by Chris Ewan
And then she explained how Anna’s parents had told her that they believed their daughter’s medical condition had been the trigger for many of her problems. She’d had her first seizure at the age of eleven, two weeks into life at her new secondary school. She’d been bullied because of it. She’d been isolated. Her self-confidence had taken a knock and her resentment had grown.
Three years later, Anna had accused her physics teacher of inappropriate sexual behaviour. Her parents were dubious and the charges hadn’t stuck. Ultimately, her accusations were proved false. The episode was chalked up as a plea for attention – ADHD was a corollary of her condition – and it triggered a fresh onslaught of bullying. Before Anna’s parents could look at moving her to a different school, she ran away, leaving behind a note that blamed them for her decision.
Young whistled. ‘So Anna Brooks had a history of false accusations of sexual assault. That could have seriously hurt her credibility if her case against Russell had come to court.’
‘And you can bet Russell’s lawyers would have been all over it when they were preparing his defence. Not that it came to that.’
‘So how does Anna’s epilepsy help us to find her?’
‘These are the drugs she was taking.’ Lloyd passed over a scrap of paper on which Mrs Brooks had printed the information in slanted biro. ‘It’s not a typical combination. And it was an ongoing treatment. Chances are, she’ll still be on these meds today.’
Foster shook her head. ‘Talk about a long shot.’
‘We can contact the suppliers. Contact health authorities. We can narrow the field by asking them to notify us of any female patients in their early twenties prescribed this exact drug combination.’
‘We? This is a crazy amount of work.’
‘So let’s get some uniforms to run with it. We put two or three of them on it for—’
Lloyd raised a finger. Her mobile phone was ringing. She lifted it to her ear.
‘DS Lloyd? Julia Summerhayes. I had my assistant call up the files for Sarah and Melanie Adams.’
‘And?’
‘Can I ask where you are you right now?’
Lloyd felt a prickle of excitement. A flutter in her belly.
‘I’m outside Lancaster. Close to the motorway. Why do you ask?’
‘Because this really isn’t something I’m keen to discuss over the phone. Could you drop by my offices? I’ll be working late this evening. There’s something I think you should see.’
Chapter Fifty
The first thing Pete said as he carried Emily away from the park was, ‘We have to go back to the house.’
‘You can’t,’ Kate told him.
‘Five minutes. That’s all I need.’
‘We have a car waiting for you down by the river.’
‘And we have a whole life to walk away from here. Five minutes isn’t much to ask.’
But it was. And Kate knew that Miller would never have allowed it.
‘We have a go-bag all ready and packed. It contains our ID, plus a few of Emily’s things. Her favourite teddy. Stuff we can’t leave behind.’ He turned to Becca. ‘Please. For Emily.’
Kate said, ‘Someone will come back for your stuff. Miller, maybe.’
Emily had been crying softly since they’d left the park but she was becoming more distressed as the discussion continued. Pete shushed her, cupping her head.
‘No, we get it now.’ He stopped dead in the alley. ‘We won’t go otherwise.’
Kate stared at him, disbelieving. He was holding Emily tight, his chin propped on the top of her head, a determined look on his face. It was already clear to her that he was willing to break Miller’s rules. The hurried farewells he’d said to their friends in the park – the whispered conversations and the solemn hugs and the tears – suggested that he’d confided in people about their situation.
‘Have you seen anyone hanging round outside your house? Anyone you haven’t seen before?’
‘There’s a festival going on. I’ve been seeing strangers for days.’
‘Has anyone threatened you? Has anyone suspicious approached you in any way?’
‘Do you really think we’d still be here if they had?’
‘Easy, Miss Marple.’ Becca raised her hand. ‘You’re scaring the little one. And don’t look at me that way,’ she told Pete. ‘Kate’s right. It’s dangerous. We can’t all go.’
‘Then how about you go into the house and grab the bag for us? I have a car just down the street. I can get it and drive us all out of here.’
Kate shook her head. ‘The roads are closed.’
‘Trust me, I know a way. I’ve planned for this. I’m always planning for this. Five minutes maximum. I promise.’
Kate stared through the dark towards the bend in the alley. She could hear the pulse of distant flamenco music and the hum of crowd noise from inside the amphitheatre. If Lane’s men were really coming, surely they should have arrived by now. Unless they were waiting. And watching.
Becca stepped close to Pete. She caressed Emily’s face. ‘It’s OK, baby girl,’ she said. ‘Becca’s going to fetch your things.’
‘You don’t have to do this,’ Kate told her.
‘Here, you take her.’
Pete thrust the girl towards Kate before she was ready. Emily screamed and tried to hold on to Pete but Kate grappled with her, wrapping an arm around her tiny waist, the girl bucking against her, reaching for her father, shouting ‘no’ over and over.
‘Be good.’ Pete blew her a kiss. ‘Daddy will be back soon.’
‘I’ll wait five minutes,’ Kate told Becca, struggling to look past Emily. ‘If you’re not back by then, I’m taking her to Hanson.’
Becca nodded, turning to go. She broke into a jog, chasing after Pete, her wide hips swaying, backside juddering, her plump arms swinging.
Kate watched the darkness swallow them, their footsteps thumping off the cobblestones, echoing off the close-packed buildings, the noise fading to nothing as first Pete then Becca rounded the bend.
Emily squealed and bucked but the worst of the fight had gone out of her now that her dad was out of sight. Kate hushed her and held her. She whispered in her ear.
‘Emily, your daddy’s going to be back soon. Please be still. He won’t be long.’
She lowered her to the ground, keeping a tight hold of her arm as she dropped to one knee and swept her hair back from her eyes. The girl sniffed and shied away, her face a damp, pink mush, snot glistening on her cheek.
‘Everything’s going to be OK. I promise.’
Emily gave her a wary, sideways look. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Kate. I’m a friend of your daddy’s. I’m here to keep you safe.’
‘Are the bad men coming?’
‘No, sweetheart. No. Look.’ She pulled back her sleeve and showed Emily her watch. ‘Your daddy and Becca will be with us again before the big hand hits fifteen. OK?’
Emily gripped Kate’s wrist and pressed her nose to her watch. Kate could smell the barbecue smoke in her hair and clothes.
‘Come over here with me. Sit down, OK?’
Kate led her to an alcove beneath a dim street lamp where a metal shutter was drawn across a half-glazed door. It looked like the entrance to some kind of workshop.
They huddled together on the stoop, the girl fixated on Kate’s watch while Kate did her best to ignore the whispers and murmured conversation from a group of Pete’s friends who were edging towards them from the park. It was obvious they were concerned for Emily. It sounded as if they were asking one another if they should intervene.
Kate willed them not to. She didn’t want Emily getting any more upset.
‘Will Miller be here?’ Emily asked, frowning up at the stitches on Kate’s forehead.
‘You’ll see him soon.’
‘I like Miller. He’s nice.’
Kate forced a smile, conscious of the perspiration that was breaking out on her face and upper lip. Her pulse was racing.
Fear churned in her stomach.
Then a male voice called out to them. One of Pete’s friends, a man in his late fifties or early sixties, had broken away from the others. He was crouched at the waist, extending a hand towards Emily. He called her name and Emily sniffed and smiled. He beckoned some more and she strained against Kate’s grip, ready to go to him, but Kate tugged her back.
The group from the park didn’t like it.
The man grew bolder, stepping closer. Kate fixed her jaw, shaking her head, warning him off. She wasn’t sure what she might do exactly. It was hard to know how best to handle the situation.
She never had the chance to find out.
The quiet of the street was torn through by the brash note of an engine and the patter of tyres on cobblestones. Kate turned her head and saw a slanted yellow light climb the walls along the alley, then a pair of headlamps swept round. She shielded her eyes from the glare and pulled Emily to her feet, pushing her behind her. She couldn’t see what type of vehicle it was. She couldn’t see anything at all.
The headlamps sped closer, then the vehicle braked hard, bearing down at the front, brake lights blooming at the rear. It was a dusty Citroën estate.
‘Daddy,’ Emily squealed. ‘That’s Daddy’s car.’
She yanked on Kate’s arm, dragging her through the headlamp beams, twisting sideways to fit between the car and the wall. She reached for a handle on a rear door, opening it against brickwork as a dome light came on at the front, shining down over Pete and Becca and a dark, hunched figure crouched low in the back.
Kate only glimpsed Mike Renner for a fraction of a second. It was barely enough time for her to comprehend what she’d seen. Renner had a gun pressed to the back of Becca’s head. Her hands were in the air.
‘Run!’ Pete yelled, and the car shot forwards, Renner’s head rocking back. The open door knocked Emily into Kate before slamming shut as the vehicle sped on.
‘Daddy!’
The car kept going, accelerating towards Pete’s friends. They scattered and ducked, diving for cover, the man who’d called out to Emily flattening himself against the wall of a house. The car veered away from him and raced on until Kate saw a flash of light inside the cabin and heard a double pop followed by the shattering of glass. Her legs flexed. Her stomach dropped. The car slewed right, slamming into a wall, scraping to a halt as a terrible, high-pitched scream escaped from the front.
There was stillness for an instant, then another stutter of light and a loud pop, and the screaming stopped altogether.
A rear door was thrown open, butting into the wall, and Kate saw the dark, hunched figure of Mike Renner force his way out.
She didn’t wait any longer.
Pushing off from her standing foot, she lifted Emily from the ground and hoisted her over her shoulder, covering a good fifteen metres before she looked back to see Renner bumping off the wall, staggering towards the rear of the car, his dark form backlit by the scarlet brake lights. He was listing to one side, limping heavily. He had a pistol in his hand.
‘Daddy!’ Emily screamed. ‘My Daddy!’
She reached backwards over Kate’s shoulder, clawing at the air.
‘Stay still,’ Kate said.
‘Daddy!’
Kate ran on, tussling with the girl, aware she was hurting her but unable to let go.
She looked back a second time, almost falling, and saw Renner hobbling through drifts of steam and smoke, his left leg dragging behind him.
The man who’d approached Emily shouted loudly, then leapt forwards, lunging for Renner’s gun.
Which was a bad idea.
Renner batted him away and raised his pistol in a two-handed grip, firing a single round into the man’s lower leg. The man dropped and yelped and squirmed on the floor as a chorus of screams and cries rose up, varying in pitch and volume and duration, bounding after Kate as she whipped her head forwards and pumped her knees hard and kicked for the curve in the alley ahead.
Chapter Fifty-One
Take Emily out of the equation and Kate could have outrun a man half Renner’s age. Factor in the way he was limping heavily, swinging his left leg from his hip, and Kate would have been confident of sprinting clear. But Emily was weighing her down, fighting against her, flailing and writhing so unpredictably that Kate lost her balance and bashed into a wall.
‘Stay still,’ she yelled, but Emily dug a knee into Kate’s chest and tried clambering over her shoulder, almost toppling them both.
‘Daddy!’ Emily screamed again.
‘Stop it,’ Kate told her. ‘Get down.’
Kate pinched her on the flank. But it was no good. The girl just fought even harder.
They’d barely covered two hundred metres and already Kate was struggling. The added weight was jarring her bad knee. The pain was sharp and gnarly, hot needles in the joint.
‘You have to be still. Emily, you have to be.’
The girl was getting in her face, blocking her airways, obscuring her view. The festival crowds weren’t far away. Five hundred metres, maybe less. But there was only a straight, downhill gradient ahead of them, and while the alley was getting blacker every moment, once Renner lumbered round the corner, he’d have a clear shot.
The house where Emily had been living was coming up fast on the left and for a second Kate thought of stopping to try the door. But if it was locked, she’d have lost momentum and time, and if it was open, she had no way of knowing what she might find inside. Renner appeared to be alone but perhaps Wade was here, too.
Sweat sheeted Kate’s brow, stinging her eyes. Walls and doors whipped by in a jolting blur.
And that was when she saw an opening in the wall ahead. Make that two openings.
First was a narrow passageway carved into the street between two tall buildings, a street lamp shining weakly just inside the entrance.
The second opening was a garage in the ground floor of the next building along. Kate thought back to what Pete had said about having his car parked nearby. She guessed this was where it had been stored.
She could hide in the garage, but not while Emily was fighting her. And if Renner found them there, they’d be trapped.
The alley then.
She wheeled right, into the passage, streaking through the lamplight and on into the funnelling black.
She ran on instinct, on trust, unable to see if there were obstacles in her way. Her arms and hips smashed into brick and pipework as Emily lurched from side to side, reaching outwards, clawing her fingers into the powdery render.
Kate ran harder, kicking on, until she felt a sharp pain in her upper arm. Emily was biting her. She swore and released her and Emily fell to the ground, Kate clattering into her, losing her footing, starting to tumble.
Her knees struck stone, followed by her hands and her chin. Emily cried out, then pushed up and turned to run in the direction they’d come from. Kate grabbed her wrist. She yanked her back and spun her round, clutching her to her chest.
A shadow sliced through the light at the end of the passageway and Kate saw Renner hobble towards them, his body twisted at the hip, his left shoulder lifting in time with his gimpy leg. One arm cradled his flank, as if he’d sustained a blow to his kidney, his gun held low at his side.
He peered at them, jutting his chin forwards, then straightened his arm and lifted his gun. There was a flash of light, an explosion of noise, the ping and ricochet of a bullet skipping over Kate’s head.
‘Run.’ She shoved Emily. ‘Faster. Move.’
How many shots had Renner fired now? Was it five?
He was using an automatic pistol but Kate had no way of telling how many rounds it held. He most likely had a spare magazine with him as well. Maybe more than one.
She tripped over Emily’s heels, grasping her slim hips, using her momentum to drive her on. Emily screamed and streaked ahead – running from Kate as much as from Renner – and when, all of a sudden, they emerged from the darkness into a dimly lit cross street, they
were sprinting so hard they rammed into a shutter that had been pulled down in front of a shop.
Emily bounced off the gridded metal and fell to her side. Kate clung on, winded, then pushed away, her chest aching, arm stinging.
She heard the clunk and scrape of Renner’s footsteps in the passageway, followed by the droning squeals of emergency sirens; rising and falling, overlapping and out of sequence. The police response would target the scene of the shooting and spread out from there. They’d be searching for Kate. For Emily, too.
Stumbling forwards, fighting for breath, Kate picked Emily up in her arms.
‘It’s OK,’ she told her. ‘I’ve got you. It’s OK.’
This time, Emily didn’t fight.
Kate strode on, the sirens getting louder, closer. Perhaps she was being foolish. Perhaps the police could help. But no, Hanson’s warnings came back to her again. If she made it to the police ahead of Renner, they’d want to question her. And what would she tell them? That Emily’s father had been on the run? That she herself was part of an illegal operation that was helping to hide them both?
‘You’re hurting me,’ Emily whined.
‘I’m sorry.’
She eased her grip, cradling the girl’s head, beginning to jog on down the street to where a group of men in shirts and jeans were smoking and drinking beneath a eucalyptus tree. Stereo speakers suspended from the tree’s branches crackled with rapid-fire commentary about the bullfight in the arena.
Kate spun and saw Renner stagger out of the darkened passageway, looking wildly in all directions. He locked on to her and lurched into movement again, grimacing as he dragged his bad leg in a wide arc.
The street ahead was choked with market stalls and tourists. Kate embraced the crush, spying a stall selling kitchen equipment to her right. She reached out a hand as she passed, snatching up a boning knife, cupping the wooden handle in her palm and resting the blade against her inner wrist.
She barged through a young couple holding hands, breaking their grip, not troubling to apologise. In the distance, she could glimpse floodlights skimming off the crumbling stonework of the Roman amphitheatre. The arena promised more people and more confusion; a chance of losing Renner.