by Linda Huber
‘She’s not hungry, Jeff.’ Caro’s eyes were closed. Talk about uncaring.
Jeff wandered back to the window and looked down to the square below. There was nobody at all out there now. They must all be shopping or working or staying at home. Like he and Caro and Miriam should be right this minute. He would sit for a minute and work out the best way for them to leave here. There was some reason they couldn’t just go, but he couldn’t remember… Maybe it would come back to him if he thought for a moment.
He sat down on the bed again, playing with the knife in his fingers, staring at Caro and the baby.
Caro 2.10 p.m.
Another wave of dizziness washed over Caro, and she tried to breathe deeply, tried to stay awake. The pain in her foot was almost unbearable. It would be so easy to lie down and let unconsciousness take over. But she was holding the baby and the poor creature needed her. It was her fault this baby was in such in danger. Her little eyes were half-closed, and her breathing was shallow. Please, baby, stay alive until we get out of here. If we get out of here.
Weakness swept through Caro. It was no use, she was getting dizzier by the minute. Her foot was still bleeding; it was all congealing and horrible on the floor, on her hands, and oh, no, there was even blood on the baby now. The pink cardigan was wet with blotches, and they were both breathing in the cloying stench of Caro’s blood mingling with the other disgusting smells in here.
Jeff was back on the bed, playing with the knife and laughing, sniggering away to himself and pointing the knife first at her, then at his reflection in the cracked fragment of mirror stuck on the wall beside the toilet door. All at once he turned to her, his expression malevolent, and terror clutched icily at her heart before the scream came, straight from her soul. He screamed right back, then seized the baby and dumped it on the bed to grab Caro by the shoulders. She felt herself being dragged across the room but everything was swirling now; she couldn’t see, no, no.
Her head crashed against glass. And everything went black.
Julie 2.10 p.m.
Waiting and waiting and waiting. What on earth was going on over there? Julie looked at her watch, startled to see it was after two o’clock. Sharon and Craig would be wondering where she was.
With heart-stopping suddenness far-off screams rang out from the direction of the square, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Julie leapt to her feet. What had that been? She ran into the bathroom – the window was high up and the glass was frosted, but it was open, and by standing on the toilet seat she could see into Mortimer Square. A window on the other side was broken; long, thin shards of glass were all that was left of a pane on the first floor. Her heart leapt. No, no, not the baby, please… She couldn’t see the ground below the window, a bench and a tub of flowers was blocking the view. But Jeff Horne had wanted a baby so much; this whole situation had come about because of that – surely he hadn’t thrown Jael from the window?
‘What’s happening?’ Liam was almost in tears, and Julie jumped down and hugged the boy.
‘I don’t know. There’s a broken window, that’s all.’
Silence reigned again in Mortimer Square and Julie felt sick. Sweet Jael, please be alive. And Sharon. She should be here by now, surely? Julie came to a decision; she couldn’t stay here not knowing what was going on.
‘You stay here,’ she said to Liam. ‘I’ll find out what’s happening. I won’t be long, I promise.’
Leaving Liam in his living room, Julie ran down Garner Road, thankful she hadn’t been working today and was wearing jeans and trainers. And how could she even think that, when Jael was over there with a madman? What had he thrown from the window? Julie’s blood was pounding inside her head as she arrived at the lane separating Mortimer Square from the High Street. Jael, baby, please be alive, please go back to Sharon and grow up safely.
Police cars and ambulances were strung along the High Street, which had been cordoned off in both directions. A crowd of passers-by were standing on the other side of the cordons, gawping at the scene, but Julie ignored them. She ran up to the group of police officers standing at the entrance to the square, a stitch in her side stabbing cruelly under her ribs.
It was clear who the chief was. He had that kind of look about him, calm and authoritative. He was standing with Max’s colleague from before.
The younger man recognised Julie. ‘What are you doing here? Where’s the boy?’
Julie burst into tears. ‘At home. Where’s Max? Is the baby–?’
Max’s colleague patted her shoulder. ‘DCI McKenna here has radio contact with the guys inside. Max is on surveillance round the back somewhere. He’s an experienced cop. He’ll be okay.’
‘Is Sharon–?’
The radio in DCI McKenna’s hand buzzed.
Jeff 2.20 p.m.
It had all gone very quiet. He stood at the window, staring down over Mortimer Square. The place was a sun trap, but today no one was sitting down there in the sunshine, and nothing was moving, apart from a couple of sparrows fighting over an abandoned scrap under a bench.
Something was wrong.
Jeff turned back into the room. The baby was lying on the bed, eyes closed and little arms flopped on the mattress beside her body. She wasn’t crying, which was good, because someone would have heard, with the window broken. Stupid Caro, breaking the window like that. Now they couldn’t stay here. He would have to take Miriam and go somewhere else.
Go home, Jeff. It was as if the words had been spoken aloud – had he said them? But oh, yes, how wonderful – he could go home now. Home where it was safe and he was loved…
Stepping over Caro’s legs, he grabbed the sports bag from under the bed. He’d used it for shopping a couple of times, now it would have to be the baby’s bed again. In with the nice blanket he’d bought her. And a couple of nappies, just in case. Were there more at home? No matter, he could get them from the corner shop. The packet of baby food, a bottle, some wipes. What a complicated creature his daughter was. He scooped the baby up and kissed her face before inserting her unresisting little body into the bag and covering her with a sweatshirt. Nice and snug.
He zipped up the bag and glanced round the room. Nothing else mattered here.
A sound from downstairs filled the silence in the room for half a second, a bang – or was it a footstep? Were they coming to get him? No, no, he couldn’t have that. A pity he didn’t have a gun… the police might have guns… But he had the knife, where was it? Ah, on the cupboard. If he held the bag across his front, and the knife pointing at the bag – no one would shoot him now, would they? It was time to go.
He shoved Caro to the side with one foot – the floor was slippery with blood, careful now, don’t drop the bag. Out into the pokey corridor… it was almost dark here, but that didn’t matter. Keep the knife to the bag, in case they’re watching. Through the dimness to the stairwell, down, as quick as you like, now round the back of the building, away from the bloody room on Mortimer Square. No one was here; he’d been clever – they hadn’t noticed a thing. But who were they? He had to keep going; he’d remember everything when he was safe.
He’d made it – they were outside, the baby all snug in her sports bag, how lovely the world seemed, how fresh and colourful and special. Where was he going? It was getting more and more difficult to plan things; for some reason, he kept forgetting what he was supposed to be doing.
A little bleat came from the sports bag, and Jeff started. That was it – he was taking the baby home to Caro, yes. He ran along the back court of the building. It was walled in, but to an athletic man like him that wasn’t going to pose any problems. He swung the bag to the top of the wall and heaved himself up after it, the knife between his teeth. It tasted salty. A quick jump down and he was in a lane. One end led to the High Street, so he wouldn’t go that way. Where did the other end lead? He walked along briskly, cradling the bag and knife and enjoying the warm summer sunshine on his face. A movement further along the lane caught his eye and h
e stopped abruptly – someone was there. Another quick leap over the wall to his left and he was in a different backcourt, where he dodged round someone’s washing fluttering in the breeze, then slunk into a dark close and stopped for a moment. Okay – this led out to Cedric Street. Where did he want to go? Home to Caro, yes. The baby was whimpering, she wanted to go home too.
A sound behind him made him spin round. That stupid policeman was here, look at him, mouth half open and arms stretched towards the bag. What an idiot.
‘For Christ’s sake, give me the baby, Jeff. She can’t breathe in there! Come on, man – I’ll help you.’
Jeff gripped the knife, holding it out of sight, and stepped towards the policeman in the dimness. No way was he going to hand over his baby. It didn’t look as if there were any other policemen waiting to arrest him. He would manage this one.
‘Nice and slow, give me the baby, Jeff.’ He reached for the bag.
Jeff snatched it back and waved the knife, first at the cop and then at the bag.
The other man stood still. ‘Jeff. She’s just a baby and I can’t let you hurt her. Give her to me and we’ll sort things out.’
Jeff inched a step or two back, the sweat of fear drenching his body and stinging in his eyes. He could Not. Lose. The baby. ‘Get away from here! Leave us alone!’ He slid the bag to the ground behind him and swiped the knife back and forth as the policeman stepped forward.
‘Steady now, Jeff.’
He shouldn’t be hanging around here. What if more police were coming? Jeff stepped backwards, one, two steps, then lunged forward and stabbed as hard as he could; the knife sliding under the policeman’s collarbone. Feeling the throaty breath warm on his face, Jeff twisted the knife round and back.
The policeman slid to the ground, bright red sliding down his neck and into his shirt. Jeff gave him a couple of kicks to make sure he wouldn’t get up again, then grabbed the bag and fled.
Outside, he turned left and walked towards the park. It was a pity he didn’t have the car – had he left it at home? It was ghastly, not being able to remember things like that. He must be sickening for something. Home, as fast as ever he could.
Caro 2.20 p.m.
Caro struggled to open her eyes. Pain was everywhere and she felt so weak. She moaned.
Something was shaking her shoulder. ‘Can you hear me, love?’
The world swam in front of her, then slid into half-focus. It was a policeman, oh thank God.
‘My name’s Dave. You’re safe; we’ll get you out of here now. I’ll just get the paramedics in.’
He spoke into his radio and Caro closed her eyes again. A moment later she felt someone take her pulse and touch her head and leg, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t even open her eyes. The blackness was taking control. They put something round her neck and she was lifted onto a stretcher. She wasn’t alone now but she couldn’t move; she could hardly breathe. They were taking her out of here and she was alive, but oh, that poor baby… They were going downstairs now and the air was deliciously fresh, and it was lighter, too, she could feel the sun on her face but the rest of her body was going numb; no, no. She didn’t want to die.
Julie 2.20 pm
Julie clasped her hands under her chin. Sharon. Sharon and Craig should be here. The DCI was still on his radio, but a moment later he clicked it off and stepped towards her.
‘Please – where are the baby’s parents?’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
DCI Brian McKenna was beckoning another officer over. ‘They’ll be here soon. Go around the back, Stevens, and get the boy out.’
Julie’s mouth went dry. Something was going on and they weren’t telling her.
There was a flurry of activity in the lane as the paramedics manoeuvred a stretcher towards the ambulance, depositing it on a trolley as soon as they were out of the square. Julie clapped her hands over her mouth. This must be Jeff Horne’s wife. The woman’s eyes were closed, and she was so pale she looked almost green.
‘Broken wrist, head wound, and deep wounds to the left ankle, bleeding profusely,’ the older paramedic said as they passed Brian McKenna. He and his colleague slid the trolley into the ambulance, and Julie choked back a sob.
‘What kind of wounds?’ asked the DCI grimly.
The paramedic looked back. ‘She’s been slashed, but I didn’t dig around inside it. We have to get her to A&E ASAP. She’s lost a lot of blood.’
He slammed the ambulance doors shut and ran round to the driving seat. The ambulance moved off, siren wailing as soon as it was clear of the scene.
Julie bit her lip. Jeff Horne had done all that.
Liam appeared at her side. ‘I can go back to Alfie’s now,’ he said glumly.
Julie shivered. Had the danger passed, then? What was going on? But she shouldn’t show Liam how afraid she was. ‘That’s best, until things get back to normal here. You did well today, Liam.’
She watched as a tall policeman led him away, then turned back to DCI McKenna.
‘Will Sharon and–’ she began, but she was interrupted. Footsteps thundered along the lane and the other policeman was back, clutching his radio.
‘Horne’s stabbed Max.’
Sharon 2.20 pm
‘Go and lie down, Sharon. A rest will do you good.’
Sharon wiped round the kitchen work surface for the fourth time. Her body was on automatic pilot now. She was clearing the kitchen after dumping the almost untouched chicken and mushroom pie into the bin; the very smell of it made her feel sick. A sob welled up in her throat and she choked it back.
‘I don’t want to lie down. Julie’ll be back soon.’ She stared at Anita, wishing the other woman would leave them alone. She never usually stayed this long, and apart from the usual ‘the team’s investigating everything that comes in’, she didn’t seem to have anything to tell them.
Sharon went through to the sofa and reached for the remote, then chucked it into the corner of the sofa. With Anita here outstaying her welcome, there would be nothing new on TV, surely. So she, the baby’s mother, could do nothing except sit in her luxurious, empty flat, fear twisting inside her. But at least she and Craig were speaking to each other, even if they didn’t talk much because ordinary conversation had no place in their lives now.
Craig’s mobile buzzed on the table and he grabbed it. Sharon’s hands began to shake. Any phone call now could be the start of an even more horrific chapter in their lives, something so black she couldn’t begin to think about it. If Jael… No, no, that simply mustn’t be – and they would call Anita, first, wouldn’t they?
It was Craig’s mother, phoning for a progress report. Craig talked for a few minutes then rang off, promising to call back later.
Anita joined her on the sofa and Sharon lifted the remote again. Flipping through the channels meant she didn’t have to talk. It occurred to her that Julie was very late. Oh, well, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered really, except Jael. Anita’s mobile rang while Sharon was still thinking about this, and she took it into the kitchen and closed the door. Sharon’s stomach began an even more nauseating dance, and Craig sat staring at his hands, clasped as though he was praying.
The kitchen door opened. ‘Sharon, Craig – we have to go. They’ve found Jael, but Jeff Horne’s still got her and–’
‘Where?’ Sharon’s voice was hoarse.
‘Just off the High Street, at the entrance to Mortimer Square. They’re working to get her back.’
‘Working to get her back? What do you mean?’ Craig’s voice was belligerent.
‘We’ll know more when we get there. Quick, come on.’ Anita put a hand under Sharon’s elbow and pulled her to her feet.
Sharon stumbled into the hallway. Her baby was found, but she must still be in grave danger, or Anita wouldn’t look so serious. She caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror as they passed – a crazy woman with long tousled hair and a white face.
Anita’s car was at the side entrance to the flats, and
they drove away to flashing cameras and reporters talking into their microphones. Sharon shielded her face with one hand, her stomach churning wildly and her breath coming in short pants. What were they going to find in the High Street?
A million questions were flitting through her mind, but they drove in silence through the traffic lights and past the internet café up to the middle of the High Street, where blue and white plastic tape had been stretched over the entire width of the road. Several police vehicles were behind the cordon, as well as a whole bunch of policemen. An ambulance further up the High Street was pulling away, and Sharon’s stomach began to twist even more. What was the ambulance doing?
Anita parked beside a police car and Sharon stumbled out and ran towards DCI McKenna, who was in a huddle with a group of other officers.
‘Tell me what’s going on! Where’s my baby?’ A shrill voice that didn’t sound like her at all.
Then she saw Julie, hunched on the ground at the side of the lane, her head between her hands. ‘Julie, what’s going on? Where’s Jael?’
Julie lifted a tearstained face and choked back sobs. ‘She was in a flat up there with Jeff Horne,’ she whispered. ‘Now Jeff has left with Jael and oh, Sharon, he stabbed Max. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not.’
Her head reeling, Sharon sank down beside Julie. For a moment she couldn’t speak; her chest was so tight she could hardly breathe. They’d found her baby and lost her again. Black spots danced before her eyes. Craig, his face sheet white, strode over to DCI McKenna, and Sharon was glad he was taking the initiative now because she knew if she moved, if she even stood up, she would be sick. She breathed through pursed lips, concentrating on not passing out.
Craig returned with Anita and crouched to hug Sharon. ‘You shouldn’t sit on the ground, love.’
The FLO’s face was grim. ‘Let’s wait in a car,’ she said. ‘Jeff Horne is still being followed. He still has the baby. Max is alive, but I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. They’re taking him to hospital now.’