“It’s not your fault. I don’t think there was anything you could have done,” I said, but that suggestion only seemed to make Bee feel worse.
“I could have broken the story!” Her voice rose, but she caught it just before it reached a shout, bringing it back down again. “My father wouldn’t have hurt me.”
“It sounds like he was already onto Hamish and the others. He probably would have gone after them regardless of your involvement.” I knew how easy it was to take the blame for something all for yourself. I did it all the time. There wasn’t much we could say that would make Bee feel any less responsible. It was something she would have to work through herself.
Bee sniffed, raising her head off her knees so she could reach for a tissue and wipe her nose. “My father closed the deal with New Wave Industries a few months ago, and right after that, he hired Kingston. He was holed up in his office more than usual, and he just seemed more… suspicious. He wouldn’t talk to me very much, though that’s not really anything new. After Hamish left, he smashed a glass against the wall. He never visibly displays his emotions like that. It was…” She shivered and trailed off.
“Do you know what he did right after Hamish left?” I asked. Finally, we were getting somewhere. With Bee’s statement, we might just have enough to bring MacPherson in.
“No. I left at the same time. I wanted to make sure Alexis could catch him before he left. And that thing with the glass freaked me out too much. I couldn’t stay.” Bee looked like she thought that made her weak, like she should have stayed and learned what her father had done next.
“You did the best you could,” I said. “What can you tell us about Kingston? Emily mentioned he was ex-military.”
“He is, though he won’t say where he served or with who. Maybe he was some kind of secret ops guy.” Bee shrugged. “I tried to keep away from him. Something about him always creeped me out.”
I remembered his blue eyes with the easy promise of simple, casual violence, and I could easily picture him sliding the knife between Jacob’s ribs, slitting Skye’s wrists, standing over Hamish’s body. He was a similar build to the man we saw that night, and he was blonde, just like the man who’d been following Jacob. There could have been more than one stalker--our petty thief and the actual killer. Unfortunately, a mental picture wasn’t proof enough. We would have to confront him, and I didn’t like to think about how that might go.
“Do you think he could be the killer?” I asked Bee.
“I don’t know who else it might be,” she answered.
“Alexis--what’s her last name?” Fletcher interjected, drawing her hand away from Bee’s back now that the younger woman seemed calmer.
Bee glanced over at her. “Morrison.”
“Do you think your father knows about her involvement? Or yours, for that matter?”
“Not mine, I don’t think,” she answered, her face contorting with thought. “I come and go as I please, and we were careful, the day the five of us met. Alexis, though, he might. I sent her after Hamish so quickly. It wouldn’t have been hard for someone to see them talking. Do you think he’ll hurt her, too?” Her voice broke with concern and guilt, but she resisted the urge to bury her face again. She sniffed, fighting back tears, barely winning the battle.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “It would certainly draw more suspicion on him than he would probably like, especially now that he knows we’re investigating him. On the other hand, knowing that he’s likely to get caught, maybe he’ll want to get revenge on everyone who he thinks has betrayed im.” I was more inclined to believe the latter option. He seemed the kind of man who would never forgive or forget those who’d wronged him. “Do you have her address? We should bring her into protective custody until all this is done.”
I wished we could have done that much sooner, but we would have to make do with what we had.
“I do. One second.” Bee stood to retrieve the address for me. She moved gingerly as if she was afraid of shattering into pieces, wrapping her arms around herself to make sure she stayed whole. She returned with her address book, and I snapped a photo of the page.
“We should go straight there. Do you feel safe if we leave? We can always drop you off at the police station if you don’t. There will be someone there to protect you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Bee said. “My father wouldn’t hurt me. Thank you, though.”
“Good. Fletcher, let’s go,” I said, motioning for her to stand though she was already rising to her feet.
We hurried from the flat and basically ran back to my car, both of us aware of how little time we had and that something bad might already have happened. I would feel absolutely horrible if we got there too late once again. I’d seen how nervous Alexis looked while we were speaking with Mary, but I hadn’t done anything about it, hadn’t reached out to her. I should have.
It was true what they said about hindsight. We couldn’t change the past. We had to do whatever we could here and now and hope that it would be enough.
I put on my siren as I drove, though the streets were quiet enough at this late at night. I didn’t want to waste any more time than we already had. Fletcher gripped the safety handle above the door, her other hand clenched in a fist on her thigh. Her feet pumped slightly against the ground as she pretended to drive, struggling to sit still and not be in control of the journey.
I didn’t bother to turn off the siren as we screeched onto Alexis’ street. If Kingston was there, let him know we were coming, let him panic, maybe make a mistake. I slammed on the brakes and threw on the handbrake in the same motion as I threw open the door, almost forgetting to undo my seatbelt in my haste to exit the car.
There were lights on in the flat, slicing through the break in the curtains. The stone walls hid anything nefarious that might be going on within. The building felt ominous, completely dark but for the thin, glowing beam, and a dark premonition curdled in my stomach. It made me pick up my pace, jogging across the road towards the door.
“Do we have a plan?” Fletcher asked as she hurried to catch up. “I’d really like to have a plan.”
“Kingston may not even be here. If he’s not, we get Alexis out of there. If he is, we stop him.”
“That’s not a plan!” Fletcher protested, but it was too late because I’d thrown open the door and was pressing the buzzer marked ‘Morrison.’ When there was no answer, I started hitting all the buttons until someone finally replied.
“Yes?” a voice asked hesitantly. I wasn’t sure which flat had answered.
“This is the Inverness Police. I need you to let me into the building.”
“W-why? How do I know you’re actually a police officer and not a scammer or something?”
“My name is DI Callum MacBain. I don’t have time for you to check my credentials. I believe someone in the building is in danger.”
“I--” The voice hesitated. “Okay.”
The door buzzed and let us in, and I barged inside, not liking the fact that Alexis hadn’t answered. Fletcher and I ran flat out up the stairs towards Alexis’s flat. Why couldn’t one of our witnesses live on the ground floor for once?
At the top of the staircase, I glanced up and down the hall to determine which way Alexis’s door was. It was closed, of course, and I slowed my steps as I approached, trying to keep quiet and not worry the other residents.
Fletcher and I flanked the door. She gave me a firm look and nodded. She may have hated not having a solid game plan, but she was still quite good at playing it by ear. I took a deep breath, steadying the adrenaline thrumming through my veins, and then knocked.
“Alexis?” I called. I didn’t announce that we were police, though if Kingston was inside, he no doubt already knew that we were here.
There was no answer. I tried the handle. Locked. My gut told me that Kingston was inside. It was as if I could feel his dark presence lingering in the air. I stepped back, motioned for Fletcher to cover me, and then kicked in the door w
ith one sharp blow to the wood just below the handle.
The door flew open and banged against the wall, rebounding back towards us so that I had to fling out one hand and catch it. I pushed my way inside, eyes already scanning the wide room for signs of threats. Everything seemed quiet. The sofa was neatly made. There was a glass of wine on the coffee table, a quarter full with a light smear of lipstick on the rim. The open kitchen had a light on over the stove, and I could hear the hum of the fridge.
Too quiet, I decided.
“Alexis?” I called again.
Fletcher tapped me on the arm with the back of her hand and flicked her eyes towards the slip of light shining underneath what I assumed was the bedroom door. Shadows bobbed across the crack, though whoever was inside was deathly silent.
“Alexis, if you’re in there, give me a sign,” I said as I prowled towards the door, heart thundering in my chest. The shadows stilled, but I got no answer.
I twitched two fingers, motioning for Fletcher to cover me once again, and in one quick move, I shoved the door open, stepping into the room in the same motion. Alexis was inside, but she was not alone. Kingston was also there with one arm around her neck and a knifepoint at her jugular. The overhead light glinted off the silver blade, and Kingston had a perfectly calm, almost blank look on his face, not a single hair out of place.
When Fletcher and I entered, he tightened his grip, pressing the point of the knife deeper into Alexis’s neck so that she flinched, fear etched into her face, pooling in her eyes. I tried to meet her gaze, tried to reassure her that it would all be okay. In the face of all the evidence, though, it wasn’t very comforting.
I didn’t raise my hands right at Kingston, not wanting to antagonize him or make him feel threatened, I lowered them towards the ground, away from the PAVA spray and handcuffs on my belt. “Let’s just, stay calm, alright?” I suggested. “Why don’t you take the knife away from her neck, Kingston?”
“I am calm,” Kingston said, and a cool smile crossed his lips. He didn’t move the knife. His arms were stock still as if they had been carved from stone, nary a tremble in the muscle. Alexis swallowed, throat bobbing against the point.
“Let Alexis go,” I repeated. “And we’ll figure this out between us.”
“So you can arrest me? I’m not stupid, Inspector.”
I saw nothing in Kingston’s eyes. No indication of fear or worry or even confidence, like there were shutters drawn across the windows. When he chose to act, he would simply act, and there would be no twitch of indication or warning sign.
“No, you’re obviously not,” I agreed. Both Fletcher and I were standing inside the bedroom, and with the four of us there, the small space was cramped and tight, the double bed between us. “So you also know that if you hurt Alexis in any way, I’ll come after and arrest you, and make sure you rot in jail.”
“Then we have ourselves a stalemate,” Kingston said as Alexis whimpered, and a tear slid down her cheek.
I glanced at Fletcher to see if she had any ideas, but she was hyper-focused on Kingston’s knife against Alexis’s neck, fingers clutching her baton, though she’d yet to extend it. I could see her wheels turning, but she hadn’t come up with anything yet.
“How about we all put our weapons down, and you let her go?” I said, though I already knew it was a long shot.
Kingston smirk. “How about you let me walk out of here, and I’ll release this little girl at the door?” he countered with a smirk that said that he also knew what he was asking was never going to happen.
“This doesn’t end well for you or MacPherson, no matter how things go down,” Fletcher pointed out. She held onto her baton, but it still wasn’t pointed at Kingston, not wanting him to take anything as a threat.
“I think you’d be surprised what money can accomplish.”
Kingston had positioned Alexis directly in front of him, so that the only vulnerable parts on him were the hand holding the knife, that matching shoulder, and his head, each target too small and too close to Alexis for comfort. I couldn’t pepper spray him without getting her, nor would I risk advancing on them.
And so we were left at an impasse, like Kingston said. Alexis looked like she had given up, accepted her impending death. Her cheeks were slick and glossy with tears, her eyes screwed shut as her shoulders shook. A bead of blood dripped down her throat, skin pricked as she trembled against the rock steady knifepoint.
It was Fletcher who got things moving. I was caught up trying to think my way out of the situation, but how did you outthink a coldly intelligent killer who, honestly, had the upper hand? You didn’t. You had to, as Fletcher soon proved, act so unpredictably that he couldn’t anticipate what you were about to do.
Of course, the problem with that was that your partner, i.e. me, couldn’t anticipate the move, either.
Fletcher burst into action, pivoting on one foot so she could snap the other leg up and kick the lamp off the nearby desk. It was sturdy enough that it didn’t shatter on impact but flew into the air, pulled back briefly by its cord before that popped free from the wall, and then the whole thing carved an awkward arc across the room. Kingston, not expecting a lamp, pulled Alexis closer to him and turned so he was facing Fletcher more fully, leaving one side and part of his back almost exposed to me. The lamp hit the far edge of the bed and bounced off, diving towards Kingston’s feet, and his eyes followed it on reflex, his grip around Alexis’s beginning to loosen as if he was going to try and catch it.
I dove across the bed with no idea what I was going to do on the other side, my PAVA clattering from my belt. I bounced rather than slid, the thick duvet checking my forward motion, and I turned it into an awkward roll, carrying the bed sheets with me. I grabbed the bedding in one hand, and when my feet hit the ground and my weight was off the bed, I threw them, arm arcing over my head, shoulder yelping in protest as the heavy duvet resisted the action.
Somehow, the sheets landed right where I wanted them to, right over Kingston’s head, covering him and Alexis completely. I was gambling that he would be more concerned with freeing himself from the sudden prison than slitting her throat right then and there.
Fletcher rounded the bed just as I finished getting my feet back under me. Kingston thrashed against the duvet, and I thought I saw another form--Alexis--sink to the ground. Oh, God. I’d killed her.
I dashed forward and tackled the duvet-covered Kingston, the two of us crashing to the ground, uncovering Alexis where she crouched on the ground with her hands protecting her head, mercifully alive. Kingston reacted to the physical threat instantly, jamming an elbow into my throat, though the duvet softened the blow.
“Run!” I heard Fletcher yell to Alexis, and it was then I realised that Kingston had a gun, though I hadn’t seen it fall to the ground at any point.
Moving on instinct, I jerked my left hand up and to the side, and a second later, a silver blade ripped through the grey fabric, missing me by a millimetre. Kingston used my sudden shift to throw me the rest of the way off him and then freed himself of his fuzzy bonds. He did a perfect kip-up to get back to his feet, and I felt a stab of envy even as I realized that I was in a perilous position, still prone on the floor.
“Don’t move!” Fletcher shouted but he whipped a second knife out of nowhere and flung it at her side armed. She didn’t even have time to widen her eyes, let alone dive out of the way, but luckily, the throw went wide, the point sticking into the wood of the door frame with a loud thud. Kingston took advantage of her frozen shock and made a break for it, bounding onto the bed and then over it, snatched my PAVA can and headed for the door.
Fletcher cursed as her brain restarted, and she tried to reach for him, but he slipped around her fingers and into the living room. Fletcher hesitated for a second, glancing between him and me, but I was already floundering my way to my feet, and we ran after him, catching a glimpse of Kingston as he darted out of the flat. Alexis was nowhere to be seen. I could only hope she had found somewhere safe
to hide. Fletcher and I raced after Kingston and pursued him down the stairs. He had to slow to yank both doors to the outside open, and I closed the gap between us, pumping my legs as hard as I could.
Kingston flung himself out the door just as my fingers closed around the air right where his arm had been, and I stumbled, the door catching my heel. Kingston used that to pull away once more, sprinting down the front path towards the street where, I realized with horror, Alexis stood. She’d fled the flat but then was struck with indecision as to where to go next.
I waved my arms at her, trying to indicate that she should run, too winded to yell, but she was frozen to the spot, watching Kingston barrelling towards her. He was faster than us, that much was clear.
Kingston grabbed Alexis’s shoulder and planted himself behind her, checking his forward momentum. His other hand pulled a gun out. Time seemed to slow as the streetlight licked off the dark barrel, and I dug my heels in, trying to screech to a halt, flinging myself to the side towards a parked car just as the gun went off.
The shot was so incredibly loud in the quiet, dark night. The crack and thunder consumed the world, blotting thought out of my head, and I hit the ground with a thud that I thought was actually a bullet slamming into me, but there was no sharp blast of pain other than the dull burst all up and down my side. I half rolled, half crawled behind the car and then patted myself all over, searching for blood. I heaved a sigh of relief when my hands remained clean.
There was another gunshot, and I whipped my head around in time to see Fletcher cringe and duck behind the low wall encasing a set of bushes. Even in the dark, I could see her gritting her teeth, frustrated that she couldn’t do much with Kingston using Alexis as a human shield.
I carefully poked my head around the car’s bumper but immediately ducked down again as Kingston swivelled his arm in my direction. I stayed low to the ground the next time I peeked out, using the tyre for cover. Kingston was dragging Alexis towards a car while he kept the gun up and at the ready, pointing it in our direction to keep us at bay, his arm rock steady.
The Hidden Eye Page 25