Not his Jack. Never his Jack. He had known there was something going on with him, but he had never dreamed that it could be anything even remotely like this. His baby, his youngest boy, had beaten a fucking defenceless young girl to death while out of his fucking tree on skag? On heroin? His baby was polluting his body with that shit and no one thought to tell him? None of the boys had thought it should have been brought to his attention? Had the world gone fucking mad?

‘Please, Peter, you have to understand that no one thought it would come to this . . .’

Peter snapped his head round and looked at his wife, his Ria, the woman he would have sworn was incapable of keeping something like this a secret.

‘Did you know, Ria? Did you know about this?’

Ria was shaking her head vehemently in denial, and he could see she was terrified. ‘Of course not! I wouldn’t fucking overlook something like that, would I?’

He was nodding, convinced that she was telling him the truth.

In her heart, Ria had had her suspicions – Jack’s sleeping patterns, his erratic moods – all had indicated there was something not right. But she had never thought it might be something like this.

Petey placed a hand gently on his father’s arm, and he was almost thrown into the wall by the strength of his father’s reaction; it was as if the human contact had somehow snapped Peter Bailey out of his trance.

‘Get your fucking hands off me! Now, where is he?’

Petey sighed. ‘Nana wanted him to be here but I sent him away from you. Liam’s with him. I don’t think you should see him yet.’

Peter Bailey laughed nastily. ‘I will ask you once more, son, and only once. Where the fuck is he?’

Theresa took a step towards her eldest son.

‘And you, Mother, keep away from me. One more step and I swear I will rip your fucking head off your shoulders. Now, for the last time, where is he?’

Chapter Seventy-Six

Jack Bailey was so frightened that he was unable to breathe properly. He could feel every thump of his heart crashing in his ears.

Daniel Bailey watched his nephew with disinterest; as far as he was concerned, the boy was already dead to him. Oh, he might clean his mess up for him, but that was for the family name more than for this fucking oik. Jack was less than a rabid dog to Daniel now. He had stepped over the line in more ways than one. From what he could gather, he had done the girl in while out of his box, and woke up to see his handiwork. He had then shit himself big time, and run to his nana for help – the weak, useless fucking piece of dirt.