Chapter 33: Elliot - The Foster Child

— TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS —

I feel bad lying to Cora that I’d reported it to the police. Of course I didn’t. This is something I have to solve myself. And I will.

Rocky must be living within easy commuting distance or be working with Violet because the cards are hand-delivered, and the things that have been happening suggest that whoever it is lives nearby and is keeping an eye on the house, waiting for the opportunity to play their twisted games. Anger surges in me as I remember the look of sheer fear on Cora’s face when she opened the box with the butchered wreath in it. I’m worried what Rocky will do next and desperately wish that Cora wasn’t caught up in all this. The thought of anyone hurting her fills me with rage, and I instinctively clench my fists. I take a deep breath to calm myself down. I need to keep a clear head to work this out. I wish I knew what triggered Rocky to come after me.

I’m expecting a blackmail note from him any day. I’ve got to find him and put a stop to it and the only way I can think of doing it is to go back to where I grew up. Some of the gang might still live there and know something about Rocky.

I’ll have to take a day off work and go to Manchester, see what I can find out. I don’t want to leave Cora here alone and go in the evening. Also, it might be a bit risky to go in the dark. It was a deprived area back when I was a kid and from what I’ve heard is even worse now. I can hold my own on a one-to-one basis, but against a gang or a knife I won’t have much chance.

We’re busy at the surgery right now so it might be an idea to try and find one of the gang on Facebook instead, it would be quicker and there’s bound to be at least one of them on there. It’s tricky though, as I don’t want to bring them back into my life so am hoping that I can find out enough information by browsing and don’t have to contact anyone directly. I’ve left all that behind and I want it to stay in the past. Except now it seems that the past has come blasting into my present and will wreck my future if I don’t do something about it.

On Friday, I manage to do a Facebook search on my phone during my lunch hour and bingo, I find Spud. There’s no address on his Facebook page but lots of photos of his house and surroundings.

I look through the photos, his profile is public, he’s with someone now, got a family but I can still see the old Spud in his features. Then I pause and zoom in on a photo of him with another man. He’s older and bulkier but I’m sure it’s Rocky. I zoom in further and see the scar on his cheek from a fight he had back then, and the missing finger from his right hand. It’s Rocky. So him and Spud are still in touch. I click on Rocky’s profile – he now calls himself Rod C, no wonder I couldn’t find him. To my surprise he lives in Birmingham which is only an hour or so away. His actual address isn’t on Facebook but his page is public so I scroll down to see if I can pick up some information, there’s some landmarks I recognise so I’m pretty sure of the area. I carry on scrolling and then I see him, head under the bonnet of a dark blue van outside a block of flats with the caption ‘Got to get this beaut on the road again’. I zoom in on the name of the tower block and write it down. Hopefully that’s where he lives. Maybe I can go tomorrow morning. I check the diary. Nothing major, just a couple of routine check-ups.

‘I’ve got some urgent business in the morning,’ I tell Katrina. ‘Is there any chance you can cover these check-ups for me? Or shall I rebook them?’

She looks at her own diary. ‘I can do them. This is a bit last minute though, isn’t it? I hope everything’s okay.’

‘Just something urgent that’s come up,’ I tell her. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll cover for you next Saturday morning instead.’

First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to drive over and have it out with Rocky.