Driving Dead

by Stephen G Collier

Her

  It was difficult. She knew that. She placed the glass of red wine down on her desk and opened her diary. “This is the only way anyone will know about what I’ve done and what I am about to do,” she wrote. “I’ve managed to keep my obsession under control for the last couple of weeks, but the need, the overwhelming desire to continue developing my drug, is almost tangible. I’m so close to finalising its structure. So close to finally being able to put my past behind me and conclude my business in this world.

  “I know that I’m not going to survive this. In fact, I have no desire to want to survive after all this. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life in a ten by eight prison cell. I’d go even more madder than I am.

  “Why do I feel guilty? It’s never worried me before. It’s right that I should seek vengeance upon those who cause pain to others. Pain to ME.

  “I’ve taken so long to build my laboratory. Why should I not use it for my own ends? It’s MINE. I still can’t understand how I’ve managed to get away with it. All this equipment and I’ve not paid a penny. It’s all on the company. They’ve never even suspected. They’ve got no IDEA.

  “I know the company accountant is suspicious, but I can keep him sweet. I think he fancies me anyway, that’s for sure.”

  She put her pen down and stood, stretched and rubbed the small of her back. She removed the keys to her laboratory from the top drawer of her desk. She collected her wine glass and refilled it with the bottle on her desk, then went to her laboratory. A few steps away from the door, key in one hand and the ever-present wine glass in the other, she took a step closer. It was enticing her to enter. Her mind drifted off, remembering the occasions she had tried out her new drug in the town centre.

  She’d decided that she didn’t like the town. It had changed so much in the time she’d been away. A wine bar where a bank used to be. Nightclubs fighting for custom from the passing stags and hens. The only place to come to try my new drug, pissed-up girls ripe for the taking. She smiled to herself.

  She went back to her desk and continued writing. “One of the girls I looked for had a problem. She walked off with my bottle of water, the stupid bitch, so high on crack she didn’t know what the fuck she was doing. Forced me to go chasing after her the following morning to see if it worked. My only regret is that she had her husband and her kids with her. I don’t want to kill children – the husband though – collateral damage.

  “The crash was explosive. Never seen anything like that before and I was so close.” She stopped writing and rubbed the top of her nose, as the images of her own collision came flooding back, the tornado, the semi, driven by a woman high on amphetamines and who took her husband and child. She carried on writing.

  “Funny that the cop I went to help was actually in the club the following week. I couldn’t help it. Well, he approached me. I saw him – leering at my legs when I got off that stool. But I got my own back. Gave him good dose, and handcuffed him to a lamppost. Not seen anything on the news, so I assume he got away.” ‘Ha!’ she shouted.

  She went to grab her glass of wine, but knocked it over her desk. She swore loudly and mopped it up with some tissues she filched out of the top drawer. She looked at the lab keys again. Stroked them. In two minds.

  Do I or don’t I?

  It was just an ordinary door. It wasn’t fortified, re-enforced or anything like that. It was just a locked white door. But to her it looked different today for some reason. Perhaps the drink was playing a trick on her. She shook her head. ‘What am I doing? I’ve made my decision. I’m safe,’ she whispered to herself and turned on her heel and walked back to her lounge, where she re-filled her glass and flopped back down on the sofa with a great sigh.

  Some hours later, when the bottle was empty again, she found herself standing at the lab entrance. But not her own lab. The lab at work. How she got there she had no idea. She shrugged, swiped her card and input the six-digit access code. The night watchman looked up, surprised to see her.

  ‘You finishing late or starting early?’ he asked.

  She didn’t respond, just gave him a happy wave, as she walked past his desk. She didn’t want to say anything, because she knew that she would make it obvious that she was drunk. At least I know I am, she thought. The night watchman just sat down again, not worried.

  She entered the lift, which took her up to the first floor. The door pinged open. The upward movement of the lift made her a bit dizzy. She staggered out of the lift and sat down heavily on the floor. The automatic lighting came on and she closed her eyes to shield them from the brightness. The clock on the wall said two a.m. She sat there, unable to move and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, she cursed herself for falling asleep for an hour. The lights had gone off and she was in darkness, but the early August dawn was expectant. She got up from the floor, feeling a little better for her catnap. She sauntered over to the pharmacy, where she used her card to unlock the door and went straight to the vials of drugs she needed.

  She put the drugs into her pocket and left the pharmacy. ‘I’m so close to getting it right.’

  As she drove back home, she considered that if she tried that weekend and if it worked the way she wanted it to work, she’d be more than happy. Perhaps then, the obsession would go away. She could even sell it on the net maybe. She smiled to herself as she abandoned her car on her driveway. She couldn’t say that it was parked.

  She went straight to her laboratory without further delay, spurred on by the thought that she could at last finalise her new drug, but first she needed a drink.

  Her obsession with completing the right synthesis of the drug had returned after she realised that it would be tragic if she had come so far, yet not to see a conclusion. She didn’t see herself as the competitive type, but once she had decided to do something, there was very little that anyone could do to change her mind.

  “I did feel a bit guilty, when I realised that a youth had died in the motorway accident, but that wasn’t my fault,” she wrote in her diary. “How could I know that her victim drove school minibuses? I only found that out when she’d kept her usual eye on her victims. And do I care really? No, it was down to the driver to make sure that she did nothing to put her passengers in danger. Once the drug had been administered, it was too late anyway.”

  She shook her head to rid herself of these guilty thoughts as she closed her diary.

  She spent the day working on her drug. Nobody ever asked her where she was, so she downloaded the new structure into her computer from the memory stick and completed synthesising its amended molecular structure. She hoped that this was the last iteration and that the drug was now complete in all its forms.

  She felt excited. She felt she was near the end. She knew she’d never be caught. This prospect increased the adrenaline that kept her going through the night.

  While the drug was cooking, she managed to down a bottle of her favourite Chardonnay, with a frozen pizza she cooked in the oven, topped off with some Vodka. I do know how to live it up, she thought, as she went back down to her lab to see that the process was complete.

  Decanting the clear liquid into vials, she felt happy with her night’s work and went to bed at six a.m.

  She fell quickly into a deep and restful sleep – her task almost complete.

  38

  The officers from traffic and CID had been instructed to arrive at Force Headquarters lecture theatre for a briefing at 17:00. As they gathered, they only knew that they were in a search for a multiple murderer. Nobody had said anything to anybody other than Prentice, who was dressed in his civvies and sitting in the front row. Randall and Jake were conversing quietly at the front, waiting for the officers to arrive.

  ‘Is your man up for this, Jake?’ asked Randall.

  ‘Of course he is. Why do you ask?’

  Randall looked across at Prentice. ‘He’s not done any of this bef
ore, I take it? I’d be a bit apprehensive if I were him. It’s like sending Daniel into the lion’s den.’

  ‘He looks a bit pale, I’ll give him that, but he’s a good copper. He’ll do fine.’

  ‘I just hope he doesn’t cock it up. We’ve only got one chance at this, you know.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that.’

  Most of the officers had arrived when the double doors at the back of the room opened and Stephanie Parker entered.

  ‘Always one for a big entrance,’ muttered Jake. All eyes were on her, as she walked down the steps to the front seats and sat near Prentice, who, like all the other men in the room, Jake noticed, were gawping at her.

  ‘Shut your mouth, Chris, or you’ll catch flies,’ he heard her say to Prentice, as she sat down. ‘Have you never seen a girl in a skirt before?’

  ‘Not as short as that,’ he commented.

  Jake smiled.

  ‘Oh, this,’ said Parker, looking down at herself and arranging her skirt demurely. ‘It’s just something I threw on for tonight’s little escapade.’

  Prentice could do nothing but nod in agreement. Jake had sent Prentice off to have a preliminary meeting with Parker a few days before at the station, but then, of course, she was in uniform. What he saw that evening was distracting, to say the least and she’d even dyed and bobbed her hair to make her look like the other victims.

  Randall brought the briefing to order. ‘Right, ladies and gentlemen. This is Operation Winkle.’ Some CID officers laughed and looked towards Prentice. Randall continued. ‘I don’t choose the names. It’s what they tell us.’

  The group laughed. All except Prentice.

  ‘The aim of this operation is to find, or shall we say, winkle out, our murderer.’ Randall smiled at his own joke. ‘Sergeant Jordan will fill you in with the details later, but for now you need to be aware that we have two undercover officers in the club, PC Chris Prentice–’

  Some of the group jeered in good play.

  ‘–and WPC Stephanie Parker from Daventry Area. Chris is the only one who has seen this woman and we all know the outcome of that meeting.’

  More jeering and japing. Prentice flushed and looked at the floor. He was comforted by Parker’s hand tapping his thigh in sympathy.

  ‘Now we know that she frequents the clubs and bars in the town centre, so Prentice and Parker will be in these clubs, but acting individually. Prentice will ID the woman when she arrives. If she arrives. Parker will make herself known to her. We know that previously she has targeted women. She approaches them and engages in conversation. At some point, she slips a Mickey in their drink, then invites them to go home with her or offer to drive her home. It is important that we catch this woman before she slips anything into Parker’s drink, so we’ll need to approach her in the club. As we don’t know which club she is going to frequent it needs to be as covert as possible. Stevens, Martin and myself will be in the main club. We’ll follow Prentice, wherever they end up. There will be CID officers in each of the clubs, as allocated on your operational order. You all have her picture, so we need to move swiftly when and if she makes her move on Parker. Any questions?’

  ‘What if she doesn’t make a move on WPC Parker?’ Fred Martin asked.

  ‘I’m sure that WPC Parker and PC Prentice will be able to ensure that she does.’

  Randall looked at the pair. They nodded. Jake took over from Randall, who told the gathering that the Road Policing crews would be stationed in and around the town.

  ‘It is hoped that we’ll be able to identify the car she drives, as we have no intelligence on that. We need to rely on observations. Area officers working the town have also been given a photograph of the woman, so they will also be on the lookout. The vehicle needs to be stopped, before she gets to her destination, if Parker is on board, but we hope that it’s not going to come to that.’

  ‘Right,’ said Randall, ‘you’ve all got your assignments. Let’s get out there and find her.’

  The room dispersed noisily, leaving Parker and Prentice with Randall and Jake. They stood and moved towards them.

  ‘Please make sure you have our backs?’ Parker pleaded.

  ‘You’re going to be fine. We’ll make sure that no harm comes to either of you. There’s still time to back out if you’re not feeling up to it,’ said Randall.

  Parker gave Randall a telling smile. ‘Really, and what would you do if we did?’

  ‘Panic, of course,’ Jake joked.

  ‘So, we’re committed, come what may?’ responded Prentice.

  ‘You’ll be fine, I told you – trust me I’m a detective.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about Sir,’ smiled Prentice. Turning to Parker, he said, ‘Come on, Steph. Let’s go do this.’

  39

  Friday

  Stephanie Parker

  The club was stifling and not something that she was used to, so Parker stepped out of the club and onto the street. She needed to get some air. She looked at the sky and took big breaths – cool and fresh. She found herself shivering and couldn’t decide whether it was the nerves of the operation or the freshness of the air… as fresh as it could be in the middle of a Midlands town. The sky was clear as she stared upwards thinking of the wide and open spaces she had left behind in New Zealand.

  She couldn’t believe that Kirsty Kingsfield had turned up at the bar. She could put a mocker on the whole operation. How could she be so stupid? She took another deep breath and exhaled.

  ‘Stuffy in there, isn’t it?’

  Parker turned to see the woman, who she’d bumped into on her way out of the club. Had she followed her out? She turned to see a redheaded woman leaning against the door. She could see now, under the streetlights, that she was the woman that they were looking for. The only difference was the colour of her hair and she’d dressed down for her next victim. Or so it seemed to Parker.

  ‘Noisy as well,’ Parker replied, nervously.

  ‘I come here regularly and it never gets any better.’

  ‘Why do you come here then?’

  ‘Oh, you know, it’s what you know, really. Can’t be bothered to go anywhere else.’ The woman gave her a brief cold smile.

  Parker went to walk back into the club.

  ‘Are you going back in?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Are you with anyone?’

  Parker hesitated. ‘Erm… no.’

  ‘Only I saw you talking to that man sitting at the end of the bar.’

  ‘Him?’ She laughed. ‘I’ve only just met him, when I went up to get a drink.’

  ‘Right. I think I’ve seen him here before.’ She smiled again.

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘You’re not from around here?’ she asked, still blocking Parker’s entrance back into the club.

  ‘Easy enough to guess that,’ Parker said, beginning to find her confidence and making her accent heavier.

  The woman then stepped aside to let in a party of people, pushed out of the way by the bouncer, who waved them away from the door. The woman ignored him. ‘Australia?’

  ‘New Zealand.’

  ‘A place I’ve always wanted to go.’

  ‘Really?’ responded Parker, sounding bored.

  ‘Yes, perhaps we could have a drink and you could tell me the best places to visit? You know, off the beaten track – non-touristy?’ The doors closed and they were left on their own again. A moment’s silence. ‘Can I buy you a drink then?’

  ‘If you want to,’ Parker moved towards the door.

  ‘Not in there, too noisy,’ the woman said. ‘Let’s go next door.’

  Parker stood for a moment, not knowing what to do. Yes, they needed to catch her, but they also needed to know where she was.

  ‘Why not go back in there?’ she asked, pointing to the door.<
br />
  The woman took a step forward and with a scheming whisper in her ear said, ‘I recognise a couple of people in there, that I don’t particularly want to say hi to.’

  ‘Ex-boyfriends?’ Parker laughed nervously. Had she clocked Kirsty, or Prentice?

  ‘No, ex-girlfriends,’ she smiled, but Parker heard the hardness in the other woman’s voice. Parker was becoming more and more fearful, that her backup wouldn’t be able to keep up with what she was trying to do, but realised she had to go along with it. Reluctantly, Parker moved away from the door with her. She slipped her arm around hers, pretending they were two old mates.

  They walked to the pub at the bottom of the hill, making small talk. Parker didn’t take much notice, speaking only, she hoped, in the right place.

  It was quieter than the club – loud talking, but no thumping music. The pub was in semi darkness decorated with distressed pine furniture and a flagstone floor. It wasn’t too busy. A group of men were gathered around the bar drinking and being loud about it. A young couple in the corner talking quietly and a couple of other small groups of men and women dotted around the floor space in front of the bar. Others came and went in quick succession

  The woman took Parker over to the bar and ordered two double Vodkas for them both. Parker hated Vodka, so at least she would be able to hold on to it for a little while, without having any refills.

  After they had ordered, they found a secluded table. The woman sat down close to Parker and said, ‘That’s better. Hi, I’m Fiona.’ She held out her hand.

  Parker took it and they shook hands. ‘Steph,’ she replied, releasing her grip quickly.

  Parker looked around the pub to see if she could spot the two CID officers that were supposed to be in there. She couldn’t see them.

  Parker was beginning to panic. I could be done for, if they don’t know where I am. I’ll make an excuse; go to the loo or something like that. Before she went, she put a beer mat on top of her drink to cover it over.