A Family Divided (Dividing Line #3)

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A Family Divided (Dividing Line #3) Page 5

by Heather Atkinson


  She was almost at the door when she felt something warm and wet splatter her bare left arm and the left side of her face. Her automatic reaction was that it was a leak and she looked up, but it was warm, it couldn’t be from a pipe. The woman to her left, a blond in a short floaty dress, was staring down at herself in horror, watching the blood seep from a large gash to her right upper arm. Her eyes locked with Rachel’s then the woman’s knees buckled and Rachel rushed to catch her, almost falling with her. The music was so loud, the lighting so dim, no one else noticed. She heard laughter and saw people pointing, thinking the woman was drunk. Rachel wrapped an arm around her waist and attempted to pull her away from the dance floor, towards the bouncers and safety when she saw a man fall, grimacing in pain, a hand pressed to his side. Another man dropped a few feet behind him, clutching at his bleeding thigh. The thing she’d always told Ryan was impossible was happening. The Slasher was here.

  She hauled the woman towards Fletch and Leo, her two head bouncers.

  “The Slasher’s here,” she called to them. She could go no further with the woman, who was a lot heavier than she looked and she helped her slump into the booth closest to the door. “Call the Police and an ambulance.”

  Immediately they got talking on their headsets while simultaneously barrelling a path through the crowd. Rachel was glad all her doormen wore stab vests, something she’d insisted on after a doorman at another club had been killed a few months ago by some drunken tosser with a knife. She saw her other doormen converging on the area, helping the injured to their feet but still everyone danced on, assuming the wounded were just drunk.

  Rachel got the bleeding blond back to her feet and hauled her towards the coat check room where she could sit down. The door had a lock so she could be certain she’d be safe.

  “What’s going on?” said Carmel, the coat check girl, paling when she saw the blood on them both.

  “The Slasher’s here. Fletch has called the Police. You have first aid training, help her. I’ll get the rest of the injured sent here,” Rachel replied, settling the blond in a chair. She snatched up a handful of tissues from the box Carmel kept behind the counter and wiped the blood from her face.

  “But…but…”

  “Just do it,” Rachel yelled over her shoulder as she returned to the dance floor, wishing she still carried a taser but she stopped carrying a weapon when she went legitimate.

  “Take her to the coat check room,” she told Royce, another of her doormen who was holding the weight of a bleeding, shaking man easily on one arm. “Then we need to get everyone out.”

  “But The Slasher is probably still here, we can catch him.”

  “The priority is stopping anyone else getting hurt. Get everyone out, quietly.”

  He nodded in understanding and hauled the man off to the coat check room. Rachel jumped up onto the DJ stand and had to shout in the DJ’s ear to be heard. His mouth fell open as she talked and he hastily cut off the music. There were collective boos and hisses but, ever the consummate professional, he called over the microphone in a perfectly calm voice for silence.

  “Sorry everyone but we’re going to have to call it a night. We’ve got a water leak and we need to close for repairs. Sorry all.”

  When everyone started to moan, Rachel took over the mike. “You’ll all get a free night in return with a complimentary first drink. Keep your tickets for tonight and show them at the door.”

  The boos were replaced by cheers and everyone started to calmly file out, chatting and laughing. Rachel’s heart was in her mouth as she watched, the doormen studying each and every one of the departing customers, hoping to nab The Slasher.

  Just as it looked like there wasn’t going to be a stampede, the lights suddenly came on, light flooding the room, revealing the blood all over the dance floor in all its gory glory. One woman screamed then others took up her cry and the next thing they knew two hundred people were stampeding for the exit.

  “Oh crap, who did that?” demanded Rachel, furious. When she saw one girl trip on her high heels and go down, she jumped down off the DJ stand and ran to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the way before she was trampled on.

  “What’s happening?” cried the woman.

  “It’s The Slasher,” said Rachel quietly, deciding it was pointless to hide it from her. At least this way she’d know it was nothing to do with the Maguires.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” she breathed, obviously wanting to run outside but it was impossible.

  Rachel thanked God for Dolores when she saw her throwing open the fire exits and directing people through those instead and telling the bar staff and glass collectors to do the same. The herd, like the unthinking animal it was, had followed the leader and rushed for the main doors instead of taking the quicker exits. Rachel ushered the terrified girl towards Dolores and saw her safely out the door before delving back into the club.

  “Rachel…,” called Dolores, but her voice was lost as she approached the crowd clamouring to get out the front doors.

  Rachel saw a man pressed up against the glass between the first set of doors leading out and the coat check booth, struggling to breathe, blood from his bust nose smeared across the glass. Fletch had seen him too and was trying to reach him but couldn’t because of the press of people.

  Rachel snatched up a stool and smashed it into the glass of the panel to his left, using the legs to bang out the vicious shards stuck in the frame then reached through and pulled him out. The man flopped to the floor, fighting for breath, blood still coming from his nose and mouth. By now the dance floor was practically empty, the doormen and the rest of the staff caught up in attempting to get everyone out safely.

  Rachel was amazed by how easily her nursing training kicked back in. She checked his vital signs, his pulse weak and fluttering, breathing slightly laboured but there were no signs of cyanosis, no blueness of the lips or fingertips. There was little else she could do for a crush injury.

  “It’s okay, the ambulance is on its way. You’ll be fine,” she soothed. “What’s your name?”

  “James,” he said weakly.

  She grasped his hand reassuringly and he gave her a grateful smile.

  “Okay James, just focus on your breathing,” she said as calmly as she could, although her own heart was fluttering. “Keep calm, breathe easy.”

  Her comforting tone had an effect on the man and he visibly relaxed, although his grip on her hand was firm. She was alarmed when his eyes widened.

  “Behind,” he managed to rasp.

  Rachel turned and saw the glint of a blade, instinct screaming at her to duck and she did, the knife passing over the top of her head so close she heard the swish as it cut through the air. She fell back, scrabbling to get away as the hooded figure came at her again. She kicked out, her stiletto heel connecting with his shin and he grunted and hopped about on one foot.

  “Fletch,” she screamed.

  Her cry carried above the din, the crowd thinning as it spilled out onto the pavement and Fletch and Leo were barrelling their way towards her. The hooded figure took one look at them and decided to leg it.

  “Dee, look out, it’s him,” Rachel shouted.

  Gary heard her cry and pulled Dolores out of the way as the hooded figure shoved the two girls aside who were just about to pass through the fire exit and disappeared into the night, Fletch and Leo following a moment later.

  “Are you…okay?” croaked a voice.

  “Fine James, just fine,” she sighed, slumping back on her elbows, exhausted. “Oh look, here comes the cavalry,” she said when a team of uniformed police officers swarmed into the room through the exit Fletch and Leo had just gone through.

  “You’re too late,” she told them. “The Slasher ran outside, my doormen are chasing him. They went the way you came in.”

  Half of them turned on their heels and dashed back out into the night while the other half took over the club, tending to the wounded and getting witness statements
.

  Several teams of paramedics arrived and Rachel stayed with James while he was checked over and loaded onto a stretcher.

  “Will he be okay?” she asked.

  “Outlook looks good,” replied the paramedic before wheeling him away.

  “Good luck James,” she called after him.

  Ryan glanced at his watch and was surprised to see it was almost eleven and Rachel still wasn’t home. He’d got so caught up in Nietzsche that he hadn’t realised the time. He supposed not many people could say that. He tried Rachel’s mobile but it went straight to voicemail. Next he tried the club, but no one was picking up there either.

  He jumped to his feet and started to pace. She’d promised to be home early and Rachel wasn’t someone who broke promises. Something had happened. He tried her phone again and again but still nothing.

  He sighed with frustration and threw his mobile phone onto the couch. His first instinct was to leap into the car and drive to Martina’s Bar, but the kids were asleep upstairs, he couldn’t leave them. Just as he decided to ask Martina to come round and watch them while he went out, a car pulled up the drive. He rushed to the door and threw it open, stomach lurching when he saw it was a police car. They were here to tell him the worst news and he had to grab onto the door handle when his knees actually went weak. Rachel had been attacked or had a car accident, so many horrible scenarios running through his head at once as the car pulled to a halt. One of the officers got out but, instead of coming to the front door, he opened the back door of the car instead.

  “Rachel,” exclaimed Ryan. He tore across the gravel and swept her into his arms, holding her tightly. “Christ you had me worried.”

  “Sorry,” she said into his chest. “I didn’t mean to be late.”

  “Don’t apologise. I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He looked down at her ghost white face, a thick blanket wrapped tightly around her. “What happened?”

  “The Slasher…Martina’s Bar,” she whispered, shivering in his arms.

  “You’re in shock, let’s get you inside.” He looked to the two uniformed officers. “Thanks for getting her home safe lads. Goodnight.”

  Ryan thought he’d never hear himself say thank you to a copper but he was just so grateful she was home he didn’t care.

  “The DCI will want to talk to you again in the morning Mrs Law,” called one of the officers, but his tone was friendly enough.

  Ryan marched Rachel inside, sat her down on the couch and thrust a brandy into her hands.

  “What the hell happened? I thought he only struck on a Saturday?”

  “It seems he changed his mind,” she said before taking a sip of brandy.

  Rachel gave him an account of the night’s events, which left him reeling.

  “Bloody hell,” he said, astonished. “Did they catch him?”

  “No, unfortunately he outran Fletch and Leo. They’re not exactly built for speed and The Slasher was fast. But there’s a lot of cameras at the club and he must have come in without the hood otherwise he wouldn’t have been let in. This time the police might get him.”

  “They never have before.”

  “My club has better CCTV and better staff,” she said proudly. “When the lights came on and everyone panicked, I was ready to sack the moron on the spot who did it, but now I think on it, I think it was The Slasher.”

  “So he could make a quick escape?”

  “At first I thought so but that doesn’t make sense. If that was the case, why did he stop to attack me? He could have hit the lights then run out through a fire exit. Instead he went for me and my doormen almost got him.”

  She realised her error when his face fell. She hadn’t mentioned the part about her being attacked yet, she’d planned to break it to him gently.

  “What?” he roared.

  “Sshh, you’ll wake the kids.”

  “Sorry. What?” he said in a quieter tone.

  She explained about James and the subsequent attack.

  “Jesus Rachel, he deliberately targeted you.”

  “He did, but I think it was just because I was on my own, away from the rest of the herd. He saw an easy opportunity before he had to leave.”

  “Let’s hope the police find him. If they don’t, I fucking will.”

  She shook her head and took his hands. “No, please. We’re not like that anymore.”

  “If someone tries to stab my wife I’m not going to sit back and do nothing.”

  “It’s a job for the Police. He didn’t actually hurt me but he has hurt lots of other people and they deserve justice too.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” he said reluctantly.

  “We’re the type of people who let the Police do their jobs. Have some faith in them.” He raised a sceptical eyebrow, making her smile. She finished the brandy and put the glass on the table. “I need to go to bed, I’m shattered.”

  “I’ll lock up then I’ll be up.”

  While Ryan locked up, Rachel checked on the children, who were sleeping soundly. Tears prickled her eyes and her hands shook as she wiped them away. Rachel Maguire would have taken what happened tonight in her stride, but Rachel Law hadn’t been around violence for years. When she was in the thick of it at the club she’d been able to handle it but now the adrenaline had worn off she felt scared and vulnerable, recalling that figure standing over her wielding the large knife. Ryan’s arms wrapping around her waist made her jump.

  “Jesus, you scared me.”

  “Sorry. Come on, let’s get you to bed, you’re shaking.”

  Warm and cosy in bed and wrapped in her husband’s arms, the fear was soothed away and she dropped off to sleep, dreaming of blood, screams, a blade glinting in the light and a hooded figure looming over her, hatred in his eyes.

  CHAPTER 5

  Rachel felt washed out and bedraggled the next morning. As it was a Saturday they didn’t have to go anywhere and it was Adela’s day off, she didn’t work weekends, so the family just idled about at home. Rachel decided to go all out and spend the day in her pyjamas. Usually they were so busy and it felt nice to do nothing but spend the day watching television and playing with the kids.

  Rachel made some calls to her staff, all of whom were a little shook up but otherwise fine. She told them the club would remain shut for the next two weeks, for which they would be paid. Dolores, tough as old boots, was still up for her trip to the casino and said since she didn’t have to work that night she and her husband would pop round to the house to pick up the stake money before going onto The Crown. She was still very excited about her big night out.

  Next Rachel phoned Fletch for an account of his pursuit of The Slasher. She’d heard it second-hand from the police but wanted to hear it from his own lips. He couldn’t tell her very much, the street outside had been crowded but they’d managed to chase him quite a distance until he’d disappeared down a back street and simply evaporated. After assuring her he and Leo were fine, only disappointed that they hadn’t caught the bastard, she asked him to disperse his team around her other clubs in case The Slasher struck again, to which he eagerly agreed, wanting a second chance at nabbing him.

  Her duties done, Rachel snuggled into Ryan’s chest while he read, Leah curled up on her lap and the two boys played with their toys in the corner. The horror of last night suddenly seemed so distant and she felt warm with happiness and love. Could she be any more content? She didn’t think it possible.

  However the peace was destroyed by the phone constantly ringing. First it was Martina, then Mikey, next Jez followed by Beth, all of whom wanted to visit but she told them she was resting and would see them soon. These calls were interspersed by more calls from journalists. Then the electric gate started buzzing.

  Ryan sighed and threw his book aside. He’d got through Nietzsche and was now on Sartre’s The Age of Reason, working his way through the philosophers.

  “I’ll get rid of them,” he said, padding to the control panel by the front door. “What?” he snappe
d.

  “It’s Zoe Westerly, Manchester Evening News. I’d like to speak to your wife about what happened last night at Martina’s Bar. May I come in?”

  “No you can’t. Go away.”

  “Mr Law…”

  But he cut her off and returned to the living room.

  “Who was it?” said Rachel.

  “A journalist wanting to talk about last night, Gayle Westerly and you know what they say about her; blown her way right through Manchester to get where she is,” he said with a suggestive raise of an eyebrow.

  “What does that mean Daddy?”

  Ryan coloured slightly, making Rachel smile. “Nothing Cupcake, just a joke.” To his relief Leah was distracted by something on television. “Anyway, I told them to go away. Thank God I locked the gate last night.”

  But Gayle Westerly was by no means the last of their visitors, the buzzer on the gate sounding every few minutes. Eventually Ryan’s temper snapped. He shot up off the couch, strode into the hallway, closing the door behind him so the kids wouldn’t overhear, then unleashed a torrent of abuse down the intercom. His tirade was greeted by a stony silence followed by, “Mr Law, it’s Detective Chief Inspector Taylor.”

  “You could be press. Hold your warrant card up to the screen please.”

  The black and white figure on the small panel held up his card, the details perfectly clear.

  But Ryan was never one to be intimidated by the Police. “What do you want?”

  “We need to speak to Mrs Law about last night.”

  “Fine, come on up. Just make sure you don’t let any of those vultures in at the same time.”

  He buzzed the gate open and waited on the doorstep for the DCI’s arrival. From his position at the door he could see the crowd gathered at the bottom of the drive. He had to give the coppers their due, they ensured none of the sneaky bastards got through the gates as they swung shut, although one or two did try. When they saw him standing in the doorway they started snapping photos through the railings while he stared back at them casually, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorjamb in his t-shirt and black jogging bottoms.

 

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