Caught in the Web by Emmy Ellis (most read books in the world of all time TXT) 📗

storage for you. Where they’ll be safe. All your things will be safe,” Burgess said. I’ll pay for it.

“What about my notebooks?”

Oh, they’re safe already. Safe inside evidence bags. “Your books will be fine, too.” Used as evidence against you.

“Could I have a new notebook? Her and The Man keep speaking to me, and I need the books to help me.”

“Yes, I’ll arrange for you to have a new book.”

The lump in Burgess’ throat hurt. For Gordon, Gran, Anita, the unknown male victims, their families. But not for Emily or Thomas Hornton. He couldn’t find a speck of sympathy in him for them. Or those other men. Those…those paedophiles.

Bastards, the lot of them. And I’ll try to find them for you, Gordon, I swear to fucking God I will. I’ll put them away, every last one of them.

Burgess turned his head to look at Gordon. His half-brother’s face was dry. Why the hell hadn’t he cried while reliving all this? How had he managed to keep it all together?

The same way I did? The same way I cope with life? Are we similar in that we shove it all away and pretend it isn’t happening?

Their parallels chilled him.

“What do you want most out of life, Gordon?” he asked. Do I want to know the answer to that?

Gordon hung his head. Laced his fingers. Squeezed, knuckles going white. “I want to be happy. I want a wife and children and a dog. I don’t want to hear her or The Man anymore.”

“There are doctors who will help you with that. The voices. There are tablets that will make them go away, and maybe then you can be happy once you’ve stayed at a secure hospital for a bit.” Years.

“That would be nice.” Gordon nodded. “A cuddle would be nice, too. I always wanted cuddles. Only got them from Gran. Will you cuddle me?”

Dear fucking God.

Burgess didn’t hesitate. How could he? Such a simple request. He rested his arm across Gordon’s back, and Gordon turned into him, pressing himself close and wrapping his arms around Burgess. Lifting his other arm, Burgess linked his fingers behind Gordon, who finally, finally sobbed.

And despite the cameras, despite Shaw being on the other side of that door, despite the whole station possibly hearing that Detective Burgess Varley wasn’t such a hard-hearted, bull-headed bastard after all, Burgess let his own tears come. Hot on his face, cold once they reached his chin. A release of so much tension, anguish, rage, and sorrow.

A new beginning. A new him. A man who’d look at both sides of every coin that came his way. A man who’d see colour, not just black and white. A man who, without a doubt, would visit Gordon Varley from time to time, and bring justice to this half-brother of his who’d been so badly treated.

Empathy for a killer.

Now there was a turn up for the books.

Epilogue

The Pig was a busy bastard tonight, customers not only filling most of the chairs and barstools but the floor space as well. Burgess briefly wondered whether there was some kind of ‘do’ going on then decided he didn’t give much of a shit if there was. He needed a pint, ice-cold, the burn of the fizz as it went down, scorching away all the cloying emotions that roiled inside him.

Marla sat in her usual spot, and somehow, despite the pub being full, she’d managed to keep the other two seats at the table free of strangers’ bums. She looked nice this evening, her normally casual clothing replaced with something a bit posher, like she was going out for a meal or dancing later. Marla in a little black dress and high heels—he couldn’t get over it.

He headed towards her while Shaw went to the bar to get their drinks. Sat beside her and, before she’d had the chance to pop her Kindle into her bag or even realise he was there, he hugged her to him—hard.

“What the hell, Burge?” she said, voice muffled against his chest. “If my puppy walks in and sees us like this…”

“Fuck your puppy.” He squeezed her harder.

“Oh, I intend to later. Um, let me go, there’s a dear. Can’t breathe. And you know how much I like to breathe. It tends to keep one alive.”

He released her, cupped her face with his hands, and kissed her forehead. “I love you. Just had the urge to tell you.” Then he backed off, hands in his lap, and watched Shaw patiently waiting for someone to serve him. “Been a bitch of a day.”

“I can tell. You don’t usually try to squash me to death. And to think it would be King doing my postmortem.”

He chuckled. Then laughed properly, tipping his head back, thankful he could still do something as simple as bloody laugh. He turned to face her. She’d spot his red-rimmed eyes, the puffiness beneath—and not mention it. Marla was good like that.

“I heard you got him,” she said, eyes full of that unspoken sympathy she always managed to give him no matter what she was going through herself. Such a decent, good-hearted friend. She held her breath, clutched her Kindle, probably to prevent herself from reaching out to touch him.

“We did.”

She blew out through red-painted lips. “And I heard you finally thawed.”

“I did.”

Marla smiled. “Good. About time other people know you like I do.”

“Things will change from now on, Mar,” he said. “Got to. Can’t keep living my life locking everything away. That doesn’t include criminals. They can still be locked away.”

And there are so many more I need to find now. And I will.

“Sometimes it just takes one thing to make you see differently. And a puppy to make everything all right, don’t you think?” she asked and raised one eyebrow.

He’d