by Tony Butler
“No, Jay. Wait,” she whispered gently. “There’s nothing you can do. Your grandmother’s gone. Your grandfather is still with Anna, talking to her and saying his goodbyes. So give him a little more time alone with her, before you go in.”
A great sob burst from Jay’s throat and, feeling that her heart would burst, she rested her on Cassie’s shoulder and gave in to her grief.
She was vaguely aware of Cassie comforting her and Ben’s gruff words of condolence, but she was even more aware of the fact that she was to blame for her grandmother’s death.
“If I hadn’t been born some kind of freak—”
‘Don’t you go thinking such nonsense, ever again, Jay!’ Silver Fox’s voice thundered in her mind. ‘Your grandmother’s heart attack was not your doing. It was her time to go on, that’s all. Everyone dies, even as we will, but our spirits will live on and don’t you ever forget that. Death is the price we have to pay to enter the world of the spirits, that’s all.”
Troy whined and then gave a gruff bark of welcome.
Jay stiffened and stared over Cassie’s shoulder in shock. Her grandfather was standing behind Cassie, absently stroking the dog’s head. He seemed to have suddenly grown very old and frail. His broad shoulders sagged and he seemed bowed under the weight of his sorrow. She pulled herself out of Cassie’s arms and ran into his.
He hugged her in what felt almost like a hug of desperation. “Anna’s dead, Jay,” he said. “It was her heart…”
“I know,” Jay sobbed. “I want to see her, Granddad.”
He smiled through his tears. “I’ll take you to her in a minute, love,” he said. “They’re moving her to the hospital chapel now and I’ll be staying with her until the funeral directors arrive. You’d best ring Mary and ask if you can stay the night at her house. I intend to take Anna back home to be buried, Jay. Back home to where she belongs in Catherstone Village.”
* * * *
“She’s the image of Eve,” Janine said, pointing to the photograph on the TV screen. “That girl, Jay Williams, is her daughter alright, Russell. How the hell did she get out of the swamp?”
“I wish I knew and I’d also like to know how she managed to escape from The Devil’s Footprint. She was only about eighteen-months-old, for Pete’s sake.”
“You were right, though. We need to find her quickly and before anyone else does,” Janine said.
“But are you sure that you can kill her yourself, without getting caught?” She didn’t like the idea of him taking the risk and had tried to persuade him to hire a professional to do the hit.
“I’ve already said that I’ll take her out personally this time. Hey, stop worrying, Janine, because I know what I’m doing. I used to earn a living by taking people out.”
“You mean when you were The Death Dancer? That was years ago and—”
“I haven’t lost my touch, believe me. Now the question is, as the guy on television just said, where is Jay Williams now?”
“My guess is that she’ll not stray too far away from her so-called grandparents. It might be an idea to stick close to them and see if the girl makes contact.”
Russell nodded and rose to his feet. “I’ll get over to the airport and hire a chopper to fly me to Wales. When Jay Williams surfaces, I’ll be waiting for her and, freak or not, this time she’s dead!”
He checked into a Beefeater Hotel on the outskirts of Conway, unpacked his bag and checked out his equipment. His brown curly wig and the cheek pads would ensure that no one would be able to identify him again if they saw him without them. He favoured thin, black kidskin gloves to the rubber surgical gloves used by other professional assassins, and a knife or his small Beretta pistol to a heavier calibre handgun. After loading the pistol’s magazine, he screwed its silencer onto the muzzle then changed into black clothes and rubber soled shoes. Satisfied, he locked the door of his room and went down to the restaurant. It was surprisingly busy and the barman told him that they would stop taking orders for food at midnight.
He’d ordered a steak and fries when his mobile rang. It was Janine.
“Russell, the girl’s grandmother’s had a stroke or something and she’s been taken to a hospital in Colwyn Bay. Apparently the girl was with them but ran off when the press appeared, about half-anhour before the old lady collapsed.”
Russell rose to his feet and dropped a twenty pound note onto the table. “I’m on my way,” he said.
Ten-minutes later and wearing his disguise, Russell sped as fast as he dared, without risking being stopped, towards Colwyn Bay. He’d arranged for a car rental company to have a BMW with a full tank of fuel to be waiting for him at the airport.
* * * *
Alex took another sip from the bottle of whisky he’d taken from the drinks cupboard in Carl’s house, and tried to work out what to do about Mary Slymond. He’d seen Julie off on the bus before nicking this car which he’d parked in the shadow of a copse of trees opposite Mary’s house. It was her fault that Carl had gone chicken because somehow she’d made the moron go soft on her. He’d changed, he just wasn’t the same bloke anymore and it was all down to her, the bitch!
He took another drink and savoured the fiery taste of the alcohol. He wasn’t pissed though, not even drunk. He was too angry for that. He looked at his watch and saw that it was almost eleven. The slag would probably be in bed asleep by now because there weren’t any lights on. He was going to have to wait until tomorrow to sort her out.
Alex was about to turn on the ignition when a light came on in one of the bedroom windows and a few seconds later so did another one. Alex paused in the act of turning the key and the front door shot open. Mary and her father hurried out of the front door and, climbing into their car, they drove off.
Alex started the car and followed, knowing that he couldn’t lose them because the first turn off was over a mile away. He stayed behind them all the way into Colwyn Bay and, when they turned into the grounds of the hospital, followed while trying to work out what was going on.
* * * *
Russell chose a parking bay from which he could escape in a hurry. It was close to the entrance of the accident and emergency ward and anyone coming out of the doors would be an easy target. Settling back in his seat, he rolled down the window of the driver’s door, placed the Beretta on the passenger seat, and covered it with a newspaper.
He’d been waiting about half an hour when an attractive young woman came out of the hospital and began pacing up and down outside. She was smoking a cigarette and kept glancing at her watch.
A stocky, older man joined her and they talked animatedly together while occasionally gesticulating towards the drive as though they were waiting for someone. As though in confirmation, he heard a vehicle approaching and a car pulled up beside the couple. A girl climbed out and Russell snatched up his pistol and slipped off the safety catch, but then he flicked it back on again. It was the wrong girl. She was about the right age but this girl had dark hair and a man, who was obviously her father, got out from the driver’s door.
Replacing the pistol underneath the newspaper, he made himself comfortable again. He didn’t mind waiting. It increased his anticipation of making the kill.
The girl’s father got back into his car and, after parking it a few yards away from where Russell sat, he rejoined his daughter and the other couple.
Jay Williams and an elderly man came out of the hospital and joined the group and she and the girl who’d just arrived embraced. Russell took hold of his pistol once again and, flicking off the safety, he put his arm through the open window and sighted on William’s chest. A short burst would kill her instantly.
Russell waited until he had a clear shot and gently squeezed the trigger. In the instant he applied the final pressure, something bumped into the rear of his car, jerking it. He heard the silenced tattoo of the bullets firing and registered people in the group being hurled back a millisecond before his chest hit the steering wheel. Somehow, he managed to retain his grip
on the pistol. He lurched back into his seat and glimpsed in his rear-view mirror at the bewildered face of the driver in the car that had rammed him. There were screams and shouts coming from the direction of William’s group and he cursed when he saw Jay kneeling beside the body of the old man. People came running out of the hospital and he knew that his chance to kill the girl had now gone. With a snarl of rage, he climbed out of his car and hurried around to the driver’s side of the other car. Tearing open the driver’s door, he saw a half empty bottle of Scotch wedged between the guy’s thighs.
“I’m really sorry, Mister,” the idiot said. “My foot slipped.” His face took on a look of disbelief when Russell pressed the muzzle of the silenced Beretta between the young man’s eyes.
“No kidding?” Russell said and shot him.
It had been less than fifteen seconds since he’d fired the burst into the people outside the entrance and then killed the moron who’d rammed him. He was getting back into his own car when he heard a deep throaty growl. A huge black dog launched itself at him and Russell barely managed to slam his door shut before the animal’s heavy body hit it.
Russell started his car and sped out of the car park. A few minutes later, he pulled into a lay-by and quickly removed the false number plates from the car. He’d copied the registration number from an identical vehicle and had a new set made up in a car accessory shop with no questions asked. He’d missed the girl again, God damn it, thanks to that drunken idiot. Well, he wouldn’t be rear-ending anyone else and, as for the freak, he’d get her next time.
Third time lucky, he thought.
He shoved the false plates beneath a thick hedge, and his wig, cheek-pads, gloves and gun he hid inside a specially adapted toolbox in the trunk. He smiled when he pictured the registered owner of the car whose number he’d copied being raided by armed police. Then, of course, there were those camera speed traps that he’d raced through. Russell drove sedately back towards his motel. Perhaps he ought to stop off and get something to eat, and maybe he’d pick himself up a woman for the night.
Chapter Twelve
Rebecca Carlyle was preparing to climb wearily into bed when her phone rang. “Shit!” she swore aloud, and picked up the receiver.
“Sorry, Guv,” her sergeant, Shaun Thompson boomed cheerily into her ear, making her wince, but then he lowered his voice. “I thought you ought to know there’s been a firearms incident at the Colwyn Bay General Hospital…”
“So?” Why was he telling her? Colwyn Bay wasn’t on their patch.
“Jay Williams was involved.”
“What? She’s actually shot someone?”
“No. Didn’t you hear about her grandmother?”
Of course, the girl’s grandmother had suffered a heart attack; it had been on the news. “Yes, I remember now. Okay. How was the girl involved?”
“The gunman, or woman, used an automatic and killed her grandfather, her best friend’s dad, and a BBC TV reporter is having an emergency operation right now.”
“Can you pick me up?” Her patch or not, Jay Williams intrigued her.
“I’m parked outside your flat,” Shaun said. “I’d rather like to meet the girl myself.”
“Give me five minutes and, Shaun? You’d better let Colwyn Bay know that we’re attending because of Williams, but assure them that we understand the investigation’s down to them. We don’t want them complaining that we’re treading on their toes.”
The local DI, Spencer Bicken, who she knew quite well, greeted Rebecca warmly.
“So, you’re interest is in the Williams girl,” he said. “Well, the poor kid’s healing powers didn’t do her much good tonight. She’s lost her grandparents, her best friend’s dad and Cassie Harper, the BBC Reporter, took a bullet in the head. They’re operating on her, but I’m prepared for the worst-case scenario. Oh, by the way, the Chief Constable’s on his way so try to keep out of his way.”
“Thanks, Spencer, I’ll do that. Do you know what happened?”
He shrugged and pointed towards the car park where police officers searched the area.
“Someone fired a burst from an automatic, a small calibre weapon judging by the entrance wounds, probably a twenty-two is my guess, but we’ll know for sure soon.”
“Why would anyone want to kill her?”
“Oh, I don’t think Williams was the target. Nesbitt and Harper have just finished an investigation into drug smuggling, and, according to CI, there were rumours that a contract had been taken out on them. It looks as though Williams and her family were in the wrong place, that’s—”
He broke off as an excited cry came from one of the searchers. “There’s a dead man in this car!
He’s been shot.”
Spencer didn’t object when Rebecca followed him over to the car that the uniformed officer was standing next to. The man, slumped over the steering wheel, had a neat, black-ringed hole punched between his eyes but the exit wound in the back of his head was the size of her fist.
“Excuse me, Guv.” Shaun was comparing the car’s number plate with one written in his notebook. “We had a report at twenty-two-thirty hours that this car was parked suspiciously, but when we sent a car to investigate, it had gone. It was later reported as being stolen.”
Spencer nodded in agreement and then pointed to a black Daimler that was pulling up on the car park. “The chief’s here,” he said. “Why don’t you and Thompson do me a favour and go talk to the girls? They were still in shock when I spoke to them earlier. See if either of them are up to making a statement. It would be a help and, besides, I don’t want anyone making a balls-up of it, especially while the chief’s here.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do,” Rebecca said.
Jay Williams and another girl were in a small side room that was guarded by an armed police officer. He impressed Rebecca by thoroughly scrutinising both her and Shaun’s warrant cards before returning them.
“There’s a WPC with them, Ma’am, and a doctor’s given them both a mild sedative. We didn’t want them out of it until we’d taken their statements.”
“DI Bicken has asked me to help him out on that score,” she said. “Shaun, do you want to wait here while I talk to them?” A thought occurred to her. “Where’s Ben Nesbitt, the BBC reporter?”
“He’s in another waiting room outside the operating theatre,” the armed officer said. “He’ll be alright – one of our men is keeping an eye on him.”
“I’ll wait out here if you like,” Shaun said. “The girl’s are more likely to open up to you if I’m not there.”
Rebecca opened the door and walked into the room.
Jay Williams, despite her red-rimmed eyes, was much prettier in the flesh than in the photograph of her that had been shown on the TV. She had her arms wrapped around a girl with long black hair who was quietly weeping. The WPC looked relieved to see Rebecca and only gave the proffered warrant card a cursory glance, but then to be fair to the woman, she would have known that the ID
had already withstood a thorough examination.
“I’m DI Rebecca Carlyle, Jay. Do you feel up to telling us what happened?”
The WPC pulled out her pocketbook ready to take notes.
Jay nodded and then, making an obvious effort to keep her voice under control, she said, “My grandmother died this evening and my grandfather said that he was going to stay with her until the funeral directors arrived. I rang my best friend, Mary, and asked if I could stay the night at her house. She arrived with her dad and they were talking to Ben and Cassie when Granddad and I came outside. Suddenly, Cassie, Mary’s dad and Granddad fell over and I saw that they were bleeding. I didn’t even realise that they’d been shot. My dog tried to attack a man in the carpark but the man managed to get in his car and drive off.”
“He killed my dad,” the other girl sobbed. “The bastard’s killed my dad!”
Jay rocked the girl while making soothing noises. When she looked up at Rebecca, her eyes were filmed with tears. “
It was me he was trying to kill, wasn’t it? It was me he was after.”
“Good God, no!” Rebecca stared at Jay in surprise. “What on earth made you think that? It was Ben and Cassie who were the targets. Some drug barons had apparently put out a contract on them. Mary is there anything that you can add?”
Mary shook her head. “It all happened so fast. I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she sobbed.
“I haven’t got anyone now that Dad’s…” She obviously couldn’t bring her to say the word dead and started crying again.
“You still have me, Mary, and I have you,” Jay said, brushing her own tears from her eyes.
“We’ve always been best friends and as close as sisters, well from now on that’s what we’ll be—sisters. Neither of us is ever going to be alone.”
Rebecca found herself admiring Jay’s inner strength. Even on what surely must be the most dreadful and traumatic day of her life, she was determined to be there for her friend.
“I’m afraid there will have to be an inquest,” Rebecca said. “It might be a few weeks before the funerals can take place. I suggest you both search through your parents’ or, as in your case, Jay, grandparents’ documents, to see if you can find out the name of their solicitor, or even perhaps their will. You’ll also need to contact the bank because they’ll be freezing your guardians’ accounts until after the inquest. They should, however, appoint an executor of the estates who will allow you a small allowance until their wills have been read.”
“I have an Uncle in America,” Jay said, her voice faltering. “I’ll have to ring him and let him know what’s happened. Grandfather was hit in the throat and there was nothing I could do. What’s the use of being able to heal people if you can’t help your own family?”
Rebecca couldn’t think of a suitable reply. “I’ll get both of your statements typed up and get someone to bring them to you to sign.” She took out one of her business cards and put it into Jay’s hand. “If you need advice or even just to talk to someone, my number’s on here.”