by Jade Winters
He remained rooted to the spot, feeling the hairs on his neck stirring. He sucked in the cold air slowly, rhythmically, trying to quell his panic. Calm down. The Fixer had told him this job would be as safe as houses. Safe as houses. He chuckled again. The woman’s home hadn’t been safe enough to protect her. He breathed in deeply again. Had the Fixer lied and led him straight into a trap?
Warren turned around slowly and saw the police cars approaching. He started to lift his hands up as a sign of surrender. He wasn’t going to resist. He’d go quietly. He’d experienced police brutality first-hand, and he wasn’t going to give them any reason to duff him up this time. After what they’d found at that woman’s apartment, he knew they’d be itching to beat him within an inch of his life.
He took a step nearer the edge of the pavement, standing on the kerb and watching the patrol cars, their blue lights flashing, speed towards him. He closed his eyes as he waited for the inevitable – the tyres screeching to a halt, the sound of yelling voices commanding him to “get down” and the feel of the cold steel clamped around his wrists. He knew the drill.
Near-deafening sounds from the police sirens blasted his ears as the cars flew past him. Within seconds, the howl of the sirens lessened as the cars raced further up the narrow road. Warren’s eyes snapped open and he watched, stunned, as the last police car sped around the corner and disappeared from view. He dragged in lungfuls of the cold air. The fog of panic clouding his brain dissipated. He exhaled loudly and a wide grin returned to his face. They weren’t after him at all!
His mind quickly refocused on his crime, and the intoxicating high returned. Warren couldn’t wait to get home and relieve his tension. Buoyed by the thought, he spun around to head towards his destination. Instead, he crashed into a woman right behind him. She gasped and fell backwards, but he reached out and grabbed her before she hit the ground.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling her upright before quickly continuing on his way.
Warren didn’t look back. He had no disguise, so he’d easily be recognisable. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! A red mist descended as his anger rose, clouding his vision and his mind. The Fixer had said he didn’t need a disguise because there was no way he’d be caught. Even so, he should have been more careful. More focused.
His anger abated at the sight of his parked car. He strode confidently towards it, the panic of the last few minutes quickly forgotten.
Warren scanned the area before unlocking the doors and jumping inside. A new-found confidence zipped through his body like an electric current. He was the man! He grinned. He’d escaped the police not once, but twice tonight. That had to be some sort of record. He fired up the engine of his red Alfa Romeo. The deep, guttural roar of the modified exhaust thundered through the night’s silence. He revved it again, loving the sound of the powerful engine.
Warren angled the rear-view mirror so he could see himself. The eyes that looked back at him were cold, flat, and almost inhuman. They were eyes belonging to a restless murderer who wouldn’t stop unless someone stopped him.
They were mirrors of his soul.
Chapter Five
Ashley strode through the bleak corridors of Harlow Police Station, aware that every person she approached quickly averted their eyes as she passed them. News travelled faster than light in her line of work and bad news even faster. She had no doubt that everyone and their mother knew her brother was being questioned about a woman’s murder. She was surprised that her phone hadn’t already beeped with social media updates about it. People just loved being able to share a bit of juicy gossip.
She entered the incident room on the second floor, and the few detectives milling around turned to stare at her. She ignored them and looked over at the whiteboard where new cases were displayed. She’d expected to see the latest victim posted there, along with the names of the team assigned to the case. There was neither, which could only mean one thing – the suspect was already in custody, or at least that was the assumption. Not seeing Dale, she headed to the cramped office they shared.
“Have you got any more updates on Nathan?” she said as she shoved the door open, banging it loudly against a file cabinet.
Dale jolted back in his seat in surprise. “Jesus, Ash,” he cried, grabbing at his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Come on, Dale. Answer me,” Ashley said impatiently. “Is he still here? Did he know the victim?” She fired the questions at him in quick succession.
“I don’t know the ins and outs of the case. He’s still being questioned,” Dale replied, shoving his chair away from his untidy desk. “If you’re thinking about going to see Nathan, think again. Detective Chief Superintendent Ripley’s about.”
Ashley frowned. “Ripley? What’s he doing here at this time of the morning? Is Colleen here as well?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t seen her since yesterday, but Ripley’s in her office.”
Ashley turned and walked out the door, storming down the corridor.
“Ash,” Dale called out after her. “You’re wasting your time.”
Ignoring Dale’s warning, Ashley kept walking and strode directly into Colleen’s office without bothering to knock. “Why has my brother been arrested?” she demanded from DCS Ripley, who sat behind Colleen’s desk. He looked out of place amid the feminine touches Colleen had added to the office.
DCS Ripley slowly lifted his gaze from the paper in his hand to look at her, but said nothing.
“I asked you a question,” Ashley snapped, her voice strained with anger.
DCS Ripley narrowed his eyes. “I will overlook your insubordinate behaviour just this once, as you seem to have temporarily taken leave of your senses.”
Ashley softened her tone but the intent was still there. “If you think for a minute that my brother had anything to do with–”
“You’re putting words in my mouth, McCoy. I didn’t say he had done anything.” He leaned forward in his seat and put the paper in his hand into a folder.
“So why is he here? Why is he being questioned?”
Ripley opened the desk drawer and dropped the folder in. “That’s something I can’t tell you, and you know it.”
Ashley raised a dubious eyebrow. “Right, because we always follow procedure, don’t we?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I don’t know what you’re implying, McCoy.” He fixed his cold gaze on her and cocked his head slightly. “But I’d be very, very careful if I was you. I could have you disciplined for making unfounded comments about a senior officer.”
Ashley feigned ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘sir’,” she said. “Can I at least see him, so I can find out what he knows?”
“No, you can’t, and you should know better than to ask.” He made an exasperated sound. “You need to stay as far away from this case as possible.”
“And if I don’t?”
His face tightened in irritation. “You’ll be placed on desk duty at another station. Any involvement from you could jeopardise a future prosecution.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, very,” DCS Ripley said, staring at her.
Ashley stood there; numb. It was as if she’d woken up in someone else’s nightmare. When she spoke, she tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. Ripley had the power to make her life very uncomfortable, and he knew it. “Is Colleen coming in?”
“Detective Chief Inspector Rees will be here at nine in the morning, and don’t think she’s going to tell you any different than what I’ve just said.”
McCoy’s shoulders dropped. “Has Nathan seen a solicitor?”
DCS Ripley shook his head. “As of yet, no. He said he didn’t want one.”
Ashley made a fist with her right hand. Because Nathan was a solicitor himself, he no doubt thought he could handle the police interview without any help. Well, he was going to find out the difference between property law and criminal law the hard way.
Ash
ley walked to the door, turning to face Ripley before she opened it. “My brother wouldn’t harm a fly, let alone another human being.”
A wan smile played on DCS Ripley’s thin lips. “Nothing can be ruled out yet, McCoy, regardless of who the suspect is related to.” He picked up a local newspaper and snapped it open, dismissing Ashley, making sure she knew just how low on his list of importance she was.
She opened her mouth to respond, but good manners prevented her from saying what was on her mind. Instead, she chewed on her lower lip. Oh, how she’d love to wipe that smug smile off his face! She knew there was only one thing for her to do. Sit tight and pray Nathan wasn’t digging himself a hole he couldn’t get out of.
Chapter Six
Warren pressed the phone against his ear as he walked along the balcony towards his apartment.
“Yes, I made sure I didn’t leave any prints,” he said in response to The Fixer’s question, rolling his eyes, trying not to let the annoyance seep into his voice. He hated being treated like an amateur. Obviously, he’d made sure he didn’t leave any prints. That could land him in prison for life. He may be – what was that lovely phrase he’d heard? Oh yes. Morally bankrupt. He smiled to himself. But he wasn’t mentally bankrupt too.
“And no, before you ask, I didn’t do anything else to her.” Not that I wouldn’t have, given the chance. The woman had been a beauty. The type who was well out of his reach in real life. Not that he was ugly. Far from it. Warren thought he was quite a catch. But he knew that wasn’t what women like her found appealing in a man. They wanted men to be good looking and have financial security. As well as good job prospects. He didn’t have the last two, and one out of three didn’t cut it with women like that. This meant that, under normal circumstances, he never appeared on any attractive woman’s radar. To say this pissed him off would have been a huge understatement. His jaw tightened in anger.
The Fixer was still talking but Warren was barely listening as he walked into his flat and headed straight for the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he grabbed a bottle of beer and cracked off the lid with his teeth, spitting it out on the worktop. “So, have you got any more work for me?” he asked, interrupting The Fixer’s words without listening to them.
“No, for now. Just sit tight,” The Fixer said. “You’ve done well. Let this situation die down for now. We have to be careful. Get on with your life, and make sure you stay out of trouble.”
“But–”
“But nothing! Just do as you’re told. Nothing more, nothing less. And don’t even think about being anything but a model citizen until you hear from me again. Got it? Nothing can derail my plan. Do you hear me? Nothing!”
“Yeah, okay. Keep your hair on.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch soon. Sit tight.”
The line went dead. Warren put the bottle of beer to his mouth and drained it in one go before opening another and taking it with him to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and put his beer bottle on the sink while the water heated. He stepped into the powerful stream and watched as it washed away the blood that had seeped through his tee-shirt. He smiled to himself as the red water swirled around his feet. He hadn’t felt this good in years. Warren stepped out from under the water jets, turned off the taps, grabbed a towel and his beer, and strode naked into his bedroom. He fell back, spread-eagled, onto the bed and rubbed the towel against his muscular chest. Nothing could top how ecstatic he felt. He grabbed the remote control and switched on the DVD player. The screen filled with the tangled bodies of naked men and women. Warren watched the writhing forms dispassionately. Usually, he couldn’t get enough of it, but tonight the porn did nothing for him. He wasn’t interested in women groaning in ecstasy; his mind was filled with a woman wailing in terror. That was so much more of a turn-on. His cock hardened immediately. He began to stroke himself as flashes of the terrified woman flooded his mind. His rage, her fear, her helplessness. He was more powerful than any high-ranking, white-collared, CEO jerk. They didn’t know what real power was. But he did. He was powerful beyond their puerile imaginations. He could kill anyone he wanted on a whim and, thanks to The Fixer, he’d never get caught.
Once he’d finished, he switched on his laptop, desperate for his next fix. His method was fool proof. Facebook was a murderer’s paradise.
Chapter Seven
Psychic turned killer found dead.
Aaron’s death had made the Internet headlines. A small black-and-white mug shot of a smug looking Aaron accompanied the online article. It made Ashley sick to her stomach to see his face again. She quickly scanned the story to see if there was an update on his cause of death. Nothing. Death unknown. It seemed the media were just as much in the dark as she was.
Dale walked into their office as she finished reading the last paragraph. “Why weren’t we informed of his death before the media?” she asked.
“If I knew the answer to that, I’d tell you. I only found out ’cause my mate works at the prison. I take it you’ve told Tasha.”
Ashley slowly nodded her head
“I bet she’s relieved.”
“She is. Oh God, I could scream!” She pushed her chair back from her desk. “I can’t believe that on the back of good news this crap with my brother happens.”
He gave her a wry smile. “That’s normally the way it is. Did Ripley tell you anything?”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “What do you think? The man’s a stickler when it comes to rules and regulations.”
Dale snorted. “Yeah, but only when it suits him.” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “So, what are you going to do now?”
Ashley sighed. “Wait. I want to be here when Nathan’s released. I don’t suppose you know who’s interviewing him, do you?”
“Steve and that new bloke, Mike Bradshaw.”
Ashley made a sour face. This news didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Mike was one of Ripley’s golden boys who did all his bidding. There was no doubt in her mind that if Ripley told Mike to torture someone for a confession, he wouldn’t bat an eyelid before following the instruction. He was a true sycophant, licking whoever’s boots he had to, if he thought it would help make his slimy way up the police ladder of success. He kissed arse and rode coattails, two things Ashley despised people doing.
The only saving grace was that Steve was also present. She’d built up a good professional relationship with Steve since he’d joined her team six months ago. He seemed to be a good detective and a straight shooter. It gave her a bit of peace of mind that he was there to keep Mike in check if necessary.
“I hope Mike’s not going to be hard on him just because Nathan’s my brother.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. You know what an egotistical prick he is.” Dale walked over to his desk and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. He hesitated before putting it on. “Do you want me to hang around for a while?”
Ashley smiled. “Nah, it’ll be alright. I doubt they’ll keep him here much longer. Besides, you look knackered,” she said, noticing his five o’clock shadow and bloodshot eyes.
“Yeah, it’s been a long day.”
He patted down his jacket and withdrew his phone, checked it, and put it away again. “Right. I’ll see you later. If you hear anything let me know.”
“You’ll be the first,” she said, as she watched him walk out of the room.
Ashley swung her legs up onto the desk. She needed a power nap to recharge her batteries.
As she closed her eyes, the phone on her desk started to ring. The loud shrill breaking the silent air. She sighed, leaned over and picked it up hoping it was the custody sergeant with good news about her brother.
“DS McCoy.”
An unfamiliar voice spoke at the end of the line. “Detective, this is Alexis Cross from the Harlow Express, I know you worked on the Aaron Davies case, have you any comment to make about his sudden death?”
Ashley sighed again. “No comment.”
“He was responsible for the vicious
attack on your partner Tasha Roberts, how has she taken the news of his death?”
“No comment. Listen, Alexis, isn’t it?” She could hear the irritation in her own voice.
“Yes.”
“I have nothing to say on the matter, neither does my partner. I would appreciate it if you’d leave us alone. As you can imagine this has been a stressful time for all concerned.”
“Okay, Okay, just one more question.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. This woman just didn’t give up. “One more then I’m hanging up.”
“I have information from a reliable source that there was a cover-up over the death of Nicola Coleman.”
The room felt like the air had been sucked out of it. Ashley gripped the edge of her seat.
“I know you investigated that case. Are you willing to confirm or deny my findings? Off the record of course.”
Ashley's body stiffened. She found herself pressing the receiver closer and closer to her ear. “Go on. I’m listening.”
***
Wake up, wake up, wake up! A voice screamed in Ashley’s head. Panic-stricken, her eyes shot open. She tried to move her legs but they wouldn’t respond. They were totally numb. She grabbed her legs with both hands and swung them to the floor. When she tried to stand, her legs buckled. It was several seconds before she felt the sensation of being stabbed with millions of pins as the circulation began to flow into her limbs and the feeling came back.
Glancing at her watch she realised she had been sleeping in the same position for over six hours. No wonder her legs had fallen asleep. She’d been dreaming about Nicola Coleman. The little girl had been playing in a golden, warm, sunlit field; singing and dancing like any other nine-year-old. The thought of her being happy wherever she was, comforted Ashley. Nobody can hurt her now. She looked out of the window, and dawn was already breaking. She stood next to her desk, reached for the phone, and jabbed in a series of numbers.