Wyre glanced back to check if Oliver was still sat on the same seat scribbling away and he smiled as his son could be heard humming tunes to himself as his tongue poked out in utter concentration. A smile grew larger as Wyre turned back and looked out of the large window that started at waist height and finished at the ceiling. As many times as he had been in here before he had not noticed that the window overlooked the county court house and the car park in front. In the middle of the car park stood a statue of Queen Victoria that looked surprisingly different from this angle than it did from the road. It looked much larger, even though he was looking slightly down on it. Various characters could be seen waiting outside the entrance to the court as he rested his elbows on the window sill and studied them. Inside he imagined it to be a very different story but outside, men dressed smart in suits stood next to unsavoury looking characters that were obviously there to be convicted of some sort of crime. It seemed defence and prosecution stood side by side when it came to the habit of smoking. One guy stood nervously in what looked like a borrowed suit, the sleeves and trouser legs being too short. His unkempt haircut and unshaven, dirty looking face gave him away to be most likely a person awaiting sentence for some petty crime. A lawyer looking type stood confidently drawing on his cigarette looking assured that he had already won his case. A family of about seven people, both female and male members with ages ranging from approximately fifteen up towards the mid-twenties were gathered around each other with fierce looking expressions telling the story that perhaps things were not going quite their way. Wyre’s gaze was drawn from the entrance of the court to one of the two large windows on the side of the building. No more than perhaps forty foot away, the inside of the ground floor could be seen and chairs with people who seemed to be also waiting and chatting were visible.
“Are you ok Oliver, shall we go now?” asked Wyre as he turned around to check his son was not getting bored.
At that Oliver held up a picture of the lion’s head he had drawn that had yet to be coloured in.
“Wow that’s excellent!” Wyre nodded.
As Wyre took one last look back through the window before walking over to Oliver to watch him colour the picture in, something caught his eye. It was enough for him to nearly press his face up against the glass to try and process clearly what he thought he had seen. The only thing visible was a large wooden desk with a similar design wooden chair that had fallen backwards onto the floor. The room seemed still and empty but Wyre was sure of what he had seen. His heart beat had become slightly quicker as his eyes strained to see into the gloomy, large looking room. His relaxed mind was now starting to fill with intrigue and become alive with various thoughts. Suddenly it happened again making him move his head quickly away from the window. Before his eyes and his conscience could agree on what the flash in the room of the courthouse was, a figure appeared. It was a figure that seemed to be crawling along the floor on their stomach dressed in a black suit. Wyre was now transfixed and no sooner had the person reached the window, another person appeared with only their shoes and trousers visible. Wyre’s adrenalin surged and the pupils in his eyes shrunk as he stared at the scene that was unfolding in what looked like an office in the court. As he watched the standing figure grow larger in the window, the figure on the floor rolled over onto their back enabling Wyre to see that it was a man with blonde hair. It was hard to tell his age due to various reflections on the glass but Wyre did see what the guy standing had held in his hand as he crouched down next to the window. It was a Browning 9mm pistol with a silencer on it. Wyre gasped and then swore in shock, forgetting where he was but thankfully Oliver was still too busy with his picture.
Wyre watched as the blonde haired figure seemed to be pleading with the guy with the weapon but to no avail. The weapon was pointed and fired, lighting the whole room with the same flash once again. Wyre had been right in his earlier assumption but now he was frozen to the spot as the blonde haired guy slumped onto his back as pieces of his head decorated the window. He had seen some horrific sights whilst doing his job but never seen an execution style killing. Still watching but reaching for his phone in his pocket Wyre realised he had to call the police immediately. Before he could look down to press the number 9 three times, the figure came to the window and glanced through it calmly. It was then Wyre asked himself the question, was he making a mistake by standing in full view of the killer? Remaining motionless but with his whole upper half of his body on show Wyre stared and held his breath, not wanting the killer holding the gun to see him. His temple throbbed and he tensed every muscle as the guy with the gun looked around and then pressed his face up the window. If Wyre moved now it would attract the attention he did not want. As the guy in the court window still seemed to be moving his head and glancing around Wyre felt confident he had not been seen but realised he must not take the risk. Slowly looking down at this phone he pressed the first 9 then slowly moved his eyes back up to the window. Repeating the move again he pressed the second 9 and once again returned his gaze to the window. As he did this the word “shit” left his mouth, as in the window stood the guy holding the gun, frowning and staring right back at him making clear eye contact. In the blink of an eye the guy turned and disappeared from sight of the window but Wyre sensed it wasn’t to hide. Wyre’s reaction was to see if he would appear at the door outside. If he did then Wyre would fear the worst. Within seconds the shooter had appeared at the entrance of the court, glancing back up at Wyre although Wyre had now hidden from view but watched as the guy seemed to make his way to the library with a purposeful stride, weapon now hidden from view.
As quick as his mind would allow Wyre now had to decide whether he, or more importantly Oliver was in danger. He had to draw on his experience and his gut feeling because Wyre was no stranger to life threatening scenarios and felt very uncomfortable with how this guy looked and acted. If he was alone he would perhaps wait to be confronted by the guy while calling the police but a murder had just taken place and Wyre had just witnessed it. The guy in fact could be the police but Wyre had seen too many suspicious goings on and met too many unruly characters during his time in his job to trust that what he had seen had been illegal. Something didn’t feel right and Wyre battled with the cautious feelings filling his mind but With Oliver he could not take the risk. Paternal instinct took over and calmly but as quick as he could, Wyre turned away from the window and made his way towards his oblivious and innocent son. Although feeling perhaps over protective and slightly paranoid, Wyre decided his next course of action could do no harm.
“Oliver you must listen to me! You need to do exactly what I tell you”
Chapter 4
At a local police station in Bristol, detective Alex Richards was processing the evidence from a case where an 8 year old boy had been attacked by a group of teenagers. Not content with stealing his mobile phone, they also took his trainers and coat then proceeded to beat him to a pulp. Just as the attackers had been ruthless, so was Richards and his thoroughness in searching every connection or clue to the crime meant he was rarely wrong. Dressed in a tailored suit he looked too smart to be a police detective and at 36 years of age almost seemed too young. His innocent boyish looking face topped with very dark brown hair would perhaps give someone who had never met him the wrong impression, criminals often thinking they could manipulate “the new fresh faced boy” but how wrong could they be. Richards took no messing and was well respected by fellow officers and criminals who knew him. His calm mannerism and slight, but very fit looking build had caught out many who had crossed him. Sometimes cleanly shaven and sometimes with dark stubble, Alex never looked remotely like the personality that appeared when he was determined to right a wrong. He studied two photographs of the case, the picture on the left was a still taken from CCTV footage that showed the 8 year old boy wearing his quite unique red beanie hat and the second picture was of another still photo showing one of the thugs proudly showing it off to his companions by trying to place it on h
is head. Detective Richards stared at the photograph and frowned.
It was at this moment the radio on his desk next to him burst into life and even though he had turned it down slightly so as to not be distracted, there was something intriguing about the message. It stated that an officer was required to respond to a call from the library and it was regarding a child of about 5 years old. The library was only around the corner so Richards told control that he would go as he needed the fresh air. After he had placed the evidence into his desk drawer, he stood up, grabbed his suit jacket and left the police station making his way to the library on foot. After five minutes of dodging traffic and crossing four or five side streets, Richards reached the steps of the building. He slowly climbed them then entered through the rotating door and calmly approached the old lady behind the desk.
“Hi I’m detective Richards. We received a call regarding a boy”
The old woman frowned looking almost confused.
“Hold on young man I’ll check with my colleague”
As Richards waited he scanned the area inside the library where several people sat at computer screens wearing headphones, all seemed busy browsing the internet. Next to it was the children’s area where a couple of mothers with their little ones were waiting for the rhyme and song class to start. Richards could see no sign of a five year old boy on his own and turned to face the young girl of about twenty years of age, who was now approaching the desk from the doorway behind it.
“Hi I’m detective Richards from the police station and I’m here because we received a call regarding a five year old boy”
The young girl frowned with a puzzled expression on her face.
“What did you say your name was?” she asked.
“Detective Richards”
Richards held up his badge so the girl could see it more clearly but instead of re-examining it she glanced around the library, then to the door looking more bewildered.
“Is there anything wrong Karen?” asked Richards reading the nametag on her shirt and feeling slightly anxious.
“Probably not, I’m just surprised your colleague never told you he’s already collected the boy”
Without hesitating Richards called control to check if any other patrols had beaten him to the library. During the few seconds delay of waiting for an answer he made his way to the entrance, quickly descended the steps and glanced up and down the street for any sign of a young boy. There was nothing. His instinct and gut feeling told him something was not right. There was no evidence to suggest that foul play had taken place but his senses and experience were making him feel uncomfortable. Returning to the desk to a worried looking Karen, Richards listened to his radio as control gave him the news he didn’t want to hear. Any other detective may have presumed there had been a breakdown of communication and would have suspected nothing but Richards was very different. He would always assume the worst with his mind working at breakneck speed, never trusting anyone meaning this attitude had saved many crimes happening and lives being ruined and sometimes preventing an incident snowballing into something bigger.
“Yeah Alex I’ve checked and you were the first officer to arrive. Do you want me to put a call out?”
“Yes please Carla, I’ll get you the description of the guy in a second”
At that Richards turned to old woman and Karen.
“Right first can you describe the boy then the guy that came in and then tell me what actually happened”
“Ok the Boy had very light brown hair, mousey even, brown eyes. He was wearing a light green waterproof jacket and blue denim type jeans. I think he had brown shoes on and he was carrying small rucksack”
“The guy”
“The guy who came and took the boy was probably about 30 years old, quite tall with short dark hair…..”
“Colour of eyes?”
“Eerrrrmm a greeny colour I think”
“You think!” said Richards firmly.
“No they were green, definitely green”
“Any distinguishing marks on his face?”
“No only that he had a short goatee type beard”
Richards had left the radio open with his finger pressed on the button so control and everyone listening could hear every question and every answer. He then proceeded to go through with Karen what the guy was wearing down to his socks. As soon as the description was complete Richards demanded he know everything about what happened. The old lady went first.
“Well I was sat here at the desk when a man came to me with a young boy. He told me I was to look after him and call the police and tell them to come and collect him. He seemed in a rush, kept looking towards the door”
“Then what happened?”
“He kissed the boy and told him he would pick him up from the police station later. The boy seemed to trust his father and didn’t seem to get upset”
“Wait you mean they were father and son. How do you know that?”
“Because the boy agreed and called him daddy”
Richards seemed to dwell on this whilst glancing around the library again but needed to find out what happened next so nodded at the old lady to continue.
“The boy then went and sat over there in the children’s section whilst we called the police”
Karen, the younger one then seemed to realise in hindsight things had seemed slightly strange.
“No sooner had the guy disappeared through those doors towards the side entrance, the disabled access entrance, the guy with the goatee beard, who we assumed to be a plain clothed police officer, came to us and asked where the boy was. He flashed a badge and then he left with the boy. Thinking about it now I was slightly surprised how quick the response was from the police when the guy appeared but the badge and the quick glance of his weapon under his jacket had me convinced he was one of you”
“Are you saying he was armed?” asked Richards alarmingly.
Karen nodded and shrugged her shoulders as though she assumed all officers were armed. Even the quick thinking mind of Richards struggled to understand firstly, why had the guy left his child with the librarians and secondly who the other guy was who came and collected him. How would he have known the child had been left and what did he want with him. There was a more worrying question for Richards apart from who the fake police officer was. Why was he carrying a weapon? No officer he personally knew carried a weapon.
“Has the child been kidnapped?” asked the old woman, hand over her mouth.
Richards never answered but told them more officers would come and take a more detailed description of every person involved including the father. As he left the library and headed back to the station he initiated the procedure of a search operation for the three suspects that would involve every officer on patrol within the region. The one thing he was certain of after listening to the librarian’s statements was that the father of the boy would be visiting the police station to collect the boy so Richards would wait patiently. He had very little to go on at the moment and the only crime that might have occurred was the taking of a child that apparently wasn’t kicking and screaming as he was taken, which meant it yet could not be classed as an abduction. When the statements and detailed descriptions were put on his desk the detective studied them intently over and over again.
*
Wyre tried to walk normally whilst leaving the library as he headed back towards the centre of town but could feel his steps quickening. The urge to glance back overwhelmed him so he waited until he passed a group of people then quickly turned to look back through their numerous heads to see if he was being followed by anyone. He felt unsure how to feel because he knew whoever the shooter was would assume he had been on his own and not with a child because Oliver was totally out of sight. This meant even if the guy with the pistol entered the library he would be only looking for Wyre and no one else. That said Wyre still wanted to keep the guy out of the library and keep him as far away from Oliver as possible. Wyre soon reached the busy area of the rai
lway station where he could stop and lean out of sight against a wall with a very good view of the library entrance. The realisation that he was now a witness to a brutal murder by someone who had total disregard for the law and life in general, assuming of course they were not the law, sent the adrenalin surging through his body. He now regretted standing and watching at the window for so long but his thoughts were cut short as a figure could be seen walking from the library towards where he was stood. This shouldn’t have concerned him apart from the fact that the figure was glaring right into his eyes. It wasn’t the same guy he had seen do the killing but was definitely dressed the same. Wyre knew he was something to do with it so slowly retreated behind the wall, then heading in the same direction as before, quickened his stride to almost a speed walk. He suppressed the urge to look back until he was about to turn left off the main street bustling with people. His speed walk became a jog as it became apparent the guy in the suit definitely knew who Wyre was and was also jogging, narrowly dodging people in his quest to catch up with his prey. Wyre’s aim was to get as much distance and as many people between him and his pursuer as possible so entered the busy shopping precinct and climbed the escalator to gain a vantage point. As he studied the entrance he toyed with the idea of going straight to the police station and reporting what he had seen. This worried him because by now he guessed Oliver would be there or at least on his way, safe in custody so wanted to keep his distance and give his pursuer no inclination he had a son. Taking his iphone out of his pocket he looked at the screen and saw that the battery signal was flashing red. Unable to dial any number he realised he had to lose his pursuer and fast and find help because who knew who these guys were and what they were prepared to do to keep him quiet. Remaining as blasé as possible to look like a normal member of the public shopping, his eyes strained around the pillar he was leaning against in the hope of catching a glimpse of the suited stalker. The seconds ticked by but there was no sign. Wyre casually glanced around to see if he had missed the pursuer entering the centre but again could see nothing. Studying the entrance then turning around he realised that the Next clothing store behind him had another entrance that led to a quieter street which in turn led to the police station. As much as it was a huge risk to perhaps lead someone to where his son was he also realised the situation was becoming ridiculous. The people pursuing him might even be the police themselves. It shouldn’t be him running, he had done nothing wrong. The quicker he made it to the police station the quicker they could sort it out and he could take his son home. He was now beginning to think his initial paranoia had got the better of him.
BEYOND THE SPRING Page 4