No One's Safe: DI Max Byrd & DI Orion Tanzy book 3

by C. J. Grayson

  Cornty swivelled a little towards the back of the car. ‘Sorry, Amy. It’s getting to me all this shit.’

  She pursed her lips together but didn’t say anything.

  ‘It’s getting to everyone,’ said Leonard. ‘This Dilton fucker. Fallows, wherever the hell she is. And now Stockdale is involved in this online shit…’

  Cornty nodded and apologised again.

  ‘It’s fine, Phil,’ Amy replied quietly.

  ‘Looks like we’ll need to—’

  ‘Whoa!’ Leonard snapped, stopping Cornty from finishing his sentence.

  ‘What?’ Weaver said, leaning forward from the back, her hands on the head rests of both front seats.

  ‘There…’ Leonard said, pointing down the street on the right, watching a man walk across the road further down.

  ‘Him?’ Cornty said.

  He was bald, matching the height and width of the profile they had on Mackenzie Dilton. He took a right into Church Grove.

  Leonard engaged the clutch of the silver Insignia and put the gear in first, checked for traffic in his wing mirror, and pulled out quickly, planting his foot to the floor. When they made the turn, they frantically scanned the area for the man who’d they just seen. He was wearing a red t-shirt and black shorts.

  Leonard stopped. A cul-de-sac, nowhere to go. ‘Can you see him?’

  Weaver leaned back, methodically checking each house in turn. They’d been in the same street five minutes ago but didn’t see a Ford Focus. ‘I can’t see him.’

  ‘Phil?’

  Cornty inspected the houses to the left of the car. ‘Zilch…’

  ‘Bastard.’

  Leonard then asked Weaver for her phone, which she handed over. He craned his neck, looking at the map that was open on Google.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ Weaver asked.

  Handing back her phone, he did a U-turn, returning to Barton Street again.

  Cornty was baffled. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Show him, Amy,’ said Leonard.

  Cornty took the phone to have a look. ‘What am I looking at, Jim?’

  Leonard leaned over, pointed to the map. ‘It’s a cul-de-sac. There’s no way out. I think we should sit tight watching, see what happens.’

  ‘Why don’t we just knock on doors,’ suggested Weaver.

  ‘Because if Fallows is helping him, she’ll recognise us. They won’t answer the door. We haven’t the man power to burst down every door.’

  Weaver made a fair enough face and leaned back.

  ‘Who you calling?’ Cornty said to Leonard as he plucked his own phone from his pocket.

  ‘To let Max and Orion know.’ He paused a beat. ‘We have him cornered.’

  79

  Tuesday Morning

  Police Station

  ‘Okay. Thanks for letting me know.’

  Byrd hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Tanzy, staring at him.

  ‘Leonard. He thinks they spotted him go into Church Grove but lost him. Reckon he’s in one of the houses. They’re waiting out on the road until backup arrives. Says he’s blocked in.’

  Tanzy nodded and stood up. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘We’ll get Timms and Grearer there, too.’

  ‘Good idea,’ replied Tanzy as they both made their way to the office.

  ‘Timms!’ Tanzy shouted. ‘Grearer. Let’s go.’

  PC Timms and PC Grearer, who were seated near each other on separate desks, stood up immediately. Tanzy filled them in on the situation about Dilton then, after they grabbed a few things, followed Byrd and Tanzy out into the car park. Byrd opened his X5, the sidelights flashing once, and jumped in the driver’s seat. Tanzy got into the passenger seat and buckled up.

  Grearer and Timms took one of the marked Peugeots and pulled out onto the road a moment after.

  ‘You think it was definitely him?’ DC Cornty asked Leonard, watching the opening to Church Grove.

  ‘I’m pretty confident, yeah.’

  ‘Good enough for me,’ Cornty said, nodding.

  ‘Are Max and Orion coming?’ Weaver said from the back of the car.

  ‘Yeah. Max said he’ll request more backup. Once they’re pegged in with nowhere to go, we’ll go in.’

  ‘What if they—’

  ‘Look!’ Cornty shouted, stabbing the warm air inside the car. ‘Look.’

  Leonard and Weaver watched the blue Ford Focus edge out and take a right, away from them.

  ‘There she is, the bitch!’ Leonard shouted, referring to Linda Fallows in the passenger seat.

  ‘Think they saw us?’ asked Weaver.

  Leonard quickly pulled out and quickly accelerated through the gears. By the time they hit the bend, the Focus was out of sight, somewhere along the road.

  ‘C’mon, Jim!’ Cornty shouted, tapping the dash in frustration.

  Leonard planted his foot and the car surged forward. Soon they reached the traffic lights just before the bridge.

  The Focus shot down the ramp, through the lights, and raced up the other side.

  Leonard gripped the wheel and pushed hard on the pedal, creeping in front of a car coming from the left. Weaver leaned back into the seat with her palms flat on the seats either side to stop her falling. In the front seat, Cornty held on to the door handle to steady his weight as Leonard powered under the bridge, the roar of the engine echoing off the brick walls on either side.

  ‘C’mon, Jim!’ repeated Cornty, watching the Focus reach the top of the incline and go out of sight.

  ‘I am,’ replied a frustrated Leonard. They sped up the hill and the car went airborne for a moment, sending butterflies through their stomachs. ‘Ring Max. Tell him they’re on the move.’

  Cornty found Tanzy’s number, and pressed CALL. ‘C’mon. Pick up, pick up,’ he said quickly, his heart rate through the roof.

  ‘Phil?’ Tanzy answered.

  ‘They’re moving towards North Road.’

  ‘In the Focus?’

  Cornty said they were.

  The Focus whizzed by Aldi at sixty miles an hour. If a car pulled out, or a pedestrian crossed the road, the repercussions would be catastrophic.

  ‘They must know we’re behind them!’ Weaver panted from the back seat, watching the speeding car through the front windscreen.

  A red Clio pulled out of Aldi’s car park just as Dilton and Fallows passed and slammed on their brakes, causing tyres to skid on the tarmac. People nearby froze and stared at the high-screeched sound.

  ‘Jesus!’ Leonard said, gasping at how close it was. On the opposite side of the road, there were no cars, so when Leonard’s Insignia caught up with the Clio, he veered onto the other side, went around it, and pulled back in. The Focus took a sudden left onto North Road.

  ‘He’s fast. Must be an ST…’

  Leonard frowned. ‘Quicker. An RS may be?’ He reached the turn and looked up at the traffic lights. They were on red. Cars from the right started to shift forward.

  ‘They’ve gone left on North Road, Orion,’ Cornty shouted into the phone.

  ‘Got ya!’ replied Tanzy. ‘We’re on St. Cuthbert’s Way, heading to the roundabout.’

  Cornty noticed the cars coming from the right.

  ‘Jim?’ Cornty said, patting his leg, seeing the approaching cars getting close. ‘Jim…’

  ‘Hold on…’ Leonard floored it and guided the car left. The tyres almost lost grip and the car bounced, the rubber squealing on the road. The car approaching from the right, driven by a man in his sixties, rocked his head back in horror and slammed on his brakes, although Leonard was confident in making the turn.

  Up ahead, roughly forty metres beyond the bridge, the Focus was weaving in and out of the traffic.

  ‘He’s gonna kill someone!’ bellowed Cornty from the passenger seat.

  ‘Sit tight!’ Leonard answered, approaching the next car, and doing the same, mindful of the oncoming traffic.

  ‘Easy
, Jim,’ Weaver said. ‘Easy…’

  ‘We need to catch them.’

  The insignia passed Skin Deep tattoo shop on the right and approached the traffic lights near the petrol station. Again, the lights were red. The Focus swung wide and powered through, flying past stationary traffic, making it over before the cars from Eastmount Road turned onto North Road.

  ‘Shit!’ Leonard panted, immediately slowing the car to thirty, quickly assessing his options. Then cars turned from Eastmount Road and blocked his way, so he stopped to avoid an almost certain collision.

  ‘Orion, they’re heading along North Road towards the roundabout,’ Cornty said into the phone. ‘We’ve lost them. Stuck in traffic. Catch up when we can.’

  ‘Okay. We’re approaching the roundabout now,’ replied Tanzy.

  Byrd nodded as Tanzy relayed the message, keeping his eyes on the roundabout ahead, specifically the exit from North Road, knowing Dilton’s Focus would appear any moment.

  ‘There, there. There!’ Tanzy screamed, pointing.

  Byrd could see it. They flew out of North Road onto the roundabout, not caring about the traffic from their right, causing a black Fiesta to suddenly come to a halt and the car behind it, a white transit van, to collide into the back of it with a metal crunch.

  Byrd watched Dilton pass in almost a blur. In the passenger seat was Fallows, who made eye contact with him for a brief moment, then the car was gone, Dilton going straight over, following the bus route into town.

  ‘Where’s he going?’ snapped Tanzy.

  Byrd flew around the roundabout and followed the bus route into town. They saw a flash of the Focus before it whizzed out of sight down toward Wilko’s.

  ‘Max. Put ya foot down!’

  Byrd scowled, losing his patience. ‘I fucking am!’

  Without any warning, a bus pulled out from the left, nearly forcing them onto the path over to the right. Byrd managed to somehow keep it on the road, inches from the low kerb, barely missing a family of five casually walking by, and straightened out to take the left.

  The Focus took a right at the next junction, heading towards The William Stead pub. Byrd followed.

  ‘The car is in the middle of town,’ Tanzy said into the phone.

  ‘We’re not far behind,’ replied Cornty from the Insignia. ‘Just at the roundabout now.’

  ‘Head straight over. Bus route,’ Tanzy replied.

  The Focus took the right turn before it reached The William Stead pub.

  ‘Why – what on earth…’ Byrd whispered, slowing the X5, and followed him up the bank. The road ahead was clear. No buses. No pedestrian shoppers idly crossing the road. When the Focus went under the Cornmill, the exhaust echoed off the building.

  Byrd nodded in agreement.

  Before the Focus reached the turn, a taxi pulled out, causing it to slow allowing Byrd to close the gap.

  ‘Easy, Max…’ Tanzy warned him.

  That part of town, although a well-used bus route, was always flooded with people crossing roads.

  ‘He’s mine!’ Byrd shouted. The Focus veered around the awkward taxi which had suddenly stopped and started to make the turn. Byrd drove around the taxi and put his foot down, surging the X5 forward.

  ‘Max!’ Tanzy shouted with wide eyes, not knowing what was going to happen. They were going far too fast.

  Byrd tightened his grip on the wheel and as the Focus was mid-turn, Byrd ploughed into the back quarter, sending the Focus into the concrete flower bed. The crash was so loud, everyone around froze and stared in horror at what had happened.

  Byrd’s airbag came up, smashing him in the nose with the force of a hammer. Tanzy’s airbag exploded too, cushioning his face as he was jerked forward into the direction of the dashboard.

  Silence surrounded them after the deafening crash faded into the town. Nearby people glared in shock with open, speechless mouths at the mess. Someone got their phone out to take a picture.

  Byrd didn’t move. Neither did Tanzy.

  80

  Tuesday Morning

  High Row, Town Centre

  ‘God…’ Fallows whispered. ‘Think my arm’s broken.’

  ‘Can – can you move?’ Dilton asked, feeling a pounding in the side of his temple where he’d collided into the side window. He raised his hand, felt the warm blood gushing from the cut.

  ‘I – I think so, Mack…’ Fallows struggled to say.

  When Byrd had crashed into the rear of them, sending the Focus forward into the concrete flower beds, she jerked forward, hitting her shoulder off the central console. She’d wailed in pain, immediately feeling like something terrible had happened. A bone breaking, for sure.

  ‘Come on. We need to go.’ Dilton turned around. The X5 was hard up against the rear, the bonnet crumpled and smashed up.

  ‘Your head…’ Fallows said, seeing the blood dripping onto his trousers and the inside of the car.

  ‘Come on. We need to get out.’

  He opened his door and, with just enough room to squeeze out, he pulled himself up onto his feet. Fallows opened the passenger door and slowly got out. Dilton noticed the front of the Focus hard up against the high concrete slab, the bonnet crushed.

  He looked back at the X5. Tanzy and Byrd were both leaning forward, unconscious. Dilton rushed around the back of the X5 and appeared at Fallows’ side. ‘You okay, Linda?’

  ‘I’ll survive.’

  Dilton took a soft grip of her arm and gently helped her out. ‘Let’s go before they wake up.’

  Tanzy’s eyes flickered a few times until he managed to keep them open, seeing the deflated airbag on his lap. His nose felt hot and sore, like he’d just been headbutted, maybe worse. He sniffed hard, tasting the blood in the back of his throat. To his right, Byrd was still out.

  ‘Max?’

  Nothing.

  Then he heard a voice say, ‘Let’s go before they wake up.’

  He followed the sound, the simple head movement causing a wave of almost unbearable pain. Dilton and Fallows moved down the side of the car, but Tanzy quickly grabbed the handle and threw his door open, unbuckled his seat belt and leaned out, leading with his left leg. As Dilton ran by, he kicked Tanzy’s door closed, jamming Tanzy’s knee between the side skirt and the door. There was a crack. Tanzy, sure it was a bone breaking, howled in agony and fell out of the car onto his back. He hadn’t felt pain like it. He watched Fallows and Dilton dash across the road and run into The Cornmill Shopping centre.

  ‘Max – Max!’ he screamed.

  Byrd stirred and jerked awake a moment later, sighing something inaudible.

  ‘Max. Here!’

  Byrd swivelled his stiff neck to the left, seeing Tanzy lay on the road through the open passenger door, wincing in pain. His knee was bleeding and swelling already.

  ‘Get them. They’ve gone into the Cornmill.’

  Byrd, after three attempts, pushed his door open and stepped down onto the concrete, a little unsteady on his feet, then staggered around the rear of the car to aid to Tanzy.

  ‘Did you not hear me?’

  Byrd frowned, unsure what he’d said.

  ‘The Cornmill.’ Tanzy stabbed the air in the direction of the entrance. ‘Get them!’

  Byrd nodded, trying to make sense of what had happened, and with a thumping head, dashed across the road towards the entrance.

  81

  Tuesday Late Morning

  The Cornmill Shopping Centre, Town Centre

  Dilton barged into the entrance door first and almost collided into an elderly man, somewhere in his eighties, holding a walking stick who was on his way out. The old man jolted back a few inches, glaring wide eyed at Dilton wondering what on earth he was doing.

  Fallows managed to get through before it swung back and hit her, and swerved the man, who remained still, a look of disgust on his face at both of them. He shook his head and exited through the door.

  ‘Come on, Linda!’ Dilton screamed, almost at HMV.

  In jean
s and shoes, she wasn’t really dressed for sprinting, but she was doing her best. For her age, she was quick.

  Dilton hung back a little, waiting for her to level with him. ‘Come on,’ he repeated. When she reached him, he looked back at the door they’d just came through, seeing DI Byrd barge through, almost losing his balance in the process.

  He grabbed her hand and they passed the perfume shop until they had a choice to make. They could take the escalator down to the ground floor. Or they could take a left, along to the next area of shops where JD Sports was.

  They swung a left, barely missing a woman walking with two toddlers, who both seemed to be around the age of five.

  ‘Watch it!’ the mother blasted in revulsion, glowering at them as they ran past.

  Fallows and Dilton continued on, their heavy footsteps slapping the floor, loud enough for nearby shoppers to stop and glare at them in wonder. They sprinted past JD Sports, almost into a group of teenagers who looked young enough to be skiving school.

  ‘Stop them!’ they heard Byrd shout somewhere behind. It sounded close.

  He pulled on Fallows’ arm, urging her to move quicker. They raced past Game on their left and headed toward WHSmith. Dilton’s mind was doing overtime, thinking hard, wondering what to do, where to go. He knew they were being followed from his house to North Road because Fallows had said she recognised the registration on the Insignia. A guy called James she’d said. If back-up was coming, they’d no doubt have the exits covered. It was policing basics. So Dilton needed to think outside the box.

  ‘Here! Take a right here,’ he shouted, just before they reached WHSmith’s. A set of open double doors led to a lift and a staircase down to the toilets. Dilton went through first, narrowly missing a woman in a wheelchair, dressed in a red coat and hat although it was nearly thirty degrees outside.

  ‘Hey…’ the woman said, sighing.

  Dilton and Fallows reached the stairs, but instead of taking the stairs down, they went up, climbing them two at a time. He was much quicker than she was and reached the next level, scanning what was there. A closed door with a Yale lock.