by Helen Phifer
His voice cracked and he couldn’t speak. The nearest patrols were in Keswick and Kendal. He was going to get there first. Driving way faster than the speed limit, he reached the part of the road that passed along Thirlmere. He stopped the car and got out. He had cuffs and his radio, nothing else.
A family were in the car. The driver had her phone to her ear; the other woman got out.
‘Are you police?’
‘Yes.’
‘She’s down the footpath, quite a way down. She wouldn’t come back with us, said something about making sure he didn’t follow.’
Ben nodded, opened the boot and grabbed the only thing he had that was any use, which was the tyre iron. Not even pausing to close the boot, he took off down the footpath. Christ he didn’t run like he used to, but he pushed himself on.
‘Morgan, Morgan, where are you?’ His voice echoed down the path.
‘Ben, down here.’
The relief made his knees want to buckle, but he kept pushing on until he rounded the bend and saw her standing there, brandishing a large rock in her hand. She was cut and bleeding, but nothing major. He ran to her and pulled her close, holding her tight.
‘What happened?’
She squeezed him then let go. ‘Dan, it’s Dan, he did it. He’s my brother. He killed Stan and Gabby. I hit him hard on the head. I think I hurt him.’
‘Good. Did he hurt you?’ He was looking at the tears in her clothes.
‘No, I got these running through the bushes. Just scratches. Are you on your own?’
‘No, patrols are on their way, so is Amy. Where is he?’
‘Out cold through the bushes.’
She headed towards the space she’d emerged through and he followed, squeezing and breathing in to get through the gap. Morgan waited for him on the other side, then led the way back to where she had left Dan.
She let out a groan and whispered: ‘He’s gone.’
‘Are you sure we are at the right place?’
She frantically searched the wooded area, looking for him, but couldn’t see any sign he was still here.
‘There’s the branch I used to hit him with.’
‘You should have hit the bastard into next week. Wait until I get my hands on him.’
She smiled, and Ben thought that despite the cuts, grazes and dried blood, she had never looked so tough.
The sound of shouts and boots pounding along the footpath was the most welcome sound he’d ever heard, not that he was afraid of Dan Hunt, but he was afraid for Morgan. He took hold of her hand and tugged her back towards the path. Her hair had pieces of twigs and leaves stuck to it, and her eyes were sparkling with tears he knew she was too stubborn to shed in front of him or anyone else. Her face was criss-crossed with fine scratches and grazes, all superficial though. He couldn’t say that her clothes had fared so well; they were ripped and torn but they were going to need them for CSI anyway. He let go of her hand as they reached the path.
‘Down here.’
Two officers appeared, red-faced and out of breath, which made him feel better.
‘Our suspect is Dan Hunt; he is unarmed that I know about, but dangerous.’
Two more officers joined them, and one of them asked: ‘Our Dan Hunt?’
‘Yes, police officer Dan Hunt. He has a head injury so may be disorientated, but he’s taken off on foot. Hopefully, he can’t be too far. We need a dog handler. Is there one on shift?’
He didn’t wait for an answer and asked on the radio. ‘I need a dog handler at Thirlmere. I have Morgan with me; she’s safe. She has superficial cuts and bruises; can you ask the DI to attend the scene? I want as many officers as we can spare to search for the suspect, Dan Hunt, who is unarmed but extremely dangerous.’
There was silence and he knew the control room operators were probably too shocked to take it in. Dan was one of them, one of their own.
The calm voice of the control room inspector came over the airwaves.
‘Ben, what do you need? I’ll call the dog handler in; she’s due to start soon anyway. Task force are already on their way to you. Do we need air support to search? That’s a huge area; he could be anywhere.’
‘Yes, please, ma’am. I’ll take everything you can give me.’
He turned to the officers. ‘We’ll wait for the dog to come search; this needs to be coordinated and I need armed officers. It’s too dangerous to send you in blind, as there’s no knowing how he’s going to react. He’s hurt and probably incredibly angry that he’s been caught, plus a head injury. Two of you go back to the car. There’s a family up there to get a statement from. I’m taking Morgan back.’
He let the two officers at the back go first, then gently took hold of Morgan’s elbow, who looked shaken but alert, and led her back along the footpath to the safety of his car.
FIFTY-FOUR
Dan had waited for her to come closer, but she hadn’t, and he had to admit he was grudgingly impressed with Morgan. The moment she’d run towards the voices, he’d sat up, surprised at how blurry the trees were. She’d caught him a good one. Instead of following her, which was foolish, he’d gone the opposite way. If he could make it back up to the road, he might be able to thumb a lift with someone. Tell them he was hurt and needed a ride back to town. He lifted his hand to his head where she’d cracked him with the branch. He wasn’t lying; he was bleeding, panting and out of breath. He heard the sound of passing cars on the busy A591 above him. He had minutes to get up there and try to get a lift before the police sirens began. There was a stile which led to a tiny footpath. Clambering over it, he followed the winding path and it led him out near a bend in the road that couldn’t be seen from where he’d left his car. A small van from the local wholesalers came into view, and he stumbled into the road holding out his arms. It stopped and the driver jumped out.
‘Mate, what are you doing? Trying to get killed?’
‘Can you help me?’ Dan turned so he could see the blood that had trickled down his face, staining his collar.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry. You’re hurt. Do you want an ambulance?’
‘No, I just need a lift back to Rydal Falls; if you can drop me off that would be great.’
‘Yeah, of course, get in.’
Dan tilted his head. The sound of sirens in the distance, faintly, filled the air and he rushed to get into the passenger side before the police arrived. The driver was already in and buckled up. Dan thanked him and shut his door. There were seconds in it; if he didn’t drive away now, the police would come flying past and wonder why he was stopped in the middle of the lane. The engine started and he began to drive. Seconds later, they were passing the lay-by where his car was. He saw a car full of kids and two women; one of them was on the phone. He turned his head away from them so they couldn’t see the blood.
‘So what happened to you then?’
‘I was out for a hike around the tarn and missed my footing. I took a tumble and hit my head on a tree.’
‘Ouch, that looks pretty deep, you might need stitches.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll live, my wife is a nurse. She can patch me up.’
If he’d noticed that he wasn’t dressed appropriately for hiking, he never said; in fact, Dan realised he looked like he’d come out of a bad business meeting. He had shirt and trousers on, not a hiking boot or backpack in sight. The lad driving didn’t seem remotely bothered about it though. He probably hadn’t seen past the blood, so he didn’t worry too much.
As they reached the outskirts of Rydal Falls, he asked: ‘Can you drop me off near Singleton Park Road, please?’
‘I can. Are you sure that’s where you want to go though, not the hospital?’
‘Positive, thank you so much for stopping. Not many people would have.’
The driver slowed down. ‘Whereabouts?’
‘Here is fine. I’ll walk the rest of the way to clear my head. Thanks again.’
Dan jumped down, shut the door and waved. Then hurried towards the house where bot
h Morgan and Emily, the girl from the college, lived. He had two choices: he could wait for Morgan, but it was very likely she would have Ben with her, or he could pay Emily a visit. No woman could resist an injured man. She’d let him in and then he’d have his fun with her before it was over. The net was closing but he still had time. He needed three to make it to the ranks of serial killer. He would prove to them all that he wasn’t like his dad. He was far better. As he walked through the entrance to the house, he realised he was already on number three: she would be number four. How had he forgotten about his dear old mum? Had she been psychic and predicted this, or had she turned him into it with all the bullshit she’d fed down his throat about good and evil? He didn’t know, didn’t really care if he was honest. He knew it was over, but there was still a little time to make a really good last impression.
As if by magic, parked outside the address was the blue Mini belonging to the pretty woman he was about to murder.
FIFTY-FIVE
Morgan groaned as they reached Ben’s car. ‘I’m hurting in places I didn’t know existed.’
‘Yep, you’re going to be bruised to hell. Seriously, Morgan, you’re going to have to choose a gentler form of exercise. Extreme sports are one thing, but you take it to the next level. Hunting killers is far too dangerous.’
She smiled at him; he was right, although on both occasions they had hunted her. She saw Amy get out of an unmarked car.
‘Where is he, Ben? It creeps me out. He could be watching us now.’
‘I don’t think so. He’s either crawled off and died, which would be my preferred ending to this story, or he’s out there wandering around. We’ve found his car already, so he should be on foot. The search team will find him though. Blackpool were scrambling a helicopter with thermal imaging; it will pick him up. We’ll get him, and until we do, you are coming to my house, no ifs or buts.’
‘I’d rather stay until he’s in cuffs. I want to see him get arrested; I want to be the one to arrest him. I promised Charlotte Stevens I would.’
‘Morgan, you have done more than enough. You’ve found the killer and solved two murders: I’m giving you a direct order.’
Amy peered over Ben’s shoulder. ‘Damn right, no ifs or buts. Jesus, you’re a liability, Morgan, and look at the state of you.’
Ben nodded. ‘Morgan we’ll stop by your place to get some clothes and then I’m taking you home. A DI can take over here, Amy; although I think task force will tell him to do one, it’s theirs now. I don’t care whose it is, I just want him caught.’
‘You better let Wendy sort her out first though, boss.’ She pointed to the CSI van which had parked behind them on the grass verge.
Morgan saw Wendy walking towards the car and got out.
‘Flipping heck, what happened to you? Don’t move, I need to photograph and swab you, or do you want to go back to the station and wait for me? I’ve been asked to photograph the scene and remove the evidence. Is it true you whacked Dan with a branch?’
She nodded.
‘Good effort. What do you want to do?’
‘I don’t want to go and sit around the station. Can you do it now?’
‘I can, but I need your clothes. Are you going to the hospital? I can do it there.’
‘No, no hospital. It’s just scratches. Do it now, please.’
Wendy shrugged, but began to snap the lens cap from her camera.
‘Can you stand over by the bushes?’
Morgan did as she was asked whilst she photographed her. Then she walked back to the van with her so she could take some samples. Once that was done, she climbed into the back of it. Wendy passed her a large brown paper sack and a packet containing a white paper suit.
‘I’ll do you a swap.’
She took them and waited for her to slam the sliding door shut. It took Morgan a while to peel off her torn clothing; everything was hurting and stinging, but she did it and dropped them into the bag. Then tugged on the white suit.
Sliding the door back, Ben held out his hand for her and she stepped down.
‘Wendy, I almost forgot.’ She began to remove the earrings and wondered if her guardian angel had been around today, because this could have turned out a lot worse than it had.
‘What are those for?’
‘I’m pretty sure they belong to Gabby Stevens. Her mum phoned to say she was missing a pair of Pandora angel wing earrings. Dan gave these to me as an apology for being an idiot to me when I came to work up in CID.’
Wendy was staring at her in horror.
Amy looked at the tiny wings in the palm of Morgan’s hand and whispered: ‘Sick.’
Scooping them into an evidence bag, Morgan felt relieved to be rid of them.
Ben turned to Wendy. ‘Are you all done?’
‘Yes, for now. I’m going to need to photograph your injuries properly back at the station, Morgan. You can tell me if you have any I’ve missed or any bruising that develops over the next few hours, but for now you’re good to go.’
She got inside Ben’s car as he went to talk to the DCI who had just arrived. She felt exhausted and closed her eyes, lying back against the headrest, wishing Ben would let her stay and hunt Dan down.
FIFTY-SIX
He rang the bell for Emily’s apartment, and her voice crackled through the intercom.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, sorry to disturb you. I’ve had a car accident and hurt my head; I was wondering if you could lend me a phone. My friend, Morgan, lives in the flat below you, but she’s not in.’
‘Oh gosh, hang on I’ll be right down.’
He smiled to himself as he waited for her to answer the door. He heard her run down the stairs. There was a slight pause and he knew she was looking through the spyhole at him. Then the door flew open.
‘It’s you. Oh look at your poor head. Are you okay or should I call an ambulance?’
He looked at her with a confused expression.
‘I’m Emily; we met at the college once in the car park.’
‘Yes, we did. Sorry, Emily, my head is a little battered at the moment. No, thank you, I don’t need an ambulance. I just need a phone to ring for someone to get my car out of the ditch.’
‘Come in, you can clean yourself up or I can do it for you.’
‘Dan, my name’s Dan by the way. Are you sure you don’t mind? I work with Morgan. I was hoping she’d be able to give me a hand, but she’s not here.’
‘Course I’m sure. You can come in and wait for her.’
He followed her in. He had no idea how much time he had to enjoy her, but he was grateful for the chance to have a little more fun. Maybe he could hide out here for a few days. They would never suspect him to be hiding in plain sight.
As she opened the door to her apartment, the sausage dog that featured heavily in most of her Instagram photos came flying down the hall at him, barking furiously.
‘Frankie, stop that. It’s okay, he’s a visitor.’
The dog ignored her and ran straight towards him, didn’t want him to go any further. He’d forgotten about the dog. As soon as he could, he’d snap its neck.
‘Hey boy, what’s up?’ He bent down to stroke it, and it nearly took the end of his fingertips off.
‘Ouch.’
Emily looked mortified. ‘Frankie.’ She grabbed his collar. Dragging him towards the bedroom, she pushed him inside and shut the door.
‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s got into him; he’s usually a sweetheart.’
‘It’s okay, maybe it’s the smell of the blood on my head.’
‘It probably is, bless you. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.’
She led him to the open-plan kitchen area; the layout was identical to Morgan’s. Just thinking her name sent a spark of anger coursing through his veins. The fact that she’d got one over on him infuriated him. Emily pointed to a chair tucked under the breakfast counter. He pulled it out and sat down, watching her as she pulled out a first aid kit and filled
a bowl with warm water. He could spare a few minutes and let her clean him up. It might make him feel better to get the dried blood off his chin and head. His nose had doubled in size and there was a dull ache in the side of his head where that bitch had hit him. Emily had a pair of latex gloves on. She soaked some gauze pads in the warm water and gently held them to his head, then began to clean him up. He closed his eyes; it felt so nice having someone take care of him. It had been such a long time; the gentle movement was soothing, and he let her continue.
‘Am I hurting you?’
‘No, not at all. It feels great to get this blood off, thanks.’
She carried on until he sensed she was almost finished.
‘One last wipe and you should be good.’
As her hand came up to blot his wounds dry, he opened his eyes and reached up for it, gripping it tight.
‘What are you—?’
He was on his feet. Both of his hands wrapped around her delicate neck, he noticed the small gold E that dangled from a chain. That would make a lovely gift for someone. She tried to scream, but his fingers gripped her neck so tight she couldn’t. Dan towered over her and smiled.
‘You’re a lovely woman, so beautiful. I’m so glad we met.’
The fear in her eyes was delightful and he drank it up. Squeezing harder, her hands reached out for something, but he didn’t notice. He was staring into the beautiful blue eyes. Water exploded all over his face, blinding him. He released his grip and she pulled away from him. Screaming at the top of her voice, she fell to the floor, scrabbled to her knees and then ran for the bathroom: the only room with a lock on the door.
FIFTY-SEVEN
‘Ben, I just want to go home, please, get myself cleaned up and, if I’m honest with you, have a really good cry in the bath. You have too much to do. You don’t need to babysit me. How about you come back when you’re done? You can tell me you found him, that you have him in cuffs in person and we can share a bottle of wine to celebrate.’
He laughed. ‘Sorry, Morgan, no go. Dan knows where you live and I don’t want to leave you on your own.’