detective,” Mr Bernstein said. He looked at his son’s face, swollen to the size of a football.
“Our witness withdrew his statement, all we have to go on is your son’s evidence.” The detective squeezed his arm as he spoke. Mr Bernstein shrugged him off and stepped backwards.
“What do you mean?” he hissed angrily. “How can he withdraw his statement?”
“It appears his windows were smashed, and his pet dog was set on fire. He thinks that it was a warning,” Detective Aspel whispered.
Mr Bernstein put his hand to his mouth and bit his knuckles; blind fury, a father’s angst at his son’s predicament. The sheer helplessness of the situation was mind-numbing.
“There must be something you can do!” he shouted. All heads turned to the detective and Mr Bernstein as they faced each other. The portly matron marched over to them.
“I need to remind you gentlemen that this is an intensive care ward, some of these patients are dying. I will not have their families disturbed by your nonsense,” she said in a clear, calm, but determined voice. The two men turned together and walked out of the ward into the corridor beyond.
“We have nothing to go on, Mr Bernstein.” The detective held up his hands to placate the angry father. “We need Richard’s evidence, or we can’t do anything.”
Mr Bernstein walked towards a window and looked out over the city. The St John’s Tower was illuminated in the distance. His mind raced through the possible scenarios as he watched the lights on a cargo ship sailing off to sea. He wondered where in the world it was heading. He also wondered what type of people set fire to a pet dog. A brick through the window could almost be understood, but burning someone’s pet? The answer was clear, the type of people who set fire to a helpless animal were also the type of people that had beaten his son to within an inch of his life. What would they do if Richard testified against them?
“If my son remembers anything, I’ll call you,” Mr Bernstein said quietly.
“Mr Bernstein?”
“You heard me, leave us in peace.” Mr Bernstein walked away from the detective and back to his family. It was a decision that he would live to regret.
Chapter Eight
Mamood – Present Day
Mamood crossed the two lanes of the dual carriageway which separated his school from Knowsley Safari Park. He cut through the school grounds on his way to the reservoir. The light was fading, but the bulk of the rush hour traffic had melted away. Crossing the road during peak time was impossible, but now it wasn’t difficult, and it would save him ten minutes. He climbed through a gap in the railings and jogged up a grassy bank which led into the grounds of the safari park and the reservoir beyond. A gravel track snaked through a copse to the water’s edge. His heart beat faster as he thought of Vicky Stanton waiting for him. He couldn’t believe his luck. Of all the girls in the year above him, she was the one he fancied the most. She had certainly played her cards close to her chest, barely giving him a second glance during school time. Vicky could take her pick of the boys in school, and she certainly hadn’t shown any interest in the students the year below her. Still he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he was one of the best-looking guys in his year, after all. Maybe she was embarrassed about being seen with a younger guy, and so she had kept it quiet. ‘Who cares? ‘ Mamood thought to himself. She had put pen to paper and written him a perfumed letter. It had to be a sure bet.
The light was fading fast when he turned the final bend in the road, and he could make out the silhouettes of the lockups about five hundred yards away. There was no sign of Vicky. It was growing cooler though, and he guessed she would be waiting around the corner, sheltered from the evening breeze coming off the water. He wondered what she would be wearing. Mamood had seen her in town once, wearing tight