Doc put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Right about what?’
‘You said six wasn’t enough. We should learn to listen to you more... but at least we know where he is. We’ll get him now Doc. Hostage takers never win. Thanks for everything. I’ll call you when it’s over.’ Carver spun away and jogged to the briefing room.
Doc went outside, arm up, signalling to every passing cab he was a willing fare. Despite the rain drying up he still had to wait ten minutes before an empty taxi stopped for him. In that time his emotions ebbed, relief his overriding sensation.
Judy was safe.
He would do his best to help her and Josh through John’s funeral... and after. Perhaps his own demons would die now.
As he sat in the cab, a little niggle started in his mind. And the more he considered it, the more it took root. He stared at the passing street, his eyes not registering.
Why had Leech asked for the Commissioner? It was not like him at all... And why not ask for Judy? Or himself?
There was no connection between Leech and the top policeman in the capital. Was it ego? Leech undoubtedly had a massive one. But it did not feel right to Doc. He mulled it over as his cabbie did battle with the traffic on the way to Fulham Magistrates Court.
***
Judy hugged Sarah, her lawyer and old friend. ‘Thank you, thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
‘Yeah, me neither! Now let me go you soppy cow. I have other clients waiting for me. And they pay me!’ With a final hug she said, ‘I hope this new man in your life really is all you say. Just look after him, and don’t let this one play away!’ Sarah disentangled herself, kissed Judy’s cheek and headed back to her chambers.
Judy was overjoyed at the result. And suddenly thrilled. Her man was here, climbing the steps to the court. She rushed to him as he reached the top step, gave him a hug too.
‘It’s all sorted. I got exactly what I wanted...’ The words came out in a rush, then she realised how miserable he looked. ‘Colin? What’s the matter? Are you okay?’ His face was stressed, the lines deep and his skin slate grey in the damp afternoon light. It started drizzling again.
‘Listen my love... John didn’t recover... He died this afternoon. I’ve been trying to call you.’
‘Oh Christ... No!’ She did not want this. She’d been celebrating her victory over him just moments before and he was already dead.
Shame swept through her, her last words to John echoing in her head again and again.
I wish you were dead.
It wasn’t true. She didn’t mean it!
Colin was holding her tight as she sagged against him, the expression on his face deepening as her tears spilled onto her cheeks.
He was downcast. ‘It’s okay to cry sweetheart. I’m sure you feel something still, and it’s okay.’
She sniffed. ‘It’s not that... I said some terrible things to him the last time we spoke. I told him I wished he was dead.’
Doc was applying gentle pressure to her shoulders, trying to get her to move inside. He stopped, put his face to hers, his brown eyes peering deep into hers. ‘Your wishes had nothing to do with this. And you know it.’
She nodded, wiped the tears, fumbled for a tissue.
Doc went on, ‘It was Leech. Only Leech.’
‘But why did Leech harm John? Because of me! It’s my fault. Leech is obsessed with me. I told him I was married.’ Judy could feel depression sit on her shoulders, her guilt pressing down on her, a flower being crushed by heavy weights.
‘You told him?’ Colin’s voice was sharp.
‘Yes... He asked me out! Can you believe it?’
‘No! That wasn’t on the recording!’
‘After the interview. He just came out with it. I told him I was married, but he could see there was no ring on my finger.’
‘Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?’ His face was flushed now, no longer pallid, his mouth screwed up in anger.
She bristled, her own hurt and guilt over John redirected outward. At Doc.
‘It wasn’t important. And anyway, what’s it to you? We aren’t bloody married.’ She should have stopped then, but could not. ‘And you don’t own me.’ She felt her cheeks pulse with excess blood.
‘Ugh!’ Doc raised his voice, something she had never witnessed before, as he said, ‘I’m talking about colleagues. Professionals. I’m supposed to analyse all the data. Why the hell did you hold back?’
‘I was worried about you!’ She closed her eyes, put a hand over them, cleared the moisture there. ‘You’ve been such a basket case – ’
‘A what? Is that what you think of me? Jesus Christ!’ He slapped a hand to his forehead, his expression alternating between disbelief and fury.
She ploughed on, feeling less emotional now, having successfully transferred her anguish to Doc.
‘You know what I mean. The nightmares. The images... I’ve been concerned for you. That’s all.’ She tried to put a hand to his face, but he pushed it away.
‘That’s all! I’m a bloody basket case. That’s what you said!’
‘Oh please, Colin, I didn’t mean it.’
‘I know what you meant! You think I can’t even be trusted to do my job... And I thought you and I had something special. Pah!’ He puffed his lips out as he said it to her. ‘Were you just keeping an eye on me for the Judge? Is that all it was?’
His words were a punch to her gut. She hadn’t really meant to hurt him. She wanted to re-wind the whole conversation, go back and replay the scene. She could not.
‘No Colin. Please don’t – ’
‘Don’t what? Wonder what else you haven’t told me?’
His anger was such a shock, she was at a loss, didn’t know how to handle him. He had always been so placid, even under pressure. Why was he so animated now?
‘I’m going for a drink.’ He left her, forlorn and bedraggled on the court steps, and crossed the road to a pub opposite.
Oh you stupid cow!
What had she done?
She ran through the conversation in her mind. She had insulted his professionalism. He was right. She should have told him everything. It was stupid of her not to. Could he have worried any more for her? Hardly.
Trust.
He had believed they had it. And she had let him down. It was her fault and he was justifiably pissed off with her, she decided. And had she really called him a basket case?
Well done Judy! Supportive. Understanding. Subtle and empathetic... Not!
She ranted at herself. Her guilt over John paling, compared to the possibility she had screwed up her chances with Colin. That she might just lose the best man she had met in years.
And his comment about the Judge... Had she honestly given the impression that she was babysitting him for his boss?
What a complete shambles she had made of things.
She ran her hands through her hair, not sure what to do, her insides churning at the thought of losing him.
Then she made her decision. Apologise. Wholeheartedly.
She followed him to the pub.
***
Doc supped his pint, his blood pressure approaching normal again. What had she said to him? He was such a basket case she had to protect him from the truth! He quaffed half the pint at the thought of that little gem.
Yet... He had to admit. Was it really such a bad description? He thought back to Leech’s hearing just a few weeks ago... Hadn’t he called himself the very same thing?
But it’s one thing thinking it yourself, and quite another to hear it from someone you love.
He finished the beer, slammed the glass down and signalled for another. He had never sunk a pint that fast in his life.
Love?
He examined his feelings. Did he love her? She had certainly got under his skin... In much the same way Natalie had.
Natalie... It was one of the rare occasions he had been able to think of her without the images battering his conscio
usness. He glanced around the bar, half expecting to see her lovely face, warped and bloody.
She wasn’t there.
No clacking. Nothing.
Was he finally through it? Last night had been awful... When he had arrived home he’d been hallucinating again, and was desperate for more alcohol. But the warmth of Judy, both physical and spiritual, had helped him.
Was he healed?
He tried to bring the images to mind. He could, but they were no longer accompanied by the noise, there was no movie, just memory photographs, and the desolation he’d been experiencing had diluted to grief.
Oh, he missed her. But he certainly felt better.
He picked up his second beer, wondering if it was the high speed pint that had done it. He raised the glass to the bar, said, ‘Cheers,’ and took a pull just as Judy appeared in the doorway.
She cast around the bar and saw him. Her hair was damp and straggly, her eyes tearful, sorrowful as she came towards him. His heart did a back-flip. She was even more beautiful than he realised.
She stopped in front of him and they said the same thing simultaneously.
‘I’m sorry!’
They dissolved into laughter.
Doc spoke next, smiling. ‘Would you like to join this old basket case for a drink? Peace offering?’ He saw her face light up, her sorrow dissipated, and his heart did more acrobatics.
‘Why not? I think Josh can wait a little longer to hear about his father... You know, I really do feel nothing for John. Even now that he’s dead. Does that make me a heartless bitch?’
Doc moved his lips to her ear and whispered, ‘You have the biggest heart of anyone I know.’ He then kissed the nape of her neck, a tender touch that made his head spin as he breathed in her scent. ‘Wow. I think I’d better get you that drink.’ He wanted to make love. It was the first time he had felt that urge since the accident.
Accident.
What had he told her about her wishing John dead? About Leech? That it wasn’t her fault... In the same way the car crash was not his fault. It was exactly that, an accident.
He felt lighter, as if a great load had been shifted from his soul.
He ordered Judy’s drink, and then remembered he had not told her the latest on Leech.
‘Forgot to mention, Leech is holed up in your apartment... Surrounded by armed police. I don’t think we have to worry about him anymore.’
‘Well, I can’t say I’m thrilled that he’s in my home, but it’s fantastic news if he’s trapped. Well done, for yet another brilliant idea. I think we should celebrate. And I don’t care if it’s inappropriate because of John!’ She leaned across the bar, flagged down the barman and changed the order to a bottle of champagne.
‘It’s not inappropriate. John was never the man you thought he was. And he was no longer part of your life. Will you go to the funeral?’
‘I don’t think so... I could ask John’s parents to take Josh. They’d like that.’
They drank champagne, and chatted, just another couple in a London bar during a wet rush hour.
Doc’s phone rang. He considered ignoring it, the cosy sensation of being with the woman he loved shunting everything else into second place.
But it was Carver’s name on the display and Doc hoped it was news that Leech was in custody. He hit the button to answer.
‘Hi Jack. Have you got him?’
Doc listened, the colour washing from his features, his insides shrivelling at Carver’s news.
***
It was after five o’clock by the time Leech arrived at Doc’s street, the traffic was building and the pavements were busy as people started heading home on this grey, dismal July evening. Leech hated London, there were too many people shoving past. And he was still not comfortable with so many bodies around.
At least I’ll not be spotted so easily, he thought. He had seen no policemen since leaving the tube station and was now checking house numbers, looking for the psychiatrist’s home. Leech felt better here, this leafy avenue was pretty empty.
Powers was not doing badly for himself either. Leech took in the opulence, the large detached houses, expensive motors everywhere... and security cameras on some of the walls, lenses covering the front doors of the flashiest homes.
So what? There was not much chance anyone here would know him, except Powers. He wondered whether to bang on the door.
With his brother, he had not wanted to risk it. He knew Shaun would be lethal given the chance. But Powers? The fat wanker! No need to dick around. He would go straight to his door. If Powers was in, all well and good. If not he would retreat to the pub at the end of the road and try again after a few beers.
He stepped through the gate. No cameras evident here. Presumably Powers did not see himself or his home as a target in the way some of his neighbours did.
Wrong!
Leech strode to the door, hand tucked under his coat, the shotgun in his grasp. With his other hand he pressed the bell, the chimes ringing out part of a familiar nursery rhyme. Weird choice for an old fart.
After ten or fifteen seconds he repeated the action. Looks like I’ll be getting that pint then. The thought was transmitting itself to action, his feet shifting just as the door opened.
A white-haired old lady was looking him up and down as if he was a beggar or a tramp. He knew he was not appearing at his best with the bandages on his head, the plasters on his face and the blood soaked strapping on his paws all clearly visible to her.
‘Are you alright?’ Her voice was kindly and he immediately blamed Gruber for screwing up again, thinking he must have given him another wrong address... Unless this old dear was the fat wanker’s mother. Too old to be his missus.
He adopted his most charming voice. ‘I’m fine. Sorry to disturb you.’ His feet were still angled away, the shotgun hidden from view by his coat and body as he stood side on to her. ‘I came to see Doctor Powers. Have I got the right address?’
‘Oh yes. He’s due back tonight, but he’s not that kind of doctor.’
The charming persona disappeared, replaced by a shotgun to her throat and a rasp from his. ‘In that case I’ll come in and wait.’ As he shoved the gun at her she fainted, falling at his feet as if her bones had turned to mush and could no longer support her weight.
‘Shit!’
He stepped inside, dragged her body into the hall and slammed the door. The stupid old bag! He had not even done anything to her! At least he was inside now. They could wait for Powers together.
The thought of the man made his balls ache, the prospect of revenge now so close he could taste it. Powers made him sick. Pretending to know him, to understand him, when he actually knew nothing. And he had betrayed him. Like that whore Finch. Powers would know where she was, and he would tell.
Leech booted the old lady in the face, her head bouncing with the impact. ‘Who the fuck are you? The bastard’s mother?’ He would have some fun with them both. Then find the prick tease. Deal with her and piss off to the Caribbean.
He wrapped a thick bunch of white hair round his hand then winced at the sharp jolt of pain in his severed palm as he hauled the old woman along the hall and into the lounge. Once again his gaffer tape did its work on hands, feet and mouth. He was running short of it now, but did not think he would need much more. As he worked he wrinkled his nose.
‘Jesus wept! You stink of piss!’
He stomped on her face and ribs for the offence to his nose, then went to explore the house.
He was half-way up the stairs when he heard it. Some sort of computer game, like they had in the arcades he had seen while walking round London the night of his release. He followed the sounds to one of the bedrooms.
A young lad was engrossed, his back to Leech, a gun held in both hands, blasting away at aliens on a giant screen. Leech was mesmerised. It looked great fun. But he preferred a real gun. He crept up behind the boy, his own weapon pointed at the screen, the barrel almost resting on the top of the lad’s head.
>
He fired.
The screen imploded with the blast from his gun, a spectacular display of glass, fireworks and smoke.
Bloody brilliant!
The boy was rigid, his toy gun pointing still, as if his own actions had caused the disaster. Leech shouted in his ear, ‘Boo!’
The gun was still hovering above the boy’s head and connected with his skull as he leapt out of his chair. His voice was like a little girl’s, high and shrill as he let go a terrified squeal.
He spun round and Leech recognised him immediately. It was the kid from the photo he had found at Finch’s house. What the hell was their brat doing here?
The lad was quick. In the instant Leech’s mind was pre-occupied with the question, the boy’s foot jack-knifed into the chair, ramming it into Leech’s lower body. It was a lucky hit, the corner jabbing Leech’s left testicle, the shock of pain flooding his belly, doubling him up. Even so he made a grab for the boy with his left hand. He caught hold of the tee shirt and, though his lacerated fingers were numb, hung on, but the material ripped and the boy was out the door.
‘Fuck!’ Leech stood and fired the gun at the doorway.
Missed.
He sucked in a breath to calm his lower abdomen, filtered out the pain, and staggered after the runt, the jolting action aggravating his testicle more with each step.
He hollered after the kid, ‘I’ll kill you for that, you little bastard.’ He frantically reloaded as he hobbled to the landing.
He reached the top of the stairs as the boy was scrabbling with the front door lock.
Don’t let him get outside!
Leech, eyes watering from the sensations rampaging through his nether regions, aimed the shotgun down at the boy as the door flew open. He blinked to clear the tears and pulled the trigger as the lad bounded outside, shredding the front door with the shot.
Missed again! He would have to get out of the house now. The filth would be here in no time.
‘SHIT!’
He leapt down the stairs, ignoring the insistent ache in his groin, the queasiness and fire in his belly.
What now?
Just get out. Away.
He ran into the street in time to see the little boy sprint into the road from between two parked cars. A black SUV was travelling too fast to stop. The car tossed the boy into the air like a matador being flipped by an angry bull.
Remorseless: A British Crime Thriller (Doc Powers & D.I. Carver Investigate #1) Page 36