Tom

by Tim O'Rourke

  Then I remembered seeing the man holding something out, showing it to Alice as she walked along the street next to his car. It was bright and shiny. Realising I had seen something similar before, I turned to Tom. ‘Get your warrant card out.’

  ‘What?’ Tom said.

  ‘Just give it to me,’ I said.

  Tom took his warrant card from his pocket and opened it, revealing the silver police badge. With my skin turning cold and my heart racing, I turned to Harker. ‘This is how he gets the girls into his car. He shows them one of these. Your killer is a police officer.’

  The silence that followed was deafening. It seemed to go on forever. I handed Tom his warrant card. He sat numbly, looking at it.

  ‘That is a serious accusation,’ Harker eventually said.

  ‘I know,’ I said and took another sip of water.

  ‘Are you sure about what you saw?’ Harker pressed me, again making me feel like I was the suspect.

  ‘I’m as sure as I can be,’ I said. ‘But it would make sense, don’t you think? I mean, why else would girls like Kerry and Alice get into a complete stranger’s car late at night?’

  ‘Charley’s right, Guv,’ Tom whispered, like it was a secret that he didn’t want to be overheard. ‘It was raining the night Kerry was taken. She wouldn’t have thought it strange if a copper pulled up beside her and offered her a lift home. That’s what a good copper would do. Kerry wouldn’t have been suspicious, she would have been grateful; especially after the row she’d had in the pub with her ex-boyfriend. A friendly copper would have been a welcome sight.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Harker said, shaking his head. ‘A police officer? Who?’

  ‘You’re the detectives,’ I said.

  Harker shot me a quick glance. ‘This isn’t something to be taken lightly. Anyway, we only have your word for it. This is only something that you claim to have seen in your …’

  ‘So that isn’t Alice Cotton’s purse then?’ I hissed, pushing it back across the table towards him. ‘Alice Cotton wasn’t killed by a train? She didn’t have light brown hair and hazel eyes. Her father isn’t a wealthy businessman? Do I need to go on?’

  ‘No,’ Harker said, shaking his head. It was the first time since meeting him I’d managed to break his stare. He looked down at the purse and put it in his pocket.

  ‘So where do we go from here, Guv?’ Tom asked, sounding out of breath.

  But before Harker had had a chance to answer, my dad appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’

  We all looked at him.

  ‘Who are you?’ he barked at Harker.

  ‘I’m Detective Insp—’

  ‘And what are you doing in my house?’ he shouted, looking at my flushed face and the wet towel strewn across the kitchen table.

  ‘Charley has been helping us—’ Tom started, getting up from his seat.

  ‘What you mean is that you’ve been using my daughter again,’ Dad snapped at him. ‘Jesus, can’t you see what happens to her every time she has those flashes?’

  ‘Listen Mr Shep—’ Harker said.

  ‘No, you listen!’ Dad barked. ‘This is my daughter you’re messing with. She’s not some kind of freak show you can use to help solve your crimes. You’re the bloody police – you solve ’em!’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to do,’ Tom insisted.

  ‘What, by getting my daughter to make herself ill? You really are a selfish bastard.’

  ‘Please, Dad,’ I said, tugging at his arm. ‘Let me explain.’

  Dad gripped me by the shoulders. ‘Charley, you can’t see it, but he’s just using you. He is using your so-called ability to see things to help him climb the promotional ladder. And when he gets to the top he will drop you faster than a sack of shit.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Tom shouted.

  ‘Why else would you be hanging around with a seventeen-year-old girl?’ Dad hissed. ‘Or perhaps there’s another reason?’

  ‘Don’t be so disgusting,’ Tom said. ‘Charley is my friend.’

  ‘You have a funny way of treating your friends,’ Dad spat, and squared up to him.

  I wedged myself between them, pushing them apart.

  ‘Please, Dad,’ I cried. ‘I want to help Tom. I want to help him find the man who killed Kerry.’

  ‘But it’s not your job!’

  ‘I can help,’ I insisted. ‘Every time I see those flashes, I see a little more about that man. I know it won’t be long until I know who it is and where to find him.’

  ‘And that’s what frightens me, Charley,’ he said. ‘This man, whoever he is, is dangerous. I don’t want you to end up on those tracks like your mo …’

  The silence was broken by Harker.

  ‘Come on, Tom. I think we should leave,’ he said, heading back down the hall towards the front door.

  ‘But …’ Tom started.

  ‘Just get out.’ Dad glared at him.

  Tom reached forward and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I’ll call you,’ he whispered.

  ‘You’ll leave my daughter alone,’ Dad told him, following Tom and Harker to the door. ‘If I ever see you around here again or find out you have contacted my daughter, I will report the both of you to your superiors. I’ll tell them what you did here tonight. Now get out!’

  CHAPTER 28

  Tom – Wednesday 21:55 Hrs.

  ‘That went well,’ I said, climbing into the car.

  ‘I guess he has a point,’ Harker said, starting the engine and pulling away from the kerb.

  ‘Looks like I won’t be seeing Charley again,’ I said.

  ‘That should be the last of your worries,’ Harker said.

  ‘But I do worry,’ I told him. ‘I like Charley a lot. I was hoping to spend some time with her over Christmas. You know, take her out some place nice. Now I’ve gone and messed everything up.’

  ‘You’ll get over it,’ Harker said, concentrating on driving. The roads were fast becoming slippery with snow.

  ‘I don’t want to get over it,’ I told him. ‘Anyway, I don’t even know what I’m doing discussing this with you, it’s my personal life.’

  ‘You started it,’ he said, shooting me a glance.

  ‘I never.’

  ‘Yeah, you did,’ he said dryly. ‘You involved your personal life the moment you took Charley up to that old house.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I shrugged, turning to look out of the window at the falling snow. It annoyed me that he was right.

  ‘So what do you reckon?’ Harker asked me, after a few moments of silence.

  ‘About what?’ I asked.

  ‘Do you think we have a killer in our midst?’ he said. ‘Do you really think this man is one of us – a copper – not just someone using fake ID?’

  ‘Charley hasn’t been wrong yet,’ I said, watching the snow swirl through the night sky.

  ‘That’s what scares me,’ Harker muttered. ‘Got any ideas?’

  It was the question I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me. Slowly, I turned to look at him in the gloom of the car.

  ‘Well?’ he pushed.

  ‘Jackson,’ I said.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking?’ Harker said, almost steering us into the kerb.

  ‘I’m not joking,’ I told him. ‘He’s the one who couldn’t wait to brush Kerry’s death under the carpet as an accident. And when the evidence started to show otherwise, he leapt on Jason Lane. He was the one who quashed the other two cases that came CID’s way.’

  ‘But when would he have had the opportunity?’ Harker asked. ‘He was at work the night Kerry died.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ I asked. ‘You were out of the office with Lois, and I made my way down to the tracks on my own. Jackson was already there when I arrived. And that’s another thing, Charley said Kerry scratched this guy’s car, which was white. We have a whole yard of white police cars parked at the back of the nick. Jackson could’ve taken one of them.’

  ‘I don�
�t know,’ Harker sighed. ‘I don’t like pointing the finger at one of our own – one of my own – one of the team.’

  ‘Is Jackson married?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ Harker said. ‘Got divorced recently. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Charley told me that during one of the flashes, she saw the killer’s hand. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but she could see a mark on his finger where one had once been. I noticed the other day Jackson has the same type of mark on his finger …’

  ‘So he’s divorced. So are many men living in Marsh Bay,’ Harker reminded me. ‘It’s not enough.’

  ‘Have the printouts from Kerry’s phone arrived yet?’ I asked Harker.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

  ‘Jackson said he faxed off for them. It’s not as if he needs the phone to get that information, so why haven’t they shown up yet?’

  ‘Maybe they have,’ Harker said.

  ‘Maybe they were never requested?’ I said. ‘And what’s with this Alice Cotton? You never mentioned her back at my flat. How long ago did she die?’

  Harker took a deep breath, and then said, ‘Last year.’

  ‘Last year?’ I cried. ‘Natalie Dean’s death was just three weeks ago! You told me that these deaths had been spread over ten years or more.’

  ‘And they have been,’ Harker said. ‘Except for the Dean girl.’

  ‘And let me guess – it was put down as either a suicide or a death by misadventure?’

  ‘Yes,’ Harker said, and I could feel the embarrassment seeping from him. ‘You’ve got to understand, Henson, I was on annual leave. Jackson dealt with the case in my absence.’

  ‘So that’s why CID was called out to the death of Kerry Underwood,’ I gasped. ‘Someone thought it was strange that two girls had died in a matter of weeks in the same circumstances and in the same place.’ Then, staring at him, I added, ‘That’s why you called SOCO and the Search Team in. It wasn’t to do with anything I said. You thought there was something not quite right too. You didn’t believe Jackson’s theory either.’

  ‘Okay, smartarse,’ Harker snapped. ‘You don’t have to be so damn cocky about it. Yes, I did think it was strange, but not too strange. I mean, there are regular spots where people kill themselves. Take the Forth Bridge. How many people have jumped from there over the years? What about that town in Wales, Bridgend. A place that would normally see two or three suicides a year, had about twenty-five in two years and all of them by hanging. But did it all point to a killer? No. This sort of thing has been happening for centuries. One person kills themselves, another hears about it and they do the same – it becomes kind of contagious. It’s known as the Suicide Cluster Phenomenon. And I bet you didn’t know about that?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted.

  ‘Okay, so there were two deaths in the same place within a few weeks of each other,’ he said. ‘But it didn’t start me thinking serial killer. There could have been a number of reasons.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Internet suicide cults, for starters,’ he said.

  ‘You didn’t really consider that, did you?’ I asked him.

  ‘Why not?’ he growled. ‘It seems a more logical explanation than a seventeen-year-old girl witnessing the deaths in a series of flashes inside her head.’

  ‘Okay, you’ve made your point,’ I said. ‘But it still doesn’t rub out what Charley told us about the killer being one of us.’

  We drove in silence, until Harker turned the car into the station car park.

  ‘What have you brought me here for?’ I asked. ‘I’m off the team, remember?’

  ‘You’re back for now or until I decide to kick you off again.’

  ‘Thanks, you’re all heart,’ I said, though I was secretly really grateful. ‘Did you tell anyone else that I took Charley up to the railway lines?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘That stays between you and me.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks. So, what now?’

  ‘I want you to check all the police car logs for the night of Kerry’s death,’ he said. ‘I want to see which car it was that Jackson booked out. I want to see if there are any scratches on it. Then, I want you to chase up the mobile phone company and get that print out.’

  ‘So you do believe that Jackson is the killer?’ I asked him.

  ‘No I don’t,’ he said back.

  ‘Then what’s the point in me checking the car logs?’

  ‘Because I want to prove to you that Jackson wasn’t involved and that he’s a good copper,’ he said, fixing me with his cold stare. ‘What are you waiting for? Crack on.’

  I swung open the car door and got out; the snow was coming down harder now, covering the roof of the station and the cars in the yard. Just as I was about to walk away, Harker called to me.

  ‘Henson!’

  ‘Yes, Guv?’

  ‘You know if you’re really stuck for something to do over Christmas, my wife usually does a pretty good spread,’ he said. ‘You’d be welcome.’

  At first I didn’t know what to say. I was surprised and touched by his kind offer. ‘Thanks, Guv, but I’ll be okay.’

  ‘Think about it,’ he said, as he marched away in the opposite direction.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to give special thanks my wife, Lynda, and three sons, Joseph, Thomas and Zachary, for putting up with me. I would also like to thank Barry Cunningham for being the first publisher to take a chance on me, and Imogen Cooper for all her advice and help. Both of you have brought out the very best in Flashes. Thank you. Thanks to my agent Peter Buckman for signing me on that cold snowy day in March and for telling me to go away and write a gripping mystery for young adults. I hope I’ve done that with Flashes.

  Although Flashes was the first of my books to be signed by a publisher I had been self-publishing my stories on the internet since 2011. During that time I have sold 300,000 books and none of that would have been possible without the army of loyal fans who follow my stories and tell all their friends and family about them. So I am truly grateful to the following fans who have encouraged me: Lisa Ammari, Jennifer Martin-Green, Carles Barrios, Shanna Benedict, Carolyn Johnson Pinard, Caroline Barker, Amanda Golder, Sarah Lane, Rose Lennart, Spandana Nallamilli, Louise Chapman, James Hodson, Marsha Meadows, Rose Freeman, Toni Francis, Lindy Roberts, Zoey Burns, Roz Hilditch, Kara Cheney, Erica Paddock, Stacey Szita, Gemma Dahren, Michelle Wilton, Paul Collins Bullet, Shereen Baldwin, Courtney Jackson, Noreen Mc Cartan-Doran, Trish Diehm, Cassie Sansom, Michelle Brearley, Conny CH, Shelley Mckelvey, Cathy Douglas, Tina Altman, Shelbey Proudfoot, Teresa Walsh, Jackie McLeish, Heidi Madgwick, Claire White, Kellie Micallef, Maureen Harn, Rachel Micallef, Nereid Gwilliams, Tricia McDaniel, Jen Rosenkrans Montgomery, Wendy Wiegert, Robbie Parker, Joanne Lonsdale, Michelle Hayman, Sue McGarvie, Lieann Stonebank, Abbey Pearson, Jessica Claire, Jennifer Goehl, Maria Vargas, Stacey Tucker, Michelle Thornton, Kathy Howrey Brand, Holly Harper, Sarah Isherwood-Smith, Kiera Hayles, Savannah Harrop, Amber Mundwiller, Kathleen Guardado, MaryAnn Brittingham, Laura Wootton, Lois Li, Tara Taggart, Andreia Lopes, Kimberly Mayberry, Helen Louise Ellis, Ruth Morgan, Tina Langford, Melissa Wright, Rebecca Holloway, Cally Munn, Rachel Roddy, Sabrina Christine Quarantillo, Tina Altman, MaryAnn Brittingham, Amanda Duke Ne Carlin, Krystale Willis, Etta Mellett, Julie Garner Shaw, Lindy Roberts, Shellie Hedge, Sam McMullen, Jackie McLeish, Jen Clachrie, Amanda Anderson, Jaime-Leigh Wilton, Jordan Wilton, Jemma Wood, Barbara Grubb, Heidi Madgwick, April Harvey, Lisa Kresco-Churchey, Samantha O’Rourke, Jade Sutherland, Stephen Gibson, Kay Donley, Beata Janik, Warren Bixby, Helen Websdale, Fiona Nelson, Gemma Rushton, Kristen Heyl, Michelle Thornton, Nikki Espiritu, Jenn Waterman, Nikki Ayres, Gayle Morell, Nichola Dickson, MaryAnn Brittingham, Lee Creed, Wayne Millard, Jenna N. Waller, Jolene Saunders, Patricia Lavery, Ally Esmonde, Julie-Anne Hope, Hannah Landsburgh, Kayleigh Morgan Griffiths, Clare O’Neil, Bernice Thomas, Abbie Robertson and Marilyn Waters.

  Thank you all so much.

  H
ugs,

  Tim XX

  Text © Tim O’Rourke 2014

  This electronic edition published in 2014

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