Motive

by Alan McDermott

  The mobile phone next to the laptop began to ring, but Karen ignored it. Instead, she turned Fiona onto her front and knelt on her, holding the sharp point of the knife to her cheek.

  “I need you to stop struggling,” Karen said calmly. “Put your hands behind your back and lay still.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Fiona cried. “If you want anything, take it. My purse is in the hallway!”

  Karen pushed the blade into her cheek and enjoyed the flow of blood. “If you don’t do as I say, it’ll be your eye next.”

  Fiona stopped moving, tears running down her cheeks.

  Karen took her right wrist and wound tape around it, then crossed it over the left and secured them together.

  The phone rang again, and after eight rings, it stopped.

  Karen pulled Fiona to her feet and pushed her onto the sofa.

  “Please, my eyes hurt so much.”

  “It only lasts thirty minutes. By that time, this’ll all be over.”

  The phone was ringing again. When it stopped, there was a short beep. Karen picked the phone up and swiped it open. There was a voicemail message waiting. Karen ignored it. She looked through the list of most recent calls and saw four from John in the last few minutes. She clicked the entry to expand it, then hit the call button.

  “Fiona, thank God. Where have you been?”

  Karen smiled. “John Latimer, I presume.”

  “What have you done with my wife?” The anger in his voice came clearly through the phone.

  “She’s fine, but not for long. So tell me, where did I trip up? Was it Hamilton?”

  “Let me speak to Fiona,” Latimer said.

  “Sure. Why not.” Karen held the phone close to Fiona’s face. “Say hello to your husband…for the last time.”

  Fiona screamed Latimer’s name, and Karen moved away from her. “Where did I go wrong, John? What gave it away?”

  “Killing people and thinking you could get away with it. That’s where you went wrong.”

  “Really? Then how come I wasn’t arrested ten years ago when I killed my father? And why is James Knight sitting in a jail cell right now? No, I got greedy, that’s all. I should have left a couple of years between each one, but I just couldn’t wait. You don’t know how it feels to kill a man and know you’re going to get away with it.”

  “You didn’t get away with it, you sick bitch. You’re gonna spend the rest of your days behind bars.”

  “I doubt that very much,” Karen smiled to herself. “In case you hadn’t guessed, I’m at your home. Don’t take too long.”

  She hit Call End and put the phone back on the table, then took hold of Fiona’s arm and lifted her to her feet. “Come on, it’s nearly over.”

  * * *

  Latimer hit the brakes as soon as he pulled into his street. Marked units had blocked the road, and several armed officers were already in position near his house.

  The trio got out of the car and Ingram immediately took control of the scene.

  “Any sign of movement in the house?” she asked a sergeant carrying an MP5 carbine.

  “We haven’t made contact with anyone inside. We were told to wait for you.”

  “Okay. Let’s start clearing the neighbouring houses and—John, wait!”

  The order fell on deaf ears. Latimer strode toward his house, only one thing on his mind. Ingram shouted for him to stop once more, but he ignored her.

  At the top of the driveway, he stopped in mid-stride. The front door opened slowly and Fiona walked out, closely followed by Karen, holding a carving knife to his wife’s throat.

  “Give it up, Karen. There’s nowhere to go.”

  “Back off, John. You know I’ll do it.”

  Latimer had no choice but to comply. He walked slowly backwards, his hands raised. “Look around you,” he said. “You can’t escape. Just give me the knife.”

  “As long as I’m holding all the cards, I can do what I want,” said Karen.

  She spoke calmly, which Latimer knew was a bad sign. The ones that were wound up like a clock spring could be anticipated, spoken to, but Karen seemed in total control.

  Karen was still advancing on him, forcing him out into the middle of the road. Fiona shook uncontrollably. Her face was red with tears, and her lips silently begged him to do something.

  “Tell me what you want,” Latimer said.

  Karen looked around. “First, tell the police to back off, then arrange a helicopter to take us to the airport. I want a private jet waiting, with ten million in cash and a gun, like these guys are carrying.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” Latimer said.

  Karen smiled, but it was devoid of warmth or humour. “I know. I was just kidding. What I want is for these guys to shoot me. I’m not going to prison. There’s no point. Why should the taxpayer have to support me for the next forty years when you can end it all with a bullet that costs less than a latte?”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “It is if I stab your wife in the back. Maybe I’ll hit a kidney, or sever her spinal cord. Do you think she’d still love you if she has to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair and you could have prevented it by giving one simple order?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Latimer told her, “and you know it. I can’t force anyone to shoot you.”

  “Then you and I have a problem.”

  * * *

  “Cuff me,” Ryan said to Ingram. They were standing outside the police cordon, and both could see the situation was heading towards a deadly climax.

  “What?”

  Ryan held his hands behind his back and turned away from her. “Cuff me.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” Ingram said. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not going to happen. I’m not putting a civilian in harm’s way.”

  “I’m not a civvy,” Ryan said. “I’m sure John told you who I am.”

  “It makes no difference. You’re not under my command.”

  Ryan spun round to face her. “Then for fuck’s sake, make a decision. Order your men to fire, or prepare to watch John’s wife die.”

  He could see how conflicted Ingram was, and didn’t envy her the position. Whatever she decided to do, it would come under great scrutiny and no doubt hang over her for the rest of her career.

  “What do you have in mind?” she asked.

  Ryan told her, and Ingram considered it before nodding solemnly. She called over the nearest officer and asked for his cuffs. Ryan turned so that she could apply them, then he felt a tug in his waistband.

  “Good luck,” she said.

  Ryan strode out between the police cars, toward Karen Harper. As he got to within five yards of her, he stopped and turned slowly, showing open palms. He turned again and continued towards her until he was standing next to Latimer.

  “Let her go, Karen. Take me hostage instead.”

  Karen laughed. “And why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m the reason you’re here. I’m the one who figured it all out. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be out having a cappuccino right about now. If you really want to die, do it hurting the man who put you in this position in the first place.”

  His eyes met hers, and he kept his face free from emotion.

  “Turn around again,” Karen told him, and Ryan did as she said.

  “Open your hands and spread your fingers.” Again, he followed her instructions.

  “Tell me why you’re doing this,” Karen said. “You don’t know this woman. What’s it to you?”

  Ryan faced her once more. “Because you broke my heart. I really thought we had something, but you lied every step of the way, and it destroyed me.” He hung his head. “You might as well finish the job.”

  “We were only together for a few weeks,” she scoffed. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  “That may be, but you turned my life around. I had a new purpose, something to get out of bed for each morning. Now it’s gone.”r />
  Silence descended. Even the birds in the trees halted their song to await the next development.

  “Aren’t you curious?” Ryan asked. “Don’t you want to know how I discovered the truth?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Let Fiona go and take me instead. Then I’ll tell you.”

  Ryan stared at her, his face blank, until she relented.

  “Okay, turn around and walk backwards…slowly.”

  Ryan did as she asked, inching towards her until he felt a hand in the middle of his back. He saw Fiona stumble to his left and the knife was immediately at his throat. As he was a few inches taller than Karen, she grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled down so that his back was slightly bent.

  Just what Ryan wanted.

  “So, what gave me away?” Karen asked.

  Ryan reached into his waistband and took out the key to the handcuffs. “Actually, you made three mistakes. The first was to tell me you were being transferred to Australia. Surely you must have known I would check up on you once you failed to answer my calls.”

  “I guessed you’d try to get in touch, but my plan was that you’d be arrested before you became really suspicious. I guess I didn’t know you that well. What’s the second thing?”

  “You used a false passport to travel to London with me. I managed to convince Latimer to check into it, and we found the real Kelly Thorn.”

  “Bravo,” Karen said. “What’s the third?”

  “You didn’t do your homework into me.”

  Ryan’s hands came up and grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from his neck. In the same movement, he ducked under the knife and twisted her arm violently, popping it from her shoulder. The blade fell to the ground, and the armed officers rushed in and threw Karen to the ground. Ryan was pushed out of the way for his own safety, but he knew the threat had already been neutralised.

  He walked over to the Latimers, who had retreated behind the police cars. John was standing over Fiona, who was being treated by paramedics.

  “You okay?” Ryan asked.

  “She’ll be fine,” John said. “Thanks. That was a really brave thing to do.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  In truth, he’d done it for his own selfish reasons. Ryan wanted Karen alive. If she were dead, too many questions would remain unanswered. At least now there was a possibility that she would talk, if only to get a reduction on her inevitable sentence.

  He looked back and saw two uniformed cops leading a handcuffed Karen away, she twisting and jerking despite her injury. A third cop dropped the knife in a bag as evidence.

  Ryan removed the cuffs still attached to his right hand and took them over to Ingram.

  “That was a bold move,” she said. “I just hope it doesn’t cost me my career.”

  “It won’t. I’ll have my boss speak to the home secretary and square it away.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure whether Brigshaw had that much pull, but Ingram deserved to be covered for making such a ballsy call. Besides, the incident had been resolved without loss of life, so there was no need for anyone to come down hard on her. The only thing that might cause a problem would be an accusation of police brutality relating to Karen’s injury. Given that Karen was determined to die that day, though, he thought it unlikely her complaint would get far.

  Ryan declined the offer of a lift, preferring to walk.

  He had a lot of thinking to do.

  Chapter 41

  John Latimer pulled up in the street outside the Knight residence and turned off the engine. The decent spell of summer weather was at an end, and storm clouds lurked menacingly on the horizon.

  “Looks like we’ll have to cancel our golf game this weekend,” James Knight said from the passenger seat.

  They were approaching the last Saturday of the month, the time they usually got together to play eighteen holes and catch up on the latest events.

  “I wasn’t expecting to play anyway,” Latimer told him. “You and Jenny have got a lot of catching up to do.”

  Knight looked pensive, and Latimer guessed it was because of the extra-marital affair. That was sure to put a dampener on Knight’s homecoming.

  “You coming in?” Knight eventually asked.

  “No, I have to get back to the office. Give me a call in a couple of days and we’ll all get together. Maybe you guys can come over for dinner.”

  “I’d like that.” Knight put his hand on the door release, then hesitated. “I want to thank you, John. For believing in me.”

  “What are friends for?” Latimer smiled.

  “I mean it. No-one else would have lifted a finger to help. They would have taken one look at the evidence and made their mind up.”

  Before Latimer could respond, Knight opened the door and climbed out. He walked down the path and rang the doorbell, and Latimer waited until Jenny answered before starting the engine and pulling away. In his rear view mirror, he saw them hugging on the doorstep before Jenny led Knight inside and closed the door.

  At the end of the street Latimer indicated left, but before he could make his turn, he saw a now familiar figure standing on the street corner. The bearded man approached and Latimer rolled his window down.

  “Any chance of a lift?” Ryan asked.

  “Hop in.”

  Ryan climbed in beside him, and Latimer set off again.

  “I never did get to talk to her,” Ryan said. “Has she spoken at all?”

  “Plenty,” Latimer told him. Karen Harper had been taken to hospital after the arrest. Her arm had been seen to and she’d been declared fit enough to be discharged into Latimer’s custody. For the next two days, she’d sung her heart out. She’d confessed to the murders of her father, Sean Conte, Robert Waterstone, Roger Hamilton and Paul Eccles. That murder had taken place two years earlier, and while there were similarities, there was enough of a difference that it hadn’t been flagged when Latimer had looked for similar killings. For one, the deceased had been found in his home in Essex, not buried in a remote location. As with the others, though, Karen had seen a news report in the Evening Standard and chosen the victim because of a grudge he had with a neighbour.

  “Did she mention me?”

  “Only to say how she’d found you, and how she got your shoe prints, hair and fingerprints.”

  She’d also said that she regretted the episode with Scott—she hadn’t been told his real name—and that under other circumstances they would have been a good fit, but Latimer didn’t think it was something Ryan needed to hear. Better that he believe she was a psychopath and that he was lucky to have escaped her clutches. It was unlikely that it would come out at her trial, or that Ryan would attend.

  “Is the trial date set?” Ryan asked him.

  “Not yet, but it shouldn’t be too long. I’ll be in touch regarding your testimony, and we’ll arrange for you to appear by video feed.”

  They rode in silence for a while, until Latimer asked Ryan where he wanted to be dropped off.

  “The Savoy would be good, but any tube station is fine.”

  “The Savoy? You staying there?”

  “Just for a few days,” Ryan told him. “So Kelly—sorry, Karen—picked your wife because of a dispute over a book?”

  “That’s right. And by the way, Fiona asked me to convey her thanks the next time I see you.”

  Ryan waved it off.

  “Bethany Ambrose accused Fiona of stealing her idea and copying her work, but it’s all bullshit. In fact, we sent an email in response to her solicitor’s letter a few days ago, and got a reply to say that the firm was no longer representing Ambrose. That’s two lawyers she’s been to, and neither want anything to do with her. I think it’s all going to fizzle out.”

  “I hope so. You’re good people. You don’t deserve shit like that.”

  Latimer looked over at Ryan. “What about you? Back to MI5?”

  Ryan’s face gave away his surprise for a brief moment.

  “Brigshaw told me,” L
atimer said. “About Franklin Marsh, the beating, your convalescence, everything. What are you going to do now?”

  It was a few moments before Ryan responded. “To be honest, I don’t know.”

  “We always need good men in the police.”

  Ryan shook his head. “No, I won’t be settling in England. If I met someone special and settled down, I’d always be looking over my shoulder, wondering if Marsh or his men were coming for revenge. I couldn’t put anyone through that.”

  “So, what, back to France?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Maybe.”

  The way he said it suggested it wasn’t going to happen. Latimer had a feeling Ryan wasn’t going to let anyone know his next destination.

  Latimer had considered his own future following the recent episode, but only briefly. He was too young to retire, and the only person to have seriously threatened him or his wife had been remanded in custody. With her confession and the evidence gathered from her home, it was unlikely that Karen Harper would ever be released to pose a threat again.

  When they reached the Savoy, Latimer pulled up outside the entrance, then offered Ryan his hand.

  “Thanks for what you did for Fiona. We both appreciate it.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Maybe not for you,” Latimer said, “but I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything had happened to her. If you’re not busy in the next few days, we’d like to invite you round for dinner one evening.”

  “Sure,” Ryan said, and Latimer got the impression he was genuine this time.

  Half an hour later, Latimer was back at the station. The moment he entered the building, his phone rang, and when he checked the caller ID he saw that it was DS Benson.