PANIC BUTTON a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Charlie Gallagher

  George and Sarah followed.

  ‘You look well,’ Sarah said.

  ‘You lie well!’

  Sarah smiled. ‘Well, okay, you look like shit!’

  ‘Bit harsh!’ George chuckled.

  ‘All right then. Er . . . You look well, considering.’

  ‘That’ll do.’

  ‘You’ve really been through it these last few days.’ Sarah’s tone was kind.

  ‘Well, it’s not how I would have chosen to spend my time.’ George didn’t know what else to say.

  They stood in front of the ring toss, watching Charley. ‘They’re never going to leave you alone, are they?’ Sarah said.

  ‘They will — eventually. Once that happens, I want nothing more to do with them. Then I’ll be able to have a life of some sort.’

  ‘And when will that be?’

  ‘There’s no case for me to answer. They just wanted to get someone in the door as quickly as possible, to stop any more attacks and to appease the media.’

  Sarah scowled. ‘You’re the wrong man, so how does arresting you stop anything?’

  ‘They were very quick to talk to the media about my arrest. That’s got them off their backs. Now whoever is actually responsible sits on his hands for a few days, letting the police think they’ve got the right man. It’s a tactic that can backfire — your standard serial killer is an arrogant fellow, so it can actually prompt another attack. I’m just glad none of it is my problem anymore.’

  ‘So they don’t actually think it’s you?’

  ‘To be fair, they probably did. But since my release, I would imagine their investigation has moved elsewhere and that will be the last I hear about it.’

  ‘And what about long term? I know you won’t quit.’

  George turned to face his wife. ‘I won’t. Not because I ever want to work as part of that establishment again, but because I’d be silly to walk. They would love me to just chuck away my pension and disappear, but the fact is that I was injured on duty and I can’t work. What happens if I do leave? I’m still at the consultancy stage with this tinnitus, no one really understands how bad it is in my case . . .’ George tailed off.

  ‘Do you still have the problems with balance?’

  George nodded. ‘The whole thing is getting worse. I end up on the deck with no idea what happened. There’s no warning, no build up, I just go down. And there are some noises I just can’t cope with, tiny little indistinct noises, an FM radio played low is enough to work me up into a real rage. I can’t describe it. People think I’m mental. I’ve had to leave the barber’s because I couldn’t cope and I was close to smashing the radio to pieces. I lose all control, it’s like a sort of confused anger and I just have to get away.’ George was afraid it made him sound crazy.

  It was a few moments before Sarah replied. ‘I get like that,’ George looked at her, not understanding, ‘When that Nick Grimshaw comes on!’

  They both laughed.

  ‘At the moment they’re paying for all the specialists to treat my ears, and the doctors keep telling me that I’ll have to be pensioned off in the end. Lennokshire Police will have to take their advice but it has to be their decision. If they get rid of me, I get something out of them and they get rid of a right pain in the arse. Everyone’s happy.’

  ‘Well, not really.’

  George thought for a second. She was right. He had lost his job, his home and the family he loved. ‘The best of a bad situation, at least,’ he offered.

  ‘Are you pursuing them over your arrest? They beat you black and blue, George.’

  ‘They’re just terrified at the moment, Sarah. Someone out there is doing terrible things, and when they do get hold of the right person, I hope they give him a proper shoeing. It could have been worse. I had a solicitor in with me for the interview and I think he’s making some sort of representation, but I have no desire to pursue it through the legal system. I’m done with that.’

  Sarah stood a little closer to him to watch Charley take her turn with the hoops. ‘How have you been though, George? Despite the last few days, you seem better.’

  George took a moment to consider this. ‘I do feel better. In a funny sort of way it’s given me another kick up the arse. I’ve found that a few people I used to call mates have been very quick to condemn me. I could do with a clean break from it all. I think a move away from Langthorne would help.’

  Sarah turned to look at him.

  ‘Not too far though. I still need to be close enough to warn off all those boyfriends!’ George nodded at the little girl failing to get her hoops over the bottles.

  ‘We’d hate it if you moved too far away,’ Sarah said.

  George noted the “we.” ‘I couldn’t do that. Despite what’s happened, everything that I love is here.’

  George and Sarah looked at each other and smiled. Charley was suddenly back. She grabbed her mum by the hand to lead her on to the next stall, and Sarah reached out and took hold of George’s. Laughing, the family moved away.

  CHAPTER 24

  Sam had been watching the man’s body language carefully during the call, and it had evidently rattled him. The call ended suddenly, cut, Sam guessed, from the other end. He stamped out of the room and into the kitchen. Sam could hear the sound of breaking crockery, followed by silence.

  He had changed his clothes, and was now wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, a short-sleeved blue shirt and trainers. His pistol hung from his shoulder in a black holster. He was tall, dark and, yes, handsome, thought Sam. He had broad shoulders and carried himself well.

  He stopped pacing and stood with his back to Sam. Through blinds pulled almost shut, his attention was suddenly on the movement of shadows past the window. The basement flat was sparsely furnished with a sofa, an elegant floor-standing lamp and nothing much else. The lounge was located at the front of the property and the window looked out onto a brick wall, marking the edge of the pavement above. From her position Sam could also see the silhouettes of people walking past, but nothing more. Anyone looking down would see a set of pine slats covering the window.

  Sam had been dragged in the back way, where double doors led straight into a small kitchen-diner, and then through to a hall and the door to the single bedroom. The sash windows were shut and no doubt locked, with no sign of any keys. The bathroom was an extension crudely constructed off the back of the kitchen that took up much of the yard, leaving perhaps eight feet by ten feet of empty concrete.

  Sam sat as she had been instructed, in the middle of the sofa, her back straight, her hands laid out flat either side of her.

  He went back into the kitchen and came out holding a small stool, which he placed in front of Sam. He had made coffee in a disposable plastic cup, strong and black. He sat facing her, hands steepled in a thoughtful pose.

  ‘Detective Constable Samantha Robins.’

  ‘Yeah, you know my name. Now I know where you live, you might as well tell me yours.’ The flat was on Dover Road, a street she knew well, situated in the northern half of Langthorne. It was a long road that snaked through some pretty poor areas, housing the overflow from the Epping Hill Estate, as well as migrants and refugees. As Dover Road moved towards the edge of town, the terraced houses and flats gave way to large detached houses. The flat where Sam now found herself captive was around halfway along. The fact that he hadn’t concealed the location was a bad sign, and she was afraid. She tried to keep herself calm.

  ‘You have no idea where I live. But I will tell you my name. It’s Kane Mitchell. I changed my name to Mitchell at the beginning of the year — my family name is Forley. The name Forley should ring a bell with you, Miss Robins. Your police force is the reason I changed it.’

  ‘No,’ said Sam, honestly, though the name rang some vague bells.

  ‘You’ll certainly know my brother, William Forley.’

  Sam took a second. ‘I think I do,’ she replied. ‘Didn’t he like to touch young girls, five or six-year-olds, if he could? Sure I
know your family name, and I can’t blame you for changing it.’

  Forley’s tone was hostile. ‘He was accused—’

  ‘Convicted. He was convicted of four counts and then he breached his conditions. He was a danger to children and a piece of shit.’ She stared right back at him.

  Forley jumped to his feet and began to pace around the room. ‘Was, yes, because you well know that Will took his own life in prison. He did that when he was sent back there for breaching the conditions imposed by the court, after he was sent to prison following an investigation by Lennokshire Police.’

  ‘I was a good part of that. I interviewed your brother.’

  Forley stared at her, evidently surprised. ‘How did you feel when you heard that he’d taken his own life?’

  Sam met his stare. ‘I think I’ve answered that question.’

  ‘Ah, yes, you referred to my brother as a piece of shit. Well, he never admitted the allegations. The so-called victims never officially came forward to the police. The whole thing was all pushed through by the parents, carers and school staff. Even the older girl who was a teenager never made any formal report. But your tenacious investigation convinced the judge and jury, and he was convicted.’ He paused. ‘How do you think paedophiles are treated in prison, Miss Robins?’

  ‘The way they deserve to be, I imagine. And that girl wasn’t a teenager when her ordeal began.’

  ‘Isolation. That’s what he suffered. Almost twenty-four hours a day. You’d think that the isolation would be the worst bit, but it wasn’t. You see, he wrote letters to our mother every single day, so I know that the worst bit was the hour that he spent with the other inmates. Some of them had been convicted of the same crimes, and they would say disgusting things, treat him like he was one of them. And right up to the last letter we ever received, he insisted that he was not one of them, that he was not what he’d been convicted of.’

  Sam snorted. ‘And you believed him? I get lied to for a living, you know, and your brother was not a very good liar.’

  His voice was angry now. She had pushed him too far. ‘Maybe you’re right, maybe he was a piece of shit who deserved to die hanging from his own bedsheet, which he’d soiled in fear after threats from other inmates. Maybe he deserved the eighteen months of isolation, intimidation and constant terror that he suffered at the hands of HMP. You could make an argument for that. But my mother — my beautiful, innocent mother, who did nothing but love and care for us — she did not. She did not deserve those letters every day, to read of her son’s constant torture, of his eternal, never-ending pain, when he swore he was innocent. She could do nothing. And she suffered.’

  Sam shrugged. ‘Okay, it isn’t only the victims that suffer. But what would she have us do? Leave him alone until he gets to the point where he loses control and abducts, rapes and kills a young girl? I’ve seen it happen. Men who claim to be in control, to be innocent, can very suddenly escalate. They may not even mean to, they often don’t plan to, but you’re talking about a man who’s turned on by children, who’s getting more and more turned on and ultimately gives in to it.’

  Forley stopped pacing. ‘Still the assumption of guilt? You police officers, once you decide a person’s guilty you can never be persuaded any different. History is littered with the wrongly accused.’

  ‘And with people unnecessarily raped and murdered because a guilty person is allowed to go free,’ Sam replied.

  ‘My mother didn’t deserve to be a victim.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘He came out and we had a chance. We had all clubbed together and sorted somewhere for them to move, my mum and Will, somewhere a long way from here. We were all changing our names to Mitchell and we’d have a new start. It got delayed. Your people wouldn’t change his conditions quick enough so he could sign on in the north of the country, so we couldn’t leave and we lost a couple of places. We had just got it sorted with probation, with housing, with everything. We were moving three days after George Elms harassed my brother, chasing him past a primary school and then falsifying evidence that showed him to be a danger to those children.’

  Sam leaned forward. ‘That isn’t how it—’

  ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ Forley struck her backhanded across the face. She put her hands up.

  ‘Put your fucking hands back flat!’

  A small trickle of blood rolled down her cheek.

  ‘Don’t you fucking dare stick up for that man! He harassed, pushed and followed my brother. He manipulated the conditions to get him back in prison for the rest of his term. It destroyed us. Once Will was back in there, I knew he wouldn’t last. He told me he wouldn’t. The letters became desperate. He was writing more and more about how he wanted his mum to have a good life and that she couldn’t have that while he was around. When he was out of prison he had seen the way his mum was treated by the people around her. George Elms had made sure that everyone in that shitty Epping Hill Estate knew what he was accused of. So they hounded my mum, saying that she’d bred a paedophile, that it was her fault and how could she live with herself! She would go out to get a loaf of bread, a pint of milk, some money, and she’d come back in floods of tears. In the end she just stayed in, ordered food online, quit her job, claimed off the state and wrote letters to her son. That was her life. Misery!’

  Forley’s eyes were glazed, looking beyond Sam.

  ‘There was nothing left for my mum. She began listening to the people around her, and she blamed herself for how he had turned out and for not doing enough while he was in prison. For not keeping him alive. Even though there was nothing she could have done.’

  Sam didn’t react.

  ‘She was a wonderful woman. When Will died, she died too. I mean, she didn’t take her own life for another couple of weeks, but from the moment she found out, there was nothing left of her but a shell. She felt like she had failed everyone, including me.’

  ‘So why shoot innocent police officers?’ Sam spat. ‘Blaming George, and going for him is one thing, but I know Jan Thomas. She was a nan, guilty of nothing worse than a bit of gossip. She had nothing to do with what happened to your brother. I bet she’d never heard of him. And a lad with a pregnant wife who was barely out of training school! Why? And what about the old man who mows the lawn and picks up a few leaves where you buried your mum? What was his crime?’

  ‘Spoken like a true police officer. You sit there judging me, black or white, innocent or guilty. I want George Elms to suffer like we did, like my brother did. Like my mother. I’ve planned this in detail. I was just gonna gun the fucker down in the street when he walked out of his dingy little flat and be away before anyone knew what had happened. Easy. But then I thought about it. What does he get? No pain, no loss, just a bullet in the chest then darkness. Well, that isn’t enough!’

  Forley was pacing again, his face contorted, spitting out his words. ‘Then I had an idea. I realised that I could put George Elms and his family through the same experience we had. Let him feel the exact same pain, the exact same desperation. In prison, a police officer might be even more hated than the paedos! They even put them together I hear.’

  ‘So you shoot a few police officers, leave a tenuous link to George at the scene and imagine that’s enough to get him convicted in court? Beyond reasonable doubt? You’re stupider than you look.’ Sam’s tone was calm and the strength had returned to her voice.

  ‘He has history with the police, enough to give him a motive, and he knows the procedures. Of course, that on its own wouldn’t be enough to get him where I want him to be. Although I’m pleased to hear they took out some of their frustration on him before he was taken to the cells.’

  ‘How did you hear about that? I’m guessing from the same source that took George’s radio out of the police station. You couldn’t be doing this without the help of some dirty copper.’

  ‘I can see why you’re respected as a detective, Miss Robins. Yes. From the same source that told me who you are, and just how fortu
nate I am that our paths crossed!’ Forley clapped his hands. ‘Guess what? The people supplying firearms are also the very people that have links within the police. Seems some of your colleagues are very keen to get a little extra money, no matter what for. You lot pretend to be so righteous! Let me tell you, every one of you would be on the take if the money was right.’

  ‘That isn’t true. There probably isn’t a copper alive that hasn’t been offered a bung — I know I have. I turn it down for reasons that people like you couldn’t possibly understand. Don’t think we’re all the same. So you found a piece of shit that was willing to take the money? Well for every copper who will, you’ll find a hundred that will stick it right up your arse and drag you into custody.’

  Forley smiled. ‘I happen to think you’re in the minority. I think there’s no honour left anywhere in this world, certainly not in your precious organisation.’

  ‘You’re forgetting that you failed. You can kill me, you can kill George, but you won’t get him into a prison cell. He’s already been released without charge. Your only hope of avoiding prison yourself now is to disappear.’

  ‘I will be disappearing, Miss Robins, you can be sure of that. But don’t think I’ve finished with George Elms. I’ve got one last job planned, and George Elms will be pulling the trigger. He’ll confess to it too. Then they’ll have to put him away.’

  Sam said nothing.

  ‘I now have a hold over our mutual friend. He’ll do anything I ask of him. Anything at all.’

  Sam laughed. ‘You think he’ll do what you say just because you have me? Sure, we worked together, but we also worked with a million other people. He won’t be putting his liberty at risk on my account.’

  ‘You think you’re my bargaining chip? Think again. What did I tell you about having a contact inside the police? This one has complete access to George’s wife and child. He is heavily armed and he has their complete trust. He’s willing to betray that trust on a word from me. George Elms just has to know that I can wipe out his family with extreme violence at any time. It’s more than enough for me to get total control of his trigger finger. And I only need him to squeeze it once.’