Lies That Blind

by Tony Hutchinson

  Bev ignored the smoke, didn’t bite. ‘What, because I’m not a manipulative cow? Just want to see the good in people?’

  Tara flicked the cigarette towards the bushes, towards Ed’s mug, glared at Bev.

  ‘All you saw was a tight arse and firm tits. Don’t think I didn’t see you looking, drooling like a bitch on heat.’

  Bev grinned. ‘Don’t kid yourself.’

  Sam examined the Marlboro, took one last drag before speaking.

  ‘Get used to it Tara. Plenty will be looking in jail. And that’s where you’re going. We know Zac didn’t kill anybody, Tara. And Harry Pullman’s wasn’t the only DNA profile on the inside of the second rabbit suit.’

  Tara pouted. ‘But I’m not on your precious database.’

  Sam leaned back against the campervan, flicked the cigarette into the air and crossed her outstretched legs.

  ‘You’re not on the database but we could easily have got a controlled sample of your DNA from your house. You know, from a hairbrush or something.’

  Tara wagged her finger at Sam.

  ‘Naughty, naughty. I hope you got a warrant.’

  Sam straightened, moved away from the campervan towards the finger.

  ‘That’s what bothered me right from the start Tara. I heard a noise in your house. You were a lone female, your most recent sexual encounter had just been fatally shot, your neighbours killed, carnage outside and yet you wanted me to get a warrant to check out your loft. That was your first mistake.’

  She lit another cigarette, didn’t offer Tara one.

  Tara took her cigarettes from her coat pocket, opened the box.

  ‘Like I wanted you people roaming all over my house, planting things faster than a gardener. Course my DNA’s in that suit. It’s my suit.’

  She put a cigarette to her lips.

  ‘I had a client who liked me to dress up. Haven’t seen him for ages, which is why it’s in my loft. No need for it now. Hardly makes me a killer.’

  Sam ignored her. ‘Your second mistake was treating us all like idiots.’

  Tara smiled, nodded towards Bev.

  ‘Didn’t have to try too hard with her.’

  Sam studied Tara, the posture, her arrogance and scorn.

  ‘It might be that Bev’s brief was to let you tell more lies, catch you in your own web.’

  Tara slowly shook her head.

  ‘Harry Pullman came here to kill me and I bet you any money that bent bastard,’ she pointed her cigarette at Ed, ‘told him where I was. They’re the gangsters, not me.’

  ‘Believe me we’ll be asking Pullman all about it,’ Sam told her. ‘But if you’re involved…all sorts of opportunities arise.’

  ‘Like?’

  Tara’s fingers tried two pockets before they found the lighter. She lit the cigarette.

  ‘Kill your half-brother?’ Sam already had a list. ‘Get back at the father who abandoned you before you were born? Get rid of Paul, the Skinners’ man in the police. Get rid of Harry Pullman?’

  Tara threw out her hands. ‘If what you say is true, why would I do that?’

  ‘That bothered me,’ Sam told her. ‘Then the Skinners got killed in jail. Did Hugh Campbell want to take over their business? Lester visits you. He’s Campbell’s accountant. Knows some bent police officers.’

  ‘Yeah, like him,’ Tara said, pointing at Ed.

  ‘Unfortunately for you, Ed knew your father and grandfather socially.’

  Tara tilted her head, blew smoke upwards and looked back at Sam.

  ‘Another Mason?’ the words a sneer. ‘Another member of the men-only secret society? Keep their women in check, never allow them to better themselves. What’s that saying? Women should be obedient, grateful and tied to the kitchen sink?’

  ‘Bev,’ Sam said, nodding towards Tara.

  Bev moved and took hold of Tara’s left arm.

  ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of...’

  Tara’s free right arm was a blur as it shot towards Bev’s face.

  The deafening sound of the gun boomed like dry summer thunder.

  Chapter 53

  For a nano second Sam and Ed were frozen in the moment, shock and disbelief chiselled onto their faces.

  Tara had grabbed Bev around the neck, fired the pistol into the air and now had the smoking barrel pointed under Bev’s chin.

  ‘Either of you two move and the old perv gets it.’

  Bev flinched as the end of the hot barrel was pressed against her temple.

  The two AFOs, MP5s raised into the firing position, ran from the front door of the White Lion onto the car park.

  ‘Stop! Armed police!’

  ‘You stop,’ Tara shouted. ‘Or this one’s the first to die.’

  The AFOs pulled up but kept their guns raised.

  Tara shouted again: ‘Tell them to back off, Parker. I’m warning you. She gets it otherwise.’

  Sam raised her right arm.

  ‘This isn’t helping, Tara,’ she said.

  Tara backed towards the car park’s retaining wall, dragging Bev with her.

  ‘Turn around and sit,’ Tara ordered as they reached the wall.

  ‘Get ready to drop over. You try to run and I’ll shoot you in the back. Understand?’

  Bev nodded.

  ‘Remember. I know how to use these things.’

  Ed glanced at Sam and flicked his eyes towards Bev but Sam shook her head. Too much ground to make up.

  Tara pushed Bev off the wall and jumped the four feet after her.

  Bev landed awkwardly on her ankle but Tara grabbed her by the hair, yanked her head back and pressed the gun against the side of her head.

  The AFOs ran back to the road. Ed sprinted to the wall and jumped.

  ‘Shoot the fucker,’ Ed screamed as he dropped onto the road inbetween the AFOs and Tara, all sense and reasoning abandoned.

  No doubt he would be back in the shit later; no unarmed officer should put themselves between a fleeing armed suspect and chasing AFOs.

  Tara, ten feet away, pointed the gun at him.

  ‘All I need is one excuse and you get it Whelan. I’ll take you both out before they shoot at me.’

  Sam appeared at the top of the wall.

  ‘Ed!’ she shouted.

  Tara looked up, pointed the gun at her.

  ‘Back off,’ Sam shouted. ‘Everybody, back off.’

  The Firearms Commander course she had done some years previously was kicking in. She needed to diffuse the situation, not escalate it. Bev’s life was the priority, negotiation not confrontation the maxim.

  Tara put the gun back against Bev’s head.

  ‘Best listen to your boss, Ed.’

  Sam heard the fallen leaves rustle behind her, turned briefly and saw an elderly man.

  ‘Sir. For your own safety please walk to the back of the car park and stay out of sight until a police officer comes for you.’

  She turned her focus back to Tara and Bev.

  That old man looked familiar

  Ed picked up Sam’s lead and slipped into negotiator mode:

  ‘Tara, what do you want to happen now?’

  ‘Save your psycho-babble,’ she pressed the gun barrel just a little harder into Bev’s head. ‘I’ve heard it all before. It won’t work with me.’

  ‘How far do you think you’ll get?’ Ed said.

  Tara grinned, pulled Bev tighter into her.

  ‘Far enough.’

  Behind them tyres squealed, burning rubber drifting on the damp air. A big, dark Jaguar roared out of the car park and swung hard right, narrowly missing the red telephone box on the opposite side of the road, the driver fighting to keep the snaking back end under control.

  Sam visualised the old man, her memory flying through its stored names index, frantically searching for a match.

  Lester Stephenson.

  Ed glanced over his shoulder but identifying the vehicle, all high revs, low gear and dazzling headlights, was impossible.

 
The AFOs darted to the left towards the drystone wall but weren’t quick enough.

  The Jag swerved towards them, front nearside ploughing into their legs, knocking them into the air like circus acrobats.

  The car, in front of them before the AFOs crashed back to the road in distorted heaps, screeched to a halt alongside Tara and her prisoner.

  Tara yanked open the back offside door and pushed Bev onto the back seat.

  ‘She’ll get a bullet in the head if you follow,’ she shouted.

  Ed concentrated on the registration number as the Jag powered past then sprinted after it, hoping the driver would lose control.

  Breathing hard, lungs bursting and thighs on fire, he lurched to a stop after 50 metres; his hands grabbed his shaking knees and he launched into a coughing fit, firing spittle into the darkness before his churning stomach heaved his 4pm pasty over the road. Pieces of undigested carrot, swede and potato peppered his shoes.

  He gasped for breath, wiped his mouth and glanced at the wall; his chest felt it was being crushed under the Lakeland stones like a medieval torture.

  As quickly as he could he went back to the stricken AFOs.

  Witnesses who came running from the pub would later describe it as a jog, but Ed just couldn’t move any faster.

  He reached the first officer, knelt down, and pressed the transmit button on her radio.

  Gunshot and screeching tyres had staff and punters alike running from the pub. Sam ran through the car park, by now filling with staff and customers, scanning the small crowd, seeking out the owners.

  ‘I need to use your phone,’ she shouted.

  She didn’t want to risk her mobile and a dodgy signal.

  The White Lion was now the Forward Command post.

  One of the owners rushed inside with her. The phone was behind the bar.

  She punched 999.

  ‘Emergency. Which service do you–’

  ‘Police,’ Sam said.

  She knew Ed would be doing what he could for the injured AFOs.

  A non-believer, she still mentally prayed, asking God to prevent any fatal injuries tonight.

  As she waited to be connected, she placed her hand over the mouthpiece and spoke with the owner.

  ‘Look I’m sorry, but I can’t run this from here if you’re selling beer. I need privacy. It’s a big ask, but I really need you to close the pub. Just for half an hour or so. Until Cumbria take command.’

  He nodded.

  Sam spoke into the phone.

  ‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Parker, Eastern Police. I need to speak with the control room inspector immediately.’

  As soon as she was connected she gave the inspector a rapid overview of the situation.

  ‘You need to notify the on-call chief officer, the on-call SIO and your hostage negotiator. We need firearms back-up, ambulance, air ambulance if available. Air support, road policing at the bottom of Kirkstone Pass, both Ambleside and Bowness end. The registration of the Jaguar is…’

  Sam closed her eyes. Thought of Bev in that car.

  A mobile hostage.

  A worse scenario was hard to conjure.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Whelan, Eastern Police, urgent,’ Ed said, gasping into the radio.

  ‘Go ahead…Sergeant Whelan?’

  The confused radio operator knew there wasn’t a Whelan in her force, but she was aware of a joint operation with Eastern Police.

  ‘Two officers down, White Lion, Patterdale. Hit and run.’

  The female AFO groaned. Ed ripped off his coat, put it under her head.’

  ‘Suspects made off in a large saloon, registered number…’

  Ed rattled off the registration. The AFO gently squeezed his arm. He smiled at her.

  ‘You’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘Help’s on its way. Try and keep still.’

  He stroked her forehead, a small act of human kindness that focused his mind on her plight.

  Ed wondered if she had kids, hoped she would recover, hoped she wouldn’t be left like George Lee.

  He stood up and shouted in the direction of the pub.

  ‘Over here. Bring some blankets.’

  ‘Sergeant Whelan,’ the radio crackled.

  He knelt down again.

  ‘Sorry. Two suspects. One Tara Paxman. Armed and dangerous. Driver unknown. Responsible for mowing down two local firearm officers. Eastern police officer kidnapped.’

  ‘Sergeant Whelan. I’ve just been informed that your DCI is speaking with my inspector.’

  ‘Roger.’

  Ed bent forward, grasped the AFO’s hand, relayed her collar number over the radio.

  ‘Suspects made off towards Patterdale, possibly heading over Kirkstone Pass.’

  ‘Roger that Sergeant Whelan. For your information: ambulance dispatched, AFOs en route, ETA five minutes, air support may not be able to fly due to low cloud cover. Same applies to air ambulance.’

  ‘Roger.’

  Fucking weather.

  He smiled at the officer. ‘I’ll just go and check on your colleague.’

  Her lips moved but nothing came out.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Control room will give me his name.’

  PC Malcolm Epsom was unconscious, each shallow breath a ragged moan.

  Ed instructed the owner of the pub and a member of staff in White Lion livery to place duvets over both AFOs.

  ‘Can you each get a torch? I need one person stood outside the pub and one further along this road to stop any traffic. Just wave the torch in front of you. The traffic will stop. If you can get a couple of people at each location, that would be even better.’

  They nodded.

  ‘Thanks,’ Ed said. ‘I know Health and Safety would have a dicky fit, but for now it’s needs must. I don’t want these officers getting hit by another vehicle.’

  The two men ran to find torches and organise volunteers against the backdrop of distant sirens.

  Chapter 54

  ‘You okay?’ the driver asked, looking in his rear-view mirror.

  Tara kept her eyes left, fixed on Bev.

  ‘This daft bitch was going to arrest me.’

  Bev inhaled slowly. Caution was king. One wrong word...

  ‘What happens now Tara?’

  Ask the question. Use her name. Show her she’s in charge.

  Bev wasn’t a trained negotiator, but over the years she’d had a few chats with Ed on the subject.

  Lester Stephenson concentrated on the narrow, winding road and the encroaching dry stone walls as the car climbed towards the summit of Kirkstone Pass.

  ‘Stop the car,’ Tara shouted.

  He pulled over in one of the passing places.

  ‘Turn to face the window,’ Tara ordered, sticking the gun into Bev’s ribs.

  Defiance flashed through Bev’s mind, fighting for the gun suddenly seeming an option.

  Stephenson shuffled in his seat, turned to face Bev and pointed his right hand. The gun was small and black.

  ‘You heard her.’

  Bev had no choice but to comply. She couldn’t disarm both of them.

  Tara’s words were quiet, authoritative.

  ‘Put your palms on the window. I’m giving him my gun. Any sudden movement and your brains will decorate that window.’

  Bev leaned forward, put her hands on the window.

  ‘Tara, you still haven’t told me what happens now.’

  ‘In a minute you’ll ring Parker and providing she calls her dogs off, you’ll be released.’

  Tara bent down, took off her boots and socks, put her boots back on and tied the socks together.

  Bev gasped when the grey, cotton socks went around her eyes and were pulled tight at the back of her head.

  Tara’s warm breath floated into her ear.

  ‘Where’s your phone?’ she whispered.

  ‘Coat pocket.’

  Tara rifled through Bev’s pockets until she found the Samsung S6.

  The car accelerated
away.

  ‘We can’t drive far,’ Stephenson said. ‘They’ll have the number.’

  The automatic gearbox changed down as he negotiated another of the pass’s tight bends.

  ‘When we get to the top, there’s only two roads down and they’ll block them both off,’ he said.

  Tara rubbed her eyes.

  ‘What do we do then?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s a pub up there.’

  ‘I know. We both went in it. I was talking about the history to the barmaid. This philistine just sat by herself.’

  ‘We could dump the car,’ Stephenson said. ‘Head up the fells behind the pub and hide, but…’

  ‘But?’

  He stopped talking, slowed down as headlights came towards them. The vehicles squeezed past each other.

  ‘It’s freezing. First light, they’re after us with dogs.’

  ‘Okay. Stop by the pub. Cuff her and leave her blindfolded on the fells.’

  She dangled Bev’s handcuffs above her head.

  ‘Only when we’re away will we tell them where she is.’

  The flashing blue lights reflected off walls and buildings as the Land Rover sped towards Patterdale. Ed was pleased the driver hadn’t put on the two-tones: there was no traffic on the road to warn and more importantly, Ed always believed when you were injured the last thing you wanted to hear was a siren.

  He remembered how he felt when he’d been stabbed. The two-tones made him feel worse, as if his injury was more life-threatening than he thought.

  Three firearms officers got out of the vehicle. Two rushed to their colleagues, the driver, a PC, spoke to Ed.

  ‘Nigel Hunter. You okay mate?’

  His southern accent was strong.

  Ed nodded. ‘Whelan. Ed Whelan. Detective Sergeant. Eastern. I’ll survive…thanks for asking.’

  He briefed the AFO who looked over Ed’s shoulder towards his stricken colleagues.

  ‘Hopefully they’ll be okay,’ Ed said. ‘Just a few broken bones, but they may have internal injuries, head injuries. The car drove straight at them.’

  Nigel Hunter nodded, said nothing.

  ‘The lad’s unconscious, breathing steady but weak,’ Ed said, ‘The lassie…’