Time Is Running Out

by Michael Wood

  ‘He was disappointed with you?’ Sian asked.

  ‘Disappointed. Upset. Angry. He wanted to know why, when I seemed to have everything, did I turn to, well, the dark side, I suppose you’d call it,’ he said with a slight smile.

  ‘What did you say to that?’ Sian was struggling to compose herself. Steve Harrison had caused the deaths of so many people today – police officers, school teachers and pupils – and his contempt for them was causing a rage to build inside her she’d never felt before. Sian had never known true hatred. She did now.

  Again, Steve took his time to think of a reply. ‘I don’t think I did. I couldn’t give him the answers he was looking for because I didn’t know them.’

  ‘You do, though, don’t you?’ Sian said. ‘You killed all those people because you thought they hadn’t served enough time for the crimes they’d committed. You believed they should have been given tougher prison sentences. You took the law into your own hands and hanged them. You were the judge, jury and executioner.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘What would you say?’

  ‘I’d say that’s your interpretation of the events.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m wrong?’

  ‘No. Theories aren’t wrong until they’ve been proven so,’ he said, leaning forward on the table. ‘This is lovely coffee, by the way.’

  ‘Enlighten me, Steve,’ Sian said, matching his body language and leaning forward. ‘If you weren’t killing to seek justice, why were you doing it? What was the motive behind your crimes? Come on, you have a captive audience here. Give us an insight into your mind.’

  ‘Ok,’ he cleared his throat. ‘I killed the first victim, that paedophile, because he deserved to die. The rest… I did it because I enjoyed it.’

  Sian swallowed hard. She leaned back in her seat as if trying to put as much distance between herself and Steve as she could.

  ‘Why did you kill Faith Easter?’

  ‘I just said; because I enjoyed it,’ he said slowly. ‘Although, with Faith, there was a second reason.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I wanted to see Matilda suffer. You should have seen her face when I threw Faith over the bannister and she fell, the rope tightening around her neck. Matilda actually reached out to catch her. Silly cow. She’ll have made Faith’s death take longer. If she’d have let her drop, she’d have snapped her neck and it would have been lights out in seconds. I like to think Matilda spends her nights thinking of that moment. I like to think she has nightmares about it.’ There was a satisfied smile on Steve’s lips and he knew the twinkle in his eyes was back.

  ‘You felt hatred towards Matilda?’ Sian asked.

  ‘Oh, absolutely.’

  ‘Is that what today has all been about?’

  Steve’s face dropped. He’d been tricked into moving away from talking about his brother’s one-man gun fight. If he’d been genuinely upset by his parents’ murder and Jake’s actions, he wouldn’t have been able to revel in his own crimes and taunt Sian as much as he had.

  ‘You’re good,’ he said, admitting defeat. ‘You’re very good, Sian. I underestimated you.’

  ‘You knew today was going to happen, didn’t you? You knew Jake was going to kill your parents and attempt to murder DCI Darke. Did you put him up to it?’

  ‘No comment,’ he said, sitting back and folding his arms.

  ‘Did you tell him where to get the guns from and how to make a bomb?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Was it your idea to have a random shooting from the Parkway to throw us off the scent?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Where is he going next, Steve?’ Christian asked. ‘Where’s the next attack going to be?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Answer the fucking questions,’ Shaun Cox said, swiftly elbowing Steve in the face, knocking him off his chair.

  Christian and Sian jumped up from their seats.

  ‘Sorry,’ Shaun said. ‘I can’t stand narcissistic wankers.’

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Jake was parked in the corner of the car park at the Royal Hallamshire Hospital. His dirty white van was sheltered by trees on one side and the darkness of the evening on the other. He hunkered down in his seat, watching and waiting.

  It was a large hospital and the number of spaces available in the car park did not equal the number of staff and visitors, which meant it was always full, day and night, so Jake had been lucky to grab this spot. He had no intention of moving. Not just yet.

  Jake removed his seat belt and stepped out of the van. It was a cold evening; it had finally stopped drizzling, and the sky was beginning to clear. The clouds were dispersing, the stars were twinkling, and the full moon was lighting up the sky. He loved the winter. He loved the cold. He spent many a night in the back garden just looking up at the moon, wondering what it would be like to leave Earth, leave all these hateful bastards behind and start from scratch on another planet.

  He pulled open the sliding doors at the side of the van. It was dark inside, but he could make out the shadow of his victim. He took a mobile phone from his back pocket, turned it on and switched on the torch. He aimed it directly into her face. She squinted. She was filthy. Her face was wet from crying and she looked to be in pain. Her wrists and ankles were firmly tied together with rope.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. There was a sadness to his voice, as if, finally, the events of the day, the horror he’d inflicted on the city, had sunk in.

  She squealed and shook her head.

  ‘Are you in pain?’

  She nodded.

  Jake climbed into the van. She tried to get away from him but there was no room and she was severely restricted. He nudged up to her, put his left arm around her shoulders and told her to look into the camera. He smiled as he leaned his head towards her and took a selfie. He stared at it for a long time before showing it to her.

  ‘I hate having my photo taken, don’t you?’ he said. ‘I remember Ruth saying I had a nice smile. Not as nice as Steve’s, obviously, but it made my eyes sparkle, apparently. What do you think?’ He looked at her, but she didn’t react. ‘It’s all bollocks, though, really, isn’t it? People say what they want you to hear. It’s false flattery to lure you into their trust. Do you believe in happy endings?’

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The tape around her mouth was restricting her speech to moans and squeaks. With dirty fingers, blood beneath his nails, he slowly pulled the tape away.

  She gasped for breath, taking in the cold air from outside of the open van. She licked her lips and tried to get moisture back into her dry mouth.

  ‘Do you think you could untie my wrists? I’m very uncomfortable.’

  ‘Sorry, love. I can’t do that. I was told to get an insurance policy, and that’s what you are.’

  ‘Who told you? Who put you up to this?’

  ‘Don’t. Ask. Questions,’ he said, his eyes closed tightly, a vein throbbing in the side of his neck. ‘If all goes well, you’ll be back home in your own bed tonight.’

  ‘You don’t really want to do this, do you? I can see it in your eyes. This isn’t the real you.’

  He half laughed. ‘I don’t know what the real me is. I’ve no idea who I am. I’ve never fitted in anywhere, not at school or with my family. I’ve always been an outsider. Everything I do fails.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘It is. So, do you believe in happy endings?’

  She nodded. There were tears in her eyes.

  ‘How can you? We all have one thing in common; we die. It doesn’t matter how long we live for, what we achieve, we all die in the end. That’s not a happy ending.’

  ‘I don’t think that matters,’ she said softly. ‘It’s what we do while we’re alive that counts. If you can look back in your final moments and see that you’ve been happy, you’ve made others happy, you’ve made a difference to people’s lives, then it doesn’t matter if you die aged t
wenty-three or ninety-three.’

  ‘Let’s say today is your last day. Let’s say your husband doesn’t get here in time and I kill you. Knowing that, can you look back on your life and say you’ve been happy, that you’ve made others happy?’

  Tears rolled down her face. She tried to speak a couple of times, but her emotions wouldn’t let her. Jake leaned towards her and wiped her eyes with the edge of his sleeve.

  ‘Yes. I think I can,’ she eventually answered. ‘I’m married. We have a very happy marriage. I have two daughters whom I love very much, and I know they love me. They’re growing up to respect others, and I know they’re going to become good-natured young women. They’ll be a credit to me and my husband.’

  ‘But is that enough? You’re just doing what society expects of you – to get married and have kids. Is that really enough?’

  She smiled. ‘I’ve never been an ambitious person. I’ve never wanted to climb a mountain or run a huge business. My family was very poor when I was a child and all I wanted was to have a nice house with a big garden and enough money to live comfortably. I’ve got that. I’ve achieved what I set out to do. So, yes, I’m happy.’ Again, she smiled through the tears.

  ‘I wanted a wife and children, too,’ he said wistfully. ‘I found the wife. Ruth. She was beautiful. But when … well, when things happened, she turned her back on me. She wouldn’t help me when I needed her. I can’t trust anyone.’

  ‘Look,’ she said, shuffling closer to him. ‘I know we haven’t met under the most normal of situations, but I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character, and I can see you’ve been dealt a very bad hand. You’re not an evil person. You can turn this around.’

  He turned to her. His eyes were wide and cold. ‘I’ve lost count of the amount of people I’ve killed today. I murdered my parents. I put a gun in my wife’s mouth and pulled the trigger. I chained the doors of a school then walked along the corridors shooting people at random. My brother is Steve Harrison. He’s in prison for murdering six people. There is evil running through us both. Nothing can change that.’

  She was shaking from pure fear, though she pretended it was the cold air. ‘You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You can change. You don’t have to kill any more people.’ She placed her hands on his arm. ‘I’m not going to lie to you and say you won’t go to prison, you will, but help is available. I think you’re misunderstood, and you need someone to talk to. People will listen. I’ll listen.’

  A clock chimed somewhere. Jake looked at his watch. They’d been chatting for over half an hour.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t have time for this right now.’ He moved and jumped out of the van.

  ‘Wait. Wait. Talk to me. I’ll listen. We can sort something out between us.’

  He picked up a roll of duct tape and tore off a strip. ‘There’s no point in talking. I have a very rare form of blood cancer. It’s flowing all around me, eating away at me from the inside. I’ll be dead before the summer. I don’t want a long-drawn-out death.’ He secured the tape across her mouth.

  From a bag, he took out a Glock pistol and loaded a full magazine. He checked the ammunition in the Heckler & Koch rifle and slung it over his shoulder.

  ‘I have enjoyed this chat, though. Thank you.’

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  ‘I don’t understand how Steve could have known Jake was planning all this if they haven’t had any contact for over two years,’ Sian said.

  Christian and Sian were in the HMET suite with Aaron and prisoner officer Shaun Cox. Finn was making them all a coffee. Following the chat and Shaun elbowing Steve in the face, it was decided a break was needed. Steve wasn’t in a state to continue anyway with a broken nose. He was currently being assessed by a doctor with the other two prison officers standing guard.

  ‘All of Steve’s letters into and out of the prison get thoroughly checked,’ Shaun said. ‘He gets a lot of mail.’

  ‘Really? Who from?’ Aaron asked. He lifted Sian’s snack supply out of her desk and placed it on top. He told Shaun to help himself.

  ‘Mostly women. They send him cards, photos, love letters. They come from all over the world. And when it’s his birthday or Christmas or Valentine’s Day, well, we’re inundated. I’m telling you, he’s a popular bloke.’

  ‘I’ve never understood why people write to serial killers,’ Finn said, handing around the drinks. ‘He’s killed six people. Why are woman attracted to someone like that?’

  ‘Hybristophilia,’ Sian said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘That’s what it’s called when a woman is attracted to a man known to have committed some outrage such as murder. Hybristophilia.’

  ‘How the hell do you know that?’

  ‘It was a question in a pub quiz a few weeks back,’ she said with a smile. ‘Some women probably believe they can be the one to change him from his evil ways. Others may see him as a little lost boy that they can nurture. A few likely want to share the media spotlight in the hopes of getting on the chat-show circuit or maybe even writing a book. And then there’s the notion that an incarcerated male is actually the perfect boyfriend. She knows where he is every night, he’s not going to be out drinking and chatting up other women, and she doesn’t have to wash his pants.’

  ‘Weirdos. Every single one of them,’ Shaun said. ‘I’ve read some of the letters Steve’s received. Some of them make even me blush.’

  ‘But he’s received nothing from Jake?’ Christian asked. He was rummaging around the snack drawer but pulled his hand out without picking anything. He had no appetite.

  ‘Hand on heart, none whatsoever.’

  ‘So we’re back to my original question,’ Sian said. ‘How could Steve have known?’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t,’ Aaron suggested. ‘Don’t forget, this is a change from the humdrum for Steve. He’s out of prison for the first time in years. He’s going to want to make the most of it. By saying he’s helped his brother, or knows of what’s going to happen next, he’s keeping himself useful to us. He’s got the power back that he had when he was committing his crimes.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Sian agreed.

  ‘So, what do we do? Do we ignore what he’s saying, send him back to the prison and try and find Jake ourselves?’ Christian asked.

  Shaun Cox’s mobile rang. He made his excuses and went to the other side of the room to answer it.

  ‘I think it’s more than likely that he’s killed himself,’ Sian said. ‘Don’t gunmen usually do that after they’ve been on a shooting spree?’

  Chief Constable Martin Featherstone pulled the door open and entered the suite. His jacket was unbuttoned, as were the first two on his shirt. His tie was loose, and he looked harassed.

  ‘That Danny Hanson is like a sodding Jack Russell nipping at your ankles,’ he said.

  ‘You have to admire his stamina,’ Sian said.

  ‘Little shit,’ he said, perching next to Sian on one of the desks. ‘I’ve been speaking with Inspector Porter – Gavin, is it? – I’ve told him to remain at Stannington Secondary School for the foreseeable. There are still a lot of victims on site, and maybe Jake has killed himself and they just haven’t found him yet, I’ve no idea. What’s the thought process you’re all mulling over here?’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Shaun said. ‘DS Mills, have you got an email address the governor can send some photos of Steve’s visitors to?’

  ‘Sure.’ Sian jumped down from the table and went over to him.

  ‘There are two thoughts,’ Christian began. ‘Either Jake has shot himself and he’s still in the school, or he’s gone off somewhere else to do it – either way he’ll be dead. Or there’s a chance he’s planning a fourth attack.’ He felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket. He took it out, looked at the screen and put it back.

  ‘Do you need to get that?’ Featherstone asked.

  ‘No. It’s fine. If he is planning a fourth attack, we need to know where. Now, the first one was, we’re assuming
, in revenge for his brother by targeting the police force. The second was random to keep us occupied while he could get to the school undetected in order to kill his wife. If there is to be a fourth attack, we’ve no idea where that could be as he seems to have achieved his goals.’

  ‘The ones that we know about,’ Aaron added.

  ‘Unless … no,’ Finn said, then quickly retracted.

  ‘Go on,’ Christian said.

  ‘I was just thinking on what Steve was saying. He has a real grudge against the police force, DCI Darke in particular, seeing as she caught him. If this is a revenge thing, then it’s not worked, as Matilda is still alive.’

  ‘And that prick Danny Hanson has been all over TV and radio saying she’s survived the attack,’ Aaron said.

  ‘His next attack could be at the hospital to kill Matilda for his brother,’ Finn continued.

  ‘I’ll get on to Inspector Porter,’ Featherstone said, getting off the desk and heading for the door. ‘Christian, we can’t have another shitstorm like we had at the school. I don’t want any police there unless necessary. This needs to be an extremely covert operation.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sian asked when she came back to the group.

  ‘We think Jake’s going after Matilda at the hospital.’

  ‘Bloody hell! Shouldn’t we warn them?’

  ‘Featherstone’s doing that.’

  ‘So, what are we supposed to do? Sit around here twiddling out thumbs while Aaron empties my snack drawer?’

  Aaron threw an unopened Mars back into the drawer.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ Christian said.

  ‘There bloody is. We’ve lost too many of our officers today and I’m not going to sit back while we lose another.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To the Hallamshire,’ she said, snatching up her coat from the back of her chair.

  Chapter Sixty-Five