ROAD TO NOWHERE : DCI MILLER 3: Another Manchester Crime Thriller With A Killer Twist

by Steven Suttie

  But he stopped running as soon as his feet hit the gravel drive, and he saw exactly what was happening with his own eyes. Dave stood there, he was immobilised, frozen with shock, as he stared at the terrifying picture that lay before him. There, in the living room window, with a huge knife held to her throat, sat Dave and Kath’s friend and neighbour, Rebecca Knight. She was sobbing, and she looked petrified. Whatever was going on here was just about as serious as it could be. Kath wasn’t far behind, and was talking frantically on her phone, reeling off the address to the police operator. She went completely silent when her eyes met the scene that Dave had found a few seconds earlier.

  “Hello? Hello? Are you still there?” asked the call handler.

  Kath had dropped her phone onto the floor and was standing, open mouthed, looking straight through the window at Rebecca.

  *****

  “All available units – this is control - urgent response required to One Six Three Blackpool Road, Bolton. Reports of an intruder, a man, armed with a knife, holding a female hostage. He is standing in the front window with the hostage. He is blatantly courting attention, and is holding a large knife or machete to the hostage’s throat. Nobody else is believed to be at the address. The woman has children, but they are accounted for at another location. Repeat. All available units, urgent call to One Six Three Blackpool Road, Bolton. The suspect is believed to be Peter Meyer, the prime suspect wanted in connection to Sergeant Knight’s murder. All available units are required to attend on emergency response. Armed Response Unit en-route, ETA nine minutes. Negotiator is en- route, ETA twenty two minutes. Ambulance crew is en-route, ETA six minutes. Standby for further updates, over.” Bloop bip.

  *****

  “Okay, well I apologise for interrupting that report. We have some breaking news, as we bring you a dramatic story which is just unfolding in Bolton, in Greater Manchester. The tape that you are seeing on your screens at home is mobile phone footage taken by a neighbour of Rebecca Knight. Now, Rebecca Knight is the widow of Sergeant Jason Knight, who, as you will know, was killed earlier this week.” The newsreader clearly didn’t have a clue what was going on, and was simply repeating words that were being shouted into her ear by the director.

  “Well, the scene that we are seeing here, it is a little grainy, and it is not very clear, but the house in the film, if you look to the light in the window, you can just about make out two figures in the window there. This is unconfirmed at this stage – but we believe that Peter Meyer, the man who is wanted in connection with the murder of Sergeant Knight, is holding a knife to Rebecca Knight’s throat, in plain view of the window, and the whole road. On the line, I’m joined by a neighbour of Mrs Knight’s, Donna Wilbor, who has sent us these pictures from her mobile phone. Donna, are you there?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m here.” The woman sounded scared, shocked. There was a cold edge to her voice, and it was unsettling to hear the sense of terror that she was experiencing.

  “Tell us what’s happening, please…”

  “Well, this is, the video that I sent you, this is Rebecca Knight, she’s in the window, and the man is, I’m pretty sure its Peter Meyer – the one they’re trying to catch for killing Jason. Well, he’s holding a massive knife up to her throat, and he’s just staring out the window.”

  “Is he saying anything? Does anybody know what he wants?”

  “No, nothing. Nobody knows. It was Kath across the road who went round to see if Rebecca was alright. She saw the lights on, and hadn’t seen Rebecca since, well, you know. So she went round to give her condolences and next minute there’s all this shouting in the street – then police cars came zooming up the road. There’s about, God, twenty police cars outside now. More.”

  “And what are the police saying to Meyer?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing - it’s weird, it’s all really, really quiet. All the police are silent. You can just hear this one dog barking, somewhere over the backs. It’s so freaky, it’s… I just hope Rebecca is alright. As if she hasn’t been through enough this week, and then all this happens.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Andy Miller was in the shower when his work phone started ringing. Clare was downstairs, watching Embarrassing Bodies on the television and the twins were in bed, fast asleep. He was looking forward to hitting the hay himself, soon. He was done in. It had been another frustrating, tiring day at work, lots and lots of possible leads that just ran out to nothing. As the leading investigator on this case, it was Miller’s job to bring Meyer in. It was such a frustrating case, as Peter Meyer seemed to have just vanished into thin air. There was literally nothing to go on. The DCI’s from all the divisions were blocking his moves, and altogether, it had been a shit day. Miller was going over it all in the shower, thinking about things that might have been overlooked, things that might need checking again. He had never felt so puzzled by a suspect’s apparent disappearance, and it was driving him nuts.

  He was surprised to see that his phone was ringing when he came out of the bathroom. It was on the bed, vibrating and humming away. “For God’s sake. It’s half ten!” Miller grabbed the phone, but just as he did, it rang off. He typed in his password and looked at the screen. There had been eleven missed calls. He’d only been in the shower for a couple of minutes. “What the…”

  The phone started ringing again. It was the police HQ switchboard number. Miller got the somersault feeling in his stomach. Something was happening.

  “Miller!” he barked into the phone as he answered.

  The Duty Inspector at Bolton police station gave Miller the information about Meyer, and the situation at the Knight residence. Miller was almost dressed by the time the brief, to-the-point conversation had finished.

  “Seeya,” said Miller, on his way out of the door. Clare looked around, opened her mouth to speak, and heard the front door close behind her husband, before she had chance to ask what was going on, or say “seeya” back. Just a couple of seconds later, Miller’s car headlights had reversed off the drive, and his blue lights were revolving and lighting up the neighbourhood as his car screeched out of his quiet street in Worsley, and headed north in the direction of Bolton.

  *****

  The scene outside the Knight family home on Blackpool Road was dramatic, but it was also very peculiar, because it was all so still and quiet. The police attendance was considerable, there was more than thirty vehicles parked all along the road, each of them with their revolving blue lights illuminating the homes and vehicles on either side of the well-to-do road of modern, spacious family homes. Neighbours were out on their drives, wearing pyjamas and dressing gowns, trying to keep children quiet as they all stood, gossiping with neighbours and sharing their own shock and surprise at what was happening. The police officers didn’t seem to be doing anything either, they were just standing there. Just like the residents of Blackpool Road, they too were stood in groups, watching the house. It was a surreal situation, it was as though nobody knew what they were supposed to do. But the blue lights were still revolving and making sure that the neighbourhood was well lit up in vivid blue.

  The scene at the front window of Rebecca Knight’s house was unchanged. The man with the knife was still standing there, still holding the huge knife up to Rebecca’s throat. She was sat on a chair, with her eyes closed, in a state of sheer terror.

  *****

  Sky News were covering the story with various clips of amateur mobile phone footage, and phone interviews with residents who could see what was happening. The channel had dropped its usual fifteen minute rotating news schedule to concentrate exclusively on this sensational story. To the news companies, this seemed as though it was going to provide the dramatic climax to the Knight / Meyer story. As such, the channel had sent out news alerts to everybody that had downloaded the Sky News App, along with texts to all members of the public that had provided their phone number to the channel, and they’d even sent out e-mails too. It was unprecedented, but then, so was this extraordinary ne
ws story. Britain had rarely known such exhilarating drama in real-life.

  “On the line, we are joined by Gail James. Gail, you live next door to Rebecca, don’t you? Please, tell us what’s happening?”

  “Hi, yes, I’m Rebecca and Jason’s, well, Rebecca’s next door neighbour, and we’ve been moved out of the house now by police – we’ve had to come down to the bottom of the road while they put all the cordons in place.”

  “And what’s happening there, can you explain what is going on?”

  “No, there’s nothing happening, its just quiet, I think the police are just trying to suss out what this is all about – but the guy in the house – he hasn’t moved an inch, he’s just stood there, holding the knife to Rebecca’s neck. It’s really scary.”

  “Is he not making demands, or shouting?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. Like I say, he’s just standing there, just staring straight out of the window at the police lights.”

  “Is he saying anything to Rebecca?”

  “No. He’s just stood there. He’s just looking out of the window like he’s completely lost his marbles.”

  *****

  Miller had his own blue lights revolving and illuminating the dark Manchester streets, as he drove at the fastest speeds that he’d ever had out of the CID car. He had been talking on the phone for the duration of the fifteen minute drive, finding out everything that he possibly could about this peculiar development.

  By the time that he had arrived at Blackpool Road, Miller thought he had Meyer’s motivation for this stunt figured out. He parked the car and got out, jogging along the road until he reached a PC at the POLICE LINE DO NOT

  CROSS tape that formed the start of the exclusion zone around the property. Miller flashed his warrant card at the policeman, who held his hand up and stopped Miller from proceeding.

  “I’m sorry, Sir this area is out-of-bounds to all –yourself included.” The police officer looked quite worried, as he spoke very quietly to one of Manchester’s best known detectives.

  “Eh? You what?” Miller looked over his shoulder, trying to figure out if this was a prank. There was nobody else there, just this young PC, who looked quite worried by this confrontation.

  “I’ve been told not to let anybody through. I’m sorry.” He was talking just an octave louder than a whisper.

  “Listen, I’m DCI Miller, I’m…”

  “Sir, I know who you are. The message I was given was don’t let anybody in. And that includes DCI Miller.” The copper looked a tiny bit smug, but he was still worried about this awkward set-to.

  “Who gave that order?”

  “It came from DCS Dixon. He has taken responsibility for this incident, Sir.”

  “And where is he?”

  “He’s en-route, Sir. He should be here any minute.” Just as the officer spoke, Miller’s phone started ringing. It said DIXON on the screen.

  “Sir, hello.”

  “Ah, Andy, where are you?”

  “I’m at the scene, arguing with a bobby who won’t let me into the cordon.” There was a great deal of irritation in Miller’s voice, and his boss knew that tone extremely well, and also how to diffuse it.

  “Yes, good. It’s the negotiator’s crime scene for phase one. The first order was to prohibit any person from the immediate area, and his second was to make everybody as quiet as they could be.”

  “And what are the demands?”

  “There are no demands. There has been no contact. We are waiting for armed response to give us the green light

  to start negotiating at the front of the house. But it’s a difficult scene, there are residents all around taking photos and videos on their phones and sending them off to Facebook and Sky News and things. It’s a can of worms.” Dixon sounded quite worried.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in transit. I’ll be…” There was a quieter voice talking to Dixon in the vehicle. Miller couldn’t make out what was being said. Dixon started talking again. “I’ll be six minutes. I’ll call you when I arrive.”

  “Wait – where is the negotiator?”

  “In her car. She’s waiting for the nod from ARU.”

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Inspector Linda Woodworth, from G Division.”

  “Ah, she’s excellent.”

  “Yes, she’s the number one choice.”

  “So what’s her plan when ARU give the nod?”

  “We haven’t decided yet.”

  “Right. So sit tight, is that the plan? We all just sit in our cars and hope this fruit-cake doesn’t kill the hostage, live on the news?”

  “Andy, I’ll be there soon. Speak then.” Dixon hung up.

  “Fuck’s sake,” said Miller, as he bobbed underneath the cordon tape and walked briskly towards the house where Peter Meyer was holding Rebecca Knight hostage. The police officer didn’t know what he was supposed to do, so he just stood on the spot, and spoke quietly into his radio.

  “DCI Miller has just refused to comply with the exclusion zone. He is walking towards the Knight property, over.”

  *****

  “Hello, sorry to trouble you…”

  “What’s going on?” The householder looked confused, he wasn’t expecting the police at his door. Not at this time. Something bad must have happened. Once his door

  was fully opened, and he saw all of the blue lights, his look of confusion changed to fear and apprehension. “Is everything alright?”

  “Yes, we’ve got a major incident on our hands at a nearby property. We have to ask you to leave your house now, as quickly as possible please.”

  “Eh, what?” The man’s face had now changed to anger.

  “You need to leave the house, now. Who else is inside the property?”

  “Well, my wife, but she’s disabled. We can’t just…”

  “There’s a waiting area in the school round the corner. It’s for your own safety. We need to move very quickly, but there’s no need to panic.”

  The same scene was taking place at every door within two hundred yards of the Knight household. Both sides of the road were being cleared of people, who were going to be welcomed with cups of tea at the local primary school.

  For the majority of the people of Blackpool Road, they could really do without all this, and went quietly, but grumpily, out of their homes and round to the school. Many of them had been in bed, and pleaded with the police that they had to be up for work in the morning. But it was all to no avail – the whole area had to be cleared.

  For some, it was all quite exciting and offered a good chance to gossip and talk about this unexpected drama in the local community, and of course a good opportunity to discuss the revelations about their recently deceased neighbour, Jason Knight.

  For a handful of others, it was a real pain in the arse, because they’d been filming everything on their phones, and were talking to Sky about it. There was talk of being paid for the videos, but the police had wrecked all that now.

  *****

  As far as Miller was concerned, there was a world of difference between doing nothing, and doing something. There was no way that he could just sit in his car and wait six minutes until Dixon landed at the scene. He was ducking,

  very low, as he jogged past the bushes and fences and privets all along Blackpool Road, making his way silently towards the house. He was more concerned about creating shadows, than actually being seen himself, so he went very carefully.

  It was very easy to see what was going on inside the house, Miller realised as he reached the wall that surrounded the driveway outside number 163. Meyer certainly wasn’t looking for any privacy, as he stood in the front window, with the room inside fully lit up. Miller knelt down by the large steel gate, and was surprised by how easy it had been to get so close to the action without being seen.

  Approximately ten metres away from where Miller was observing, Peter Meyer was quite visibly standing with his eyes closed. He looked as though he was saying some
thing over and over again, as he held Rebecca Knight’s hair with one hand, and held the hunting knife to her throat with the other. He looked as though he might be praying. Or was he singing? Miller couldn’t be sure. What did catch his attention was the expression of sheer terror on Rebecca Knight’s face. One thing was for certain, she believed that she was in mortal danger. This wasn’t a play act by Meyer and this thing needed stopping straight away.

  Miller turned on his fists, and began retreating back to the cordon line, running in a crouching position like a chimp, as quickly as he could. As soon as he felt that he was out of sight of Meyer, he lifted his radio to his mouth.

  “This is DCI Miller to ARU. Have you got a clear shot of the suspect? Over.”

  There was a long silence, over ten seconds passed before the radio crackled and Miller received a response.

  “This is Firearms Commander Four Zero Four. We presently have the suspect locked in sight by four of our officers. Over.”

  “Can you work out what he’s saying?”

  There was another long silence before Miller received a response.

  “We believe the suspect is repeating the same thing, Sir. We believe he is saying “come-on, come-on. Over.” Replied the firearms officer. He was talking in a very slow, very controlled manner. It was reassuring to Miller, to learn that Rebecca Knight did have the protection of the highly skilled Armed Response Unit. At least there was that.

  “Suicide-by-cop? As in, come on, come on, hurry up and shoot me dead? Over.”

  “Yes, that’s our assessment Sir. Over.”