Page 121 of Vengeance is Mine

Harry stopped as he reached the telephone on the coffee table. He turned to look at his wife. ‘Barbara, look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill Dominic Griffiths.’

‘Why are you even asking me that? You should know I couldn’t do something like that.’

‘Then say it.’

‘This is ludicrous.’ She half-laughed.

‘You’re not denying it, though, are you?’

‘Okay. I didn’t do it.’

‘Look me in the eye and say it.’

‘Harry,’ Barbara pleaded, on the brink of tears.

‘Oh my God.’ He sank into the sofa. ‘You did, didn’t you? You killed him. What did you do? Did you put those three men up to beating him up, too?’

‘No, of course I didn’t,’ she said, lowering herself to his level.

‘I can’t believe this. I was a detective inspector. I worked for the police for almost thirty years. How did I not see this?’

‘Harry.’ She sat on the armchair. She allowed a silence to develop for a few seconds, though it felt like hours. She softened her voice. ‘I didn’t do it for you. I didn’t do it for me. I did it for Stephanie,’ she said, tears rolling down her face.

‘Stephanie’s dead!’ he screamed.

‘I know she is. And her killer should be too. That’s the way it should be. A life for a life, Harry.’

‘Not in the eyes of the law.’

‘The law isn’t working. How many times do I have to tell you? For people like us, the law is not working. We’re left to suffer and grieve and be in pain for the rest of our lives, while people like Dominic Griffiths are allowed to carry on as if nothing’s happened. The law isn’t on our side. It looks after the criminals but not the victims and not the families of victims. God forbid you put a murderer in solitary confinement – it’s against his human rights. What about my human rights?’ she screamed, slapping herself on the chest. ‘What about Stephanie’s human rights?’ She pointed at the photograph on the wall.

‘Nobody has the right to take the law into their own hands,’ Harry said, slowly losing the will to continue the argument.

‘When the law allows killers and rapists to go free, we have to act to show we’re not going to give in to them. The liberal do-gooders in their ivory towers make the law, but they’re never on the receiving end of the consequences. How many politicians in the cabinet do you think live within a five-minute walk of a paedophile, or a rapist, or an arsonist, or a killer? None. And why? Because they don’t give a toss about the regular people. All they think about is what’s in it for them. They give themselves pay rises above the rate of inflation, they line their own pockets, and fuck the regular hard-working members of society like me and you, Harry. So, yes, from time to time, we have to take the law into our own hands, because we cannot trust the lawmakers to do it for us.’

‘I’m phoning Terry,’ Harry said eventually, turning to pick up the phone.

‘No, Harry, please,’ Barbara begged. ‘Please don’t. I’ll be arrested. I’ll be sent to prison.’

‘I’m a detective, Barbara. I can’t sit back and watch a crime go unreported.’

‘You’re not a detective anymore. You’re retired. You’re just a member of the public, like me. Dominic killed our daughter, Harry. In cold blood. He kidnapped her, and he killed her.’ She ran over to the picture on the wall and snatched it down, holding it up to show Harry. ‘Look at her. Look at our daughter. She was thirteen years old, and Dominic stole her from us. He killed her and cut her up. He deserved to die.’

Harry, with the phone receiver in his hand, stopped and turned to his wife.

‘I don’t know you at all. I’m calling Terry.’

‘No!’ She snatched the phone out of his hand, gripping it firmly in both hands, holding it tight against her chest.

‘Barbara, give me the phone,’ he said, holding out his hand.

‘I’m sorry, Harry, but no. I won’t let you do this.’

They were at an impasse. Neither of them moved. Their eyes were locked on each other.

The doorbell rang. Barbara’s eyes widened. Still, neither of them moved. The doorbell rang again.

Slowly, Harry headed for the door.

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