by G D Parker
Emily sat on her bed, face in her hands and cried. ‘I can’t believe it, I can’t believe this has happened.’ She felt angry, and mixed emotions controlled her body momentarily.
After about twenty minutes of ranting, Emily decided to move herself and to check on her mum. She turned the door handle to her mum’s bedroom slowly. She could feel the presence of death, and the smell of fresh blood tormented her senses as she opened the door. Her heart pounded inside her chest and her eyes filled with tears. She knew this was going to be goodbye, and there was her mum.
Nicola’s throat had been slit as she slept in her bed. The room felt warm and humid, and the air was thick with a putrid smell. There was so much blood, it had soaked through the mattress and into the carpet. Her eyes were still open, with the look of fear frozen on her face, as though it was the last emotion she had felt as she died. One of her hands was holding her slashed throat with the other resting at her side, firmly gripping the Stanley blade.
Emily screamed with a piercing screech and flopped to the floor in an agonised, emotional state. She couldn’t believe this had happened. Her mum was dead, stone-cold dead, and Emily knew exactly who had done this. She felt an element of guilt about bringing this man into her life.
She then stood and looked down out her mum’s fearful face. ‘This shouldn’t have happened to you, Mum. I’m sorry.’
Emily collected her phone and made the 999 call. She was hysterical on the phone. The operator had to try and calm Emily down to understand exactly what had happened. The woman acted quickly, then Emily hung up the phone and made her way downstairs, placing herself on the bottom step. She gazed at the front door in shock as she waited for the police to arrive. It was then she decided to unlock her phone and read the text message she had received –
Scientist83: “Job done, lay low.”
9
It’s freezing in the Brecon Beacons at this time of year. Tommy was grateful that Alwyn had given him warm clothes, proper shoes and gloves to wear, but still had no understanding as to why Alwyn had freaked out. Tommy believed the whole robbing a bank scenario must have been some sort of mix-up. There was no possible way it was even in his nature to carry out such a crime - his mind was baffled.
Alwyn’s comments about Emily concerned him greatly. He cared for Emily a lot, so Alwyn mentioning her name whilst he was freaking out worried Tommy. He didn’t know what to do. His phone was dead, and being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no place to go made him feel isolated.
Hours of trekking had passed. Considering the time of year and knowing that the sun dropped early, Tommy assumed it was about four o’clock. The freezing cold countryside was once again becoming a challenge for him, especially now the sky was becoming dark with the chill in the air increasing. His clothing would never suffice in these conditions.
The sun was descending quickly. Tommy needed to find shelter. He knew that by staying out in the open the cold would kill him this time. His survival instinct kicked in.
In the distance, the hills shone with an orange hazy glow, indicating a possible built-up area. Keeping off the country lanes, Tommy made his way towards the light, through fields and wooded areas. The frozen ground crunched beneath his feet. The gloves he was wearing were deemed useless and his face was taking the brunt of the cold wind. The shoes were too small, crushing his feet as he dragged them with a limp, falling and tripping as he struggled on the uneven terrain.
As time progressed, Tommy’s face burned even more as the ice-cold wind picked up, blasting him head on. Self-pity was at the forefront of his mind and giving up became a serious option, bearing in mind that the news had planted his face nationally. However, he was getting close, the orange glow becoming more apparent the closer he got, boosting his morale slightly with the knowledge that there would be shelter.
Tommy came to rows of houses where chimneys puffed smoke from cosy open fires. He could see a church with a fuel station next to it lit up like Vegas. His morale increased further, diminishing the pitiful feeling in his mind that had been holding him back.
There was a large stone wall that separated Tommy from the church yard. His lack of energy made him weak as he struggled to climb the stone wall. After a number of attempts, he finally succeeded, but the pain in his cold joints caused him to wince as he landed on a grassy patch. He laid on his back, looking up at the sky, taking a moment to recuperate a little. The longer he was there, the harder it was to get back on his feet.
The yard was black, and there was no sign of movement in the church. With no energy and with the cold eating away at him, this would have to be his home for the night. He managed to get to his feet with a struggle and slowly made his way around the perimeter of the church, looking for a way in. The church was completely locked down, and it felt somewhat unethical to smash a church window, but if there was a God, and this was a matter of life or death, the Big Man would understand.
Tommy found a single-pane stained glass window. It had a complex design of varying colours with a cross in the centre. The window was at the back of the church, out of sight from the main road. Tommy hesitated at first, then with a quick jab from his elbow, the glass smashed into large jagged pieces, the sound echoing inside the church. He crouched down and paused, just in case someone had heard. He waited for a few minutes before making his way through the broken window, landing on his side – the drop was further than he had anticipated.
The church was dark and cold. It had an old wooden smell with a hint of damp. The building gave Tommy an uneasy feeling. A trickle of blood ran down his arm where he must have snagged it on the broken glass on his way in, but it wasn’t severe enough to cause him too much concern.
As he walked around the church, his footsteps echoed, even though he tried to tread quietly. His feet were in agony and it proved somewhat difficult to not make any noise. He found a few stone steps leading to a room at the back of the church where they might keep spare kneelers, rugs etc. in the hope that it would take him to a warmer area of the church, a place where he could hide and feel and element of safety.
Luckily for Tommy, he found just that. There was a small room right at the back, which smelt strange and was dusty, but it was out of the way. He checked to see where his exit routes were in case he needed to make a run for it. He then found some dusty old church kneelers, which were textured with the embroidery of two keys crossing over each other. In the corner of the room was a rolled-up rug, which he unfurled and laid over the cold stone floor, and on a hanger next to it was a large purple robe. He made a form of bed, using the large robe as a blanket, and laid his head down for the night - not ideal or the comfiest of beds, but five-star compared to the alternative.
As Tommy laid there, slowly zoning into sleep, he could hear strange noises. The church creaked and the wind blew the roof tiles, making a clicking sound that echoed throughout the church. A “coo roo-c'too-coo” could he heard through the wooden panels in the ceiling as pigeons called and marked their territory.
His mind turned to thoughts of Taylor and how good his life had actually been. He missed Taylor’s pretty face and would literally do anything to be able to turn back time and go back to that happy place in his life.
He thought about his job and how strange and surreal that incident had been. He had no memory of such actions, but knowing himself as a person, he knew he would never sanely do anything like that. His life was drastically changing.
Tommy thought about the news Alwyn had shown him of the robbery. He knew he had been the perpetrator; it was clear and obvious, but having no memory of the events was hard - hard to accept that he had done all those things. He felt scared for what was yet to come. As his mind spun webs of thoughts and fears, the confusion caused a feeling of nausea, but eventually his mind finally gave up the storm, and he fell asleep.
Back in the city, DI Valentina was investigating the bank robbery with her team. After the news release, the company Tommy worked for had come forward, giving details on what
had happened back in the office – a picture was beginning to form with a trend of abnormal behaviour. Tommy’s reported activities were pinned on a map as Valentina explained to her team what had happened and when. A photo of Tommy was on display next to the map.
Valentina explained that a search on Tommy’s mobile phone movements had been completed, and that the connection had dropped at the A470 at Treforest. It was assumed that Tommy was en-route into the Valleys, which would be like smelling a fart in a windstorm - there was no way of sniffing him out, especially with the lack of CCTV.
The team were briefed to rely more on local knowledge, working from area to area, with another news release at six o’clock. Valentina had a gut feeling that McGregor was somewhere within the Brecons and was arranging for a PST to be authorised.
Hours later, the green light was given, and a fleet of wagons was dispatched with over one hundred officers on the search. The diesel engines roared as the convoy headed north bound on the A470. Valentina was in her unmarked car with DC Roberts riding shotgun.
Their first stop would be Nant Ddu, as there had been a report giving Tommy’s description near this location.
An hour and a half later, the search was underway. The PST employed a systematic high-level offensive operation to track down Tommy McGregor, with well-trained police dogs that had been given a sample of Tommy’s scent from clothing found in his apartment - it was only a matter of time until they found him.
The sound of a lorry passing by woke Tommy from his sleep. His back was in bits from the hard floor, but he was relieved that he had survived his first night sleeping rough. He stretched out, giving off a long loud yawn, then quickly silenced himself in case he wasn’t alone. He had to reduce the risk of anyone seeing him until he’d worked out a plan.
A rumble came from his bowels, followed by an agonising pain. There was a sudden desperation to relieve himself and he didn’t have much time before defecation. He searched the church and found an old toilet down in a cellar. It was dark, and the light didn’t work, but Tommy had no choice but to go for it anyway.
There it was; the first snippet of pleasure Tommy had felt in a while, but that soon evaporated with the realisation that there was nothing to wipe himself with. It was a case of splashing a little toilet water and hoping he removed it all.
Tommy heard something. He pulled up his pants and slowly made his way up from the cellar. He tiptoed silently but painfully up some concrete steps to investigate. When he reached the top, he stopped and listened, breathing slowly to intensify his hearing. He could hear voices, but the echo of the church distorted the words, so he couldn’t make out what was being said.
He decided he was just going to have to run for it. He worked out his route and off he went back through the broken window, legging it, whilst trying to ignore the pain in his feet. This was now a matter of prison time or freedom, and he moved fast.
The air was freezing and burned his chest as he gasped to fill his lungs with oxygen. He had run through two fields and was sitting behind a hedge that separated one field from the next. He needed a plan. This wasn’t something he could sustain, living out in the middle of nowhere, especially at this time of year. If he couldn’t find shelter for the next night, he was certain the cold would kill him.
After thirty minutes, Tommy had pieced together a rough plan, and he began to move again. First he needed to find some food and to work out a way to get some charge on his phone, so he could use Google Maps to figure out an appropriate route back to the city, where he would hide in hostels, disguising himself as sleeping rough and blending into the community. Once the storm had settled, Tommy then planned to relocate to another city, change his identity and move on.
Valentina was, however, an extremely experienced and competent detective. She was ruthless and determined, and she wouldn’t stop until Tommy was where she believed he should be – behind bars.
Five miles away, the PST were on the right track, with the police dogs having picked up what they believed to be Tommy’s scent. Tommy was oblivious, with no idea that the police were anywhere near, and he thought he was safe for the time being.
An hour later, Valentina received a call. There had been a break-in at Libanus Church, and a patrol was quickly dispatched. Valentina instructed one of her team to send over a 4x4 to take her to the church. Twenty minutes later she was there.
Blood was found on the smashed glass where Tommy had gained entry into the church, which was sent off to the lab to ensure it was a DNA match. However, Valentina knew this blood was Tommy McGregor’s. Her vast experience and sixth sense told her so, and she always trusted her gut feeling. A flutter of excitement built up inside her as they were getting closer, but Tommy was still non-the-wiser about how close they were.
Tommy’s trek through fields was tiresome, especially considering the current state of his health; recovering from hypothermia and barely able to walk due to his feet being in an awful condition. He came to a country road, which would eventually lead him to a fuel station in the distance. He needed food and water. He had to get into the shop, take whatever he could and be gone before anyone noticed. If only it was that easy, he thought to himself.
It took Tommy twenty minutes to reach the fuel station, and when he got there, he made his way round to the back of the building in an attempt to stay out of sight. He hunched his back slightly and stayed close to the walls to minimise his exposure. As he was walking, he was looking behind him, keeping an eye on who was around, when he bumped into a scruffy looking guy. The man was short, unshaven and looked as though he’d had a tough life.
‘Watch it, bud,’ the guy said in a Welsh accent, which was strong and mumbled, so Tommy found it hard to fully understand what he was saying.
‘Sorry,’ said Tommy. He was sheepish and closed off. He felt awkward and didn’t want to engage in any type of conversation, refusing to look this guy in the eye.
‘You ok, bud? Look like death, no offence.’ The scruffy guy pulled a fag from his tatty stone-coloured jeans and sparked up, taking an almighty drag, then inhaling further again with a long deep gasp. This guy was not wasting any of this fag.
‘Yeah, good,’ said Tommy. Feeling on edge, he was constantly looking around, slowly moving away in the hope that this guy would get the hint. Tommy didn’t want the small talk.
‘Well, bud, you don’t look it. You been sleeping rough, yeah?’
‘Yeah, something like that.’ Again, Tommy was moving away inch by inch.
‘Want some food?’ the guy asked, causing Tommy’s eyes to light up.
‘Yeah, please!’
‘Wha you fancy? Pasty, pie, rolls?’
‘Anything, literally anything, please, thank you,’ Tommy said gratefully.
The guy walked through the back door to the shop, and Tommy peered in, finding himself in the store room to the fuel station. There were crates of bottles and cans, and boxes of crisps, but he also noticed a mobile power bank. To Tommy, this was more important than food. He crept in slowly, taking carful steps, edging towards the power bank. He managed to grab it, then slipped back out the door and off into the distance, dragging his feet as he went. Tommy then heard someone shout.
‘Oi, bud!! Don’t you want your food, or what?’ the scruffy guy shouted as he walked back out the door, waving packages of food in his hands.
Tommy stopped, then turned, pausing for a moment before walking back. The food was too appealing to Tommy at this stage. He reached out to grab a pasty and a bottle from the guy.
‘Wait,’ the guy hesitated, looking at Tommy intensely. ‘You! It’s fucking you! You’re that killer!’
The guy reached out to grab at Tommy, but Tommy had already turned away, evading his grasp. The sudden movement caused him to feel slightly dizzy, but he dug deep and set off again over a fence that marked the rear boundaries to the fuel station and back into a field.
The guy made chase. ‘Brynn, Brynn!’ he shouted to whoever else was in the shop.
; He was gaining on Tommy fast. Tommy ran with a limp from the agonising pain in his feet, which slowed him tremendously. Just as Tommy took a glance back, the guy tackled him to the ground, causing them both to fall into a freezing cold stream. Neither of them felt the pain of slamming onto the rocky bed of the stream.
They rolled around, trying to take control of each other. The water in the stream was ice-cold, which Tommy ignored, as his only concern was to break away from this guy and get out as soon as possible. Tommy was weak and tired, but he managed to roll over, so he was on top. He forced an elbow into the guy’s face and saw thick blood trickle and gradually dilute in the stream.
Tommy relaxed, but the guy wasn’t done. He managed to grab a stone and smashed it into the side of Tommy’s head. Tommy dropped like a sack of potatoes, blood spilling from the side of his face. He felt woozy. The guy stood and took a step back, thinking it was over. Tommy managed to get back to his feet, so the guy came in for another strike, but this time his swing was weak, and he overstretched, missing Tommy.
Tommy managed a counter-strike, powerfully forcing his knee up into the guy’s face. He wasn’t messing around; the guy winced and fell face down into the stream, and water ran past his flopping body. Tommy turned the guy over to stop him from drowning and then quickly fled. He wasn’t going to hang around.
Soaked through to his skin, Tommy had a bloodied face with mild concussion, but somehow he didn’t forget the pasty that had been dropped on the muddy bank.
These events were reported to the police by Brynn from the shop, who went out looking for the guy after he’d heard his call. Valentina intercepted the radio and informed the control room she was on route to the fuel station, telling them to set up a code nine – a road block within a nine-mile perimeter of the fuel station.
Sirens from an ambulance could be heard in the distance, which Tommy assumed was heading towards the guy he had left unconscious.