~ ~ ~ ~ ~
South Park was the largest open space in Darlington, and Jake believed it was the safest place for a meeting between him and Joseph Brady. The park entrance was a typical Victorian entrance with decorative iron gates attached to ornate stone pillars. To the left of the large gate from Jake's view was a small river that ran past Victoria Embankment and right through the park. Through the branches of wintry and leafless trees he could see the Feethams football and cricket grounds. The land was donated to Darlington Council by the Quaker community around 1860 with specific conditions of the land only being used for recreational purposes. The football ground was home to Darlington FC between 1883 and 2003 when Darlington moved to a new all-seated stadium on the edge of the town. The football pitch was overgrown and apparently not in use by anyone anymore. This saddened Jake who had experienced many highs and lows watching the local team. Drama and heartache accompanied so many visits, with the occasional glimpse of happiness. The ratio of sadness to happiness was indicative of Darlington FC’s current league position. The stadium, left to rack and ruin, was symbolic of the club, also in poor health financially.
Returning his attention back to the park, he spun on his heels and looked around. He was now facing the majority of the park, mostly comprising large grass areas, frequently used for football and other games. Jake would frequently stand not far from his current location early in November of each year for the annual firework display. This was typically impressive and was often advertised as one of the biggest in the country. Today things were quiet and Jake could wander around casually and relax by leaning against a tree, with no one within at least a hundred yards of him.
Jake had surveyed the area surrounding the entrance to the park. There were only a few people around in the middle of a cold January day. Outside the entrance, a homeless man was begging for change to be thrown into a bag on the ground and one or two people were walking their dogs. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening as far as he could tell.
He looked at his wristwatch. Joseph was nearly ten minutes late. He would allow only five more minutes before assuming that he wasn't coming to see him. He leant up against the large tree again, this time able to see the entire iron gate and stone entrance to the park. One man walking a dog left through the side pedestrian gate, another one entered the park almost immediately. The usual mix of the retired and the unemployed kept themselves busy with their pets during the hours they had to themselves.
Jake noticed a tall, thin man approach the entrance and wait by the large iron gates that marked it. He walked closer and Jake discovered that it was indeed Joseph Brady. “I'm glad you came,” Jake said when he was almost next to him. “I was wondering if you'd show up.”
“Yeah, sorry I'm late. I couldn't get away any sooner without it looking like I was up to something. The police officer wanted to come with me,” he responded.
“Are you sure you weren't followed?” Jake asked. Joseph nodded in response.
They talked for several minutes without making any progress. Jake forced himself to relax, but Joseph was tense. Jake could understand why, given the day he'd had.
Jake had shared his entire story of how he arrived at their house that morning, skipping the time travel to make it more believable. Joseph had shared any information that might relate to Jake's family, and he had mentioned that he vaguely recognised his wife from the pictures he'd been shown in Jake's wallet. Since that point they'd made no more headway in finding out what was really going on.
Just at the point where Jake was growing weary of a conversation that seemed to be leading them around in circles, he was puzzled by a shift in conversation by Joseph. He said that Jake's family had not been attacked yesterday because there was no police record of it. He then said that it was hard to believe that he ran away that morning just because he got spooked.
At that point Jake saw one of the dog-walkers out of the corner of his eye. He was getting closer. He then noticed another man approaching. Joseph started to back away. They were undoubtedly undercover police officers. How could he have been so foolish as to think Joseph would have come alone?
Joseph was probably wired up. He wanted to see if Jake would admit to anything and then hand him over to the police. “No big deal.” Jake thought to himself. “If I've outrun the police once, I'm sure I can do it again.”
A moment later he felt a thud in his right hand side and was falling to the ground. The next thing he heard was, “I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Brian Brady and for the attempted murder of the Joseph Brady. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in Court. Anything you say may be given in evidence.”
“This is a mistake!” Jake shouted. “I haven't done anything wrong and the real criminal is still out there!” All of a sudden Jake hated himself for getting into this situation. He should have known that this would happen.
He felt the cold hard metal of handcuffs clasp much too tightly around his wrists and he was dragged to his feet. They walked him to a police car and pushed him into the back seat, closing the door that could not possibly be opened from the inside.
Now he was in an awkward situation. He couldn't see any way out of this, but at least he was safe from those thugs who threatened his life today. Maybe being in police custody for the rest of the day wasn't an entirely bad thing. At least he would be protected by the very bars intended to keep him in.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jake sat in the bare concrete walled room awaiting the arrival of a senior officer to question him for the second time. A constable had already asked him for his statement, but there was a general belief that he was holding something back. He'd told them about the threat to his family and how he'd learned about the Brady bomb, but that didn't seem to be enough. They told him there was no record of an attack on his family. He didn't have an answer for that. What could he say? That he was a vigilante who didn't report it and sought revenge himself? That would not make him look much better.
He was deeply concerned that there seemed to be enough evidence to link him to the attack. Of course there was. He had been in the back of the van which had blown up shortly afterwards. There was no conceivable way to do this without leaving some mark proving that you were there. That seemed to be all that they needed. Questioning was just a formality, which they hoped would add something when building a case against him. He fully expected, if time were to move forwards, that he would be charged with this murder in a day or so, and would have to face Court as the accused. They seemed to no longer be looking for suspects. Jake was seated in front of them with some evidence to link him to the attack. They had not considered his reasons for exiting the van and saving Joseph Brady. Maybe they considered that to be a by-product of exiting the van at the wrong moment.
In any case, they believed him to be guilty, but were trying to persuade him to give up the names of the others involved. Jake of course had no idea who else was involved, and he was definitely not working with them. Quite the opposite was in fact true. He was trying to thwart their efforts, but he was now stuck in a police station as their prime suspect, providing them with a perfect scapegoat for their malicious activities.
He heard the creak of the hinges on the old wood and glass door he'd been brought through about an hour before. “Hello Jake Hingham.” Jake looked up from the table in front of him, recognising the voice of the officer who'd spoken.
For the second time in as many days he could not believe what he was seeing. His mind flashed back to the incident in his car which led to him being nearly strangled and then being shot at several times. He'd only seen part of the man's face in his rear view mirror, but he'd seen his face when he turned to face a gun barrel.
The very man who'd threatened him and then tried to kill him in two different ways was now sitting on the police side of the desk in Interview Room 2.
Jake wouldn't have been surpr
ised if he heard a large clunk from his own jaw dropping hard enough to hit the table. Even in the most outlandish scenario that Jake could have imagined, he had certainly not expected to see this man in a police uniform.
“My name is Detective Inspector Arnold. I need to ask you some questions,” he said with a smirk crossing his face. Jake shook his head in disbelief, hoping others would not treat his reaction as an indication that he wouldn't co-operate.
He knew others would be listening, but if they didn't believe what he had said so far, stating that the DI assigned to the case was guilty of the crime would seem preposterous.
Ten or fifteen minutes of further questioning got the police nowhere. DI Arnold stood up, excused himself, and left the room with the other officer. He returned a minute later on his own. Jake somehow knew that the space behind the one-way mirror was now vacant as well, and that any recording equipment would have been turned off. He'd managed to swindle a chance to talk to Jake alone, and Jake knew exactly where the conversation would lead them.
“Mr Hingham, we both know what's going to happen here. The fact is, you are either going to tell the truth or not, but it won't make much difference. It's just the word of a liar against that of a high-ranking police officer in good standing. Who do you think they're going to believe?”
Jake didn't respond. He didn't speak or move, allowing the policeman to continue. “The point I'm trying to make is this: You cannot make a difference. If you try, I'll squash you.” There was the same harshness Jake heard in his car this morning while being strangled. Now DI Arnold was threatening his freedom instead of threatening his life.
So that was it. As far as Jake could see, this was as far as he could go. He'd tried to save five lives and had managed to save four. An eighty per cent success rate was good in some circles, but not in saving lives, not as far as he was concerned.
He was led from the room to a holding cell at basement level in the station. They had another day to question him and locate evidence sufficient to charge him, but Jake was not really concerned about that at the moment.
If time was still going backwards then he'd be fine. He'd wake up tomorrow with the Bradys still alive, and out of police custody.
All he could do for the rest of the day was sit on an uncomfortable metal bench in a bland concrete cell and wait for the day to end. He would have to sleep on a back-breaking bed and hope that tomorrow was yesterday.
CHAPTER 9
Tuesday 27th January, 7:30am
Jake's eyes shot open and he was relieved to see the familiar surroundings of his own bedroom once again. He'd spent the final hours of his previous day sitting and lying on an incredibly hard mattress. He could have sworn that someone had replaced the usual springs and stuffing with gravel or bricks. It certainly wasn't soft enough to ever be considered a mattress by most people. The whole bed was more like a giant paving slab on solid metal posts.
One thing was clear to him: Whatever happened he was not going to do anything to get in trouble with the police again - or at least, he wouldn't get caught again.
Yesterday – or tomorrow - had been quite a disastrous day. He had saved the lives of only half of the victims he'd set out to save. The record wasn't too bad, considering he knew nothing of what was going to happen, nor did he know where. It might be considered quite admirable that he achieved a fifty per cent success rate, but he kept telling himself that his statistics were human lives. Anything less than one hundred per cent needed to be considered a complete and utter failure.
Jake considered his ability to think quickly at previous points in his life. Throughout his entire life as far as he could remember, his ability to come up with a good lie or excuse in a split second could have been seen as impressive. It even amazed some people, including past employers. Within a second of anything going wrong, he had at least three excuses lined up, ready to explain away some of the incident, or at least his involvement in it. He needed to think as quickly as that when faced with a difficult situation. He needed to retrain his brain to turn bad circumstances into positive actions. If he could do that, he'd be able to act quickly enough to save the remaining people's lives.
Jake thought about the Brady family again and the loss they were about to suffer if no one intervened. That led him to consider the difference he was really making as a result of all of this. He imagined that he was either stuck travelling backwards, or he would continue to do so until he fixed something that required fixing. If only he knew what that something was. What was the point in saving lives in each of these days, if every time he awoke the person would be alive again anyway? Maybe, if this came crashing down somehow, his past intervention would still have saved these lives. He hoped that would be the case or his efforts on each of these days was all but worthless. The only other benefit was the potential for gleaning information that could help stop these killings from ever taking place. If he continued to move backwards, without saving lives or finding out why these people were being killed, he would be achieving nothing. If so, it would be better for the Universe, or whatever was controlling this, to correct time for him, rather than let him waste it.
In the back of his mind he knew he needed to succeed to save his family from a threat that could occur the next day, the next week, or a year from now. He needed to make a big difference to a situation he still did not understand.
He readied himself for work with the usual routine. He showered, dressed, and headed downstairs for breakfast, all the time trying to decide on his next move.
He turned on his mobile phone and a thought occurred to him. He couldn't save the Bradys yesterday but he could give them advance warning today.
He relocated their phone number, which he vaguely recognised from yesterday, and left an anonymous message to warn of tomorrow's exploding van. He hoped they would take the warning seriously on their return home. If not, tomorrow would be the same with one difference: The police would have this telephone message as evidence against him to add to whatever else they would gather.
Bringing his mind back to the present, he'd run out of leads yet again. There was no link between the two victim families, despite the conversation with Joseph Brady yesterday which had resulted in his spending the night in a police cell. He had no idea who was next on their list, nor did he know how to go about finding out.
His only hope was the factory, if indeed there was anything there to find. That was his best option. It was also his only option. He needed to head for that factory and search for more clues.
Breakfast with his family was enjoyable as usual, but his mind was on possible events of the day ahead. He was soon on his way out of the house, having the same conversation with his children about not giving them a lift to school, with the same result. He would drive to his destination and they would walk to theirs.
He kissed his wife and waved his kids goodbye. Climbing behind the steering wheel of his silver car, he saw something that grabbed his attention. That was strange, because this was something he'd seen every day that he'd lived on that street. He had seen the house over the road in his rear-view mirror.
A moment from two days ago flashed into his mind. One of the thugs who paid his family a visit had let slip that he and his family had been watched from the other side of the road for several days before the incident.
He knew he could not hesitate for too long, because the guy over the road would be expecting him to move at any second. Without giving much thought to what he would do next, he pulled out of his driveway and started on his daily journey. As he drove around the corner he stopped the car by the side of the road, where he was sure he could not be seen from the offending house, or from his own.
He was once again on the move without knowing what he was going to do. Instinct had served him reasonably well over the past couple of days, and he decided that he made better decisions when he didn't have the time to sit down and weigh up his options.
He couldn't walk past the front of the house. He would be see
n by whoever was in there, the person who had been watching him for days. He knew he needed to force his way into the house from the rear to have surprise on his side.
Jake walked past the fence of the neighbouring house, deciding that it would be too conspicuous to risk climbing the fence and running through someone's garden in broad daylight. He would undoubtedly be spotted and would risk getting the police involved. That had not worked well previously.
As he walked past the fence he noticed a small alley behind the two houses lined by concrete panel walls. Of course that was there!
His sons often went across the road, down that alley to a small patch of grass in the middle of a group of houses. That was where they played most of their football, with friends and neighbours or just the two of them. Jake had accompanied them on the odd occasion. That alley would provide him the perfect way into the residence, to find the spy who had helped to destroy his family several days ago.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jake wasn't expecting to get inside the house so easily. The solid wooden back door was locked, but the window immediately next to the door was partially open. It didn't take much imagination to pull the nearby plastic rubbish bin under the window so he had a platform to reach the narrow gap where the window had been left open.
Within seconds his head and both arms were on the inside of the window, but it took much more time to squeeze the rest of him through the small gap. He thought it fortunate that the house was empty. The window ledge was bare, meaning he wasn't going to knock anything over with his unusual entry, thereby alerting anyone inside.
From the outside the house looked empty. It was a shock to discover that someone had been watching him for days from inside this vacant property. It had seemed bare and undisturbed for several months, and it hadn't looked any different lately.
Even from the inside the house looked as if no one had lived there for a while. Dust lay undisturbed in places. There were no light fixtures, no furniture, and not even any flooring. It seemed the previous residents had chosen to leave nothing behind on their departure. Had it not been for an open window, Jake might well have turned around, assuming that the spy hadn't arrived there yet. Now that he had successfully dragged himself through the top half of the window, it didn't look any more lived-in from the inside.