by Jane Isaac
“No?” He lifted the knife.
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” Rab said. There was desperation in his voice. “It wasn’t me. I might not have approved of what you did, but I’m not a snitch.”
“It’s too late. I know it was you. Estrange told me.”
Rab blew a quick, short breath out of his nose. Estrange had been Rab’s cell mate. He had bought heroin off Kane, but Kane couldn’t keep up with his demand. “It was Estrange who shopped you. He’s done the double bluff.”
“I don’t believe you. You’ve ruined my life. Now I’m going to wreck yours.”
Rab held his hands in the air. “I’m telling the truth. Honest.”
“Ha – an ex con telling the truth. How do you expect me to believe you?”
“Think about it.” Nobody spoke for a moment. Time stood still.
Anna wished she could see Kane’s face. Work out what he was thinking.
“Let her go!” The voice came from behind them. Kane jolted and turned around. Anna kicked out again. He lost his balance. She slipped out of his grip, ran towards Rab.
She heard a loud crack and then felt a sharp pain as something heavy hit her. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, like in a car crash. You see yourself rolling into the back of another car, your foot is fixed on the brake but it’s too late, too late to stop. Dream and reality mixed together. For a moment she was numb, then she could smell grass by her nose, taste mud in her mouth. Then, the pain came. Severe, excruciating pain slicing through her stomach. Anna tried to open her eyes but they were glued shut. Voices in the distance were blurring together as a wave of fatigue and pain flew over her. If this is dying, its almost easy, she thought to herself. Just give in to the tiredness, let it sweep you up and take all the pain and complications of the last eight days away. Suddenly, she could hear someone calling her in the background. It sounded like Ross’ voice. And then it went all black.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Ross?” Anna looked up towards the eyes of a blurred image. Her mouth felt dry. Speech was an effort.
“It’s all over now,” it replied. There was a hint of an Irish accent.
That’s not Ross. She blinked, her vision sharpening. She could see the white interior, feel a blanket over her, there was an oxygen mask, wrapped dressings, a man in green overalls – an ambulance. She tried to sit up, but felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Lie down, you need to stay calm.”
Anna swallowed, but continued to push against his hand. For a moment, when she had thought she was dead, she had imagined herself joining Ross, being reunited in a kind of heaven together. Now it haunted her. No, this isn’t right. It was supposed to be me. “Ross!” she yelped.
“Come on. It’s over. They’ve got him. You’re safe now.” The voice was soothing.
Got who? She wanted to say. Instead, she felt a stab of pain in her arm. And then more darkness.
* * *
Helen checked the final words to her report, before she clicked the print key. There was still heaps of work to be done. Files would need to be put together. SOCO were still gathering evidence from Kane Edward’s flat. They had found footprints in the backyard beside the fence – it looked as though he had jumped the fence and escaped across the other gardens. These footprints would be measured, examined along with all the other evidence that would need to be bagged up, labeled, sorted and filed in readiness for court. She guessed they would go for trial. Edwards had gone ‘no comment’ throughout his interview – popular advice from solicitors who thought their clients were banged to rights. No problem, they would be ready for him. And, until then, he would be remanded in custody.
Helen thought of his home: the pictures of Anna, the obsession with the military, the numerous weapons. Her mind moved on to Ross. When they had reached the trio on the
Bracken Way, they had carried out a search of the surrounding area, discovering a farm track that ran along in front of the tunnel entrance, connecting the two fields either side. On the left side, 300 yards up the track, her officers had found a motorcycle, beside a small thicket. Through the bare branches, they found an old, disused pump station. In summer months it would have been engulfed in the undergrowth, hidden away from the road. And this time of year, with the surrounding fields containing only arable farming, nobody, not even the farmer would have need to come down the track. A perfectly secluded location on private land – close enough to the Bracken Way to walk up and meet Anna, far enough away so that nobody, even the odd dog walker that may use the Way at this time of year, would hear Ross’ muffled cries for help. Kane had been careful to remove the boards at the back, using the rear entrance, again out of view from the track. She wondered how long he had searched for such a place?
Ross had been found, only just alive, prostrate on the floor, arms by his side. He was strapped at both ankles and both wrists, using a mixture of duct tape and plastic gardens ties, to a 5 bar, metal gate. More duct tape was wound around his waist and fastened over his mouth. There had been a black hood over his head and a makeshift noose was tied around his neck out of white nylon rope. She imagined Kane seeking out something to tie him to, contemplating what he should use to secure his prisoner. He would have been pleased with his choice. The gate would have been from a nearby field and provided the opportunity to secure Ross firmly, against a heavy, unwieldy object, preventing movement or escape.
They had found other items in the pump station, too. A plethora of weapons, knives, (hunting and saber tooth), laid out neatly like a surgeon’s table by the door, alongside a video camera. What had he been planning to do with that? A shiver ran down her spine. It didn’t do to dwell on the madness of killers.
George Sawford had appeared outwardly magnanimous, shaking her hand, patting her on the back. But she could see that he was inwardly seething. With her own Super seeking promotion, he obviously had his eye on his job. It would be a great short term move for him, Superintendent on the Homicide Team was just about the most high profile job you could get at that level. Well, this was one result that wouldn’t go on his CV.
Then she thought of her family. She had barely spent any real time with them the last week or so. This was something that needed addressing, and sooner rather than later.
* * *
Anna sat on the corner of Ross’ bed, stroking his hand gently. The thought that he was here because of her, his relationship with her had put him through the torture of the last few days, stupefied her.
On the floor below, her brother was in bed with a bullet wound, a bullet that had been meant for her. She rubbed her stomach which still bore the bruises caused by him leaping at her when Kane had brandished the gun, rugby tackling her to the ground, where she hit her head and instantly lost consciousness. It wasn’t until she came around in the hospital that she discovered that her injuries were minor. They had kept her in for observations in case of brain trauma, but it was more shock than anything else.
Rab had taken the bullet in his shoulder, but would live. Luckily. She found it hard to believe that the root of the revenge, the attacks on her, her family, her boyfriend had derived from him. It stuck in the back of her throat. On the one side, she felt if she didn’t see him again, it would be too soon. On the other – well he took a bullet for her, he saved her life. And it wasn’t his fault that a deranged monster sought revenge on him for something he didn’t even do, torturing his family to get at him. It was all such a mess. A mess that was now untangling, the threat of danger ceased. And could she blame Rab for trying to find his sister, for unconditionally loving her in spite of the empty years that had passed between them?
When he had suddenly arrived on the
Bracken Way, half of her was grateful to see him, the other half suspicious. How had he found her? It was the DCI who had told her that, fearing for her safety, he had put a tracker on her mobile phone. ‘Techy.’ That’s what he was doing with my phone in the flat. She remembered how suspicious she had felt. But without that tracker he wouldn’t have
been able to locate her, or alert the police to her whereabouts. And who knows what would have happened? She shuddered. When she had finally awoken it had been light outside. She had been allowed to sit up, eat half a bowl of cornflakes, drink strong milky tea. And then DCI Lavery had come to see her, explaining how Rab had told her the tracker showed that Anna had joined
Bracken Way. He had been following the signal himself, arriving only a few minutes before they did. Armed police had surrounded the area, just at the moment when Rab was confronting Kane. It had been PS Bates’ voice that had called out to Kane, taking him by surprise, phasing him for a split second. Kane had stood still as Anna ran towards Rab then, just as she had reached him, he had drawn the Glock from his pocket and taken a cheap shot in Anna and Rab’s direction, before dropping the gun and being tussled to the ground. A search of the surrounding area then discovered Ross, tucked away in a nearby disused pump station, less than 300 meters from the entrance to the tunnel. It was amazing he was still alive. Anna touched his hand gently and he stirred in his sleep, turning his head slightly. She stroked the red marks around his wrist where the ties had cut into his skin, then looked over at the fresh dressing on his arm where his tattoo had once been. She had been told that Kane had washed and dressed the wound, to avoid infection, covered him in a blanket to keep him warm. Kept alive, no doubt, in case he needed to be used as bait. But the cold weather had induced mild hypothermia and there were now tubes entering his body at every visible orifice.
She would make it up to him. And her parents. The events of the last nine days had taught her that blood alone doesn’t make a relationship. There are more important things like loyalty, friendship, support. Even her mother . . . Right now her family felt like the most important people in her world and she would make sure that they knew it.
* * *
“My round then. What are we having?” Pemberton said, standing and stretching his back before grabbing his glass for a refill. Every member of the incident team (apart from Sawford who had excused himself under the guise of an important dinner party) had gathered in the pub to celebrate and they were in good spirits.
“Excuse me for a moment, will you?” Helen asked. “I just need to make a quick call.” It was a lame excuse. Phone home and then make a sharp exit. Right now she needed to give time to her family, support Matthew, help Robert with his homework, give her mother some adult company.
She stood in the small pub entrance outside the men’s toilets, curling her nose at the smell of the urine. The phone was engaged. She rung off and stared back into the pub through the open door. Her eyes fell on Townsend at the far end of the bar, chatting up one of the custody suite assistants. She stared at him for a while. They hadn’t spoken properly since the argument in the Super’s office. She had been aware of his continuing presence in the incident room, but he had shrunk to the background, rarely speaking up, drawing attention to himself, just working behind the scenes. Was he ashamed of himself? It didn’t look like it at the moment.
It’s a shame really, she thought. He had shown that he was capable of good work. But he couldn’t work together as a team. And all those negative vibes . . . She rolled her shoulders backwards. His clock was ticking. He may have weathered these sorts of storms at the Met, but this behavior wouldn’t be tolerated in the smaller forces of the provinces. It was just a matter of time.
She sighed and tried home again. It rung several times before she heard a voice.
“Hello?”
“Mum, it’s me.”
“Oh. Hi, darling. You OK?” There was the sound of laughter in the background.
“Yeah, you?”
“Fine thanks.” The dog started to bark, a deep drone, lifted from the pit of its stomach.
Helen hesitated, waited for it to pause. “Mum, just wanted to say . . .” Her voice was drowned out by more excited barking. It sounded like somebody was playing a game with her.
“Sorry dear, I can’t hear you. Quiet Boomy.” More laughing in the background as the barking subsided.
“Sounds like you’re all having a good time?”
Her mother giggled. “The boys are playing ‘Just Dance’ on the Wii and Boomy is trying to join in.”
Helen smiled to herself, imagining the scene. The dog barked again. “OK, so long as you’re all alright?” She raised her voice to beat the background noise.
“We’re fine, thank you.”
“I should be back in a couple of hours.”
“Great, see you then.” Helen clicked to end the call, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. Just at that moment a rush of excitement hit her by surprise, almost knocking her sideways. She had never felt so exhilarated. This must be what her father had referred to. It should be accompanied by a health warning.
She bit her lip for a moment, then put the phone back in her pocket and marched back into the bar. Pemberton was still at the counter, waving a note in front of the busy bar staff.
She stood next to him. “I’ll have a vodka and coke,” she said smiling. Plenty of time later for homework . . .
About the Author
Jane Isaac lives with her husband, daughter and dog, Bollo, in Northants, UK. Two of her murder mystery short stories will appear in crime anthologies by Rainstorm Press and Bridge House Publishing, due for release in 2012. An Unfamiliar Murder is her first novel.
Visit her website at www.janeisaac.co.uk