Country Lines (A DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thriller Book 8)

by Oliver Davies

  “I hate this,” Stephen muttered. “That girl…”

  I glanced over at him. I could guess that he was thinking of his own daughter in Eva’s place, consciously or otherwise, and I felt for him. I was scared-stiff for her, so I couldn’t only imagine how he felt as a father.

  “We’ll get her. It’s going to be fine,” I said, willing my words to be true. Stephen didn’t respond, his jaw clenched shut.

  I thought through our options as we sped along the motorway, getting regular updates from Keira and keeping a short distance between Pete and us so that we wouldn’t be in sight of his rear mirrors. If Eva hadn’t been in the car, we’d have plenty of options at our disposal and little compunction about using them, too. Pete was armed and clearly dangerous, so it wasn’t a problem of proving he was a threat. But Eva was in the car.

  “He’s got to stop for the toilet or some water eventually,” I said aloud. “That, or he’ll find somewhere to hole up. He can’t leave the country, and he knows he needs Eva. We play it right, and she’ll be back in our hands soon, right as rain.”

  “I’m worried he’ll self-destruct if we try to close in. Get desperate and kill her and then himself,” Stephen said, uncharacteristically grim.

  “I hear you,” I said tightly. I’d considered that too, and it was a concern. Backed into a corner, who knew whether Pete would choose jail or a quick way out? We had to make sure he wouldn’t have that choice to make.

  Keira handed us over to another technician after a while, and he kept us updated on Pete’s movements. He’d kept to the A19 before reaching Thirsk and joining up with the A1, heading due north. He was heading towards Darlington, with Durham beyond, and I hoped we weren’t going to be trailing this bastard all damn night.

  “DCI Mitchell, can you hear me?” the voice of the tech came through, broken up and urgent. I sat up straighter and switched on my radio.

  “Aye, I hear you, go ahead.”

  “I said, the suspect’s car has turned off at the service station before Darlington.” A pause. “Scotch Corner, at junction 53.”

  Stephen swore, twisting the steering wheel sharply to the side as we almost went whizzing straight past the turnoff.

  “Understood, Lukas, thanks,” I told the technician. The reception must have dropped out briefly, and it had almost cost us important information.

  Amidst several beeping horns, Stephen got us off the motorway and slowed right down as we approached the services. I called in the development to local police and Hewford, hoping that this might mean the beginning of the end of Pete’s desperate escape.

  “He could leave Eva in the car while he goes in or drags her with him,” I said tightly.

  “Is he taking the gun in, though?” Stephen said, sending me a glance.

  If this went wrong, we could end up with a half-dozen dead at the service station, and the thought made me feel ill.

  “We can’t spook him,” I said, forcing my voice to stay firm. “Lukas, can you access the car park’s security cameras? Or the ones inside the services?”

  Stephen drove us slowly around the car park while we waited for Lukas’ answer, appearing to be looking for a space, though it was a Monday night and the place was relatively quiet. The sky had fallen into total darkness, no sign of a moon tonight, but the service station was lit up like a beacon, bright white and colourful signs. Orange stripes of light passed over the car as we moved under the lampposts’ pools of dull illumination, and I scanned our surroundings closely. It would be easy to miss Pete’s car in this darkness, many of the cars looking similar under the unnatural lighting, and we couldn’t afford to.

  “There he is,” Stephen muttered.

  Pete’s navy blue Toyota sat unobtrusively in a middle space, and I couldn’t see into the dark windows as we drove by. He could have already left the car or still be lurking in there for all we knew. Stephen parked us near the back of the car park, not wanting to be spotted by Pete. We couldn’t see his navy Toyota from here, which meant that he couldn’t see us either, but we needed another pair of eyes.

  “Alright, I’ve got it. He’s leaving the car.”

  “With Eva?” I asked immediately.

  A torturous pause. “No, no, he’s on his own. He’s locked the car. I can’t see her, but she must be in there.”

  This was it, our best chance. Pete was separated from Eva and out of the moving car. I couldn’t afford to wait for backup or hesitate.

  It was now or never.

  Twenty-One

  “Move, move,” I ordered Stephen, and we scrambled from the car. “Lukas, tell me when he’s a hundred feet from the car.”

  “What’s the plan?” Stephen said as we hurried forwards, heading for Pete’s stolen car.

  “I go after Pete, you grab Eva,” I said. “Go, go and get her now. Get her safely in the car.”

  “He’s got a gun, Darren-”

  “I know he’s got a gun!” I snapped. We’d reached the Toyota, and I pointed meaningfully at the car. “Do your part, and I’ll do mine.”

  “He could fire off in the services-”

  “I’m not an idiot. I won’t confront him there,” I said, stress making me irritated, though Stephen’s doubt wasn’t helping.

  I spared one glance into the car as I strode past it, heading for the services, and saw a pale face looking out of the dark window at me. A rush of relief passed through me to see her both alive and awake, and I carried on, certain that Stephen would get the girl out of the car and look after her.

  My job was to grab Pete in a way that wouldn’t end up with either me or any innocent bystanders getting shot with the gun he was carrying. I wished again that I was wearing a vest, but it was pointless. I’d just have to rely on my own best instincts, plus a healthy dose of luck.

  “Officers are now ten minutes out,” I was informed on my radio.

  Ten minutes was far too long. Pete could return to his car within a couple of minutes, where’d he’d find Eva gone and his car broken into, if Stephen could get the girl out in time, that was. I swore quietly under my breath as I approached the services cautiously, keeping to the side and trying to appear unbothered and unremarkable.

  “Where is he?” I hissed into my radio, talking to Lukas.

  I headed to a drinks van parked to the side of the services entrance and paid for a coffee, doing my best to seem as if I wasn’t actively hunting for someone. Pete must have gone into the services already, and I couldn’t afford to chase after him in case he discharged the gun. The best option was for me to hang back out here and wait for him to come out here at the only entrance and exit. I could only hope that he wouldn’t decide that taking more hostages was the answer here. If he did, we were screwed.

  “Stephen, are you in the car yet?” I demanded. I loitered in the shadows by the services door, drinking my coffee and watching.

  “No,” he said tightly. “Have you got him?”

  “No. Look out for a gun. Always a small chance he left it in the car.”

  “Doubt it,” Stephen responded before the line went quiet, but I knew he’d look once he made sure that Eva was safe and sound.

  “Officers five minutes out,” my radio told me.

  Too late, too late, I thought anxiously.

  Where was Pete? I’d heard no sounds of alarm, no one running for the entrance, so I had to assume that he was just taking his time in the service station, but my nerves were raw, and my stomach churned.

  “I’ve got Eva, she’s-” Stephen started before I stopped listening.

  Pete emerged from the entrance, and I quickly took a swig of coffee, watching him from behind my cup and staying out of sight. He looked back and forth and behind him as he left, clearly paranoid that someone would be waiting for him. He wasn’t wrong. He didn’t see me in the shadows as I was, and I watched him closely.

  His right hand was buried in the deep pocket of his fleece jacket, and I could see the shape, blockish and heavy, catching the light as he passed beneath the
streetlamps. He was carrying the gun.

  I set off cautiously after him, bringing my coffee with me. I could splash the hot liquid in his face or launch myself at him and tackle from behind. But he would only have to hear my footsteps behind him, and it’d be game over for me. He could turn around and shoot me, the gun never even leaving his pocket, far faster than I could get the jump on him.

  For now, I hung back, following him. He continued to scan back and forth, and I caught a hitch in his pace before he twisted around to look behind him. I’d already ducked behind a van, and I counted a tense five seconds before I stuck my head out. He was hurrying forwards again, heading for the Toyota.

  “Are you clear of the car?” I whispered into my radio, making sure that the volume was way turned down. I had to put the speaker to my ear to catch Stephen’s response, continuing to follow Pete all the while.

  “I’m loading Eva into the car. Where are you?” he demanded, worry making his tone sharp.

  “Coming,” I said shortly before shoving the radio away and focusing on the task at hand.

  Now that Pete was safely away from the services, I was less concerned than I had been, but I still didn’t want him climbing into that car. Yes, we could sting him from the road and block him in, but that involved further risk for civilians and officers alike. Pete could cause a fatal pile-up with his reckless driving or smash into an officer’s car and kill them. I had to keep him from slipping through our fingers, but there was still the problem of the gun.

  My radio hissed in my pocket, too quiet to be audible, and I ignored it. Pete had reached the Toyota, and I made my move. As soon as he realised that Eva was gone, the car broken into, he’d be on the alert for pursuers. My only advantage right now was surprise, and I couldn’t squander it.

  I crossed the car park in fast, loping strides, my legs relishing the stretch after so long cramped up in the car. It felt so much more natural to be running than stalking slowly, as hyped up on tension and adrenaline as I was.

  Pete didn’t see me until it was too late. I skidded around the side of the car just as Pete saw the cracked open back window of the Toyota. He twisted around, mouth open in shock, and I threw the hot coffee in his face. He squealed in shock and pain, and I launched myself at him with a cry that was anger and electrified fear at once, shattered window glass crunching under my boots. Even as I tackled him, I could picture the hard dig of the gun in my side and the explosive bang that’d follow, but it didn’t come.

  I focused on the moment. Pete screamed when I grabbed him, and there was a deep yell from nearby, no doubt from Stephen. I grabbed Pete’s arms, struggling against his desperation-fuelled strength, and I pinned him down on his back with both of my knees on his stomach. There was a clatter as Pete managed to get the gun out of his pocket, and it hit the tarmac.

  I swore, catching the glint of it in the dark. With all my strength, I clawed at Pete to hold him down and keep him from diving for it.

  “Let go of me! Get off me!” Pete screamed amidst profanities, attracting the attention of numerous passersby.

  I grunted in frustration, sweat breaking out across my forehead and under my arms as I grappled with him. My weight kept him trapped, but he flailed with his arms. I couldn’t get hold of him properly as he tried to hit me, to buck me off, to drive his fingers into my eyes and throat.

  “Stay down! It’s over, Pete, it’s o-!” I yelled at him, choked off when he grabbed hold of my ear, wrenching it.

  I gave a howl of pain and tried to prise him away, but he took advantage of the distraction and slammed my head into the side of the Toyota’s door. The bang resounded through my skull and left me dizzy and uncoordinated. I knew that I absolutely had to stop Pete from reaching the gun that was only a foot away from his grasping hands, but I struggled to make my bruised brain cooperate with me.

  Pete made a lunge for the gun as I was trying to get my bearings back, but I clumsily grabbed at his jacket, dragging him back. Rather than strain harder against my grip, as I imagined he would, he suddenly twisted around. Like a snake whose tail had been grabbed, he launched himself at me. Still unsteady from the bash to the head, I couldn’t keep him from landing heavily on top of me, knocking the breath from my chest. I thought back to all my self-defence classes and scrambled to remember anything, anything at all that might help.

  Fighting for real, not in the ordered confines of a gym, was fast and messy. I tried to hit Pete in the throat, to roll him off me, but he grabbed at my arms and resisted. Spittle flew from his mouth as he snarled down at me, coffee dripping off his nose and soaked hair clinging to his forehead. He was kneeling over me, and my hands pinned, and out of other options, I finally remembered the self-defence teacher telling us where to aim for.

  Jerking my leg up, I landed a solid knee to Pete’s groin. I did exactly what the teacher had said, imagining that I was driving my kneecap up into Pete’s abdomen so that it hit with full force. Face to face as we were, I saw the pain overtake his expression, fury crumpling into shocked agony as he curled up. I shoved him roughly off me, and he retched onto the concrete. I didn’t feel an ounce of pity for him, even if my own crotch did tingle with unwilling sympathy.

  Heavy footsteps slid to a stop beside me as I was dragging myself back up to my feet, swaying and leaning heavily on the Toyota. On edge as I was, I looked up fast enough to make my battered head throb, but it was only Stephen. Blue lights were flashing from the service station entrance, and I could hear the approaching sirens.

  “Are you okay? What happened? Mitch? Look at me?”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. I need to get his weapon,” I said, already moving towards the gun on the floor. Pete was still curled up in a foetal position, groaning to himself, but I wasn’t going to risk it. I picked it up by the barrel with my sleeve and put it on the car’s bonnet.

  Stephen cast a disgusted glance down at Pete on the floor and took his handcuffs off his belt, grabbing Pete by the arm. He was none too gentle as he pushed Pete onto his front and dragged his wrists behind him.

  “You’re okay? You’re sure?” Stephen demanded urgently as he worked.

  “Aye,” I insisted tiredly. The adrenaline was already slipping away, and I wished it would stay just a moment longer.

  Leaving Pete on the ground, Stephen nearly blinded me when he switched on his small torch and flicked it over me, clearly looking for any injuries I hadn’t noticed in the rush of the moment. I looked down at myself. I was scuffed up from the struggle on the gritty tarmac, but I was whole and in one piece, even if my head did currently feel like Pete had put a permanent dent in it.

  “I’m good, I’m okay,” I tried to brush Stephen off. “Where’s Eva?”

  “In the car. You hit your head! It’s bleeding,” he muttered before swearing.

  “Get back to Eva-”

  “I’m a qualified nurse. Can I help?” A young man moved towards us, and we both looked up. Stephen’s expression was relieved, where mine was wary.

  “Go back and check on Eva,” I ordered Stephen tiredly. “Back-up’s nearly here.”

  “Look after him,” Stephen ordered the man who’d called himself a nurse before he snatched Pete up from the floor and towed him away.

  Pete staggered, yowling in pain at the rough treatment and his injured dignity, but Stephen dragged him along as if Pete weighed no more than a child. I didn’t want Stephen putting Pete and Eva together in the same car, but I didn’t need to tell him that. He’d never do that to the kid, and I knew he’d sort it out somehow. He was more than capable, and my head throbbing and exhausted beyond belief, I was more grateful than ever to have a partner that I could trust.

  “What’s your name?” the nurse asked me, coming to my side.

  He peppered me with gentle questions, and I let him examine the gash to my head where Pete had cracked it against the side of the car, too tired to brush him off. Someone had a bottle of water, which they offered me, and I drank from gratefully.

  The backup
officers turned up on the scene just as Stephen was returning to me. He had little Eva by the hand, bringing her with him and leaving Pete locked up in the car, no doubt. Wise choice.

  He and the nurse shepherded me over to a waiting ambulance, and I didn’t resist. The paramedics decided that I needed to be checked over in hospital in case there was any swelling in my brain, and I sighed. We hung around long enough for Stephen to hand Eva off to a member of social services who had helpful turned up, and then Stephen clambered into the ambulance to accompany me to the hospital.

  “Who called her in?” I wondered aloud, pulling the stifling plastic mask off my face.

  “Who?” Stephen frowned at me like he thought I might be delirious.

  “Social services.”

  “Oh, Adams, apparently. She guessed that the little girl would need someone.”

  “Showing initiative as usual,” I mumbled, impressed. “They’ll handle Pete?”

  “Of course, mate. It’s all fine.”

  “Can you put your mask back on for me, detective?” one of the paramedics asked, looking at me with unimpressed, bright-blue eyes.

  I resisted for a moment. “Call Sam for me, okay? I forgot to phone her earlier, and she’s probably worried.”

  “Yeah, I will. Put your mask on, mate.”

  I rolled my eyes at him but did as he asked, settling back against the thin ambulance bed with a sigh. The road was fairly smooth, and there was minimal bumping around, but just the vibration from the van was enough to make my head throb, and I clenched my teeth against the ache. The paramedics had wrapped a perfunctory bandage around my head just to staunch some of the bleeding. I hadn’t even noticed that it had been bleeding.

  “She’s probably heard around the station what’s been happening,” Stephen reassured me as he fiddled with his phone and got Sam on the line.

  The paramedic asked me some more questions, monitoring my head and checking my blood pressure, but I still managed to catch most of Stephen’s conversation with Sam.