Will to Live

by Rachel Amphlett

  A four-pack of beer stood next to the toaster, a scattering of crumbs around its base, while the outer wrapping for a microwave meal had been left on the worktop nearer the refrigerator.

  Kay opened it, scanned the meagre contents, and slammed it shut with a sigh of exasperation before popping the door open on the microwave. A plastic dish containing what appeared to be a lasagne had been left on the glass turntable. She reached out and held her finger to the cellophane surface.

  It was still warm.

  Wherever Bailey was, he’d left in a hurry.

  ‘We must’ve missed him by minutes,’ she muttered.

  She closed the microwave and began to check the cupboards – people hid things in strange places, and she knew better than to discard any ideas before conducting a thorough search.

  Finally satisfied, she left the room and saw Barnes cross the hallway from the bathroom to the bedroom.

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Not yet. You?’

  ‘No.’

  She let out an exasperated sigh, and then pulled her phone from her bag as it began to ring.

  ‘Guv?’

  ‘Status?’

  ‘We’re in the flat. No sign of Bailey. We’re still searching.’

  ‘I’ve arranged for a uniform car to attend. If necessary, they’ll stay on site once you’ve finished conducting your search.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Kay swallowed. It seemed she wasn’t the only one thinking the flat may well have to be declared a crime scene if they didn’t find the occupant safe and well. ‘We’re nearly done here. I’ll call you back in a bit with another update.’

  Kay’s phone vibrated, and she put it to her ear once more. ‘Grey? I’m a bit busy right now.’

  ‘Your mystery mobile number went live thirty minutes ago. He rang someone. Do you recognise this number?’

  She froze as she listened, the digits tumbling over in her head. The sequence sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Dread began to creep through her veins, increasing her heart rate as an idea began to form. ‘Call Carys. See if it matches anyone on our database.’

  ‘Will do. I’ll call you straight back.’

  ‘Thanks, Grey.’

  ‘Kay?’ Barnes emerged from the bedroom and held up a mobile phone.

  ‘Is it password protected?’

  ‘No.’ He swiped the screen and accessed the recent calls log before passing it to Kay.

  ‘Kevin McIntyre?’

  ‘From his old work phone. Half an hour ago.’

  ‘Christ, we’re too late.’

  Forty-Eight

  Kay signed the crime scene register the uniformed officer thrust under her nose outside McIntyre’s house, pulled on overalls and bootees and stomped her way into the hallway.

  ‘Harriet? Where are you?’

  ‘Living room.’

  Kay pushed past one of the CSIs coming out of the room, and tried to calm her voice. It would do no good to panic; she had to remain focused, and she had to convey the urgency to Harriet and her team without disturbing the methodical way by which they were processing the room.

  ‘I need to see the map and calculations that were on the coffee table,’ she said. ‘He’s got another victim, and we need to find him now.’

  Harriet’s head snapped around to two CSIs who were huddled in one corner of the living room, carefully recording the evidence being seized. ‘You two – where’s the documentation DS Hunter needs?’

  ‘Here,’ said one of them.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Kay. She turned at the sound of a familiar voice in the hallway. ‘Stay there, Dave.’ She walked out of the house with Harriet in tow and reintroduced her to the BTP sergeant. ‘I know there are already too many people at this crime scene, but Dave knows the network better than us.’

  She handed over the maps and notebook to him, then stood at his side as he pulled on a pair of gloves and thumbed through the pages.

  Each combination of notes comprised a sketch on the left-hand side of the notebook, with corresponding dates and times on the right-hand side. The sketches were made up of a series of straight lines, arrows between circles and, chillingly, a stick figure drawn next to one of the lines.

  ‘Is this a kill diary?’

  ‘I think this is McIntyre’s way of working out the train times and speeds,’ said Walker. ‘These straight lines represent the tracks, the circles are stations, and the arrows have numbers next to them – the distance between stations.’ He held up the folded map of the area that had pencilled arrows scrawled across its surface. ‘It corresponds with this.’

  ‘And the crosses are kill sites?’

  ‘But retrospective, look.’ He flicked back to the beginning. ‘This is a rough drawing of what the site of Cameron Abbott’s death looked like, but before that you’ve got pages of notes where he’s researching the next location. Train times, visibility, ease of access to each site. Then on this page we’ve got the site where Nathan Cox was killed; a few pages later, Lawrence Whiting, and then Jason Evans most recently.’

  ‘Does it show us where we’ll find Peter Bailey?’

  Walker pawed at the pages until he found the most recent entry. ‘No – look, he’s still working out where that location might be.’

  ‘Can you work out from those where we might find him?’

  ‘I’ll have a go.’

  She wanted to tell him to hurry, that another life was in danger, but she knew it wouldn’t help. Instead, she paced the front garden, ignoring the damp air that swirled around her, and resisted the temptation to look at her watch.

  All the murders had taken place during the commuter rush, in darkness, and they were running out of time.

  ‘Got it.’

  She hurried over to where Walker stood, his finger on a place on the map. ‘The express from Victoria doesn’t stop at this station.’

  ‘Why there? Why now?’

  ‘On an evening like this, if the station staff don’t have to be out on the platform, they won’t be – it’s too cold. CCTV cameras are only placed at the car park and ticket office, and at the end of each platform.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  His eyes met hers. ‘Got any better ideas?’

  ‘We can have uniformed cars attend other sites, if you think he’ll be somewhere else.’

  He rubbed his chin, and pointed to two more locations. ‘Here. There are site works taking place at each of these – on the basis that’s how he killed Jason Evans, we’ll cover those as well. I can organise one of our patrols to go to this one, if you can manage a car to go to this other station, out at Harrietsham.’

  Kay turned to Barnes. ‘Radio it in. We need to move.’

  * * *

  Kay flung the car door shut and ran towards the entrance to the railway station, not waiting to see if Barnes was keeping up.

  As she passed the ticket office and burst through onto the platform, she slid to a halt and listened.

  ‘Anything?’ Barnes murmured as he joined her.

  ‘No. Split up?’

  ‘Quicker. I’ll take the other side.’

  ‘There’s a pedestrian crossing over there.’

  ‘Got your radio to hand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. I don’t trust this guy, Kay. Safety first, all right?’

  ‘Okay.’

  She watched Barnes jog away, his silhouette swallowed by the fog that was sweeping over the village, and then began to pace along the platform, sweeping her eyes over the dimly-lit buildings, and pulled out her mobile phone.

  ‘Carys, it’s me. Get on to the rail company. Tell them they need to stop all trains on the London to Maidstone line. Kevin McIntyre has got Peter Bailey, and we don’t know where he is. We’re trying to track him down.’

  She ended the call and glanced up at the digital display above the platform that listed the next arrivals. An express train was scheduled to pass through the station within twenty minutes, destined for Ashford.

  She had to find
Bailey. She couldn’t allow McIntyre to take another life.

  ‘Anything?’

  She jumped as her radio hissed with static, then brought it to her lips. ‘Nothing. You?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Jesus.’ Kay leapt away from the door that opened to her right, and glared at the bespectacled man who peered out at her.

  ‘Sorry – I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you and your friend hanging around. What do you want?’

  Kay held up her warrant card and caught her breath. ‘We’re looking for someone – have you seen anyone acting suspiciously around here since it got dark?’

  ‘No, I’ve only seen the usual commuters that disembark. They don’t hang about. They either have someone to collect them from the pick-up point outside, or they have their own cars.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Kay held up a finger to silence the station manager, and answered her mobile. ‘Hunter.’

  ‘Sarge? An off-duty officer has spotted McIntyre’s car abandoned in the car park at West Malling station.’

  Kay’s throat tightened. ‘Any sign of McIntyre?’

  ‘No – how far away are you?’

  ‘Five to ten minutes. Where’s the officer now?’

  ‘Waiting in the car park for you. He’s on his motorbike and says if McIntyre gets in his car, he’ll do his best to block it from leaving.’

  ‘Radio Dave Walker to let him know, and arrange for a uniform car to get there as soon as possible. We’re on our way.’

  She ended the call, put her fingers between her lips and emitted a piercing whistle that reached the other platform and made the station master take two steps back.

  ‘Barnes – we’re leaving. Now!’

  Forty-Nine

  Kay leapt from the car before Barnes had braked to a halt, and began to run.

  Fog swirled around her ankles, the heavy damp air reducing the overhead lights to mere pinpricks and deadening any sounds.

  McIntyre’s car had been parked haphazardly into the nearest space to the railway station, with only one other car nearby.

  The off-duty officer raised his hand in greeting as she approached.

  ‘Stay with the car. Don’t let him leave,’ she yelled over her shoulder as she tore past, Barnes’s footsteps in her wake.

  Reaching the station buildings, she slid to a standstill as her eyes swept the empty platforms.

  In the evening chill and poor light, the station held a ghostly quality to it, devoid of the commuters that would soon begin to arrive on the express services out of London. An eerie calm enclosed the unmanned buildings as they paced the platform, peering into dark corners and checking over their shoulders.

  ‘Where are you, you bastard?’

  ‘Christ, I can’t see anything in this,’ said Barnes. He pivoted and faced the opposite way, and then sighed and picked up his pace to catch up with her. ‘Can you spot him?’

  ‘No. How far away is Carys and the uniform car?’

  ‘Only about ten minutes.’

  ‘Dammit. We’re going to lose him.’ She quickly assessed the layout of the station. ‘Right, you take this side of the platform, I’ll take the other. If we don’t find him here, we’ll cross using the footbridge at the end and check the other side.’

  ‘Got it.’

  They split up, and Kay cast her eyes over the shadows between the aluminium benches bolted to the platform, checking door handles and working her way towards the far end.

  Her mobile phone rang, and she silenced it quickly before putting it to her ear. ‘Hello?’

  ‘There’s a train expected in less than five minutes,’ said Walker. ‘We’re on our way, but it’s not due to stop – it’s an express service leaving Sevenoaks for Maidstone. There’s no chance of him boarding it to escape.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She ended the call and got her bearings.

  The track to her left stretched out into the distance, and she glanced into the darkened trench. No one moved. She shivered as the dankness of the night began to seep into her bones, chilling her to her core.

  ‘Kay?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  Barnes moved between the ticket office and the toilet block, his silhouette out of proportion in the distorted light from the fluorescent beams that lit the platform amongst the encroaching fog. ‘Anything?’

  ‘No. Walker says there’s an express train due any minute, but it won’t stop here. Keep going.’

  He nodded and moved away, and Kay resumed her search.

  She reached the end of the toilet block and met him at the far end of the platform. ‘Any luck?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I can hear sirens.’

  ‘Back up. At least we can widen the search area.’

  Kay turned and squinted back along the platform, past the ticket office and towards the entrance to the car park. ‘We didn’t miss him, did we?’

  ‘I don’t think so. We’ll try the other side.’

  Kay spun round at a shout behind her, in time to see a figure tumble from the balustrade of the footbridge crossing the tracks above them.

  A scream pierced the air.

  ‘There!’

  She broke away from Barnes, the sound of her footsteps thudding on the concrete surface creating a dull echo off the brickwork of the neighbouring ticket office. As she drew closer to the footbridge, she could see a man dangling from the railing that ran along the top of the balustrade, his legs swinging while he tried to find a foothold to haul himself back up.

  In the distance, the familiar two-tone horn of an express train broke through the fog.

  Kay grabbed the railing to swing herself around the corner as she bounded up the steps, only to see Kevin McIntyre’s hands lose their grip, his screams deadened by the swirling fog.

  ‘Barnes! With me!’

  Fifty

  Kay launched herself at the balustrade, leaned over, and found herself staring into the eyes of Kevin McIntyre.

  ‘Help me!’

  He’d lost his grip on the railing, but now hung by his left hand from a cable that stretched the length of the footbridge. It dipped dangerously low, and Kay realised that if she didn’t raise him up somehow, he’d be swept underneath the train when it shot below him.

  She reached out with both hands, wrapped her fingers around the thin material of the sleeves of his jacket, and tried to haul him back up.

  She couldn’t lift him.

  Panicking, she glanced over her shoulder.

  Barnes had reached the top of the steps, his hand on his side as he wheezed air back into his lungs.

  ‘Ian – help!’

  He jogged across to where she stood, peered over, and then grabbed McIntyre’s right arm.

  ‘Give me your other hand,’ Kay yelled.

  ‘I can’t – you’ll drop me.’

  ‘No, we won’t. You’re hanging too low, Kevin. We need to raise you up. Give me your hand.’

  Barnes checked over his shoulder. ‘Jesus, the train’s here, Kay!’

  ‘I know – don’t let go.’

  The train horn sounded closer, behind them, and below their position the steel rails began to hum and throb with the motion of the approaching train.

  McIntyre’s fingers found hers, and then she leaned over and grabbed his wrist with her other hand, and between her and Barnes, they pulled him up so that his legs no longer hung beneath the bottom of the footbridge.

  ‘Don’t drop him, Barnes.’

  ‘It would save some paperwork.’

  ‘But it doesn’t give his victims justice,’ Kay snarled. ‘I want this bastard alive.’

  She gritted her teeth and braced herself against the edge of the pedestrian bridge. Her feet slid across the wet wooden panels, and then she felt the material of McIntyre’s jacket give a little between her fingers.

  The train driver blasted the horn, and over the noise she heard McIntyre scream.

  The bridge structure shook with the force of
the train’s weight crossing the rails beneath, the lights above her swaying with the motion.

  She heard Barnes growl between his teeth before he snatched at the man’s wrists once more to try and get a better grip. Her own arms felt as if they were being wrenched from their sockets.

  A wave of heat engulfed them as the locomotive went past underneath, the air making her eyes water before the roar of the engine passed.

  A change in tone filled her ears as the first of the passenger carriages flew beneath them.

  ‘Don’t let me go! Please don’t let me go!’

  Kay tried to block out McIntyre’s screams, and met Barnes’s wide-eyed stare.

  ‘He’s slipping. I can’t keep hold of him.’

  ‘Hang on. Just a little longer – hang on.’

  She twisted where she stood and tried to peer over the balustrade of the bridge and squinted beyond the reach of the spotlights, and into the darkness.

  The train seemed to stretch forever, the carriages disappearing into the dark.

  She wondered how it could be that whenever a train passed her on the track next to the motorway it could fly past in an instant, yet right now seem as if it was taking forever.

  A tearing sound made her head whip back round, in time to see the material between her fingers rip apart.

  ‘No!’

  She grappled with the torn material until she could wrap her fingers around McIntyre’s exposed bare wrists, and clung on.

  He screamed again, his eyes full of terror as he tried to swing his legs away from the roof of the passing carriages.

  Beyond where they stood, Kay became aware of shouting from the direction of the station buildings.

  Carys propelled herself along the platform towards them, closely followed by two uniformed officers.

  Barnes followed her gaze. ‘They’re not going to reach us in time.’

  Kay cried out as McIntyre’s wrists began to slide from her grip, his sweat greasing his skin.

  She could smell the fear emanating from him, his eyes wide as he stared up at her, petrified.

  ‘Don’t let me go.’