The Last Resolution (Mike Wesley Series Book 2)

by John Stewart

  “I will in a bit, I just wanna get my head clear first.” As she spoke, Nurse Swindon knocked at the door.

  “Come in.” Said Mike, smiling as he saw who it was.

  “Welcome back Miss Hollister. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay thanks, I wouldn’t mind getting these wires off me though,” Rebecca said with markedly less familiar tone.

  “Becca, this is Nurse Claire Swindon. She’s been taking care of you since you arrived.” Mike interjected, feeling an awkwardness at Rebecca’s unfriendly response.

  “Call me Claire, please.”

  “I’m sorry Claire. I didn’t mean to come across as rude. I’m very grateful for all your help. Thank you.” Rebecca said with a genuine smile.

  “You don’t remember talking to me a few days ago then?” Claire asked as she began removing monitor leads from Rebecca’s arms.

  “No, what did I say?” Rebecca said looking at Mike, confused as to why he hadn’t mentioned anything about her waking before.

  Mike jumped in before Claire could say any more.

  “Ah, you were just calling for me. The doctors decided to sedate you for a few days to get your fluids back up to normal.” He looked to Claire with a subdued smile. “How are her levels now Nurse?”

  Claire could tell by his reaction that he didn’t want Rebecca to concern herself with what had happened to her and taking the hint, she didn’t say any more about it.

  “Your levels are fine now, I’m happy to report.”

  Rebecca could sense they weren’t telling her everything, but was too groggy to quiz them any further.

  “Okay, that’s good, so when can I go home?”

  “I’ll speak to Dr. Palmer and tell him you’re awake, I’d imagine he would like to speak to you himself and possibly keep you in for observation another night at least, just to be on the safe side.”

  Rebecca looked at Mike with a half smile.

  “Yay another night with no washing up.”

  Claire laughed. “I’ll see if I can find him now.”

  Chapter 19

  Despite the optimistic timeframe given by Nurse Swindon, Rebecca spent another three days in the hospital under Dr. Palmer’s orders. In between her extended recovery naps, she contacted her family, friends and co-workers, reassuring them she was awake and recovering well. The news was greeted with universal elation and her boss Mr. Munroe told her to take whatever time she needed before returning to work, an offer she intended to take full advantage of.

  Mike, however, was not offered the same luxury. Now that Rebecca was on the mend, he was given another week of compassionate leave. After that, he was expected back in work. Mike understood. He had been away from work for nearly three weeks by then and with Rebecca also off, the office was running on a makeshift crew consisting of temps and work experience students.

  The morning Rebecca was due to leave the hospital, Ray Phillips came on his lunch hour to give them a lift home. Mike was thanking Nurse Swindon with a large box of chocolates when Ray arrived.

  “Awh, you really shouldn’t have guys. I’ll be sorry to see you go.” Claire said, looking genuinely shocked by the gift.

  Rebecca smiled as Ray walked in, checking the shapely nurse out from behind.

  “Who do we have here then?” Said Ray, obviously impressed by what he saw.

  “Ray, this is Claire. She’s been looking after Becca for the past few weeks.” Mike said as he packed up the remaining items from around the room.

  “You’ve been holding out on me Danny Boy. You never told me the nurses here were so gorgeous.” Ray said, giving Claire a big smile.

  Claire laughed. “Hello Ray, I hear you’ll be bringing our patient home. Nice of you to help out.”

  “Have you been talking about me Danny Boy?”

  “All good, I can assure you,” Claire replied with a flirtatious smile.

  “That’s everything so. Are you two ready to get moving?” Rebecca said, drawing Ray from his distraction.

  “Yes, I suppose so. Let me take your bag.” Said Ray, making an obvious attempt to be the polite gentleman.

  “It was nice to meet you Claire.”

  “You too Mr. Phillips. Safe driving.” She replied.

  With the usual repeated thanks, they filed out of the room and headed downstairs to the car park.

  ***

  Rebecca walked through their apartment doorway with a sense of relief. Although it had only been a few days in her mind, it was long enough to spend in hospital and she was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed that night. Ray, who had gone straight back to work, had taken the liberty of restocking the fridge, much to Mike’s delight as he went straight for the kettle to make Rebecca a decent cup of coffee.

  “Sit down and I’ll make us some lunch.” He said as he looked through the sugary array of baked goods Ray had bought for them.

  Rebecca sat on the couch in front of the television and turned on her favorite news channel.

  “God, Ray really went to town on the shopping. Would you like a stuffed turkey Vienna roll or will we go straight for the apple tart and custard?” Mike asked, almost giddy about the options.

  “Ah, coffee is fine for now thanks. I’m not really hungry, why didn’t he come up for a cup?”

  “Apple tart it is so,” Mike replied, ignoring her refusal. “I’d imagine he had to get back. It’s a small miracle Munroe let him out at all.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Rebecca said as she stared at the date on the screen with a slight sense of disbelief. She knew she had been in a coma, but the thought that the time had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye, gave her a strange sense of her own mortality. As she gazed at the television, now oblivious to what was on the screen, Mike appeared with the coffee and apple tart.

  “Now, get that into ya. You need to build up your strength.”

  Rebecca turned to him without acknowledging the comment. “Can you get me copies of the major newspapers from the last few weeks?”

  “What? You have plenty of time to catch up on all that. Relax and have something to eat.” Mike said, surprised by the request.

  “I’ve been relaxing for long enough Mike. I want to see what’s been happening in the world.”

  “Okay, well you make a start on that and I’ll pull up the news sites on the laptop.”

  “No! I want to read the papers.” She snapped.

  Mike could see she was upset and sat down beside her.

  “Becca it’s okay. Everything will get back to normal in no time.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bark at you. I just want to go through the papers like I do every morning. It’ll help me get my sense of time back.”

  He nodded, recognising the logic in what she was saying.

  “Okay, I’ll ask Ray to grab some from work and drop them over in the morning. How’s that?”

  Rebecca picked up her cup of coffee and gave him the puppy dog eyes she normally reserved for special requests.

  “Well, yeah you could do that, or….. you could spin down today and grab them yourself.”

  Mike instantly shook his head.

  “I’m not leaving you here on your own. Not on your first day home.”

  “Oh, come on, please. I’ll be fine.” She pleaded as she picked up a slice of the apple tart. “Look, I’ll sit here and eat until you get back. Pleeeease.”

  He knew she wasn’t going to let it go and gave in with a sigh. “Alright, I’ll go after this.”

  “Thank you, you’re the best.” She said, taking a big bite of the tart.

  Mike drank his coffee and as promised, drove to the office to collect the supply of backup newspapers they kept in the archive storeroom. He didn’t hang about and narrowly avoided bumping into Munroe on his way out. Arriving back at the apartment less than an hour after he had left, he placed the heavy sack of papers on the dining room table and left Rebecca to get caught up. He was glad she had the distraction, she hadn’t mentioned the cases since w
aking up, but sooner or later she was going to ask about what really happened to her at Simon’s apartment and that was one conversation he was not looking forward to.

  Chapter 20

  An empty whiskey bottle rolled off the couch and hit the wooden floor of Simon’s living room. His eyes shot open as the rest of his body lay motionless. He looked around the room and watched as the whiskey bottle slowly ebbed across the floor until it came to a stop against the television stand. The first thing that crossed his mind was that his floor was not as level as it might be, the second was a tidal wave of pain as he attempted to sit upright on the couch.

  He had spent the previous two days on a binge of whiskey, cigarettes and self-pity. Looking down at his coffee table he counted three empty bottles along with countless cigarette ends, some half smoked, some burned down to the filter. Seeing the extra bottles, he realised he must have paid a visit to the local off-licence to buy supplies, something he had no recollection of whatsoever. His last clear memory was burning the photograph that had thrown his life into the downward spiralling mess that he now found himself in.

  As he sat on the couch, he leaned forward and rummaged through the collection of empty boxes atop the coffee table and eventually found a lone cigarette hiding in a one of them. He then lit the disheveled looking cigarette and tried to recall his last conversation with Mike. Before too long, the pain in his head became too distracting to think and he opted for a long hot shower to clear his mind.

  Feeling a little more human after his shower, Simon grabbed a bin liner and proceeded to clear every trace of his latest binge drinking backslide from the apartment. Once the place regained a look of normality, he made some strong coffee, took out his laptop and played back the recordings he had made from both Rebecca and Mike’s time on the cases. As he listened, he noted that Rebecca was more efficient with her sound bites, she got right to the point and posed questions to her own recorder. This made it easier for Simon to skip through Rebecca’s long silent spells, unlike Mike, who often thought aloud while recording and sometimes even offered theories of what may have happened. The latter chewed up a lot of recording time and it took Simon the entire day to get through of all the audio, making fresh notes of his own as he listened.

  Once the final recording from Mike’s last visit ended, Simon decided to contact one of his few remaining friends on the force. Detective Sergeant Ethan Sloane was the one who had been drip feeding Simon information on the killings ever since his unexpected early retirement. Simon had yet to completely burn his bridges with Sloane and with the new information regarding the writing on the inside of the plastic bag, his odds of getting more information were better than ever. He picked up his house phone, took a quick breath and dialed the number.

  “D.S. Sloane. How can I help you?” The detective finally answered after five rings.

  Simon hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his latest request for illegally obtaining information.

  “Hi Ethan, it’s Simon Meadowcroft here. How’s things?”

  Sloane raised his eyes to the ceiling upon hearing Simon’s hoarse voice. He was aware of his old friend’s vices and had become accustomed to hearing his gruff tones following a few nights of drinking.

  “You okay Simon? You sound a bit rough.”

  Simon cleared his throat with a cough.

  “Oh yeah, just a touch of a cold, bit of a dose going around.”

  “What can I do for you mate?” Sloane said in a less than convinced tone of voice.

  “Okay, please just hear me out. Are you at your desk?” Simon asked as he began typing on his laptop.

  “Simon, if this is about those cases, I really can’t give you any more details. I’ll lose my job.”

  “Are you at your computer?” Simon asked again, ignoring his former colleague’s comments.

  “Yes, I am. What am I looking for?” Sloane said with a resigned tone.

  “Good, I’m sending you an email through. It’s related to the last pair of murders.”

  “Last murders! Simon you have to stop this. You act like they were the only murders to ever happen in London. There’s been dozens since, half of them unsolved. Do you want to try solving those too?”

  “Look, I know I’ve asked a lot of you Ethan, but this is new information linking the William Coope and Darren Taylor killings. Please, just look at it before you dismiss me.”

  “Fine! Send it on.” Sloane said with a sigh.

  “You should have it any second.”

  Simon waited while Sloane opened the picture of the three plastic bag images, Mike had positioned together to reveal the inverted text. After some clicking and tapping he replied.

  “All I see is a few letters, I can’t really make them out.”

  “Reverse the image,” Simon instructed, interrupting him.

  Again he waited, as Sloane fumbled around the keyboard trying to find the image editor application. Following another minute of silence, Simon spoke up.

  “Well, can you see it now?”

  “Just a second… Holy shit! Does that say, Happy…”

  “New Year, Yes! Now tell me that isn’t a direct link to the Y2K inscription on William Coope’s body.” Simon interjected with an animated tone.

  “It could be I suppose. How did you spot this? We had the lab guys go over all these pictures.”

  “Let’s just say I got lucky. Can you give me anything else on either case? Anything at all you held back from me.”

  Sloane took a deep breath and began typing on his keyboard once again.

  “Okay, but this is it Simon. I can’t do this for you anymore.”

  “I understand Ethan, anything else at all could help.”

  “Right, take this down. There was a note found in the inside pocket of Darren Taylors jacket. All it said was ‘Weaver Fields.’ It was written in red ink. We sent guys over to search the area but found nothing.”

  “Maybe it’s a hint at the next body location?” Simon said as he typed the location into his online search engine.

  “Or, maybe it’s nothing Simon. You can’t spend your life chasing shadows. The best thing you can do is forget these cases and move on with your life, maybe lay off the booze.”

  “Look I appreciate the advice Ethan, I do, but I’m doing fine. Listen before I go, did you ever hear back from the station in Neath about the car boot fibres found on Taylor’s body?”

  Sloane sighed knowing the answer would only further fuel Simon’s obsession with establishing a link.

  “Yeah, I spoke to one of the guys over there and he sent me samples for comparison.”

  “And?” Simon asked impatiently

  “And, they are very similar.”

  “See, didn’t I tell you they would be,” Simon said, clearly excited.

  “Don’t get your hopes up. We crosschecked them with several other carpet fibres found in car boots and came up with another seven possible matches. Even if we had a suspect, the best Crown Prosecutor in the country couldn’t make a case on that, let alone a plastic bag with ‘Happy New Year,’ written on the inside.”

  Simon had heard enough. Sloane had obviously made up his mind and didn’t want any more to do with the cases.

  “You might be right Ethan. Thanks again for your help, I really appreciate it.”

  “Okay mate, don’t be a stranger,” Sloane said hoping the opposite would be the case.

  “Same to you,” Simon said as he hung up, and downloaded a map of London.

  Opening the map in the image editor, he added red dots and chronologically corresponding numbers to the locations of the murders, just like Mike had physically done with the pins. Only this time, he added a sixth location, Weaver Fields. He knew it was a long shot but decided to save the image and email it to Mike in the hope he might reconsider his involvement. He looked over at the window where Rebecca was attacked as he sent the email and began to wonder, if he was to be the last victim of this mystery killer as the message ‘Only one more resolution
to keep,’ implied, was Weaver Fields destined to be the place where he would die?

  Chapter 21

  Mike woke up just after 7am from another restless sleep and turned over to find an empty bed. The room was pitch dark and it took him a few seconds to realise he was no longer in the hospital chair, but back at his own apartment. He could hear the sound of a radio coming from the kitchen and got up to see why Rebecca was up so early.

  “Good Morning, I didn’t wake you did I?” Rebecca said as he gingerly walked into the brightly lit kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

  “No.” He said with a yawn. “I was just wondering where you were.” Mike looked around as he spoke and saw the kitchen table was covered in newspapers. “Have you been up all night? I didn’t hear you come to bed.”

  Rebecca poured him a cup of coffee.

  “Sorry, I was late and didn’t want to wake you. I got up half an hour ago to get an early start on these papers. Did you see Ray’s little ‘Get well soon,’ article for me?” She said, handing him his mug.

  “Yeah, he got the gang in the office to chip in for flowers too. They were dead and binned by the time you woke up though, lazy bones.” He said, winking at her.

  Rebecca laughed. “Ah, he’s a pet. You should set him up with that nurse. She seemed to be very friendly.” She said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah, we got on great. I’m not sure Ray would suit her though.” Mike replied with a slight grin, clearly trying to wind Rebecca up.

  “Oh, and how would you know what would suit her?” She asked, taking the bait.

  “Well, we did spend a lot of time together. Almost every day actually.”

  Rebecca’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

  “Are you looking for a slap?” She said jokingly.

  Mike laughed at the thought of her being jealous.

  “Ray wouldn’t have a chance because she has a girlfriend.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened with obvious relief.

  “Oh, I get ya now.”

  “So see, you have no need to worry darling, I only have eyes for you,” Mike said, still laughing as he walked around the counter to give her a hug.