A/N: I just want to say thanks for all the hits to this story, and all my New Tricks fics, the reviews that I have received are encouraging. Again, I must say thank you.

Chapter Four

Meeting John and Scotts' father was as heartbreaking as meeting his mother, all these years and Lisa and Harold still feel so much pain. I think about John, what his childhood must have been like. Though I am sure that they loved him as well, the hole left from losing their child was too much for them to bear. Remembering my days working with crimes against children I saw, excessively the hurt that never seems to heal.

Harold Campbell did not look 75 years old he looked more like 95. His skin color was pale and the odor that expelled through the open door was to say the least a bit nauseating.

Sandra did most of the talking, Jack interjected a few times, I kept silent. Imagining how my parents would have reacted if it were me along with Scott that fell prey to Justin. Was it him? I know he was there but was he responsible, that we had to prove.

Harold never smiled; he showed no enthusiasm for what we were trying to do. "Face it Sandra," I said aloud as I stood. "He's not a bit interested."

"I was interested, fifty years ago." The words came out slurred but the anger was there, "Where the fuck where you then?"

"I was six years old at the time!" I shouted as I took a step toward him.

He never looked at me, all his concentration was on the can of beer that was in his hand. He made a motion to set the can down when he started to stand. He wanted to confront me but he immediately sat back down, knowing if he tried to take a step, he would fall flat on his face. John never moved to assist his father. He remained by the window, shaking his head, he was embarrassed, I could tell. I'm sure that he had hope that his father may be sober when we visited, but to his dismay, it was not meant to be.

"We had hope," Sandra continues. "That maybe there was something or someone that you may remember who seemed a bit out of sorts around the time of your sons' murder."

Harold lifted the beer can that he held in his shaking hand from the time we entered the run down flat. With a look of defiance, he took a long sip. "I can't remember shit about the week before or after." The contents of the can were now empty, he tossed it across the room, and it hit the wall, causing a slight dent in the already dirty and dented wall. He was bitter and purposely flaunting his intoxicated state; I could see the look of disgust and sadness on his eldest sons face.

"Come on, let's go. Mr. Campbell has told us all we need to know." Jacks' voice of reason said.

We thanked him and decided to return to the office to find out as much as we can about Justin Gibson.

I wanted to suggest we stop off for a pint, putting the memory of Harold out of my mind. Hell it would only be one. I opened my mouth to speak but decided that Sandra, though she has loosened up over the years, would never go for it. I look out the window and my mind starts to wander. Remembering the first few months of this relationship, I suspect that she had respect for us, well Jack I know that for sure, on the onset. She at times does treat us like kids, but then again we often act like ones. I turn my focus away from the outside world and face forward, all I can see is the back of her head, but I have to smile. She has taken this very far, at first I was upset but no longer. She and Jack are discussing who is going to do what when we return. I return to the world outside, the country roads with sparse traffic have been over taken by streets full of cars and noise. Maybe the country does have some things to offer. Little Gerry would indeed love to run through fields covered with grass and stand in amazement at the sight of wild animals roaming, wild animals in Britain? I think the wildest animal is a deer, I could be wrong.

"I'm hungry," Brian, says breaking my thoughts.

"I could go for something and maybe a pint." I say excitedly. With hope that all would join me.

Yes, Sandra has indeed loosened up, she orders herself a glass of wine.

"The agony they must have felt." Sandra says but we all thought the same.

"Never got over it,'" Brian says as he sets down his glass. "Can't say I blame them for their bitterness."

"Alright I can understand that," I say as I pick up my pint glass filled with ale. "They had another son, what about him." I sit back in the chair as I take a long sip.

Jack leans forward, "John seems to me, guilty."

"You're not thinking that he had anything to do with it?"

"It's possible Sandra, come on we've all learned especially in this job that anything is possible."

"That would be a great deal of anger for a young boy to display." Brian says casually.

"Nah, I don't think that," I say as I shake my head. "I think John has been living in the shadow of his little brother all his life. He was tossed aside; it's as if when Scott died, his parents did also."

After returning to the office we began a search of Justin Gibson. Our instincts about him were correct; he does have an arrest record. However, none of his arrests or convictions is of the violent nature, burglaries. Three to be exact, all occurring over twenty years ago.

"He was there, I saw him."

"That doesn't mean that he had anything to do with Scott's murder."

"Alright Brian, then why after talking to Lisa and Harold, not one of them mentioned that Justin admitted to them that he was there."

"I still say that Scott happened upon something that Justin was either hiding or picking up at the time. Maybe killing Scott was an accident."

"Strangling a little boy an accident? No Jack, I think he meant to hurt that boy." Sandra says as she pours herself a cup of coffee. "But," she pauses to take a quick sip, "I think Jack may be right. What we need to do is find out if a major burglary went down around the time of Scott's murder. Maybe what he was hiding or retrieving linked him to the crime."

Sandra, Jack and I sit on the couch, me with eyes closed, they talking about nothing in particular, Brian is busy with research.

"Found something," Brian says with elation. We all sit up and focus our eyes on our colleague. He continues, "On the 10th and 15th of June 1956 two banks were robbed." Brian points to the computer screen as he reads, "The culprit was hard to describe," he looks up to make sure that he has our full attention. He lowers his gaze when he is certain that he does. "He of course wore a mask and sunglasses. He was not known to have an accomplice."

"He hid his take in the woods?" Jack says as he shakes his head.

"Just because he got away with the crime, doesn't mean the guy is too bright upstairs." The frowns on their faces are not hard to read. A flash of his face enters my mind, maybe it was his eye but now that I think about it, he did look stupid. I expel a slight chuckle, no one questions the action. I sit down in the chair behind my desk and place my hands behind my head, I was starting to feel like my ole self again, confident and yes I had to admit a bit boorish. Never again would I let what happened to me that day take over my life, it was over.

I sat up abruptly in the chair, hitting the top of the desk with my hand, "Alright come on, let's get the bugger." Not sure if Jack or Brian noticed the wink and smile, Sandra gave me but I did. As I stood I straighten my tie and then with a confident gate I walked across the room, "Well," I said excitedly, "Come on let's go."

"Now?" Jack asks.

"Yes now, come on." I want to go now, I need to get it over with, no more mystery, I need to know the truth.

"Fantastic," I heard Sandra say as I opened the door.

"Whose car are we using?" Jack asks in the distance.

I heard the jingling of keys, "Mine," Sandra says with authority.

As we entered the car, the fear and anxiety that I had been feeling most of the day was gone, now I was just pissed off. I needed and wanted to confront this man. Sandra and the lads wouldn't have to coax me into anything. I was angry and I was ready.

I had to sit in the backseat with Brian, though I now think of him as more of a brother, his insensitivity sometimes can be frustrating. I have to remember that he puts up a wall to shield out the horror that we have seen over the years, the cruel things that one human being can do to another. He is babbling facts about the robberies, we all nod and says things, like 'really or no kidding. Does he realize that we are not listening? Somehow, I doubt it.

He catches me staring at him. "He pulled off the perfect robbery Gerry, and he knew it. He wasn't going to let anyone, not even a child screw that up."

Yes, what he said made sense. I started to squirm in the seat, from anxiety? "No," I whispered, only impatience.

We all sat quiet and still in the car, staring. If he was responsible for the robberies of two banks, he certainly didn't use the money to fix up his house, it looked like shit. We wondered if we would need a scythe to get to the front door, the weeds would tower over my grandson.

I heard the door open in the front of the car, "Are we ready?" Sandra asks.

We, I bowed my head and a faint smile crosses my face, she was trying to be diplomatic, she meant me.

….That is all for now….

….More to come and soon….I hope….

….Later The Mominator….