Rock, Paper, Scissors

by B Baskerville

  Success. The key fitted but was stiff and wouldn’t turn. “NO. Come on,” she pleaded. Below her, Morton began to stir.

  She tried to force the key but could feel it beginning to bend. Cooper tried to calm herself and gently jimmied the key back and forth, her hands slippy with blood and shuddering with adrenaline. The lock sprung apart. She was free. Cooper grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her naked frame. She didn’t dare stop to look for her clothes or phone. Morton was deceptively strong and could free himself at any moment. She burst from the door to Morton’s compound and tried to get her bearings. She planted her feet for a moment and looked around what appeared to be an industrial lot. The sound of a car engine caught her and she sprinted in its direction. She sprinted as fast as she could in bare feet, cursing every time her ankle rolled or her skin ripped against stones and pebbles.

  “Please,” she screamed. “PLEASE STOP!”

  Cooper ran into the road, waving her arms and letting the heavy chain drag and clatter behind her. Her blanket wouldn’t stay fastened and she was partly exposed in the moonlight. It didn’t matter, what mattered was that the car would stop. It had to stop. She ran further into the road, blocking its path and as the car screeched to a halt, Cooper collapsed on its bonnet.

  “Police. DCI Cooper, Northumbria CID. I need your vehicle,” she demanded of the driver.

  He was a pale man, sporting a flat cap above a lined brow. His concerned gaze wandered over Cooper and she was well aware she looked like a lunatic.

  “DCI Cooper. Northumbria CID,” she repeated. “Where am I?”

  Behind the windshield, he spoke with a thick Geordie accent. “Sandy Lane.”

  Cooper stopped and looked around. She knew exactly where she was.

  “What— What happened? What’s with the chain?”

  Cooper didn’t think he’d believe her even if she told him. “I need your vehicle. Call the police. Tell them I need assistance apprehending a suspect.”

  The man cautiously got out of his car. “I think I need to take you to hospital, miss. You’re bleeding.”

  “No.” She wobbled and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Killer. Dangerous man.” Her voice shook. “Dangerous. We need— Call the police.”

  Her legs gave way.

  - Chapter 24 -

  Two hospitals in two days. It was Good Friday and from what Cooper could tell, it was a beautiful spring morning. She could see a perfect blue sky and every time the wind blew, a branch covered in pink and white blossom moved across the window. She longed to be outside, basking in the fresh air and soaking up vitamin D. Instead, she was trapped in the Royal Victoria Infirmary. Her wounds had been cleaned and a doctor had checked her for signs of shock. He was happy for Cooper to go home but the ward sister flat out refused to discharge her until the slave collar had been removed from her neck. A locksmith had been called but so far he was a no show and the longer the collar remained on, the more claustrophobic Cooper felt.

  At some point during the night, a ginormous bunch of roses had arrived and a nurse had placed them in a vase with some water. They smelled heavenly and Cooper couldn’t wait to thank Justin. She’d given him and Kenny strict instructions to look after Tina and to under no circumstances let her visit Cooper while she still had this monstrosity fastened to her neck.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Cooper knew Tennessee’s voice anywhere. “Come in, Jack.”

  Tennessee peaked around the curtain before entering Cooper’s little corner of the ward. He didn’t look as rested as she would have liked but his posture had straightened and some colour had returned to his cheeks.

  “Bloody hell.” His eyes swept over the collar and to a bruise that was yellowing on Cooper’s cheek. “May I?” he gestured to the collar.

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Tennessee examined the lock and felt the metal with his fingertip. “Fuck. This thing weighs a tonne. Is this what he used on Omar?”

  “Yeah. And who knows who else? He said there had been others.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Freak. I spoke to Nixon. He wants you to take some time off.”

  Cooper snorted. “Nixon? Howard Nixon? As in, our boss Howard Nixon?”

  “Yes, that Nixon. Come on, you know deep down he cares. I mean… really, really, really deep down.”

  “There’s work to be done.”

  “There’s recovery to be done.”

  Cooper let out a reluctant huff. He was right and Cooper wasn’t averse to being told what to do by her sergeant, not when he was right.

  “Here,” he said, holding up a bag. “I called by your house. Atkinson dug out some clothes for you. Didn’t think you’d want to go home in a hospital gown.”

  Cooper took the bag and Tennessee moved to the other side of the curtain while she buttoned up a shirt and pulled on a pair of leggings. From behind the curtain, he added, “Someone handed your phone in at the Freeman. No sign of your handbag though.”

  “Shit. Oh, well, least I have my phone. I’ll cancel my cards. You can come back in now.”

  Tennessee threw the curtain back. “Ma’am— Coop, They said it was handed into the Centre for Cancer Care. Erm, you can tell me to mind my own beeswax, but is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. Just my six-month check.” Cooper didn’t know if everything was fine or not, she’d call the centre in a couple of days to find out the results, but she didn’t want Tennessee worrying in the meantime. “Now, shall we get down to business?” She nodded at the chair next to the bed and Tennessee took a seat.

  “You’re on the sick,” he said.

  “And you’re starting to push your luck. What’s the latest?”

  “Morton’s done a runner. He’s not at his home, his mother’s home, or the industrial unit he rents next to Weetslade. There’s an all ports warning out for his arrest and ANPR are tracing his mother’s Qashqai in case she knows where he is and decides to pay him a visit. The Ford Connect wasn’t in his name. It’s registered to the man who rents the next unit down. He’s being grilled by Keaton as we speak.”

  Cooper nodded and adjusted some pads of cotton wool that she’d placed under the collar to stop it hurting so much.

  “Oh, and you’re under protection until Morton’s caught.” Tennessee flinched in anticipation.

  “What? I’m not going to be babysat. Who gave that order? Nixon? Give me my phone, I’ll sort this out—”

  “Actually, I gave the order and Nixon agreed. I’m to stay with you until the cavalry arrive. You shouldn’t have been chasing James Blake and Bryce Morton alone. I should have been with you.”

  “It wouldn’t have a made a difference, Jack,” she said to appease his ill-placed guilt. “He grabbed me at the hospital.”

  “I know, but if I’d been with you the past couple of days, you would have told me where you were going and then the alarm would have been raised sooner.”

  Cooper rubbed a clammy hand over her face. “I didn’t tell anyone, Jack. And you had better not be feeling in some way responsible. Your priority is not me. Your priority is Hayley and Alfie, and it always should be, okay?”

  He lifted his chin to acknowledge the point and looked away.

  She nudged his arm and held out her open hand. “I’d still like my phone.”

  Light returned to Tennessee’s face and he handed over her mobile. She ignored the umpteen missed calls and texts and dialled Fuller’s number. “Hey, it’s me. What happened with Mitch Logan? Yes, I’m fine…Yes, I know I’m supposed to be resting.”

  Cooper could hear the clinking of crockery in the background. “We arrested him. Sutherland and I spent all night interviewing him. He denies ever meeting Macey. Says he bought the phone from a man in the pub.”

  Cooper rolled her eyes. “Of course he did.”

  “Well, we have a name and Sutherland and a couple of uniforms are bringing him in. We’ll soon find out.”

  Cooper hung up and filled Tennessee in on
Fuller’s half of the conversation until a worried-looking Atkinson turned up with a uniformed officer who saluted and positioned himself at the entrance to the ward.

  “That would be my babysitter,” said Cooper. “Get yourself home, Jack. Enjoy Good Friday. Go via the fish quay. It’s not Good Friday without fish and chips.”

  “And mushy peas,” he added getting to his feet and shaking Atkinson’s hand. “I’m going to nip over to intensive care first. Omar’s awake.”

  “Really?” Cooper’s face burst with emotion and she sat up in the bed. “That’s brilliant.”

  “He’s still in a bad way so I’m not going to press him on giving a statement just yet. But I’ll let him know that we know who hurt him and that we’re after him.”

  Tennessee left, and Atkinson flooded Cooper with kisses and inspected her head to toe. “Oh, Erica,” he said, tears in his eyes and he tugged at the collar. “Haven’t they got this thing off you yet?”

  “A locksmith’s on his way. Apparently. I’d rather wait for him than have the fire brigade cut me out of it.”

  Atkinson slid into bed next to her and peppered her with more kisses. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I don’t know what I would have done…” He was quiet for a moment, squeezing Cooper’s hand so tightly it hurt. “I’ve been an insecure idiot of late and I’m sorry. It’s coming up on my ‘divorceaversary’.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “I haven’t been feeling myself. Doesn’t help that Elspeth got remarried, to that barely-legal Spaniard, and she posted pictures all over Facebook bragging about it. I unfriended her, how juvenile does that sound? But the boys are tagged in all the pictures so they just keep popping up on my feed. Bloody Elspeth, honestly. He’s a step-dad to boys only two years younger than he is.”

  Cooper didn’t resent Atkinson’s ranting, In fact, she appreciated the subject matter being something other than what had happened to her last night. She’d given him the basics last night when she’d been telling him to stay with Tina. Obviously, he wanted to know exactly what she’d been through but she was too tired and traumatised to go into any detail. She was glad he was respecting that. She’d speak about it when she was ready.

  She rested her head into Atkinson’s chest. “Thank you for the flowers by the way. They’re gorgeous.”

  “Flowers?” Atkinson’s head craned around to the side table. “Erm… They are gorgeous, but they’re not from me.”

  “Oh.” She paused awkwardly. “I just presumed. The department might have sent them.”

  “I got you a fridge full of pastries, and there’s a bottle of wine on your kitchen bench.”

  “Even better,” smiled Cooper, and she meant it. “You can’t drink roses. Now, how about we watch some television while we wait for this locksmith?”

  Atkinson pulled the television around, handed Cooper the remote and wrapped his arms around her as they got comfortable.

  On the screen, a smartly dressed woman held a microphone to her mouth while chaos erupted behind her. “Amelia Clarkson, reporting from Newcastle Crown Court where The Tarot Card Killer, Brian Hutchins, has been found guilty of four counts of murder and handed a whole life sentence.” Behind Amelia, the parents of two of his victims, Jasmine Lee and Reuben Jones, were escorted past a wall of journalists and press photographers. “In his closing comments, Judge Justice Finch addressed Hutchins, saying ‘you are an abhorrent individual who preyed upon those whom you stood in a position of power over. You abused their trust and it is my belief you should never be eligible for release.’ We’re told Hutchins will be transported to HMP Frankland within the next few minutes.”

  - Chapter 25 -

  Cooper was bored. Mind-numbingly bored. It was early afternoon on Saturday and Tina had just brought her yet another cup of coffee. She placed the cup on her bedside table along with two chocolate digestives and jumped onto the end of Cooper’s bed and sat cross-legged.

  “At this point, if you cut me, I’ll bleed pure caffeine.”

  Tina looked hurt.

  “Sorry, T. Thank you for the coffee. I’m just stir crazy. There’s a lot to be getting on with.”

  “No there’s not,” said Tina, she grabbed a handful of her hair and started twisting it around her forefinger. “The laundry’s in, the dishwasher’s on, I cleaned the bathroom, fed Steven, I got the shopping in—”

  “Jeez, Tina. You don’t have to do all that. I mean I’m grateful but you should be doing your homework, not fussing over me.”

  “Homework’s done. Finished it days ago.”

  “But I saw you studying last night,” Cooper said.

  “That was just for fun. I was memorising Latin names for different species of birds. I can recite over sixty now. Want to hear some?”

  “I believe you,” Cooper said with a laugh. Her daughter was so very different from how she had been at her age and they had vastly different definitions of the word fun. It was hard to believe the six-pound bundle of mayhem that she’d brought into the world was going to be fifteen tomorrow. Where had the years gone? Tina had turned Cooper’s world upside down when she’d given birth at just eighteen-years-old. She’d been scared, confused and lonely during her pregnancy, but Tina turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to her.

  “Can I have a hug?” Cooper asked, feeling nostalgic.

  “No,” Tina replied. She wasn’t being rude. Tina had never been one for too much physical contact and Cooper had made it clear that she didn’t have to make herself uncomfortable just so others wouldn’t think she was ill-mannered. “You can have a high-five though.”

  “Deal.” Cooper sat up and slapped Tina’s open palm.

  “I’m going to take a shower. Do you need anything?”

  Cooper shook her head and as soon as she heard the hot water running, she jumped out of bed, threw on the first suit she found in her wardrobe and legged it out the front door.

  “Ma’am! Ma’am!” The babysitter jumped out of his panda car and rushed towards Cooper.

  “It’s all right, Northcutt. I’m just running some errands.”

  Northcutt got to her before she could unlock the car. He was young and tanned and sported a unibrow. “You’re not to leave unescorted. Superintendent Nixon’s orders.”

  “I’ll be fine, Northcutt. I’ll be back within the hour.”

  “We both know Nixon will have my head if anything happens to you.”

  She turned her gaze upward and growled at the sky. “Fine. Shall we take your car or mine?”

  Northcutt gave the Mazda a scathing look. “We’ll take the squad car.”

  Cooper held out her hand for the keys but the young man just laughed and opened the passenger door. “With all due respect, ma’am. Not a chance.” He settled himself into the driver’s seat, fastened his seatbelt and asked, “Where to?”

  “Frankland,” she said. “Her Majesty’s Prison Frankland.”

  * * *

  Frankland, home to some of the UK’s most notorious serial killers and terrorists, was found eighteen miles south of Newcastle in County Durham, an area otherwise known for its prestigious university, picturesque castle and magnificent cathedral. Northcutt had insisted upon not waiting in the car like Cooper had requested and even threatened to call Nixon if she didn’t abide by his rules.

  “Have it your way,” Cooper said, smoothing down the front of her suit jacket, “but if anyone asks, we were never here.”

  Cooper considered heading towards the visitor’s centre, but she wasn’t here to hold hands with a loved one and stare longingly across steaming mugs of tea. She directed Northcutt to the main reception.

  “They probably haven’t even processed Hutchins yet,” he said as he parked the car.

  “Who said I was here to see Hutchins?”

  Northcutt gave her a searching look but didn’t press the matter. Cooper held her ID up to a camera and was buzzed into the building where she was immediately funnelled into a metal detector and then forced to stand very still while a drug detection dog
sniffed at her shoes, legs, and awkwardly at her crotch.

  “Erica Cooper.” A guard spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Long time no see.”

  “Bruiser.” She smiled and walked towards the desk once the dog was satisfied she wasn’t a cocaine mule. She slid the logbook towards herself and signed her name. “I’d like to see Eddie. Nothing formal, he has every right to say no, but I’d appreciate him speaking with me.”

  “Eddie?” asked Northcutt. “Eddie Blackburn? Newcastle’s answer to Tony Soprano?”

  “Who’s this?” Bruiser asked, examining Northcutt’s ID.

  “My babysitter. It’s a long story,” she said with a shake of her head as she’d rather not get into the whole Bryce Morton stripping her naked, chaining her up and keeping her as a pet thing.

  Bruiser closed the logbook, picked up a phone and made a call. “Right,” he said after he’d hung up. “Room B. I’ll show you the way. Someone’s fetching Blackburn.”

  A few moments later and Cooper was sliding into an orange plastic chair like the ones she used to sit on at school. Northcutt had insisted on being in the room so Cooper insisted he sit in the far corner and not to make a peep unless she said so.

  “Well, well, well.” Eddie Blackburn shuffled in. His hands and feet were shackled and Cooper fought to not let her hand go to her neck as the memory of the collar was still as fresh as her bruises. “If it isn’t my favourite copper.”

  “Who’s your second favourite?”

  Aside from the similar job description, Blackburn also shared an uncanny resemblance to the Italian-American gangsters of Hollywood and HBO. He was a large, barrel-chested man with dark features and a crease down the middle of his nose.

  “There are no second favourites. You, I like. The rest of your kind can go fuck themselves. You’re the only reason I struck a deal with the CPS and kept my eldest out of prison. The rest of those pigs would have sent my whole family down.”