Driving Dead

by Stephen G Collier

  They acknowledged the nurse and Randall thanked her. He drew up a chair and sat down beside Fulborough’s bed. Jake pulled up a chair on the other side of Fulborough.

  His eyes were closed. He was pale and his two bruised eyes were an island of red and blue against the pale deathly green hue of the rest of his face. Jake had seen this coloured face before – usually on the dead, so he knew that Fulborough was probably not long for this world. They needed to get as much information out of him as they could, because there might not be a tomorrow.

  ‘Barrington,’ Randall said quietly, ‘can you hear me?’

  Fulborough’s eyes, dark and bloodshot, flickered open. He looked towards Randall. Whether he could actually see him or not, neither of them had any idea.

  ‘Tell me what happened, Barrington.’

  Fulborough’s voice was deep and gravelly. ‘Met Philpott, wanted to talk about those remains, being buried, not happy, didn’t tell me.’

  ‘What happened in the office?’

  ‘Argued, because he didn’t tell me, what, happened.’ Fulborough clearly found it difficult to talk and was in pain.

  ‘You argue a lot, according to your staff.’

  ‘Yes, don’t like the man, felt it was a good, time, to fire…’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘He hit me and I fell, don’t remember any more.’

  ‘You’re lucky to still be alive.’

  ‘So I’ve been told, but I don’t actually think I’m hundred percent at the moment,’ he tried a smile.

  ‘Do you know anything about these bodies in the wood?’

  ‘Yes, I do know a little, history.’

  ‘Are you willing to share it with us?’ Jake spoke for the first time. Fulborough turned his head towards the sound of the new voice.

  ‘Suppose it’s about time that… ’ Fulborough winced with pain, as he tried to move his arms. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That’s OK. Take your time,’ Randall said.

  ‘I suppose you need to know about them. It all started a long time ago, when… I was a… boy… growing up on the… estate… ’

  Twenty minutes later, Randall and Jake were walking away from Fulborough’s room, stunned by what they had been told.

  ‘Can you believe that?’ Jake asked. ‘After all these years! And nobody had any idea, until today.’

  ‘Yes, it is an interesting story, but at least we have a few more questions to put to Philpott when we find him. We can work on him and I think we’ll have enough to hold him.’

  ‘Indeed there is,’ remarked Jake. ‘I’d like to see him go “no comment” on that little lot.’

  45

  Late Sunday

  Stephanie Parker

  Parker read the contents of the envelope she’d found in the kitchen. She folded up the envelope and stuffed it in her skirt pocket, and fished out the car keys she’d pocketed earlier. She hoped that the car to which the keys belonged was sitting on the drive outside the house.

  It was still dark outside. The clock on the oven flashed 22:19. She continued to wonder why her captors were not in the house and questioned why she’d been left alone on her own. Surely they knew that she would try to escape at her earliest opportunity – or perhaps they were so sure that whatever they had given her was going to keep her quiet for a long time.

  She moved towards the front door and tried the lock. It was a double-locked PVC door, one of those white ones, which seemed to grace every house she’d seen on certain estates in Daventry, since her return to the force. Windows at the top half of the door, with a swirly, flowery pattern on frosted glass, and plain white plastic for the bottom half. She realised that without a key, she wouldn’t be able to get out, unless she had one of those big black door keys the Support Groups use for raids on houses. And she suspected, in amusement, there would not be one of them in the house.

  She went to the back door. Same type of door, same type of lock. Her captors must have known that if they kept those doors locked, she’d never be able to get out without assistance. She walked back into the kitchen and searched further to see if she could find some keys. Then checked the windows – double glazed uPVC – locked. Then she went into the sitting room and ferreted around in there for a few minutes. Checked the windows, they were the same. But she could not find any keys anywhere.

  She was beginning to panic, so close to being free. She stopped and stood in the middle of the room, thinking about what she could do next. Where would they hide front door keys? She saw that the old sofa was littered with pizza and take-away cartons, abandoned, as if the occupants had left in a hurry. The wastebasket was full of empty bottles. The occupants obviously drank excessively.

  This whole experience was almost surreal, laughable, if it weren’t for the fact that she’d spent most of the time full of some sleep-inducing drug.

  She hadn’t checked the hallway for keys. Perhaps on the table hidden somewhere? But she was sure there wasn’t a drawer in the table. She went and had a look anyway. As she stood in the hallway, she saw a set of vehicle lights pull onto the driveway. Damn. I’m not getting this far to be put back in that room, she thought, and switched out the light.

  She decided to make her escape, when the front door was opened. She stood in the shadow behind the door, intending to surprise the first person who came in.

  The car lights went out and the hallway was plunged into darkness. She had the car keys in her hand and every intention of using them to put her captor down.

  She saw a shadow coming up to the door, having the gait of a woman, and Parker readied herself. She saw the shadow lift her hand to put the key in the lock and the door opened. When the door was halfway open, Parker slammed the door into the woman. The door hit home with such force, that she fell back against the wall. Parker ran at her before she could get up from the floor, whereupon she punched her hard in the face. The woman shied away from Parker, but she punched her again and kicked out striking the woman’s leg. She cried out, but Parker was already out of the door and heading for the car. She unlocked the car and climbed into a dirty old Ford Focus. It took a couple of tries to get it started, by which time her captor was hobbling towards her.

  She wrenched it into reverse gear and shot backwards off the drive, catching the wing of the car the woman had arrived in.

  Parker left the estate and recognised the Wellingborough Road. She knew that she was near to the Weston Favell Police Station and quickly drove towards it. When she arrived, she found that it was in darkness. “Closed. Only open between 09:00 and 17:00,” said the sign on the door. ‘Fuck! Who the hell closes police stations in a town this size?’ she shouted at the door and ran back to the car.

  She sat in the car trying to decide what to do next, thinking about where she would find somebody, then realised that there might be someone at Jake’s station, so she made her way towards it. She drove from Weston Favell onto the Lumbertubs Way to join the A45 towards the motorway.

  Quite unexpectedly, as she moved into the third lane, she felt extraordinarily tired. How can I be so tired, she thought, with all the sleep I’ve had? Her eyes felt heavy and she had difficulty keeping them open. Her body convulsed and she gripped the steering wheel so hard, it left indentations where her fingers were. She tried desperately to keep her eyes open, under the realisation that she was losing control of her body. Her foot was planted heavily on the accelerator pedal as it went into a spasm, and the vehicle was increasing speed.

  She tried with all her remaining energy to lift her left foot onto the brake pedal to slow the car down. As the Focus approached the Barnes Meadow flyover at over seventy mph, she failed to negotiate the left-hand bend. The car mounted the central reservation and collided with the barrier, where it rebounded across the road into the nearside barrier, spinning out into the road again, l
osing momentum as it crashed backwards into the central barrier, coming to a halt.

  Parker was unconscious, but her left foot was still on the brake pedal.

  46

  At eight a.m. on Monday morning, Jake was contacted by the on-call traffic collision investigator, informing him that WPC Parker had been found in a Ford Focus on the A45 having, ‘fallen asleep at the wheel’ was how he described it cynically. He was told that she had some serious injuries, and was unconscious.

  Jake’s first thought was for her mother Emily and he rang her almost immediately he’d received the news.

  ‘Do you want me to come and take you to the hospital?’ he asked her.

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of getting there under my own steam, thank you.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought I’d just ask.’

  ‘I told your Inspector Randall the other day that I am not at all happy with her being back on the force, so I certainly don’t need your assistance with my daughter. I’ll make my own way, thank you very much!’

  She put the phone down without a further word. Jake looked at the handset and grunted as he put the phone back down on its cradle.

  As he stood in the incident room with Randall and the others, he couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for her state. He should never have suggested her involvement to CID and certainly wouldn’t again.

  It had been two days since the operation had lost her, so standing in the incident room on Monday morning didn’t have the usual cheery banter between everyone, and the room was subdued. Another week of road policing coppers working with detectives – a marriage made in hell.

  But it wasn’t, was it? Parker could have been killed in that single vehicle crash. What would he have done then? What would he have told her mother and what retribution would she throw at him? She clearly blamed him for bringing her back into the service, and made no secret of the fact to everyone she spoke to.

  By all accounts there had been too many deaths, injuries and domestic upheaval that could all be linked back to Bingham bloody Tyler. All the shit in his life over the last twelve months could be traced back to him. Still reaching out from beyond the grave.

  ‘Jake!’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Are you with us this morning?’

  ‘Only just, sir.’ He smiled at Freeman. It was only reciprocated with a scowl. No sense of irony, these Yanks.

  ‘What do we know then?’ Randall asked, a little irritated, turning to Jake.

  ‘According to my collision investigator, Parker lost control of the vehicle, just before Barnes Meadow flyover, travelling west. She was found unconscious at the wheel. Whether that was as a result of the collision or what may have been administered to her, we don’t yet know. I’ve asked Dr Kingsfield and her team to make the blood tests a priority. What we can say with certainty is that, before the collision, Parker realised what was happening and managed to put her left foot on the brake pedal. In fact, we think that her body went into some sort of spasm. Her left foot was so hard on the brake pedal, that she bent it to almost breaking point, while her right foot was just as hard down on the accelerator. If it weren’t for that, there’s every chance she’d have gone over the flyover and into the river below.’

  ‘Do we think she’d been drugged?’

  ‘We’re fairly certain of that if we consider the MO of all the other collisions we’re investigating. We’ve sent some blood samples to our outside specialist as well, to see if that can come up with some answers.’

  ‘I’m sure that we’re all relieved that constable Parker has survived this ordeal, despite what happened on Friday night,’ Freeman said.

  ‘CCTV?’ queried Randall.

  ‘We’re on that, nothing yet. The A45 cameras will no doubt pick her up, but it’s where she came from we need to know.’

  Randall nodded. ‘Right then, let’s get out there and find whoever did this.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Jake with a mock salute. As if we’re not doing that already.

  He needed to go and see Parker in the hospital. He had got her into this mess, so he’d damn well make sure he got her out of it.

  Jake stood at the end of Stephanie Parker’s hospital bed. Kirsty was doing the doctor thing, checking charts and monitors. They spoke in low tones to each other, almost whispering.

  ‘I shouldn’t have got her roped into this,’ Jake said.

  ‘You weren’t to know what was going to happen.’

  ‘Emily, her mum, isn’t very happy she’s in here. In fact, she isn’t very happy about her being back in the job in the first place. Blames me personally.’

  ‘But it’s her decision isn’t it, not her mother’s. All you did was let the force know she was back. I think her mum’s trying to hide her own guilt.’

  ‘Possible, but the job does tend to drive a wedge between families, as I know to my cost.’

  ‘We can only hope that she’s going to be OK. She’ll be back at work in no time, you’ll see.’

  Kirsty moved around to the end of the bed and stood next to Jake. She took his hand, looked at him and smiled. He smiled back. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘she’s going to be OK. Trust me, I’m a doctor.’

  ‘And when did you change your view about her role in all this?’

  ‘You told me, Jake. I’ve got to move on. I listened to you.’ She leaned closer to him.

  ‘I knew you two would get together,’ croaked Parker, without opening her eyes. Her dry throat made her cough.

  ‘How long have you been awake?’

  ‘Long enough,’ she said, opening one eye and coughing again. Kirsty moved around the bed and poured some water into glass, helping her to take a drink. She put the glass down on the bedside cabinet.

  ‘I’ll get the doctor,’ Kirsty said and breezed out of the private room.

  ‘Tell her mum as well. She’s in the restaurant.’

  Kirsty nodded as she left the room.

  ‘I’m sorry, Steph,’ was the only thing he could think of to say to Parker.

  ‘At least I’m still alive.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Christ, I hurt.’

  ‘You were very lucky.’

  ‘Hmm, I knew there was something wrong, when I felt tired so quickly after I got into the car,’ she spoke quietly, so as not to start coughing again.

  ‘We’ll need to talk about what happened,’ Jake said.

  She nodded slowly. ‘Jake, there is something I need to tell you – I think it’s quite important. Something I found at the house.’

  Jake leaned in closer to hear what Parker had to say, but was interrupted by the doctor and Kirsty, closely followed by Emily.

  Emily looked at her daughter sympathetically and said, ‘It’s good to have you back, Steph. You had me worried.’

  Parker gave a lopsided smile to her mother. ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily,’ she said with another short cough.

  Emily turned to Jake. ‘I’d like to be alone with my daughter now, if you don’t mind, Sergeant.’

  ‘Steph was about to tell me something, which she felt was important, before you came in.’

  ‘I think it’s more important to get my daughter back to health, don’t you, Sergeant. Whatever it is it will have to wait,’ Emily glowered at Jake, irritated by his presence. Jake looked across at Parker. She nodded briefly. He glanced at Emily, who was looking directly at him. Her eyes said it all. She was not going to let her little girl out of her sight again.

  Jake and Kirsty left Emily with her daughter. Outside Parker’s room, Kirsty said, ‘What was that all about?’

  ‘Emily came to the station the other day and we had a conversation about Steph, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m assuming that the conversation didn’t go well?’

  ‘Not for me, no. I couldn’t say about Emily.’

  ‘Still going
on about her daughter re-joining the force?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s like a stuck record.’

  ‘Hmm… Anyway, I have some good news for you.’

  ‘What’s that? I could do with some.’

  ‘Parker’s blood sample? We sent it off to have it examined as a priority and it came back. And the other ones that we kept back, after taking some of the samples to Tanya, when we discovered she’d not included her own company.’

  Jake said nothing.

  Kirsty opened the door to her lab with her swipe card and let Jake go in first. ‘They’ve found a marker on the drug. A marker that identified its origin.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘You’ll never guess.’

  ‘Don’t tell me…’

  ‘…Exactly.’

  ‘How did they find that?’

  ‘One of the technicians stumbled upon it by accident. It forms part of pre-cursor chemicals, once he had disassembled it.’

  ‘You make it sound as if he’s taking apart a light-fitting.’

  ‘Crude, but the same concept.’

  ‘How do you disassemble a molecule?’

  ‘Ah… Wouldn’t you like to know?’ She tapped the side of her nose.

  ‘I would actually.’

  ‘If you’re very good, I might explain it to you one day.’

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ he laughed. Some technicians looked up from their stations, as they walked through to Kirsty’s office. Since she’d been taken off her senior role, the office her mentor had given her had been re-allocated to the new Head of Pathology. Kirsty had to move back into her old office in the corner of the lab. It wasn’t so plush and grand as the one she’d come from, but there was room for a couple of easy chairs and a table along with a desk that overlooked the hospital grounds. Jake took off his high-vis vest and sat down. Kirsty poured a cup of coffee from the machine and sat down opposite him, handing him the mug. Jake watched her sit. Graceful would be the way he would describe it, and very alluring. He put that thought to one side as she spoke.