Traitor in the House Page 20

  Parnell’s apartment was on the top floor. There was an access code needed for the lift, and each landing had a keypad entry system via the stairwell. All in all, it was considered a secure building, and Michael imagined that Parnell thought he was pretty safe tucked away in his penthouse suite with his glorious views of the sea. He was about to realise how very wrong he was.

  Michael keyed in the access code for the lift and he and Sean stepped quietly inside. They were both dressed all in black, with the hoods of their sweatshirts pulled over their heads – just in case they did happen to run into another resident in the early hours. When they reached the top floor, they walked quietly along the hallway, their trainers not making any sound on the thick carpet. Reaching Parnell’s apartment, Michael signalled Sean to stop as he pulled out the small toolkit from his trouser pocket. It had been put together for him eight months earlier by Murf, who had once been an expert burglar, when he had needed to break into Sol Shepherd’s house. Michael worked quietly, picking the lock. The only noise he could hear was the sound of Sean’s steady breathing as he stood behind him keeping a watchful eye.

  In a few seconds the lock was open and Michael pushed the door inwards slowly. He expected Parnell would have weapons at the apartment, and probably a gun, if he knew what was good for him. It was important that he didn’t hear them and they maintained the element of surprise if they were going to get him out of the place with minimum noise and fuss. Michael crept inside with Sean close on his heels. Sean closed the door, the soft click of the latch amplified in the quiet apartment. Michael scanned the dark room quickly, his eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the darkness. It was empty. He knew the layout of the place and started to walk towards the bedroom. There was no sound in the room except for the ticking of a clock and Sean’s soft, steady breathing.

  Michael concentrated on his heartbeat, which thrummed in his ears as he reached the bedroom door. He glanced back at Sean and nodded at him. They had already agreed the plan in the car. Once they confirmed Parnell was in there, they would act quickly and Michael would grab Parnell and put him in a choke hold until he was unconscious. Then he would inject him with enough morphine to knock him out for at least an hour before binding his wrists and ankles with cable ties. Following that, Parnell would be carried to Michael’s car and thrown into the boot before being driven to Nudge Richards’ scrapyard, where Parnell’s nightmare would really begin.

  Michael pushed open the bedroom door. It made no sound except for a quiet whoosh of the wood against the bedroom carpet. He saw the figure of Parnell under the covers. Thankfully, he was alone. A few seconds later Michael had Parnell in a choke hold. Parnell struggled, his arms flailing wildly behind him as he tried to grab his attacker. He tried to shout but the pressure on his windpipe made the sound a muffled cry that no one was likely to hear, let alone take any notice of.

  As the oxygen and blood supply to his brain was cut off, Parnell’s body fell limp. Michael held out his hand to Sean, who passed him the hypodermic needle from his jacket pocket. Michael found a vein in Parnell’s arm and pressed the needle into his skin, injecting the morphine into his bloodstream.

  ‘Well, you still do that like a pro,’ Sean said appreciatively.

  ‘Let’s get this fucker out of here,’ Michael grunted as he hoisted Parnell from the bed. ‘Before anyone sees us.’

  One hour later, a naked Joey Parnell had his ankles strapped to a wooden chair with gaffer tape and his wrists tied behind his back with cable ties in an old container at the back of Nudge Richards’ scrapyard. A single electric light hung from the ceiling, illuminating the steel workbench in the corner, and the array of tools spread out upon it including a wrench, a pair of pliers, a bone saw, a blowtorch and a selection of knives. Michael and Sean Carter stood in the open doorway and chatted casually to each other as they waited for Parnell to fully regain consciousness.

  A few moments later, a loud groan alerted them to the fact that their charge was awake.

  ‘Hello, Sleeping Beauty,’ Sean said as they stepped into the container.

  ‘Fuck off,’ Parnell spat.

  Michael laughed and turned to his brother. ‘I think Joey has forgotten what we’re capable of, Sean?’

  ‘Seems like, doesn’t it?’

  Michael picked up the wrench. ‘Shall we remind him?’

  He didn’t wait for an answer before swinging the wrench and bringing it down onto Joey’s left knee smashing his kneecap into pieces. Joey screamed in pain, spittle flying from his mouth as he swore at the brothers.

  ‘Have you heard the urban legends about us, Joey?’ Sean asked. ‘You must have.’

  Joey glared at them both and Sean went on. ‘We like to play them down, to be honest. Even deny some of the horror stories that we’ve heard about ourselves. But you have reminded us how important it is to remind people that they’re true.’

  Michael brought the wrench down on Joey’s other kneecap and heard the satisfying crunch of bone.

  ‘Fuck!’ Joey screamed. ‘You fucking cunts!’

  Michael leaned down into Joey’s face. ‘I haven’t even started yet,’ he snarled. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t react when you attacked my wife? My fucking sons?’ He punched Joey in the jaw to emphasise his point.

  ‘I never touched your son,’ Joey said as he spat blood onto the floor. ‘I might have given that fag Jake a good slap, but I left your boy alone.’

  Michael saw red and he raised his foot and kicked Joey in the groin with the solid heel of his Timberland boot. ‘Jake is my son,’ Michael spat. ‘And you’ve just had the nerve to call him a fag? You must really fucking enjoy pain, Joey.’

  Joey winced, the tears springing from his eyes. Then he shook his head. ‘Just fucking get this over with,’ he shouted, but the desperation was clearly audible in his voice.

  ‘I already told you. We haven’t even started,’ Michael said as the sound of the blowtorch being lit behind Joey’s head made him piss himself.

  ‘You heard the rumours about what my brother likes to do with that thing?’ Michael asked as he indicated the weapon that Sean was now holding near Joey’s face.

  Joey started writhing in his chair and shaking his head furiously. ‘No. No!’ he screamed. ‘Please! Not that.’

  ‘You should have thought about how much your cock meant to you before you went anywhere near my family, you piece of shit!’ Michael snarled and then he turned away and walked towards the door. A few seconds later, the smell of burning flesh and Joey Parnell’s screams filled the small container. When he could stand the noise no longer, Michael turned back to the room. ‘Enough,’ he said to Sean as he walked over to stand beside him. Joey looked up at him, tears streaming down his face and the veins bulging in his temple. ‘We don’t want his heart packing in before we’ve shown him what I can do with a surgeon’s knife, do we?’

  Sean took a step back and admired his handiwork as Joey started to scream. Michael closed the container doors. Nudge’s scrapyard was fairly secluded but Joey’s screaming was becoming louder and they couldn’t chance being heard.

  ‘Shut the fuck up and have a bit of dignity, you crying cunt,’ Michael snarled.

  Joey started to cry then, big bawling tears and snot running from his nose. ‘Please?’ he begged. ‘Let me go.’

  ‘Is he fucking serious?’ Sean said.

  ‘Did my wife ask you to let her go when you had her pinned to the wall by her throat, Joey?’ Michael asked him as he brought his face closer to Joey’s. Joey looked up at him, his eyes wide as he stared into Michael’s face. Then Michael saw it – that look a man has when he knows he is about to die.

  ‘I know things. Let me speak to Grace,’ he pleaded. ‘I can help—’

  Michael grabbed hold of Joey’s face with his hand and squeezed his cheeks until he stopped talking. ‘Is this about those girls that were murdered? It was you, wasn’t it?’ he snarled.

  Joey snivelled and shook his head. ‘He made me. I didn’t want to.’


  ‘I tell you what, Joey, you tell me what you know, and I’ll decide if we should let you live to tell Grace. How about that?’ Michael asked.

  Joey’s eyes started to roll in his head as the morphine they had given him earlier started to wear off and the pain started to kick in. ‘This goes up higher than you can imagine. She needs to find Simon… He’s got the card… It will bring down JB,’ he mumbled before he passed out. None of which meant much at all to Michael.

  Two hours later, Michael and Sean Carter had changed into a fresh set of clothes and were placing Joey’s body, and the parts of him that they had removed, in the back of the old Fiesta they had driven him there in. On the seat beside him, they placed their clothes and the now bloodstained rags they had soaked in a solution of hydrogen peroxide and water and used to clean their skin. Sean emptied a full jerry can of petrol over the seats and stepped back as Michael lit the match and tossed it into the car. They both stood for a few moments and watched as the flames engulfed the vehicle. Michael turned to his brother, the glow of the fire making his face appear an unnatural shade of orange.

  ‘This is the last time we do this?’ Michael said. A question rather than a statement.

  Sean shrugged in response as he started to walk away from the burning car and towards the parked car a few metres away where John Brennan was waiting for them. ‘We only do what we have to, Michael,’ he replied over his shoulder.

  Chapter Forty

  Grace had been lying awake for hours waiting for Michael to come home. Every time she heard a car pass by, she wondered if it would be him. It reminded her of all those nights she had lain awake waiting for Nathan, except that, for the most part, she had prayed that he wouldn’t come home. She would always wonder about what kind of mood he would arrive home in, and whether he would feel the need to start an argument, or drag her out of bed by her hair because of some imagined insult. Waiting for Michael was completely different. She couldn’t wait for him to come home to her, and all that she prayed for was that he was safe.

  Grace must have drifted off because she was woken by a cool hand slipping over the warm skin on her waist and onto her stomach. She woke with a start, at first unsure of her surroundings. For an awful moment, she wondered if she was in the little flat above her pub, The Rose and Crown, and it was Nathan crawling into bed beside her. But then she felt Michael’s body press against hers and his soft lips against her shoulder blade. He smelled of fresh air and soap. She placed her hand over his, her fingertips brushing over his wedding ring, and felt the relief wash over her. He was home.

  She turned onto her back so she could look at him in the dim light of the room. Placing a hand on his cheek, she smiled at him. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Did you do what you needed to?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Is everything taken care of?’ she asked pointedly, although she already knew the answer.

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘Did Sean go with you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said with a soft sigh.

  ‘Sophia will kill the pair of you if she finds out,’ Grace warned.

  ‘She won’t find out,’ he replied and then he bent his head and started to plant soft kisses along her collarbone.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ she asked him again.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied sharply. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Grace.’ He rolled onto his back and lay with his hands behind his head.

  Grace rolled onto her side and rested her head on her elbow. With her fingertips she traced the tattoo of her name on his abdomen, smiling as she remembered how he had surprised her with it the day after they had returned from their honeymoon in France.

  She studied his face as he stared at the ceiling – his jaw clenched shut as he wrestled with his thoughts. She understood that sometimes, to protect his family, he had to do things that he’d rather not tell her about. She had a good idea what he’d done tonight, and he knew that she did. The rumours about Michael and Sean and what they used to do, and occasionally still did, to people had been around for years. Grace knew they were more than just rumour and she was well aware of the violence that her husband was capable of. But she also knew how much it cost him and how he worried that one day he would go so far that he would never be able to come back. But that would never happen. He loved his family too much to ever let it. Besides, she would never let it happen. She would always bring him back to her, and to do that, she would be whatever he needed.

  She placed a hand on his cheek. ‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘Then what do you want?’

  He tilted his head to look at her, his eyes searching hers. ‘Just you,’ he whispered.

  ‘Well, I’m right here,’ she replied with a smile.

  Michael rolled on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with the weight of his large frame.

  ‘I love you, Grace,’ he said before his head disappeared and he started to trail kisses down her stomach.

  ‘I love you too,’ she breathed as she enjoyed the feeling of his hands and lips on her skin.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Grace walked into the kitchen to see Michael putting dishes away. He had treated her and Belle and Oscar to a breakfast of freshly made pancakes with strawberries and Nutella. To say that the kids, and their dog Bruce, had enjoyed themselves would be an understatement. When Grace had left to drop the kids off at school and nursery, the kitchen had looked like a bomb site. But now there was no trace of chocolate spread or pancake batter to be found.

  ‘You’ve been busy,’ Grace said with a smile as she placed her phone on the countertop and sat down.’

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said and watched as he silently moved around the kitchen and made two coffees in the new-fangled machine he’d bought. He was so at ease in the kitchen. Like his brother Sean, he was a great cook and he used it as a stress reliever. She supposed that he needed that today.

  When he’d made their drinks, he placed them on the breakfast bar and sat opposite her.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  He nodded at her and raised his mug to his lips, blowing on the hot liquid.

  Grace watched him and sat in silence. He would talk to her when he was ready.

  ‘Parnell told me to give you a message last night,’ Michael said.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Hmm. He seemed to think that he’d be able to use it as a bargaining chip.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘It didn’t all make sense. He was pretty incoherent by that point,’ Michael said and looked at her, as though he was waiting for her to press him for more details, but she sat back and allowed him to talk.

  ‘He’d lost most of his teeth and his jaw was probably broken,’ he said and then looked down at his coffee.

  Grace remained silent.

  ‘Listening to his dying confession wasn’t exactly my top priority. Men sometimes want to tell you all kinds of shite before they die. But from what I could understand, he said that the girls were killed to cover something up and it went higher than you knew. Then he wasn’t really making sense, but he said that you needed to find Simon because he had the card and that the card would give you JB.’ He looked up at her then. ‘See, I told you it didn’t make much sense,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘It does to me,’ Grace replied.

  He didn’t respond and she thought that now wasn’t the time to tell him about what she’d learned from Leigh the previous day. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. She would speak to Leigh as soon as she could.

  She got up and walked around to the other side of the counter where Michael was sitting. Placing her arms around his neck, she rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I love you, you know?’ she said quietly in his ear. ‘You are the best man I know.’

  He turned his head to look at her and offered a faint smile. ‘Then you must know some pretty shit ones.’

 
‘Actually, I do,’ she said with a laugh. ‘But I know plenty of good ones too, and you stand head and shoulders above all of them. You are a better father and a better husband than I could have ever imagined was possible. You do what you have to so you can protect me and our family and I love you for it.’

  He moved his arm and put it around her waist, pulling her towards him. He looked into her eyes and she saw the emotion in them. ‘What did I ever do to deserve you?’ he said.

  She placed a hand on his cheek. ‘Well, you do make excellent pancakes.’

  He laughed then and she was relieved to hear the sound filling the quiet kitchen.

  ‘I love you too, Grace.’

  Grace had phoned Leigh from the car and arranged to meet in the back room at Stefano’s where they could have some privacy. Grace was just getting out of her own car when she saw John Brennan’s BMW X5 pulling up alongside her. She was surprised to see Leigh stepping out of it and Grace flashed her eyebrows at her.

  ‘You’re being very indiscreet, Detective,’ Grace said with a grin.

  ‘My car got a flat this morning—’

  ‘And John just happened to be driving past, did he?’ she asked as she waved to John before he sped off.

  ‘You know that’s not what happened,’ Leigh said with a roll of her eyes.

  Grace laughed and held the door open and Leigh stepped inside.

  ‘I just didn’t expect to see the two of you out in public together, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, given what we discussed yesterday, I’m rethinking my position on the whole situation,’ Leigh joked.