Fallen Heroes

by Amy Cross

  “Even assuming for one moment that you're right,” Tricia continued, “what good does it do us? Is this guy going to make his way across the city, killing random people? Are they all going to be women, and are they all going to be found in their flats with the same wounds?”

  “You need to get his picture out,” Laura replied, turning to her. “Put the city in lock-down if necessary -”

  “Impossible.”

  “Then people will die!”

  “There's a process for things like that!” Tricia continued. “It'd take hours! We can't just put up a man's photo and tell people to watch out for him, based on the ravings of some -” Glancing at Ophelia, she paused for a moment, trying to choose her words with care. “No offense.”

  “Lots taken,” Ophelia replied, turning to Maitland. “The prints on that flamingo prove that he was in Laura's house. Would that be enough to get things moving?”

  “Maybe,” he replied, “but it would take a couple of hours.”

  “That's too long,” Laura muttered. “He might have killed two or three more people by then.”

  “And that's not counting the bodies that are already waiting to be discovered,” Ophelia pointed out. “Face it, it probably takes at least an hour between him killing them and them being found, so right now, he's most likely one or two ahead of you guys.”

  “I'm going to get this to the lab,” Maitland said, dropping the flamingo into an evidence bag. “I just hope the prints are still intact.”

  “So you believe all this?” Tricia asked.

  “I believe it's possible,” he replied, heading to the door. “Right now, that's enough.”

  “But we have to deal with this scene!” she continued, hurrying after him. “We can't just leave it!”

  “We're not going to catch up to him in time,” Laura said, staring down at the body. “He's too good.”

  “We just need to find a way to get one step ahead,” Ophelia pointed out.

  “We're already several steps behind. No matter how fast we move, we can't do a damn thing unless we get his face out there, and at the speed these things work...” She paused for a moment, before turning to Ophelia. “You said he tracked you through your phone?”

  “Apparently,” she replied. “I don't really understand how.”

  “So maybe he can track everyone's phones,” she muttered, running through a plan in his head. “Maybe he knows where we are right now. Maybe he wants to keep track of how fast we locate each crime scene. It'd make sense, wouldn't it?”

  “So? I don't see how that helps us.”

  Glancing over at her mother for a moment, Laura saw that Maureen was shuffling toward the door.

  “Take her somewhere,” she said finally, turning back to Ophelia. “Meet me back at the station in half an hour, I've got a plan, but first I need you to get my mother out of the way. Maybe a hospital, something like that, just make sure she's safe, okay?”

  “Yeah, but -”

  “Trust me,” Laura added. “I've got a plan. If Daniel Gregory continues on his current course, we have no way of stopping him, so we have to make him change that course. I know how to do it, but I'm going to need your help. Meet me at the station.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I'll get a ride,” she said, heading over to her mother. “Come on, Ophelia's going to find somewhere nice and safe for you to wait for a few hours.”

  “We should go home soon,” Maureen replied. “Your father'll be back for his dinner. Don't you have homework to get done tonight?”

  “Sure, Mum, I have homework. I'll get onto it while Ophelia takes you on a little trip, okay?”

  “You shouldn't be out on a school night.”

  “I won't be out late,” she replied, leaning forward and kissing her mother on the cheek. “Just be good, okay? I'll be back soon, I promise. I just have to go and do something.” Glancing across the room, she saw that Ophelia was taking a closer look at the dead boy on the bed. “And I have to do it alone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You owe me,” Ophelia said firmly, as she warmed her hands on the fire burning in an old oil drum. “Let's face it, you owe me big time!”

  “Yeah,” Dave replied sheepishly, “but...”

  Turning, he looked at Maureen, who was smiling at him as they sat under a bridge near the canal.

  “Just keep her company for a few hours,” Ophelia continued, turning and heading back up toward the street. “I brought food for you to share, didn't I? What are you so worried about?”

  “Yeah, but -”

  “That's great, Dave, thanks!”

  Once Ophelia was gone, Dave and Maureen sat in silence for a moment. Looking down at his hands, Dave started nervously tugging at some of the loose threads on his mittens. He was used to spending long evenings alone by a fire, and he'd never been very good at talking to strangers.

  “Young man,” Maureen said finally, “do you know how to play gin rummy?”

  “I...” He looked over at her. “No...”

  “Do you have a set of cards?”

  “No.”

  Reaching into her coat pocket, Maureen took out a set of playing cards.

  “Would you like me to teach you?” she asked.

  He paused, before reaching into the plastic bag and pulling out one of the sandwiches Ophelia had provided. After checking a few of the other sandwiches, he sighed.

  “They're all egg,” he muttered.

  “It's very simple,” Maureen continued, as she started to shuffle the cards. “I've been playing this game my whole life. It's one of...” Pausing, she stared at the cards for a moment. “Sometimes, I think it's one of the only things I can really remember anymore. I've got Alzheimer's, so I forget things. I forget my husband is dead, and I forget poor Laura is struggling along. These lucid moments...” She paused again. “I'm having one now, aren't I? The house burned down. There was a look in Laura's eyes earlier, I think she might be about to...”

  Dave took a bite from his sandwich and waited for her to continue.

  “Do you want to play gin rummy?” she asked finally, forcing a faint smile. “My husband will be home soon, I'll have to go and make dinner for him, but until then...” Clearly confused again, she started to deal the cards.

  ***

  “Okay,” Ophelia said, with the phone tucked under her chin as she drove toward the police station, “I'm breaking several laws here, so you'd better be -”

  “I'll be in touch soon,” Laura replied.

  “I'm coming to meet you at the station.”

  “I'm not at the station.”

  “Then where are you?”

  “That doesn't matter. Not to you, not right now.”

  “But -”

  “Long story.”

  “Don't give me that crap,” Ophelia replied. “That's the kind of crap I give to you. You don't get to give it to me. Where are you?”

  “I'm doing something. Alone.”

  “What do you mean?” Slowing the car, Ophelia pulled over at the side of the road. “Laura, you're sounding cryptic and mysterious. You're sounding like me and I don't like it.”

  “You said Daniel Gregory was able to track your phone.”

  “So?”

  “So maybe he can track mine too.”

  “And?” Pausing, Ophelia felt a flash of panic in her chest. “Hang on, you're not about to do something insanely dangerous and stupid, are you?”

  “Ophelia -”

  “That's my job!” she hissed. “You're the sensible one, and I'm the one who does crazy things! That's how it works!”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Not tonight? What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means that if Daniel Gregory can track my phone, he knows where I am right now.”

  “And where are you right now?”

  “Somewhere remote. Somewhere isolated. Somewhere that might tempt him to take a detour from his planned route. After all, he probably didn't expect this oppor
tunity to come up.”

  “No!” Ophelia shouted, slamming her hand into the steering wheel as her frustration began to boil over. “You can't do stuff like this, Laura! It's not how things work!”

  “There's no other way to stop him,” Laura continued, her voice crackling a little over the line. “If we take any other approach, he'll get his sixteen kills and he'll be happy. Enough people have died already because I screwed up cases. This way, at least I have a chance of stopping him.”

  “By luring him somewhere so he'll try to kill you?”

  “I can defend myself. I have a plan.”

  “What plan?”

  “Long story.”

  “Laura -”

  “Frustrating, isn't it?” Laura continued. “Now you know how it feels. I'll be okay, Ophelia, I swear. I just need to do this, because I really, truly believe it'll work. Sorry, but you don't have sole discretion when it comes to making sudden leaps of logic and hatching insane ideas.”

  “You're going to get yourself killed!”

  “Like you when you jumped off that bridge? Or when you went to face Victoria Middleton all by yourself?”

  “But that's me!” Ophelia hissed. “Not you! I can do shit like that, you can't!”

  “I should go. If I'm right, he'll be here soon.”

  “Where?” Ophelia asked. “At least tell me where you are, so I can come and help. You might need back-up!”

  “I don't think he'll come if he knows you're with me.”

  “Then I'll leave my phone somewhere!”

  “We'll talk soon.”

  “Laura! Don't you dare hang up on me!”

  “Frustrating, isn't it?” Laura added. “Trust me on this one. It'll work, and if it doesn't... Well, at least I'll have tried. Goodbye.”

  “But if you -”

  Before she could finish, Ophelia realized that the line was dead. She immediately tried to call back, only to be put straight through to Laura's voicemail.

  “You bloody idiot!” she shouted, before tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

  Leaning back in her seat, she tried to work out what to do next, but in her mind's eye all she could imagine was Laura waiting for Daniel Gregory to catch up to her.

  “God,” she muttered finally, “is this what it's like to spend time around me? How can people stand it?”

  ***

  Stopping as she reached the door, Laura paused for a moment. With only the light from her phone to guide her way, she could barely see a damn thing, but she knew she had to keep going. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked around at the dark car park for a moment, and she felt as if she could feel Daniel Gregory's eyes watching her intently.

  “Come and get me,” she whispered, before stepping through the door and into the warehouse.

  She'd been there once before, a few years ago when she'd been investigating Natasha Simonsen's murder. There had been a trail of evidence that had suggested Natasha had been lured to a remote location, and the warehouse had been one of the possibilities. She'd never worked out if the place was truly linked to the crime, but it had been mentioned in court and she figured that fact, alone, would pique Gregory's interest. Her theory was that if he was tracking her phone and saw that she was in such a remote location, he'd interrupt his plans in order to track her down.

  All she had to do was wait.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  Silence.

  The light from her phone only lit a few meters ahead, so as she made her way across the dusty concrete floor she found herself constantly looking around, wondering if he was already close. Her heart was pounding and she'd never in her life felt so scared, but at the same time she knew she was doing the right thing. She figured that, hopefully, Daniel Gregory was watching her from the darkness instead of hunting down his next victim of the night, and that she'd drawn him away from his real plan. After all, she knew he was a great planner, a man who could set things in motion far in advance. What she didn't know, however, was whether he was any good at thinking on his feet. And that was why -

  Stopping suddenly, she realized she'd heard a sound nearby.

  Just a faint bumping sound, but enough to convince her that she wasn't alone.

  “Hello?” she said again.

  No reply.

  Turning, she used the light from her phone to check that no-one was too close. After a moment, she reached into her coat, to double-check that the gun she'd confiscated from Ophelia was still in place.

  Nearby, there was another faint creaking sound.

  She turned again, telling herself that the sense of being watched was all in her mind, that there was no way anyone could get the slip on her. The plan had been to lure Gregory, but to stop him before he got close enough to act. Suddenly she felt extremely vulnerable, but she knew she couldn't stop now. After relying on Ophelia's help for so long, she was finally

  She let out a gasp as she felt the knife slicing deep into her back.

  A hand reached around her chest and held her up.

  Someone leaned close to her neck.

  “Imagine my surprise,” Daniel Gregory whispered, “when I saw you here.”

  She tried to answer, but the pain was intense and she could feel the blade pressing against her ribs. Reaching for the gun, she knew she'd only get one chance.

  “You're either very brave, Detective Foster, or very foolish. I'm leaning toward foolish.”

  “I know what you're doing,” she replied, trying to ignore the pain and fear as she gripped the gun. “I know everything.”

  “And how does that help you right now?” he asked. “With one twist of this knife, I could drop you to your knees.”

  She winced as she felt his hand trembling.

  “Have you ever been stabbed before?” he continued.

  With the gun in her hand, she waited for the right moment.

  “I was planning to come to you for my last victim of the night,” he told her. “You were supposed to be number sixteen, but since this opportunity arose so beautifully, I suppose you'll just have to be number six instead. Don't worry, though, I'm sure you'll be my favorite.”

  “Same pattern as all the others?” she gasped.

  “I suppose it'll have to be won't it?” he replied. “I'm a little OCD about these things. I want all the patterns to be obvious, I want people to have no trouble joining the dots. When Mr. Lewis writes his lovely book about me, I don't want even one of my achievements to be left out. Besides, one day someone might want to copy my murders, so I need to give them patterns they can use. That, I think, would be the ultimate compliment.”

  “You might -” She winced as she felt the tip of the knife shifting slightly. “You might be waiting a while,” she told him. “Joe Lewis was arrested a few hours ago at a burned-out farmhouse. I guess he wasn't that good at following -”

  Before she could finish, she felt him pull the knife out and then slide it in again. She let another cry of pain, but he quickly placed his hand over her mouth. Trying to pull the gun out from under her coat, she realized her hand was locking up slightly, as if she could barely move it properly. She almost dropped the gun, before managing to press it against her belly as she desperately tried to get a proper grip.

  “I've never killed someone this slowly before,” he whispered. “I usually like it hard and fast, but now I'm finding there are benefits to the slow, sensual approach.”

  With tears in her eyes, Laura struggled to hold the gun firmly.

  “The others will have to go a long way to be as enjoyable as you,” he continued, sliding the knife deeper into her back. “I've been looking forward to killing you ever since my original trial. I've fantasized about this moment, so you'll have to forgive me if I take it slowly. This is quite -”

  Stopping suddenly, he heard sirens in the distance.

  She knew she wouldn't get another chance.

  Pulling away and spinning around, with the knife still in her back, she turned and held the gun up in her trembling
hands, aiming straight at his face. She slipped and fell back, landing hard and letting out a cry of pain, but she managed to keep the gun more or less pointing in the right direction as she slowly got to her feet.

  “What's this?” he asked with a faint smile. “One final act of defiance?”

  “Daniel Gregory,” she whispered, starting to feel weak as more blood ran down her back, “you're under arrest for...” She paused, struggling to keep from collapsing. The darkness seemed to be spinning all around her, and she knew time was running out. “You're under arrest for the murder of... Natasha Simonsen and...”

  “Those sirens are just going to pass right on by,” he replied, “and you don't have the courage to fire that thing.” Reaching down, he picked up the knife he'd dropped a moment ago. “The only thing that matters to me tonight is getting that record. I'd like to live to see tomorrow's headlines, but that's not strictly necessary. I can imagine what they'll say, and they'll be glorious. Don't you remember what it was like, Detective Foster, in the days when you actually thought you'd achieve something worthwhile?”

  With the gun still aiming at him, she told herself to pull the trigger, but something was holding her back. She'd never killed anyone before, never really hurt anyone, but now...

  Now she had no choice.

  As if he sensed the moment she made the decision, Gregory lunged at her just as she squeezed the trigger. The gun fired, at the exact instant that Daniel Gregory's body slammed into her and sent her crashing down to the ground. Letting out a gasp of pain, Laura tried to roll away, but she could already feel him pulling her back. With sirens in the distance, she tried desperately to get free, but he was too strong.

  “Fine,” he hissed. “I guess you thought you could take me all by yourself. Big mistake.”

  Before she could even process those words, he slammed her head down against the concrete floor and then drove the knife into her back.