A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2)

by Edward Holmes

  Saul looked to the old man slowly seemingly oblivious to the sounds of La Bamba coming from my phone, “You still got my old man’s gun, right?”

  Tony shrugged, “It got stolen from my house a long time ago. I always intended to give it you back, Saul, when you were old enough but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you someone had stolen it off me.”

  Saul rubbed his chin for moment before speaking, “You do have a rifle though. I’ve seen it at your flat. Your flat that I rang when my men got shot at playing football and you didn’t answer.”

  “I told you Saul I was sorry I wasn’t in I went to the offy for some booze. And the rifle is still there it’s not been fired for about thirty years. I doubt it even could fire a bullet, let alone be the gun that has been used to kill people.”

  I was about to say something when my phone rang again, I hastily batted at the device in my pocket. The trio were looking at me and I got the feeling there was doubt creeping into Saul’s mind about his friend. So I made a quick joke and pressed my advantage, “Guess I’m popular today. Tony, a Lee Enfield rifle was used in the shooting at Saul’s place, like the one you have. You were trained to use a rifle when you were in the army, you dislike the fact that there are drugs on the streets where you grew up and you know that the person you helped raise is the main person putting them on the streets. All of that suggests motive and opportunity.”

  “Except that I’m not the shooter. Hell, me and Max have been shot at ourselves.”

  “Yeah, and that wasn’t with the revolver that was used in the recent killings. That could have been a grudge with any of your fighters or either of you two from a whole host of people.”

  Tony looked exasperated and threw down his hands in despair, “Ok, what about the other shooter, that guy who was on the telly when you chased him down. They said that he was a suspect because of his rifle, the type of weapon that was used. Explain that.”

  “Tony, you know all the people in this area, you know if you wanted to get a weapon you could.”

  He shook his head, “I’m an old man, Harper, getting up of a morning is hard enough let alone traipsing through woods to try and shoot at an old friend. I don’t exactly fraternize with the likes of Kai Nelson or that Burch kid over in Raky either. You also seem to forget that when I did my time in the Army I was a medic. Why would I ever kill someone?”

  “Maybe you just had enough of all of the death and the destruction to life around you,” I offered but before I could give any more of an argument my phone rang yet again.

  “Just take the call, Harper,” Saul said through gritted teeth.

  I dug the phone out of my pocket and accepted the call, “Hello, this isn’t a good time.”

  “John, I really need to speak to you,” a breathless Camille said on the speaker.

  “Like I said, sweetie, this is not the best of times,” I replied lowering my voice and turning away from the other men in the room.

  “John, I just received a voice recording from the shooter in my email. It’s definitely him, I’m sure of it. He said he is going to escalate the violence and start targeting police officers due to some collusion he has seen recently.”

  My hand went to my forehead and I pinched the bridge of my nose before replying, “Can you send me a copy of that message? I’ve got a number for you to contact, I’ll send you that as soon as possible. Do not release this story yet, please.”

  “I can’t keep it a secret for long, John, and if I don’t put this information out soon then people will die and I can’t live with that.”

  “I promise this will be sorted as soon as possible. Just give me ten minutes.”

  “Ok, ten minutes,” she said, a little more calm returning to her voice.

  “Thank you, I’ll speak soon,” I ended the call and looked at the waiting gentlemen, “Ok then…erm, Tony, how good are you with a computer?”

  He frowned at me, “I know how to switch it on but that is about it. Never had much use for them to be honest.”

  I rubbed my eyes and then held up my hands, “Then I’m in the strange situation of being happy and sad to say that you are no longer a suspect, Tony. I’m sorry about this.”

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Now they say sorry is one of the hardest words to say and I have to agree. The main reason I hate saying it is that I hate to admit that I was wrong in any way. Since I am very rarely wrong I’d rather try and bluster my way out of the situation, however when there is a room full of well armed men waiting for you to walk out, you have to be man enough to stand up and admit your error. Not that apologising for wrongly suspecting Tony was easy either. He seemed to take it lightly, but Saul was not a happy bunny. Neither was Max and both of the men looked like they would happily beat me to a bloody pulp for my false accusation.

  I explained that in every investigation there would be false leads and that I was sorry for any inconvenience but new information had come to light that suggested Tony wasn’t the shooter. The old man could have been lying about his proficiency with computers but I suspected he was telling the truth. He was of a generation that wouldn’t necessary leap at the idea of using a computer. My feeling was that Tony, if he was the shooter, would not contact someone electronically, he was much more likely to use old-fashioned mail.

  To gain their trust again, I opened and played the email that Camille had sent me on my phone. Any lingering doubts I had went as I studied Tony’s face during the message. Everyone was surprised at what the shooter had to say and the threat he issued. The distorted voice gave no clue as to who the person was, but I didn’t doubt his threat. I also didn’t doubt that the collusion he saw was my saving Saul the night before. Which meant I had another worry on my mind and even more incentive to find the bastard, if he was going to use that to justify killing police officers.

  I apologised again and told them I had to leave to continue my investigation. I knew I was pushing my luck but I needed time to think and there was a missed call from Spencer on my phone. If he had information for me, I didn’t want to discuss it within earshot of these men. The two boxers were more than happy to let me go but Saul was still pissed off and took me to one side. He used the techniques he had learnt from years of running an illegal business; that is he threatened me. It went along the lines of if I ever suggest that one of his associates was the shooter again the authorities would never find enough of my body parts to identify me. Now I understand where he was coming from, I had slandered one of the people who had raised him but the problem was it hindered me from looking objectively at my suspect pool, which had now expanded. Saul pointed the finger at the young drug dealers saying I should focus on them instead of his men.

  I managed to calm the man down and, as an added bonus to relax him, I told him about the money making opportunity that was my dog running the next day. Again, on a personal level, not the best thing I could have done since it would no doubt lead to some awkward questions in relation to betting practice for my trainer and partner in the venture if not done right but I needed something to appease Saul and the prospect of making money was good enough for him.

  Walking out of the gym, I immediately sent the recording to Harris, hoping that my technical whizz could find out some information from the message. In his usual pessimistic style he said he doubted that he would be able to discover anything useful for me and, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was just saying that so he could not do any work and sit around the office. I also asked him to do some more background work on Nelson and his opposite number in the Rakspeath gang Burch. There may be something to Saul’s suspicions but it was a desperate move for me since they had remained very much on the periphery of the case. Nothing in their files had suggested any sort of intelligence or character traits that I would expect from this type of serial killer.

  Once Harris was given his tasks, I text Camille Spencer’s number and then rang the detective as I walked to my car, “Spencer, please tell me you have some good news,” I sai
d slumping into the driver’s seat and closing my eyes, trying to soothe the headache that had suddenly afflicted me.

  “I’m sorry to say I can’t. I managed to get into Ashworth to speak to the armed robber who had the gun last as far as our records know, and he sold it to Boulton.”

  I let out a sigh of exasperation, “This shooter is too smart for his own good, Spencer. He’s closed the loop on the revolver and what’s the bet if we looked at some of the victims from the football shooting that they could have also passed on weapons? Our best witness to find out who the shooter is and he was the first person to die that we know of. He’s closing loops.”

  “It doesn’t help us one bit either. I take it things aren’t going well on your end either.”

  “They’re worse than you can possibly imagine. Firstly my chief suspect is probably innocent and in accusing him, I managed to piss off Big Saul. Secondly I had to give up my good betting tip for the week to pacify that drug kingpin and thirdly, and much more importantly, the shooter has got in touch with my reporter friend.”

  “What? Are you being serious?”

  Instinctively I nodded even though I knew he couldn’t see me, “He sent her a message and she is going to call you as soon as possible to go over it with her. This shooter says he is going to start targeting the police because he thinks there is collusion between the boys in blue and drug dealers. Now I’m not saying everyone is squeaky clean and I’m sure you know people on the force who turn a blind eye but he is really going over the line here.”

  “He went over the line when he first shot someone.”

  “I agree, but he needs to be found before he sends out a message that it is ok to target cops.”

  “But we are left chasing shadows again. This guy could come out of anywhere. This is a big city, John, and we can’t protect the people and ourselves from every threat,” There was a fear in Spencer’s voice that wasn’t personal. He was worried about the people around him, not himself, and he knew that if we didn’t do something that it could be his friends and co-workers that ended up dead.

  I shook my head, “Then let’s hope that he starts making some mistakes before things get a lot worse. At the moment I have no idea how we’re gonna stop this guy. If you want I can meet you in town to go through what we’ve got and speak to my reporter together. When this story breaks it is going to have to be well managed, you can be on the front end again.”

  “It’s not about being the face of this, John, I’m just doing my job and need the bastard off the streets.”

  “Let’s get to work then.”

  Chapter Forty Nine

  Vince Gilroy was happy to be back on the road. He felt safer being sat in the police van than when he was out on the street. Once the news had broke that the ‘Seasonal Shooter’ would now be targeting the police as well as drug dealers, the city had gone on high alert. It had been nearly twenty four hours since the message had gone viral on the internet and there had yet to be any shootings, which was a blessing. The problem was that everyone was now on edge, jumping at shadows. This was made worse by the parcels that had been delivered across the Merseyside area. Nearly every station had received one from different couriers and, be it a package or an envelope, each one contained some sort of white powder. The fear of chemical attack meant that stations had to be locked down whilst the substances were checked but since there had been no casualties most thought that it was a hoax. However with the current threat no one could be certain and the risk of contamination was enough to bring most stations to halt.

  Vince would have been more than happy to sit behind a desk, locked inside, and ride out a potential chemical threat than risk being shot. However he had a job to do and there was a raid that morning. There had been an anonymous call about a house a couple of days before. It wasn’t exactly high priority with all the shootings going on but it was drug related. Drug and gang related crimes were something that the force could work on and the prevailing theory was that the obvious connection of attacking the drug dealers earlier meant that arresting gang members might reveal who the shooter was. Of course that was a long shot since if the gangs knew who the sniper was then it was more than likely that they would have enacted their own brand of justice by now.

  There had been a plan to hit the house after a brief investigation had revealed that there was a possibility that it was drug farm, especially since there was no heat signature at all coming from the house when the helicopter flew over. That suggested that there was some shielding to mask it from being seen.

  The planned assault was for later in the week but there had been an emergency call when a grenade had been thrown through the window. Emergency services and the police on scene had found a massive stash of marijuana and four superficially injured drug dealers in the living room, two of whom had to be taken to hospital. There were another two people upstairs who were also arrested. Right now the four people with minor injuries sat sullenly in the back of his van.

  Vince was certain none of the men had any connection to the gunman who was terrorising the city and if it were not for the grenade attack then he doubted very much that the assortment of weapons and drugs would have been captured. It was worrying to think that even in the midst of this ‘Seasonal Shooter’s’ spree of killing that the usual gang rivalries continued unchecked. He had hoped, as had many, that the shooter was one of these deranged gang members who had just overstepped the mark and would be taken out by his own kind. Unfortunately even if it was, some of the gangs did not see the drug world as a business opportunity the older hoods did. They saw it as a mark of respect and would continue fighting as long as they gained credibility for it. However targeting police was a double edged sword. It both intensified scrutiny on the gang members and suspects but also reduced the number of police on the streets.

  The public had been kinder than Vince had thought to the news that the trigger-happy killer was going to be targeting the police. After recent scandals the boys in blue were not the most liked of public servants in the country, never mind the city, which had actively been framed by corrupt and power hungry police. The change in the gunman from originally targeting drug dealers to the civilian population had altered public opinion. No longer was this man a vigilante clearing the streets but now he was just a deranged killer. Threatening to shoot the police was even worse; he was actively going after people sworn to protect the innocent.

  No one was volunteering to patrol the streets unless it was in the city centre and that was only when wearing actual bulletproof vests. With the gunman using both rifles and handguns, even these protective measures were not the best. More worryingly was that he apparently had enough skill to shoot some of his targets in the head and there was no protection for the officers from that type of attack.

  Never in his life had Vince felt this sort of fear. He had been doing the job for nearly two decades and although there had been a few altercations in his past he had not feared for his own safety to this extent. It had been a number of years since he had patrolled the local neighbourhood and he spent the majority of his time as a desk sergeant at the station he was driving to. Unfortunately, due to the shake-ups going on around fitness requirements and that a number of people had taken leave for the holidays, he had been roped into driving the van that day. Not that he resented the work, he was proud that even in this time he had not taken a day off and that he was out making arrests.

  Next to Vince sat Peter Stevenson who was just as worried about the sniper but also happy to be doing some physical work. The fear of being trapped in a confined area with a possible toxic agent sent shivers down his spine. He was new to the force and seeing the carnage created by a grenade had given him some disturbing flashbacks to his time in Afghanistan with the Fusiliers. Having left the Army he had joined the police to avoid the death and destruction dealt out by weapons like the one that had been lobbed through the window of the drug farm. Peter knew that the police would not want him to be involved in the armed response unit sin
ce they tried to avoid service veterans in their selection process. He did however know that there was a brotherhood of service and he could do some good by trying to maintain the peace.

  It was strange for Peter being back in a world worrying about snipers. Of course the training and knowledge he had received in the Army never allowed him to truly relax and being in a city where gun crime was something that you had to live with only heightened those trained senses but this was a serious threat, something he had personal experience of. He had tried to calm Vince down by saying that there was nothing really to worry about but it had been a hollow lie. The older man had been kind to him when he had first started so he offered those words and tried to sound brave, even going so far as to tell some of the stories from his previous career which was something the he tried to avoid. Vince knew the Peter had been lying but not to the same extent as the former soldier. If this ‘Seasonal Shooter’ was well trained then they would not know about the bullet that killed them until it had hit them and that was something Peter had lived with before. Although Peter knew that detectives worked around the clock and that there was an armed response unit ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, he also knew that there had been little development in the case since the wrongful death of Leo Ambrose.

  Peter did his best to put that thought out of his head but he looked around at his surroundings as they neared the police station. He was wary of any flash of light, every bit of refuse on the streets. Due to that Pete noticed the bag on the pavement opposite the van almost immediately and his eyes narrowed wary of improvised explosive devices on the roadside from his tours in the Army. Those same eyes went wide with shock and horror and a bullet crashed through the windshield of the van, spiderwebbing the glass and hitting Vince square in the chest. The stab proof vest was no match for the high calibre bullet and it shattered his ribcage before exploding his heart, exiting his back and burying itself into the seat behind him.