Little Boy Blue - страница 51

‘Not that I’m aware of. The boys are saying the place is in mint condition and that the whole thing looks kind of staged.’

Helen nodded, but her heart was beating fast.

‘Do you have the address?’

The custody sergeant handed Helen a piece of paper, then withdrew. Helen was glad he’d done so, because as she looked at the address in her hand she got a nasty shock. She had only visited the address on two occasions but she knew exactly whom it belonged to. A man she loathed and hoped she’d never see again.

Max Paine.

What was wrong with her? She should be feeling relieved, elated, excited, but she felt none of these things. Her body ached, her brain throbbed – she was a mess.

Samantha lay on the bathroom floor, resting her forehead on the cold tiles. Returning to the flat last night, she had downed an entire bottle of vodka. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of the evening, perhaps the vodka was just low grade – either way she’d brought it all back up again an hour later. She normally never vomited but last night she couldn’t stop, gagging on the bitter bile that was all she had left at the end.

If she’d had the energy, she’d gladly have killed herself. Her life was an endless merry-go-round of high hopes and crushing disappointments – each one harder to stomach than the last. She knew she was a work in progress, but still… Why were the highs so high and lows so low? Perhaps all those shrinks had been right after all. Perhaps she was a bad person.

Putting an unsteady hand on the sink, Samantha hauled herself upright. Turning on the tap, she cupped her hands together to collect the cold water and drank greedily from them. Then she threw the soothing water on to her face – she was burning up – and ran her wet fingers through her hair. A deep, sulphurous burp ensued and suddenly she was vomiting again, the water she’d just consumed disappearing down the plughole with obscene haste. It was as if the water couldn’t stomach her, rather than the other way around.

Samantha dropped back down to the floor, exhausted and defeated. There was no point fighting it now and she finally gave way to despair. It was cruel but there was no point denying it. She had tried to embrace this world, but it always rejected her, raising the level of punishment each time. She was gone – dead behind the eyes now – and felt hollow, empty and utterly alone.

The SOCOs had already lowered the body to the ground and removed his clothing for further analysis. The victim now lay on the floor, naked save for a sterile sheet. It wasn’t much dignity, but it was the best that they could do in the circumstances.

Crouching down, Helen used the tip of her pen to lift a corner of the sheet. She knew what to expect, but still it was horrific to behold. In life, Paine had been a handsome man, but now his face was waxy and mottled – numerous burst blood vessels giving his expression an unpleasant patchwork quality. He looked like he had exploded from within.

Helen shuddered silently. She had disliked – no, she had despised – Max Paine. He was a violent misogynist who took pleasure in bullying and degrading women. She had used his services a couple of times and had had cause to regret her decision, only escaping a dangerous situation by fighting her way out of his clutches. But still she wouldn’t have wished this on him. This didn’t seem like a similar situation, this wasn’t a question of Paine overstepping the mark. This was a well-organized and premeditated attack on his life. This was an execution.

What connected Jake Elder and Max Paine? They were two very different characters who’d chosen the same profession. Helen knew both of them – one intimately, one in passing. Was that important? If so, it was hard to see why. Max Paine was hardly a friend of hers and as far as she was aware the rest of the world wouldn’t miss him either. So what was the point of his death? Were he and Jake chosen specifically or had they just hooked up with the wrong client? It seemed increasingly likely that their attacker