Broken Silence. Danielle Ramsay

a teenager, enough to put his career on the line to risk helping Brady get out, never knowing whether Brady had in fact been involved in the murder. They had an unspoken agreement never to talk about it. It was part of Brady’s dark, troubled past and that was where O’Donnell had chosen to leave it. Brady had stood back and watched as O’Donnell excelled through the ranks, going on to become a boss feared by everyone, including the likes of Jimmy Matthews.

      ‘So tell me, Jack, who the fuck’s going to be able to get me out of this?’ questioned Matthews.

      ‘Gates, Jimmy. He’ll sort this. You know him, he’s straight. Take what you’ve got on Madley and Macmillan to him.’

      ‘What evidence? I’ve got nothing,’ Matthews hissed. ‘And fuck! Do you think Gates can protect me? Shit! This is Madley we’re talking about here. If he thinks I’ve crossed him then my career with the force is over with and … and I’ll lose everything … the house … Kate, Evie …’ Matthews faltered.

      ‘Listen, they’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it. All right?’

      Silence.

      ‘Jimmy? Jimmy?’

      ‘I stole from Madley, Jack. I saw an opportunity when I was in his office last night. His safe was open and I couldn’t resist … I … I … owe money everywhere and I … Shit! I thought this might give me some power back against him but …’

      ‘Fuck.’ There was one thing he knew about Madley, and that was he didn’t tolerate anyone crossing him. He knew Madley wouldn’t kill Matthews, he was a copper after all which made things messy. But as Matthews was now aware, Madley could destroy the life he had built in an instant and leave him with absolutely nothing. And for a man like Matthews, that would be a fate worse than death.

      ‘Shit, Jimmy! What the fuck did you take?’ Brady demanded, worried.

      He listened to silence.

      Matthews had already hung up.

      ‘Fuck it, Jimmy!’ cursed Brady as he stared at the deserted beach.

      It was sublime; nature at its most beautiful. The black, thunderous North Sea raged relentlessly against the craggy, treacherous rocks. Brady looked down Tynemouth’s stretching, naked sands towards the haunting Priory. Raised high on a cliff top, the ruin dominated the horizon, overlooking, as it had done for centuries, the ravaging, wild sea.

      In the halcyon days, he and Claudia had spent endless weekends discovering hidden beaches from Lindisfarne down through to Alnmouth and Bamburgh. They’d discovered desperately remote beaches brutally exposed to the harsh North Sea, so remote it was easy to forget civilisation. But stood now, watching the furious waves rant and rage against the jagged cliffs and rocks, Brady knew that there was no other beach along the Northumberland coastline that could be more dramatic and breathtaking than this one.