for her when Jake had not. But he also knew that in times of stress, people act hastily, act without thinking, and he had to wonder whether she regretted her decision now.
Especially when he forced himself to look back at them again, Greg still holding her in a vice-like grip. Her pleading face.
Jake steeled himself, then replied to her, his name still hanging in the air. ‘Jules. Is it …?’
She closed her eyes, squeezing more tears out, and nodded. His ex-wife also leaned in more closely to Greg, though whether that was because he was pulling her in Jake couldn’t tell.
‘It can’t be,’ said Jake, a part of him still unwilling to believe it. ‘What … what happened?’ He knew the broad strokes, though he’d had trouble taking them in over the phone. Jordan found on the market square, stabbed in the chest.
Dead.
That was when he was aware of Matt behind him again, moving into the room and joining his colleague … Linda something? Had that been her name? Everyone was standing now in that room, everyone paired up – except him.
‘All I can tell you at this time is that we have someone in custody who was fleeing the scene. Jordan’s boyfriend.’
‘Her what?’ Jake shook his head. ‘She had a new … I didn’t know.’ There had been a couple of guys she’d mentioned the last time they talked, but then there always were. Always had been. But nobody serious that Jake was aware of. Nobody she’d put that label on.
‘Why would you?’ This was Greg, grunting out the words.
Jake ignored him. ‘And … and he did this? Why?’
Matt shrugged. ‘We don’t know yet. He claims he didn’t do it, but …’
‘I … What was she even doing with this bloke, if he was … What was she doing out at all, at that time of night?’ It was a general question, speaking out loud, but without thinking he directed it towards Julie.
Then he saw it, the strength there as her face changed, as she straightened up and dried her tears with the back of her hand. Saw the feistiness that had been so attractive once, but could be lethal if you were on the wrong end of it – as he so often was towards the end. ‘What was she doing out? She was nearly 21 for heaven’s sake! Jordan could come and go as she pleased, she had her key.’ Twenty-one, key to the door and all that, though Jake knew she’d had one of those for a long, long time. She had been an adult, or acted like one anyway, for a good while. ‘And we don’t vet who she sees, Jake!’
‘Maybe you should have.’ The reply was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it, a knee-jerk reaction.
‘Maybe you should keep your big mouth shut.’ Greg again, letting his wife go and moving forwards. In spite of himself, Jake was doing the same, teeth gritted. He needed someone to take all this out on; it might as well be the twat in front of him. His fists were already clenched, and now he couldn’t see anyone else apart from Greg.
Not even Matt, as he stepped between the two men and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. It wasn’t a tight grip, but there was strength there as well – enough to stop Jake and Greg in their tracks. ‘Maybe you should both calm down,’ he suggested.
Jake looked from Matt to Greg, and then gave a nod. He