My mum and dad used to hit me. It might not be much of a surprise to you, but those bastards beat the living shit out of me every day for ten years, from when I was five to when I was fifteen. It didn’t matter what I did, it was always something wrong. And they speshally didn’t like it when I answered back. My mum was the worst. The drink and drugs made her lash out, and dad was too weak to defend him and me, so he started going along with it too. The things I did to your brother was a retaliashun, I didn’t know what came over me and I had all this anger and frustration that came out on your brother. That’s why I did what I did to him. He didn’t deserve it, but neither did I deserve it when my mum broke my arm in the door, when she shoved me into the fridge, when she slapped me and made me undress and put my hands in the air and beat me and smacked my dick and said nasty things to me. Neither of us deserved what happened to us, and as for my mum and dad, fuck knows where they are. I HOPE THEY’RE FUCKING DEAD.

I never told no one that before, so I hope you can keep it a secret please, Tomek. I trust you, mate. It can be our little thing between us.

I’ve nearly run out of room now, and I don’t like turning over the page because it looks messy and gets confusing, so I’m going to have to write you another one some other time. I’ve stapled two mobile numbers to this sheet so you can call me. I wasn’t sure if the other one got lost, and if the guards take it away then I have a spare one. Does that make sense?

I can’t wait to hear your voice.

Send my love to the family,

Nathan

Tomek stared at the words on the page, at the harsh scribbles where Nathan had made a mistake and corrected himself (though it made no difference to the subsequent spelling as he made the same mistakes again). He admired the man for trying, for writing as much as he had. It couldn’t have been easy for him, growing up like that, abandoned, abused, emotionally and physically neglected. It made sense now that he hadn’t had the resources or care and attention needed to develop his reading and writing skills. Other than simply surviving in that household, there would have been nothing else on his mind.

As Tomek sat there, turning over the sentences in his mind, he felt a pang of guilt and remorse overwhelm the excitement and curiosity he’d felt before reading the letter. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt an affinity to the man who’d killed his brother. Perhaps it was because he’d known what it was like to be outcast from his family – it wasn’t anywhere near the same level that Nathan had experienced, but following his brother’s death, his parents had neglected him, stopped loving him, they had left him to process and deal with the trauma of his brother’s death alone.

In that way, he and Nathan Burrows were very much alike.

Tomek turned over the page and tore the stapled squares off. He looked at the numbers, contemplated adding them to his address book. In the end, he put them with the folded letter in the back of his wardrobe with the rest of them. If he wanted to call Nathan – a real possibility he was now considering – then he would know where to find it.

Just as Tomek closed the wardrobe shut, the doorbell to the flat rang. Abigail. She was staying over. The fourth night in a row. He wondered whether they would need to have the chat about staying over for good soon.

As he opened his bedroom door, he caught Kasia hovering outside, frozen, feet planted on the floor, caught in the moment between running towards either the front door or her bedroom.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You been eavesdropping?’

‘No.’

‘What are you doing outside my room then?’

‘I came to ask a question.’

Lie.

‘What?’

‘Erm…’ Kasia couldn’t answer.

The doorbell sounded again. Longer this time. Tomek’s frustration began to bubble.

‘Pardon? What were you going to ask me?’

‘Erm… I… I wondered…’

‘Yes?’

Another ring.

‘Can I meet up with Yas at the weekend?’

‘Yas?’

‘Yeah. She wants to go Lakeside. And I need some… some new underwear, and…’

Another ring.

‘For fuck’s sake! I’m coming!’

Ignoring Kasia, Tomek spun on the spot and raced to the front door. He slammed his hand on the handle and yanked it open. There, on the other side, was Abigail, wearing an impatient and aggrieved look on her face. Her hair was messy and in her hand she carried a laptop bag filled with documents.

‘You couldn’t have fucking waited?’ he snapped.

‘Good evening to you, too. Shall we try that again?’

Tomek shook himself to. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just… stressful day.’

‘Tell me about it. Is it safe to come in or do you need me to knock again?’

Tomek stepped aside and let her through. As he closed the front door, Kasia slammed her bedroom door, the sound reverberating throughout the flat. She shut it so hard he thought he could hear the wood splintering.

‘Everything all right?’ Abigail asked, caution in her voice. ‘What have I come home to?’

Tomek didn’t like that.

Come home.

As though it was her home as well now. As though she’d just imposed herself on it without consulting him or asking how he felt about it. He didn’t like that at all.

‘I didn’t realise this was your home,’ he said, cold.

‘Okay… I’m sensing there’s something a little more behind that comment than the obvious. I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry if I⁠—’

Tomek turned his back on her and moved towards the kitchen. There, he started preparing dinner. Spaghetti Bolognese. Simple, staple. And one of his favourites to cook. He spent the next twenty minutes chopping the onion, stirring the meat, cooking the pasta as Abigail told him about her day. About how there was nothing going on. How there had been nothing to report for days. And with each comment, she had made a jab at him, poking at him, questioning him on why he and the team hadn’t given them any information about the body that had been found at the church.

‘I mean, throw me a bone here, Tomek,’ she said. ‘We’ve been feeding off scraps and we’re starting to run out.’

‘I know.’

He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her right now. In fact, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone or anything. Not after the afternoon he’d had. Not after the letter, which had completely fucked with his circuitry.

‘Did you hear what I just said?’

Tomek continued to stir the meat, staring into the sauce.

‘Tomek!’