The Choice: An absolutely gripping crime thriller you won’t be able to put down

by Jake Cross

  He snapped it shut when the DC returned from the kitchen, empty-handed. Katie decided it was time to go back downstairs and get rid of the two of them. She took a breath to fortify her nerves and got up.

  Seconds from the living room door, she heard a mobile ring and the DCI answer it. She froze, knowing the man would retire to another room for secrecy if she appeared.

  Silence for half a minute, and then he bid the caller goodbye and said: ‘Henderson just got to Król’s flat, and it’s a smouldering wreck inside. Fire’s burned out, so the exterior is okay. But the inside is gutted. That’s the evidence gone, if there was any there.’

  ‘Seabury?’ the DC said.

  ‘Let’s not guess. Maybe he did it, and maybe it was someone else. Maybe it’s not connected at all. Król was not a popular man.’

  That final line boosted her confidence. If this ‘Król’ was unpopular, maybe someone else had followed him to the shop and killed him. Not Karl.

  But that still didn’t explain why Karl was missing.

  The living room phone rang. Karl! She barged into the room. Both men were staring at the phone, but their heads whipped her way as the door smacked open.

  ‘If that’s him, you hand me that phone,’ the DCI snapped.

  She rushed across the room, watched the whole way, and picked it up. She was sure it was going to be a salesman or someone unimportant and bothersome, but then she heard his voice, and her growing anger was washed away by grief and gratitude. ‘Oh God, Karl, what’s going on? They’re here, they just came in, they want you—’

  The phone was ripped from her hand. The DCI roughly pushed her aside and slammed the receiver to his ear.

  ‘Seabury,’ he said, his voice croaky, ‘you’re a hard man to find…’

  Forty-Five

  Karl

  ‘… and I need you to listen carefully to me.’

  ‘Karl, what’s going on?’ he heard Katie yell. And then a commotion, which he thought was his wife trying to grab the phone and the policeman stopping her.

  ‘This is the police, Mr Seabury. I am Detective Chief Inspector McDevitt, Homicide Command. We need to talk to you.’

  His anxiety took a dip, but only slightly. It wasn’t one of the killers at his house. But why were the police there? His muscles relaxed as he realised that Katie must have called them. But two seconds later, his world was back aflame: ‘This is about a murder at your shop, Seabury, and for your own sake you need to come in.’

  He gripped the phone tightly. ‘What murder?’

  ‘This isn’t going to be done on the phone.’ Then his voice went quiet, as if he had removed the receiver from his mouth. He heard something like ‘searching the kitchen’ spoken to someone else and then the voice was back, loud and clear.

  ‘Seabury, I know it was self-defence. The truth will come out, but you need to come in as quickly as possible.’

  The phone came away from his ear. Self-defence. The shop. The detective was talking about one of the men who had chased them. Dead. In his shop. But both guys had been alive and well when they fled. What was going on?

  When he put the phone back to his ear, he heard: ‘You there, Seabury?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Karl replied.

  ‘We know the weapon used was from your shed.’

  Karl almost dropped the phone. The lawnmower blade from his own shed. The man had threatened them with it, and now someone was dead by that very weapon. ‘This can’t be… this isn’t…’

  ‘Seabury, listen to me carefully. I will help you. Hand yourself in, immediately.’

  ‘They came to kill me, but we ran, and they were alive. We got away. They were both still alive.’

  ‘You need to hand yourself in, Seabury.’

  And in the passage of one moment, Karl went from utter confusion to horrific understanding. Hand yourself in. Self-defence. A weapon from his shed. And: set-up. Someone had killed a man in his shop. Somehow made it look like Karl was the murderer.

  ‘This is… you’ve got this all wrong. There’s more to this than—’

  Forty-Six

  Katie

  Caller: You think. There’s a woman with me?

  Home: I know, Seabury, i know. Her name is Elizabeth Grafton. You both need to come in.

  Caller: How do you know?

  Home: Her husband was killed at his hideaway cottage last night. We know that. We know she escaped and you rescued her. We found evidence of that. And your wife told us. She agrees with us that you need to hand yourself in.

  Caller: The people who killed her husband sent two men to my shop. And they sent people to break into my house last night because they thought i had Liz with me.

  It was all real, then, Katie realised. Everything Karl had said. Every fear he’d had. If not for the words knitting onto the screen before her very eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it.

  The DCI had turned away from her, faced the wall, and the DC had herded her into the kitchen doorway, shutting her away so she couldn’t hear the conversation. Desperate to know what was being said, she had rushed upstairs, back to the computer. She’d never been so grateful for Karl’s career and all the mod-cons that came with it.

  The microphones wouldn’t pick up Karl’s voice, though. But audio capture wasn’t the only trick available. Karl had installed transcription software on the phone for business use so clients calling his home could speak their orders or reviews of products and he could email them to the shop.

  HOME: KARL, YOU CANNOT RUN. YOU NEED TO HAND YOURSELF IN. I WILL MEET YOU. I WILL HELP YOU.

  CALLER: HOW’S MY WIFE DOING? SHE DOESN’T BELIEVE I KILLED SOMEONE, DOES SHE? PUT HER ON THE PHONE.

  HOME: NO, KARL, SHE DOESN’T. AND I DON’T, EITHER. AND YOU CAN’T SPEAK TO HER JUST YET. I CAN HELP YOU, BUT NOT WHILE YOU’RE ON THE RUN. YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT YOU CANNOT RUN. YOU CANNOT FLEE FROM THIS. IF YOU’RE INNOCENT, WE WILL PROVE IT. BUT YOU NEED TO COME IN. BOTH OF YOU. YOU AND LIZ GRAFTON. IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT I MEET YOU BOTH. WILL YOU MEET ME, KARL, AND END THIS?

  CALLER: AND WHAT WILL HAPPEN? THERE ARE PEOPLE AFTER US. ON THE STREETS. I DON’T KNOW HOW MANY, OR WHERE, OR WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE.

  HOME: THE SAFEST PLACE FOR YOU IS IN CUSTODY, KARL. I WILL ESCORT YOU IN, TAKE YOUR STATEMENT, ARRANGE FOR YOUR BAIL, AND POST MEN OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE FOR PROTECTION. THE SAME FOR MRS GRAFTON.

  CALLER: SO YOU BELIEVE ME? YOU BELIEVE THAT WE’RE HIDING FROM THE MEN WHO KILLED HER HUSBAND? YOU BELIEVE THAT I HAVEN’T HURT ANYONE?

  HOME: I BELIEVE YOU, SEABURY. RONALD GRAFTON HAD A LOT OF ENEMIES AND THEY CAME FOR HIM. HIS WIFE ESCAPED, AND YOU HELPED HER. WE HAVE EVIDENCE OF ALL THAT. YOU GOT CAUGHT UP IN THIS BY ACCIDENT. SHE TALKED YOU OUT OF GOING TO THE POLICE, DIDN’T SHE?

  CALLER: YES. SHE WANTED TO WAIT UNTIL MORNING. I THINK SHE THOUGHT HER HUSBAND WOULD SORT IT OUT.

  HOME: THESE ARE NOT PEOPLE WHO LIKE TO INVOLVE THE POLICE. BUT WE’RE INVOLVED NOW. NO MORE RUNNING. IT’S NOT SAFE FOR YOU OUT THERE. I WANT YOU BOTH TO HAND YOURSELF IN TO ME. I WILL ARRANGE TO FAST-TRACK EVERYTHING AND HAVE A SOLICITOR WAITING AT THE STATION, SO THAT THIS WILL GO AS SMOOTHLY AS POSSIBLE. AND I CAN ARRANGE FOR YOU TO SEE YOUR WIFE.

  CALLER: OKAY. WHICH STATION? AND WHO WILL BE WITH YOU?

  HOME: I’LL COME ALONE. AND NOT A POLICE STATION, BECAUSE IT’S QUICKER AND EASIER FOR YOU IF I RECORD YOUR STATEMENT BEFORE WE BOOK YOU IN. LESS TIME LOCKED IN A CELL. WE NEED TO GET YOU FAST-TRACKED THROUGH THIS SO WE CAN GET YOU HOME QUICKER. ST DUNSTAN’S CHURCH, STEPNEY. TWO HOURS FROM NOW EXACTLY, WHICH WILL BE ABOUT TWELVE-THIRTY. MAKE SURE MRS GRAFTON IS WITH YOU. ARE YOU OKAY WITH THAT?

  CALLER: ST DUNSTAN’S, STEPNEY. TWELVE-THIRTY. CAN YOU BRING MY WIFE? I WANT TO SEE HER BEFORE I GET LOCKED UP IN A CAGE FOR HOWEVER LONG THIS TAKES.

  HOME: I CAN BRING HER ALONG. YOU CAN HAVE SOME TIME TOGETHER WHILE I RECORD YOUR STATEMENT. TWO HOURS, SEABURY. LET’S GET THIS MESS CLEARED UP. BUT IT’S VITAL THAT ELIZABETH GRAFTON IS WITH YOU, UNDERSTAND?r />
  CALLER: WHAT’S YOUR NAME AGAIN?

  HOME: I’M DCI MCDEVITT. BUT CALL ME MAC, BECAUSE WE’RE FRIENDS NOW. SO YOU’LL BE THERE?

  CALLER: HALF TWELVE.

  Numb, Katie rushed downstairs. She was not supposed to know what had been said, so knew she had to let the detective tell her. She had to forge ignorance. She walked into the living room, kept the urgency off her face, and said: ‘Is he okay?’

  The big detective nodded. But said nothing, surprisingly. She prompted him with: ‘Is he coming in then?’

  ‘Later today.’ He put the phone down, and she noticed a spot of blood on the earpiece from his damaged ear.

  She grabbed her coat off the sofa. ‘I should come with you to the station.’ She was careful to say station because she wasn’t supposed to know about this St Dunstan’s place.

  Now he was supposed to say sure, okay, let’s go. But the response was: ‘No, you must stay here. We’ll bring you down to the station later.’

  That puzzled her. ‘Shouldn’t I be with him when you take his statement?’

  ‘He’ll be allowed visitors, but we need to speak with him before that and get this cleared up. I’ll send a car for you when it’s time.’

  Now she was confused. ‘So you’re going to meet him at a station? He’s going to hand himself into a station? That was what you arranged?’

  He gave her a long look, suspicion creeping in. ‘A police station is where he needs to be, Mrs Seabury.’

  He called for his colleague, who came like a loyal dog, and then they said they were done, thanked her and made to leave. Just like that. Fifteen seconds later, they were walking down the path, and Katie was on the doorstep, watching their backs.

  None of this made sense. The detective had lied to her. Why did he want to meet Karl alone?

  Forty-Seven

  Karl

  Karl dropped the phone into his lap. He tried to concentrate on the road as he juggled his options. It would be better for him to meet the detective in charge of the case rather than a bunch of cops inside a police station treating him like a murderer. And Katie would be there, which was what he cared about the most. He needed to see her before he handed himself over because who knew how long it would be before he could hold her again.

  In a police station they would process him like a regular criminal, ready to be handed over to the murder squad, not caring whether he was guilty or not. In a cell, awaiting interview, it might be hours. They had all that volume of crime to solve, after all. He might even be put in a mass cell with real criminals. But if he met the detective, they would get straight down to it. The guy would want the real killer, and if Karl was convincing enough, he hoped he might even be released within a couple of hours.

  He cursed his stupidity – why had he, as a surveillance expert, never bothered to install CCTV at his own shop? The irony was crushing.

  He looked at Liz.

  ‘The police are at my house. One of the men who chased us. He’s been murdered. In my shop.’

  ‘Set-up,’ she said firmly. ‘So that man who chased us is dead. He must have been killed by the one with the gun. He must be the leader.’

  ‘I have to go home,’ he said, careful not to mention exactly why. She didn’t have a loved one to get back to, and he didn’t want to remind her of that.

  ‘Home? I heard you mention something called St Dunstan’s. Sounds like a church. You’re meeting the police at a church? You think the police will be heading off to the church so you can safely sneak home? That’s foolish, Karl. They’ll be waiting at the house.’

  A harsher tone, almost reprimanding, and it was a surprise. He wanted to argue the point, but he didn’t want to upset her. She’d been through enough.

  ‘Why would they do that? I just agreed to come in.’

  ‘In two hours. You think the police are going to wait? They have to assume you might use those hours to run. They will be hunting you. They’ll know you might go home.’

  ‘Even if they find out I’m innocent, it won’t happen in half an hour, will it? I might be locked up for a week, or a year. I can’t wait that long to—’ He caught himself in time.

  But it didn’t matter. She looked at him through bedraggled hair. ‘It’s fine to mention your wife. I’m glad she’s okay. It wouldn’t be good if we both lost everything. You ran out on her this morning and want to see her before the police take you in. I understand. You love your wife. I would want the same.’

  ‘I do. I’m sorry about your husband. About how you found out. I don’t know what to say to you, Liz. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Just say you’ll think about this. If the police capture you before you hand yourself in, they won’t believe you ever planned to do so. If you go to the meet, that will be taken into consideration.’

  He wasn’t surprised, given who her husband was, that she knew how the law worked. Knowledge learned during all the times he got arrested or investigated, no doubt. And he knew she was right. But he didn’t care. If he waited, he had no idea when he would see Katie. Certainly not within the next hour. But if he went home, at least there was a chance he could hold her. A sliver of a chance beat no damn chance at all.

  ‘And did you consider that the police might wait with your wife, since you requested that she be at the meeting? Or she might be taken to a police station?’

  He said nothing. Of course he hadn’t thought of those things. This was uncharted territory for him.

  ‘There might also be other people.’

  And that, he realised, was her real concern. She suspected that the bad guys might be waiting back at home for him. ‘If that’s the case, maybe Katie is in danger. Even more reason to go home.’

  She stared at him. Every ounce of meekness seemed to have gone. She flicked her hair out of her face. No more tears, and no sadness in those eyes. She transformed before him. There had been a steady build-up in her tone, and it peaked now.

  ‘I’m not going with you. If that was part of the deal, forget it.’

  Said with undeniable conviction. It made it easier for him to respond in kind.

  ‘So, what, you’re just going to hide for the rest of your life? Where are you going to go now that—?’

  Anger had clouded his brain. He clamped his mouth shut. Too late. He saw the look on her face.

  ‘Now that my husband is dead?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘Yes, you did. And yes, he is dead, and I’m alone. Which means the only person I have to look out for is you.’

  He laughed. ‘Me? What am I, seven? I don’t need help. I’m capable of…’ He stopped. What had she done to warrant such an attitude? She’d tried to help him, that was all. Tried to convince him of the right thing to do while pushing aside her own fear and grief. He was a selfish dick, he realised. Katie might be scared and alone, but Liz’s husband lay cold and stiff in a morgue.

  If their roles had been reversed, he would be a blubbering wreck. But Liz wasn’t. Her resolve was stronger than his, and that meant her logic might be, too. So, he had to accept that she could be right. The police would expect him to try to go home. They would be watching his house. They would grab him even if they believed he planned to turn himself in. They’d toss him in a cell, and leave him there until the cop called McDevitt came to see him. In a cell, he couldn’t comfort Katie.

  ‘At the first sign of trouble near your house, we turn around and run, okay?’ she said, surprising him. Had she come around to his way of thinking?

  But then he saw the look in her eyes. Pity. It was a dangerous idea but she had seen the determination on his face. She knew that, regardless of the risks, he was going to go through with it, and the only thing she could do was help.

  Because now she had become the protector, and he the sorry victim.

  Forty-Eight

  Mac

  ‘My God,’ Cooper said. ‘So Liz Grafton wasn’t kidnapped at all.’

  While Mac sent a text, he said: ‘It seems not. But we don’t assume
anything, okay? Seabury could have killed her, and he could say she ran off again.’ Cooper nodded. ‘One other thing. From now on, leave the talking to me. You mentioned Ronald Grafton to Seabury’s wife.’

  Cooper looked puzzled.

  ‘She’s worried about her husband. And now she has a name to use on the Internet. She’ll find out that Karl’s being hunted by killers. A pregnant woman doesn’t need that sort of worry.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re still learning. Pull that surveillance off Seabury’s house.’

  Cooper said: ‘Really? What if he—?’

  ‘He won’t come back, Cooper. He’s going straight to a police station. I’ve been around longer than you, and my hunch tells me that. You’ll develop one in a few years, and you’ll trust it. Heck, even if he did come back, he’d sit tight, hug his wife and call us.’

  Mac’s phoned pinged. A return text.

  ‘He could be a dangerous man,’ Cooper said. ‘If he comes back, we should grab—’

  ‘We won’t grab him. He’s a surveillance expert, Cooper. He’d know we were watching. And then he’d lose trust and carry on running. This guy isn’t a hardened killer. What happened with Król was self-defence. He’s a scared man. He’ll go straight to a station, believe me. Half an hour from now he’ll be in custody. Pull the surveillance. It’s a waste of manpower.’

  Cooper made no move to do so. ‘Your informant, is he working for these people? He ever mentioned Ronald Grafton to you?’

  ‘Informants all have secrets. I had no idea. But we’re assuming again, aren’t we? Leave the fucking thinking to me, okay?’

  Cooper, frustrated at being shot down again, opened his mouth to speak, but Mac held up a hand as his phoned pinged once more, and he glanced at the screen.