Your Life or Mine

by Vicki Bradley

  Loxton moved to the kitchen and then the back door. It was closed, still locked apparently. There was one set of keys in the drawer, but Loxton made a mental note to ask Ben if any were missing. This killer was clever. He would want them checking for cars parked nearby the front of the house. Prioritizing house to house on the neighbours across the road. But if he’d gone out the back and climbed over some fences, then his vehicle could have been parked on a side road and the police would be looking in the wrong direction.

  Kowalski came over and shook his head at her. She could only see his eyes, but there was fury in them. If only Jane had gone into police protection. Loxton had sent her away, but it had ended up with her being taken anyway, and Loxton knew she had let another friend be abducted when she should have protected her better.

  A few doors down and Jane’s children were being looked after by a police officer at a neighbour’s house. They didn’t have a clue why the police had woken them up and why Mummy still hadn’t come to pick them up. All they knew was that they were allowed all the chocolate they could eat and to watch cartoons, even though it was really late. It was the best day ever.

  It wouldn’t stay that way.

  ‘Do you think she’s dead?’ Kowalski’s voice broke for a brief moment.

  ‘Not yet,’ Loxton said. ‘I hope she’s alive, and Gabriella too. He seems to be taunting us by keeping them alive, giving us a chance to save them. But where’s he keeping them? Each body has been a message. Emma, to warn us that he was here, and that it was personal to the police. Sarah, to show us that none of us are safe, that he can pluck us from the middle of a police operation just like that.’ She snapped her fingers in rage. She paused for a moment, trying to get a grip of herself before the emotion overtook completely. ‘Gabriella was on her way home from the murder squad. Jane he’s taken alive, just like the others. But I think he’ll hold onto her longer, like he has been with Gabriella. He’s playing with us. And he’ll need to draw it out more to get the same excitement from it. With each hit the stimulus needs to be bigger.’

  ‘So we’ve got some time to save them.’ Kowalski looked at her and there was dread in his eyes. She was next on the list. The last one to be taken.

  ‘A little. This time he came to a busy residential street. He’s upping the risk for himself. He seems more confident he won’t get caught.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll make a mistake,’ Kowalski said.

  Lena came over to them. ‘I don’t think he will. I’m not sure it was that risky. This is a detached house, with good solid walls. He struck after 9pm on Thursday night, when people are either out socializing or watching TV inside. The children were asleep and out of the way. It’s dark outside. I bet he came and recced the house beforehand. Even timed Eileen’s poisoning so she’d get worse around now.’

  ‘Which fits your ex-military profile, Lena,’ Kowalski said. ‘And sounds like Kevin Harding to me.’

  ‘Harding thinks he’s on a mission to avenge Barratt and he won’t stop until it’s completed,’ Lena said.

  Kowalski shook his head and moved off towards the stairs. Lena watched him in silence and then turned to Loxton. ‘He hates to get inside their minds. He prefers to hunt them like animals. As soon as he tries to understand them, he begins to see them as human, and for Dominik that’s too much. He can’t accept that they are anything like him.’

  Loxton looked into Lena’s eyes. ‘How long did you work together?’

  ‘Long enough to know murder isn’t for Kowalski. It messes his head up. Too compassionate by half.’

  Loxton nodded at Lena. ‘I think you’re right by the way. The killer feels justified in what he’s doing. He’s exacting revenge for Barratt. He’s meticulous and careful. But if that’s the case, then how can it be Harding? He left a trail leading us right to him. This Szyman´ski’s Avenger is more likely the killer, I’m sure of it. If we can identify him—’

  ‘Harding is our suspect,’ Lena said. ‘He’s made a few mistakes, granted, but not many. He still managed to get out on bail and now he’s disappeared. Maybe Harding worked with Barratt on the original series? He’s making mistakes on his own.’

  ‘We always thought Barratt worked alone,’ Loxton said. There’d been no evidence of him working with anyone else. Every killing the same. No deviations. No activity after he was locked up. Not until now, at least.’

  ‘Whereas Kowalski has always been convinced Szyman´ski worked as a pair, and I can see why he thought that,’ Lena said. ‘There were little inconsistencies with some of Szyman´ski’s murders, easily dismissed at the time, as no case is ever perfectly laid out. And after Szyman´ski was put away there were no more murders; it all stopped. But now I’m seeing all this I’m starting to think Kowalski’s instincts were right. The killings are so alike. I really think it’s possible that Harding worked with Szyman´ski, but then when he got caught Harding came to the UK and worked with Barratt. And when Szyman´ski was murdered Harding decided to get Barratt out so they could work as a team again. Szyman´ski and Harding are both ex-military. Maybe that’s how they met.’

  Loxton closed her eyes for a moment, the thought horrible. Kowalski did have a way of reading people. He’d had none of the training, scorned forensic psychology, but it was within him anyway. Instinctive.

  ‘So, not a Barratt copycat, but one of the original Szyman´ski killers that Barratt himself copied and maybe learnt from.’ Loxton felt sweat trickle down her back and her hands were clammy in the gloves. ‘But if that’s true, why risk targeting Barratt’s old police team? To up the ante?’

  Lena’s eyes met Loxton’s. ‘Exactly. And if he is one of the original killers, then he’s been doing this for a very long time and getting away with it.’

  Chapter 34

  Friday 4 February, 01:10

  Loxton looked around the almost empty CID office. Even in the police station she no longer felt safe. In a way she was glad it was quiet here. Just Lena and a couple of officers working nearby, while she waited for the protection officer. Loxton had been sent Dr Reynolds’s early examination notes on Sarah’s body via email. It was hard reading. Her friend had endured a brutal death.

  Again, there was clear evidence that she had been raped, but the killer had not left any trace DNA behind. It was incredible that he was so forensically aware. And it was frustrating. Predators like this were so rare. Normally they were compulsive, making some mistakes along the way. But this killer, despite escalating in violence, seemed to maintain a firm grip on himself and preserve his discipline to a faultless forensic level.

  On a search of the woods another printed-out note had been found near Sarah’s body. It had read, ‘Too late for Sarah. Will you be too late for Gabriella?’

  Kevin Harding was a perfect candidate – almost too perfect. He fit the profile Lena had compiled, even down to the PTSD. The murders were calculated and must have been planned over a significant amount of time. It did fit someone with military experience. Someone with a hatred of the system, lashing out at authority in any way they could. And they’d had him and he’d got away.

  Winter walked into the office. His face was grave, and Loxton saw that a firearms officer was following him. ‘Alana, your protection officer is here.’

  She closed her laptop down, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to take it with her, wouldn’t even be allowed to take a mobile with her.

  The man nodded a hello at her. ‘My name’s Philip. I’ve been doing this for ten years and I’m going to keep you safe.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, trying not to sound ungrateful.

  ‘I know this is weird, but we’ll get through it. I’ve got the car outside.’

  ‘We won’t be able to have any contact after this,’ Winter said. ‘So take care of yourself, okay? And I’ll see you on the other side.’

  ‘Thanks, sir,’ she said. Now was not the time to argue with him. ‘Catch him for me.’

  ‘We will,’ Winter promised.

  She followed the protect
ion officer out of the office. She couldn’t see Kowalski anywhere, but Lena caught her at the door. ‘Alana, thank you so much for everything. We’re going to stop him and then you’ll be straight back with us,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ Loxton said.

  ‘It’s going to be so weird not being able to ring you about the case.’ She shook her head.

  ‘You don’t need me,’ Loxton said.

  ‘You were the one who first realized this was a series. We do need you.’

  Loxton smiled. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Take care of yourself.’ Lena hugged her briefly and then stepped back.

  ‘I will,’ Loxton said.

  ‘We’ve got to go,’ Philip said.

  Loxton glanced around the office one last time, watching the team working. She couldn’t see Kowalski, but maybe it was for the best.

  Chapter 35

  Friday 4 February, 02:30

  It was so cold. Jane shivered in the dark. She couldn’t see anything. Complete blackness that she’d never experienced in her life. Deadly silence surrounded her, broken only by the drip, drip of something high above. There was water on the floor and the smell was bad. Like gone-off garbage. She was in the sewers if she had to guess.

  She was hungry, exhausted and scared. But mostly scared. Not for herself, but for her children. What had happened to them? Were they down here somewhere in the dark? Scared and alone like she was? She tried to call out, but all she could manage was a muffled moaning. That was no good. If they could hear her, that would only terrify them more. She strained her ears to listen for them. The steady drip, drip, drip was the only reply.

  What if they were dead? Slaughtered and left behind while only she was deemed worthy enough to be taken? The thought turned her insides over and gripped her heart. Not her babies. Do anything to her, but not her babies.

  She had to know. If they were down here, she had to find them. She dragged herself up so she was on her side and could turn her head. Her hands and feet were bound behind her, and the effort of getting onto her side was excruciating. Blood creeped into her hands and feet, like tiny needles being pushed in. She shouted ‘Fuck!’, but it came out as a low howl.

  She needed to undo these ropes. She was going nowhere bound up like this. She could still see nothing. Not a thing. The creature had gone and left her here, but not for long. It would be back and then the torture would start. She knew what was coming. But more than that, she feared she’d never know what had happened to her boys. They could be two metres from her and she wouldn’t know. She needed to go to them. To comfort them. And if she couldn’t do that, then she had to be next to them. To know.

  She shuffled on her side. This couldn’t be some great wide never-ending chasm. There had to be an end to it. A wall. And perhaps she’d be able to use it to rub at these ropes. Perhaps to break them? She shuffled along the cold wet floor on her side. It was slow progress as she inched her way along. She tried to go in a straight line, but it was hard when she couldn’t see.

  The pain in her hands and feet was like they were being sawed off every time she moved. The ropes seemed to be getting tighter and she feared the blood supply would be cut off. But she didn’t care if she lost her hands and feet. What she needed to do was get these ropes off at any cost. She was dead as long as they stayed bound around her wrists and ankles and she was no good to her children if she was dead. She prayed they were still alive for her to save.

  Chapter 36

  Friday 4 February, 03:20

  The safe house was as Loxton had dreaded, in the middle of deepest darkest Kent, hidden far away from any help.

  ‘Is this it?’ she asked. Philip had parked in front of a little cottage down a single lane from a main road. She was convinced it was a holiday home and that they would find a family inside in the middle of their dinner.

  Philip put the key in the door, unlocked it and walked into the large living room. He insisted on walking around the cottage first, with her following. He pointed his Glock 17 pistol into each room in turn. She couldn’t get used to being so close to a firearm. Once he’d done a walk-through he seemed to settle down.

  ‘If you hear anything odd, get down on the floor and cover your head with your hands,’ he said. ‘Never answer the door, leave that to me. This cottage might look quaint, but it has bulletproof windows and reinforced doors. You’ll be safe here.’

  Loxton glanced again at the cottage in surprise and saw that the wooden door was thicker than you’d expect. The windows were double glazed – the wooden frames were only for decoration, with strong steel underneath.

  ‘I’m not allowed to leave, right?’

  ‘Right. The kitchen will be fully stocked, so there’s no reason for us to go out.’

  ‘And how long could we be here?’

  Philip shrugged. ‘As long as it takes for your team to find this killer.’

  She nodded, although she felt like screaming. ‘Won’t you have someone to replace you?’

  ‘It would attract too much attention, the movement to and from the house. That’s the trade-off. I’ve set the alarms. There’s no way someone can get in here without setting them off and then they’ll have me to get through. Plus no one knows you’re here.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m just going to check out my room.’

  ‘Yours is the one at the end of the corridor, furthest from the front door.’

  In the bedroom was a wardrobe, which had several sets of jeans and jumpers from size 10 to 16. There were sets of underwear still in packets in the chest of drawers. Several books were neatly stacked on the bedside table to keep the occupant entertained. They’d thought of everything.

  She lay down on the bed, suddenly tired. How long would she be trapped in here? And would Philip really be able to keep her safe? He’d been careful on the drive up here. He’d doubled back on himself and she knew that a team had been following them, to make sure no one else was. They’d peeled away about fifty miles from their end destination. She should feel safe, but she didn’t.

  ‘Alana, I’m going to eat.’ She could hear Philip clattering about in the kitchen. ‘Do you fancy anything?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll be out in a minute.’ She was hungry, and although sleep was calling, her need to eat was stronger. And in that moment, she wanted to be with another human. Someone to distract her from the dark thoughts that were circling in her mind, waiting to drag her down.

  She went to the kitchen and saw that Philip had already put the kettle on. He held up two ready meals, one lasagne and one a chicken pasta dish. ‘Five minutes in the microwave. Which one do you want?’

  ‘I’ll go chicken pasta,’ she said. The kitchen was tired-looking but well stocked, she thought, checking through the cupboards. There was enough food for them to be here for a month, and then she noticed with growing alarm the UHT milk. It didn’t look like she’d be leaving the house for weeks, and she tried to shake the feeling of being a prisoner while her team struggled without her.

  Philip turned the TV on and ate his meal in silence, watching the news intently. Loxton followed suit. Although their conversation had been minimal, she felt comfortable in Philip’s presence. He was always alert, the volume of the TV low, so that he could hear any noises from outside. She had been listening for any noises too. She washed up the plates and crockery and tided up the kitchen.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll be up a bit longer,’ he said.

  ‘Should we do shifts?’ she asked.

  ‘I only need four hours and there are sensors on the outside of the premises. If anything moves out there, I’ll know about it. I’ve got alerts and cameras set up.’

  She nodded, not sure if she felt better or worse for this new information. The Met was taking the threat seriously and she tried not to let it scare her.

  She headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Alone in the unfamiliar bathroom, she found her eyes drawn to the large bathroom window. It had frosted glass, so no
one would be able to see in properly, but she wished it had a blind. All she could see was the darkness outside; someone could be stood right in front of the window and she would have no idea. She strained her ears, but the only thing she could hear was the murmur of the TV in the kitchen. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been stood facing the window, peering into the dark, wondering if anyone was out there watching her. Suddenly she didn’t want to linger and she quickly got ready.

  Once she was back in her bedroom, she peered into the night but could only see the treeline, which started a few metres from the cottage. She shivered at the thought of being on the ground floor, so easily accessible for an intruder. Philip was confident in his alarm system and Loxton wished she had his assuredness. She reminded herself that he had done this hundreds of times and knew what he was doing.

  She checked the window was locked and then pulled the curtains firmly closed and changed into a plain set of white pyjamas. Then she climbed into bed, pulling the duvet up around her, as if it could protect her somehow.

  She was exhausted from the hectic pace of the past few weeks, and as her head rested on the pillow, she found herself drifting without even trying to. The murmur of the TV in the other room was hypnotic and it was a relief knowing Philip was there. But she still felt vulnerable and she eyed the window suspiciously. Finally, she couldn’t fight it anymore. She needed to sleep, regardless of whatever nightmares came.

  * * *

  She woke on Friday morning to the low murmur of a TV. She rubbed her eyes and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling and beige walls. And then her eyes fell on the large window with the curtains drawn and she remembered where she was. The cottage.

  She sat up in bed and checked the clock on the bedside table. It was nine in the morning. She could have slept for longer, but hunger gnawed at her stomach, and the smell of fried eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen was too inviting. She got herself up and pulled on a white dressing gown that was hung on the door and walked to the kitchen.