by Jason Ayres
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” replied Kent. “I was on the toilet. Deb’s sister came round with some of her home-made mince pies earlier. I don’t know what she puts in them. They taste gorgeous, but they always go straight through me.”
“Too much information,” stated Kay. She found the idea of taking a dump in a pub toilet repulsive and certainly didn’t want to hear about it.
“Sorry,” said Kent. “Let’s have one more drink, and then you had better be thinking about getting yourself in position.”
The disco seemed to be getting louder and was now belting out a selection of Christmas classics. When “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday” came on, Kay reflected that, just recently, it really had been for her.
They lost sight of Anna for a while as she headed over to the dance floor with Lauren and their group of friends. The pub was full of young people tonight. Kay was relieved to see that Maddie was not among them.
A potential complication she had feared was that her daughter might turn up here tonight. Such a meeting could have been a distraction, not to mention awkward. In this timeline there had been no reconciliation between them. But thankfully Maddie was not here. It was highly likely that she was in The Wheatsheaf, a goths’ and rockers’ pub up the other end of town which was more her scene.
McVie’s continued presence was also a worry, but they didn’t have any more trouble with him. They could see his flabby frame leaning against a wooden beam at the edge of the dance floor, downing pints of lager with a face like thunder. He didn’t seem to be speaking to anyone very much, but that didn’t surprise Kay. The way he went on, she didn’t expect that he had many friends.
At half past eleven she took her leave of Kent to head to the woods, heeding his many warnings to take care. Meanwhile he took up a new position further along the bar where he could better observe the dance floor area.
It was very cold outside again and getting foggy, but Kay was prepared, having bought herself a nice, thick Christmas jumper during the afternoon. It wasn’t as cold in the woods, where the trees offered a degree of protection from the freezing wind. For the next half an hour she kept in touch with Kent via text, as he provided her with regular updates.
Just after midnight, he texted to say that Anna’s friend, Lauren, had gone. Apparently she had left with some bloke, her tongue practically halfway down his throat. That might explain why Anna had ended up going home alone.
A few minutes later her phone vibrated to let her know she had a call. Concealed behind a tree, she had put her phone on silent, just in case the killer was already around. The last thing she wanted was her mobile ringing out, alerting anyone to her presence.
“She’s just left and she’s walking up the High Street,” Kent informed her. “She should be with you in about ten minutes.”
“OK, well, I had better ring off now,” said Kay, as quietly as she could. “I can’t risk being detected.”
“I’m going to give it another five minutes and then start heading slowly your way,” replied Kent. “Ring me and let me know when it’s all over and I’ll come straight to you. I think you’re being incredibly brave, by the way. Good luck.”
“Thank you,” said Kay, and hung up. She didn’t feel incredibly brave. She felt terrified. This was a terrifying situation to be in, alone in the freezing cold woods, about to be witness to a grisly murder. It was dark, too, there being no lighting on the woody path.
Right on schedule, ten minutes later, she peered around the tree and just about picked out the solitary figure of Anna walking towards her out of the thickening fog. She checked her watch. It was 12.32am. She made a note of the time: it might come in useful later.
Kay shrank back undercover and listened, as the girl approached. Then she heard a male voice call out.
“Anna,” he called.
It was a voice Kay recognised immediately and a dreadful realisation dawned. Of course, it all made sense now.
“What do you want?” replied Anna. “Leave me alone.”
“I wanted to apologise for earlier,” came the reply. “I didn’t mean what I said. You can have your job back. I’ll even give you the minimum wage, if that helps.”
Kay could not resist another quick peek around the tree, even though the two of them were only about twenty yards away. She didn’t even need visual confirmation of his rotund frame to know that it was McVie who was speaking.
Kay felt a feeling of impending doom as she realised what the true reason was behind this uncharacteristic show of reconciliation. The trusting, young girl was about to fall right into his clutches.
“Really?” said Anna.
The Polish girl stopped and turned back to face him, allowing him to walk right up to her. It was a fatal mistake, one for which she was about to pay with her life.
“Of course not, you stupid cow,” said McVie, pulling out a knife and grabbing hold of her. Anna screamed, but he swiftly cut her off with a hand over the mouth.
“Have a go at me in the pub, would you? Make me look stupid? You don’t even belong in this country. Now keep still, bitch, unless you want me to slit your throat.”
Anna wriggled in an attempt to break free. She was way younger and fitter than the sweating, mound of blubber who was trying to force himself upon her, but what he lacked in fitness he had in weight. Forcing her to the ground, he put the full weight of his twenty stone on top of her, pinning her down and making her gasp for air. It was exactly the same move he had tried to do to Kay in her flat a few days before.
She simply couldn’t bear to watch any more of this. Whatever may be set in stone in her own timeline, this was happening here and now and there was no way she could stand idly by and let this version of the terrified girl be raped and murdered in front of her.
She knew the identity of the attacker now. That was what she had come here to find out. So was there any need for this temporary version of Anna to suffer? There wasn’t and Kay simply had to do something.
With McVie now tearing at the girl’s clothes, Kay launched herself out from behind the tree and ran right at him in an attempt to push him away. He was much heavier than she was, but she carried enough speed for her mighty shove to knock him off her. As he struggled to regain his balance, temporarily confused by the surprise attack, Anna managed to scramble free.
“Run, Anna!” shouted Kay. “Just run and don’t look back!”
“Oh, you’ve done it now!” shouted McVie, a crazed look in his eyes as he recovered sufficiently to grab hold of Kay, knife in hand. “You are so fucking dead.”
“Kay,” screamed Anna, seemingly rooted to the spot.
“Go and get help!” shouted Kay. Relieved, she saw Anna turn and begin to run.
“You’re dead,” hissed McVie.
Terrified as she was, Kay felt a strange sense of detachment as she saw the knife flash before her. He was holding her down with one hand and wielding the knife with the other, as he brought it down against her neck. At first, the steel felt cold against her skin, then strangely warm. With a sickening shock she realised he had slit her throat and felt consciousness begin to slip away from her.
“Please don’t let this be the end” was her final thought as she drifted away, desperately hoping that the angel would be watching over her, ready to whisk her home.
Chapter Twenty-One
December 2018
Suddenly Kay was back in front of the wardrobe mirror in her bedroom. She may have been back in her original body, but the sensations from the experience she had just been through still coursed through her. Like waking from a nightmare, she felt a sense of panic as conflicting signals in her brain sent her into a state of shock, believing that her throat in this body had been slit, too.
Unable to see her true reflection with the image of the angel looking back at her, instinctively her hand went to her neck to check that her skin remained unbroken. The relief she felt in discovering herself intact did nothing to alleviate her feelings. Shaking with fear and adr
enalin, she turned and flopped onto the bed, sobbing her heart out at the horrific ordeal she had just endured.
After a minute or two, she composed herself and sat up on the bed, looking into the mirror. The angel was still there, but hadn’t spoken during Kay’s traumatic last few moments. Now, as Kay wiped the tears from her eyes, the angel spoke.
“Better now?” she asked.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be better again,” replied Kay. “I’ve just discovered what it feels like to die.”
“It’s just as well I got you out of there when I did, then,” replied the angel. “In another moment or two you would have been lost.”
“Even though it wasn’t the same body?” asked Kay.
“Yes,” replied the angel. “It may have been a duplicate body, but the essence of what makes you, your spirit if you like, was locked up inside that body.”
“You should have warned me,” said Kay.
“I did try to, remember? But you were a woman on a mission.”
Kay had to concede that the angel was right. She wouldn’t have been able to talk Kay out of going, whatever she had said.
“Well, it’s all over now,” said Kay. “And I’ve got a killer to bring to justice.”
“It seems that you do,” said the angel. “So, I guess I will be seeing you tomorrow for your last trip?”
Kay hadn’t even begun to think about where to go next.
“You know, after what I’ve just been through, I am not sure I want to go back again just yet,” said Kay. “Can you give me a few more days to think about it?”
“It doesn’t really work like that,” replied the angel. “Six days, all in a row, that’s the deal. You can’t bank them for future use.”
“Yes, but imagine the good I could do if I did,” argued Kay. “You saw what I achieved by going back to Christmas Eve. If I go somewhere tomorrow, it will only be for fun, really. I’ve no more mysteries to solve, wrongs to right, or anything else constructive to do in the past.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Just indulge yourself. You enjoyed going to see the midnight sun, didn’t you? And going back to Christmas Day as a kid?”
“Of course,” said Kay. “But now I’ve seen the power that this gift can deliver, I feel it would be self-indulgent to waste it.”
“I think you’ve done more than enough,” said the angel. “In fact, you’ve been quite possibly the best subject I’ve ever had. You haven’t just thought about yourself, and I like that. As a reward I think you deserve to pamper yourself on this last day. Choose a special day, and just go back and enjoy it.”
“If you put it like that, perhaps I should,” agreed Kay. “I am sure I will think of something by tomorrow. And what happens after that? Do I never see you again?”
“That’s usually how it works,” replied the angel.
“That’s a pity,” said Kay. “Because Kent and I were talking, and we thinking how great it would be to set up a time-travelling detective agency – one where we could use our trips back in time to solve crimes and right injustices. It wouldn’t be for personal gain, you understand, just two people trying to make the world a better place. I think it would be good for him, too. It would finally give him the chance to solve some crimes to make amends for his less than illustrious policing career.”
“I like the idea,” said the angel. “And I can see the merit in what you are saying. But he’s already used up his six days and you’ve only got one left.”
“But you still think it’s a good idea?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” replied the angel.
“Well, then, how about allocating us some more days in the future so we can do it? Maybe give us some sort of hotline so we can call you up when we need you?”
“I’m not here at everyone’s beck and call, you know,” protested the angel. “There are other people I need to help. You and Kent have got your lives sorted now. I can’t be running back to you every five minutes.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem for you if you are as omnipresent as you claim. I seem to recall you saying you could be any place at any time, so it’s hardly like you need a time-management course, is it?”
“Well, I might have exaggerated a little on that front,” said the angel. “But I will think about it. Meanwhile, I suggest you think about where you want to go tomorrow. I will see you then.”
“Fair enough,” replied Kay. “Now I must go and get on. Things to do, people to see: you know how it is.”
Ten minutes later she was sitting at the kitchen table, cup of coffee in hand and a mince pie on a plate in front of her, nice and warm after precisely seventeen seconds in the microwave. She always found getting the timing on mince pies tricky. They were either lukewarm or exploded in the microwave, but for once she had got it right.
She was feeling much calmer now, the shock of her recent experience slowly fading. Even so, she knew that the memories of the traumatic events would likely be with her for life. It wasn’t the sort of thing anyone was ever likely to forget.
It was time to get to work. She reached for her mobile, and once again texted Kent.
I know who the killer is. Meet me in the pub at 12.30.
He quickly replied with his confirmation.
When she got to the pub, Kent was at the bar with Nobby, who was arguing with Craig.
“Come on, mate: put the racing on the telly. It’s the King George at Kempton Park, today. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“Well, go to the bookies and watch it then,” replied Craig. “Man City v Liverpool kicks off at 12.45, and that lot over there have come in to watch it.”
He gestured towards a bunch of middle-aged men in Liverpool shirts.
“They’ve been cooped up with their families for two days, no doubt itching to get down here to watch the game. I’m not switching it off for some horse race.”
“Suit yourself,” said Nobby. “I was going to give you a tip I’ve had off a mate for a horse running at Wetherby later, but you can stick it now.”
Getting up from his stool, Nobby tucked his Racing Post under his arm and headed for the door, muttering as he did so.
That left the bar area nice and clear for her to talk to Kent while Craig went off to serve the Liverpool supporters. She explained in detail what had happened, including the details of her own ‘death’ at the hands of McVie.
“So there you have it,” she concluded. “We know without a doubt it was him, so what now?”
“We go to Hannah, and try and get her to bring him in,” replied Kent.
“Yes, and we need to be quick about it,” said Kay. “He said he was going up to Scotland for Hogmanay after Christmas. They need to catch him before he leaves.”
“The big issue we have here remains evidence,” said Kent. “Obviously we don’t have any.”
“But there’s nothing to stop them taking him in for enquiries, is there? He was her boss, after all. Then they just need to take his DNA. Surely they can match it to the victims? He raped them all for a start, so that will have left some evidence.”
Saying these words, she winced at the sheer gruesomeness of what the nature of that evidence would be.
“Absolutely,” said Kent. “But she’s still got to have a reason to bring him in. There are all sorts of rules you have to follow, and I should know. I got into all sorts of trouble over not sticking to procedures over the years. It’s bloody frustrating, I can tell you.”
Kay nodded her understanding, as Kent continued.
“The problem with high-profile cases like this is that they attract people with crackpot theories about who could have done it, especially if there’s a reward at stake. You’d be amazed how many would-be amateur sleuths there are out there. Then you’ve got all the vindictive types involved in petty feuds with neighbours, trying to accuse them of all sorts of things they haven’t done.”
“Isn’t that called wasting police time?” asked Kay.
“Yes, but it
doesn’t stop them trying it on,” said Kent. “In a case like this, Hannah’s bound to have had a few down the station trying it on.”
“Ah, but I’ve got a secret weapon, haven’t I?” asked Kay.
“What’s that, then?” asked Kent.
“It’s you, of course. You used to be D.I. here and her old boss. She has to listen to you.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to cut much mustard,” replied Kent. “She was dubious enough over my policing skills when I was her boss, let alone now. Still, we can but try.”
“At least you can get me a foot in the door,” said Kay. “Then we will just have to make her listen. Come on: let’s not waste any more time. Give her a call and arrange a meeting.”
An hour later, the two of them were sitting in Kent’s old office at the station, now with the nameplate D.I. Benson on the door. As well as Hannah, PC Adrian Johnson, another of Kent’s old team, was there.
“Well, I didn’t think I’d see this old place again,” said Kent, reminiscing. “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed too much in here.”
“No, not much,” said Hannah. “Though if you were to open that filing cabinet over there you would find it now has actual files in it, as opposed to your stash of crisps and chocolates. Oh, and you left half a bottle of Scotch in there as well, by the way. I think it’s still here somewhere.”
“Actually, I think that was what we had on Christmas Eve,” remarked Johnson. “We didn’t think you’d mind. Hannah has banned drinking on duty since you left, but we had a toast to you for old times’ sake after we went off duty.”
“That was nice of you,” remarked Kent, feeling genuinely touched. “And there was I thinking neither of you liked me. You never wanted to come down the pub with me after work.”
“Of course we liked you,” said Hannah. “You were a real character.”
“Salt of the Earth,” said Adrian. “They just don’t make coppers like you anymore.”