Caught in the Web Emmy Ellis (best ereader for textbooks txt) 📖

in the irises, the same shaped lids, same length and curve to the lashes.

Gordon spun round, and Burgess applied the cuffs, confused himself. How come Gordon wasn’t asking why they needed to be clamped around his wrists? Again with the childlike thing—he was doing as he’d been told. Where were the protestations of innocence? Every person he’d arrested had stated they hadn’t done anything, even when no charges had been spoken. Why the submissiveness? Where was the arrogance? Where, for fuck’s sake, was the struggling to get away?

Giving Shaw the nod, Burgess waited while his partner took Varley by the arm. Then Burgess picked up the beanie and coat and followed Shaw and Varley from the building. Out on the pavement, he was pleased the traffic had thinned, so getting their suspect across the road proved easy. Shaw deposited Varley in the back of Burgess’ car then clicked on the child locks.

Standing beside the vehicle, Shaw puffed out a long breath. “Weird.” He shook his head. “Never seen anyone behave like that before.”

“I think he needs a medical assessment myself. This may well just be a game to him, though, the way he’s acting.” Burgess sighed. Peered down the street. Clutched Varley’s coat and hat to his chest. “Ah, here’s Lewis. Time to get the ball really rolling.” He got out his phone and rang the station. “Varley here. Call off the surveillance team outside my mum’s place, will you?” he said. “It’s not needed anymore.”

And thank fuck for that.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Shaw leant against the wall in the booking-in area. Burgess and Varley stood side by side in front of the desk. Fuck, they looked so alike it was unnerving. The sergeant was filling in details on his computer, glancing up with an expression of curiosity when Burgess gave him Varley’s name. Burgess glared at the copper—hard—and business as usual resumed.

People rarely questioned Burgess. Or pushed him.

Not if they knew what was good for them.

After a burly uniform had appeared and guided Varley away from the desk to the holding cells, Burgess came up to Shaw. He leant on the wall, too, the top of his arm on it, so they faced each other.

“Might be better to let him stew,” Shaw said quietly. “We have to wait for the duty solicitor to arrive anyway. We’ve got time to view the latest victim, even if just for a short while.”

“Thought the same myself. I shouldn’t have this need to go to each scene, but I always do. Let me just ring Mum first.” Burgess connected the call and waited for her to answer. “All right, Mum?”

“I’m fine, dear.”

“Good. Just a quick call to let you know we’ve got him, okay? Do you want to go home now?”

“Can I stay another night? They’ve got good television programmes.”

“Ah, I see. Yep, by all means, take advantage of it and enjoy tonight’s entertainment. I’ll come and collect you tomorrow. See you then.” Burgess pushed off the wall and headed for the main doors, wondering how he kept it all together. As always, on the outside he was stoic, and no one would know what shit was going through his head. And there would be shit now, lots of it, not only to do with the case but emotionally. His father. His mother. His half-brother. It was a lot to expect anyone to cope with, but Burgess was made of strong stuff. But how much stronger would he have to be before this was over? Could he find the strength to get through this?

Yeah, he reckoned he could. Besides, this wasn’t about him, and he cursed himself for thinking as he had. Anyway, if he needed support, Shaw would give it to him. Always had, always would, mates until the end.

Shaw followed Burgess outside, clutching his keys in a tight fist—so tight the teeth dug into his palm. Burgess got in the passenger side, Shaw in the driver’s seat. They sat in silence for a few moments, Shaw not knowing what the hell to say. Unusual for him. He’d normally belt out some quip or other, but in these circumstances, he walked on eggshells.

“He thinks I’m his dad,” Burgess said.

“He does—or he’s making out he does anyway.”

“And he watched his murder.”

“So he said. Do you believe him?” Shaw kept his gaze fixed ahead at the wall surrounding the car park. Someone had sprayed ‘Pigs’ on it in white aerosol paint outlined in black.

“I think I do. Or I will if he gives us any information on it during the interview. Must have been hard, that. To see it all.”

Shaw imagined Burgess had visualised his father’s murder a million and one times. He would finally—hopefully—get to find out how it had really gone down, and Shaw didn’t envy him that exact knowledge. It would be like opening a wound all over again, only this time it would hurt more, because scar tissue was a tough wanker that tended to be sore to the touch when gouged at.

“Must have been,” Shaw said. “No telling what that does to a kid’s mind.”

“So why go on to kill someone yourself if you know how it feels to have watched a murder? I don’t get it.”

“Minds that have been twisted by something so horrific… He’ll have some kind of logic with regards to it all. We can surmise he killed his mother and stepfather. Had to be a good reason for that. People don’t just off their parents. I’m not validating what he did, but if he saw your dad being killed, maybe he thought it was okay to do that to someone else. We learn by example. If he wasn’t told that killing is wrong… Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“I see it. And I don’t like it. I don’t usually give a flying fuck why they