Twisted

by Robin Roughley

  If someone were to lean down now and whisper the name Erin Nash into his ear, Robert would have been clueless. His mind was elsewhere; his thought's taken up by the kind of terror that would drive any sane man mad. In the end, the fact that he and sanity had parted company a long time ago would turn out to be a blessing.

  103

  It had been a long while since Shaun had run so far, so fast. He'd been shocked by his lack of fitness, though gradually the fatigue had slipped away until he came to the core of all he had been trained to do. Shaun dragged the filthy bundle of clothes as he ran, the jacket and jeans tied together, swishing through the long grass. It was important to get distance between the thicket of trees where Flynn lay trussed and helpless; he had to draw the police away. They would bring the dogs in first and if that were the case then hopefully, they would pick up the false trail and follow it.

  His mind tried to pose the question, 'why?' and he forced it away, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other. He was in dense woodland consisting of old oaks and elm trees interspersed with rhododendron bushes, forming a barrier that he would dodge around before setting off again. It felt good to feel the ache in his muscles, the sweat on his skin as he pushed on, moving ever deeper into the trees. Eventually, he stopped and crouched to his knees. Shaun checked his watch and did a rough calculation, he'd been running for nearly two hours, which meant he'd covered five maybe six miles.

  Sliding the pack from his back, he took a gulp of water from a plastic bottle and tried to work out if it would be enough. If the dogs picked up the scent it would probably take them three hours to get to this spot. He ran a hand across his brow, it would have to do. Dropping the clothes onto the floor he covered them with a scattering of leaves, hoisted the pack back onto his shoulder, and began to run further into the trees. After ten minutes, he stopped again and stripped off his clothes, before reaching into the bag and pulling on a fresh fleece and jogging pants.

  Some might have thought it was an unnecessary precaution but he had enough experience of seeing dogs in action to know that the bundle of clothes he'd been carrying could have left a trace on his own. He smiled, besides it didn't really matter, he was having fun, so why spoil the illusion.

  Glancing up at the pale sun shimmering behind a bank of cloud, he got his bearings and set off at a steady jog, taking the long route back to where he'd started. He was looking forward to having a chat with Mr Flynn; it was a long time since he'd had any meaningful conversation and he had a feeling that Flynn would be only too willing to talk and if he wasn't then Shaun was sure that he could persuade him to open up, one way or another.

  104

  The incident room buzzed with a strange amalgamation of relief and apprehension. Bannister perched on the edge of a desk and looked out at the tired faces; he could see Lasser standing over by the door, hands thrust into pockets.

  'Right ladies and gents, we managed to get through the night without anyone getting killed, which is a plus. However, we still haven't managed to find Robert Flynn which frankly is a bloody disgrace.'

  He looked around the room, trying to make eye contact with each individual; some blushed and looked away, others met his stare full on. 'Updates, come on people give me some good news?'

  Currie raised a hand and Bannister nodded for him to continue. 'We've got three dogs out in fields at the back of the house. I've just spoken to one of the lads and they think they've picked up a scent leading away from the house.'

  'Good. What else?'

  Bob Fletcher cleared his throat. 'We're continuing the search of empty buildings in the town centre but nothing so far.'

  'Right well, we know he's on the move, he can't go back to the flat, and as far as we know Flynn has no friends, so he has to be sleeping rough. We know during the day he likes to take things easy, this is our optimum time to catch him napping, as soon as it goes dark he moves, so we have to make use of the daylight hours.'

  'How's the woman he attacked on the car park, sir?' Sally Wright asked.

  Bannister looked across the room at Lasser, 'Sergeant?'

  'Still in intensive care, boss, but she's expected to pull through.'

  Bannister grunted. 'So there's your answer.'

  Susan Coyle tentatively raised her hand.

  'Yes, Coyle.'

  'Do we have any idea why he's doing this, sir?'

  One or two colleagues threw her a look of disbelief; others shook their heads and smiled.

  Bannister folded his arms. 'It's our job to catch him, Coyle, as to his reasons, well that's for others to decide.'

  She nodded, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

  'Right, everyone back on the streets and let's get looking.'

  Chairs scraped back as people began to file out of the room; Lasser hovered by the door and waited for Bannister to come over. As Coyle walked past, he tugged at her sleeve and pulled her to one side. 'Good question.'

  She threw a look over her shoulder. 'I don't think the DCI thought so.'

  'Believe me he was impressed, otherwise by now you'd be feeling about this big,' he held his thumb and finger about a millimetre apart.

  She smiled in relief.

  'Wait in the car,' pulling the keys from his pocket, he tossed them over; Susan caught them before pushing through the double doors.

  Bannister's shoes squeaked as he strode across the polished floor. 'Right, Sergeant, my office.'

  He followed Bannister down the corridor, past the gurgling water cooler and flickering strip light before opening a door. The DCI went straight around the desk and slumped into his chair.

  'The vultures are circling, Lasser.'

  'It's hardly surprising.' Lasser replied, as he slipped into a chair.

  'Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sergeant.'

  'Come on, you know what I mean.'

  'Not really, why don't you explain it to me?'

  Lasser sighed. 'As far as I'm concerned we've done all we can, I mean, what the hell do they expect when they keep streamlining the force.'

  'Excuses.'

  Lasser leaned forward in his chair. 'It's hardly that…'

  'It's one man we're dealing with not an organised terrorist cell. One lone nutter, that's all those in power will see. They're not interested in how stretched we are, they wouldn't care if it was just you and me riding round on pushbikes, it's still unacceptable.'

  'Well, fuck 'em!' The words were out before Lasser had time to study the implications.

  Bannister's face darkened, Lasser waited for the explosion and then watched in surprise, as Bannister seemed to deflate, a tired smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. 'Is that the kind of thing you say about me behind my back?'

  'No comment.'

  The DCI shook his head in dark amusement. 'You know I was thinking about emigrating? Well if things carry on then my mind will be made up for me.'

  'What are they threatening?'

  Banister yanked his tie loose. 'They've got DCI Wilson waiting in the wings.'

  Lasser suddenly sat up straight, 'That tosser!'

  'Enough, Lasser, I have no problem with Wilson.'

  'Well I do.'

  Bannister flapped a hand. 'I know you did twelve months on Merseyside before coming back here, but…'

  'He's a bastard.'

  The phantom smile slid from Bannister's lips. 'He's your superior…'

  'He specialises in fucking people over and stealing their thunder…'

  'This isn't about egos, if he can get the job done then that's all I'm bothered about.'

  'You're wrong, it's all about egos. We're going to get Flynn, we're the ones doing all the hard work…'

  'But at what cost?' Bannister asked, his face twisted into a grimace.

  'Wilson will hang fire, he'll wait until we're that far from snatching the bastard and then he'll move in.'

  'I'm not an idiot, Sergeant, but it might surprise you to learn that I have no say in the matter.'

  Lasser eased back in th
e chair, chewing the inside of his cheek in anger. 'What do you want to do?'

  'If we don't find Flynn in the next twenty-four hours then we're,' he paused, 'I mean, I'm screwed.'

  Lasser stood up. 'Right, we'll just have to make sure we get the bastard.'

  A knock came at the door and Bob Fletcher poked his head into the room. 'The dogs have found something.'

  'Tell me it's not another body?' Bannister asked in dread.

  'No, but it looks like our man has had a change of clothes.'

  Bannister sighed, 'Wonderful, just wonderful.'

  105

  Shaun could see the nylon rope biting into the flesh of Flynn's wrists as he'd struggled to escape.

  Crouching, he deliberately stayed to Flynn's left knowing he wouldn't be able to turn to see his attacker. Sweat glistened on Flynn's forehead, the eyes trying to swivel in their sockets. Shaun slid his boot through the leaves and heard a sharp intake of air dragged up through Flynn's nostrils, before he eased down, resting his back against the trunk of the tree.

  'You know, I ought to thank you,' Shaun said.

  He saw the figure strain at the bonds; Flynn lashed back, the heels of his feet thudded into the dead tree, followed by a low groan of pain.

  'I mean, we don't know one another but you're going to be my salvation, do you know that?'

  More grunting and twitching.

  Shaun sighed. 'I'm going to remove the tape from your mouth but if you scream, I'll cut off your nose.'

  He watched as a bead of sweat trickled down Flynn's forehead, and then a dark patch began to spread across the groin of the light-grey sweatpants.

  'I'll take that as a yes,' Shaun said, before reaching out and yanking back the gaffa tape.

  Robert drew in a huge gulp of air and then he began to whimper, making a sound like a mewling cat.

  Shaun slid out the black blade and held it up in front of Flynn's bulging eyes. 'I've had this knife for years and believe me its sharp. In fact, if I start to cut bits of you I can guarantee you won't feel a thing – at least not at first.'

  'Please, let me go,' he sounded no more than a child, his eyes seemed to jerk in confused random directions as if he could hear things beyond the range of the human ability. Shaun had seen the look before, in Afghanistan, they had rescued numerous people who had been held and tortured, and they always looked the same. Their eyes filled with a kind of bewilderment that they were still alive but also acutely aware that they had been broken in some way that could never be repaired.

  'I've been reading about you in the paper, Robert, why did you do it?'

  'I need my medication.'

  Shaun dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the strip of tablets.

  'These?'

  Robert's eyes focused and he licked his lips like a starving dog slavering over a bone. 'Please, I need them.'

  'Why, Robert, what are they for?'

  Robert began to shake his head from side to side; Shaun could see the twine biting into the raw flesh of his neck.

  'I need them.' he gasped.

  'Do they help you to think, is that it?'

  'Yes, yes, they help me think.'

  Shaun popped one free from its small protective bubble and rolled it between his fingers. 'Open wide.'

  Flynn's mouth fell open like a trapdoor and Shaun dropped it inside.

  'Thank you, God will love you for that.'

  Shaun raised an eyebrow. 'Somehow I doubt that, now let's talk.'

  106

  'There's something strange going on here, boss.'

  They were back in thick woodland; Lasser had no idea if it formed part of last night's nightmare terrain, he just knew it felt cold, damp, and miserable as sin. 'What do you mean?'

  Paul Currie scratched his chin. 'Steve Shaw picked up the scent at the back of Palmer's house…'

  'Flynn was definitely there?'

  'No doubt about it, but then instead of actually going to the house he cuts off in the opposite direction.'

  Lasser frowned. 'So why go to all that trouble just to bottle it at the last minute?'

  'Well yeah but that's not all, they found his clothes here under a handful of scattered leaves.'

  Lasser looked down at the ground. 'Where are they now?'

  'You just missed 'em, SOCO whisked them to the lab for analysis, Bannister's orders.'

  'So Flynn managed to get his hands on a new wardrobe, you can hardly blame him for that.'

  'Yeah, but the thing is we found another set of clothes, sweat shirt and jogging bottoms about a third of a mile that way,' he pointed to the left.

  'What're you saying?'

  Currie shrugged. 'Why would he change into fresh clothes here and then chuck them after a few minutes. I mean, what's the point?'

  'Perhaps he didn't like the style.'

  Currie smiled and shook his head. 'And another thing, I was talking to Carl and they found our man's footprints leading from the trees heading across the field towards Palmer's house.'

  'And?'

  'Well according to Carl, Flynn was wearing trainers…'

  'Look, Paul, we already know what he was wearing…'

  'I realise that and the imprints he left in the mud last night were for a size nine running shoe. Whereas the ones that lead from the field at the back of the house to this place are a size ten and by the tracks I'd say they were made by heavy duty boots, not trainers.'

  'So, wherever he got the change of clothes from, he also managed to get his hands on a pair of boots at the same time. I mean, it's not as if he'd be looking to nick an ideal fit is it? Christ, I would imagine if he could have squeezed into a baby grow he'd have taken it.'

  Currie didn't look convinced. 'I just can't understand why he'd change just his shoes in the middle of the field and then come all the way out here before changing the rest of the clothes and then change them again. I mean, I thought Flynn was hell bent on revenge?'

  Pulling out a pack of cigarettes Lasser eased one out and offered the pack, Currie slid one free.

  'Maybe he saw big Steve Black through the window and had a change of heart.'

  Currie blew a mouthful of smoke towards the sky. 'I don't know, it just seems odd to me.'

  Lasser thought about what Currie was saying. Changing once was understandable but twice within the space of a few minutes did seem extreme and if he'd managed to get new clothes then why hadn't he changed them sooner, why wait in the first place?

  'We know Flynn was in the old building at the side of the canal, right?'

  'Absolutely,' Currie took a pull on the cigarette.

  'Why didn't he get changed there?' Lasser asked. 'I mean; it'd been pissing down all day so he must have been wet through.'

  Currie nodded. 'I know I was.'

  'Unless he only got the fresh clothes later on?'

  'That's what I'm saying; he must have nicked them after we lost him.'

  Lasser gave it some thought. 'I don't buy it, I mean, in this weather who leaves a full set of clothes hanging on the washing line and even if he did grab them from someone's back garden it still doesn't explain the boots?'

  Currie's head creased in confusion. 'It's a bit of a puzzle, boss.'

  Lasser shivered as a gust of wind rattled the trees. 'We have his shitty jeans, shirt and jacket dumped here, a sweat shirt and jogging pants over there, right?'

  Currie's eyes suddenly widened. 'So unless he went running off bollock naked then he must have had another set to change into.'

  'Precisely, now I can just about buy that he got lucky once but from having fuck all he suddenly turns into a quick-change artist.'

  Currie flicked the cigarette away into the bushes. 'Yeah well, as far as I can tell he's been one lucky bastard all along.'

  'Off course, he could have nicked them the day before, he could have been holed up in the old house for a couple of days, left his gear there while he went on the rampage and collected it later, then we come along and just miss him. He does a runner and changes a
t the first opportunity.'

  'Sounds reasonable but it doesn't explain why he'd discard a fresh set of clothes so soon after changing into them?'

  Lasser wafted at a horsefly that was buzzing around his head. 'No, you're right it doesn't,' he paused as he felt something in his mind shift. 'Unless the masked avenger's been sniffing around again?'

  'Who?'

  Lasser shook his head. 'Never mind, it's just me letting my imagination run riot.'

  'You're talking about the guy who was meant to be hanging around at the back of the house?'

  'You've heard about him then?'

  'News travels fast, boss, you know that.'

  'Tell me, Paul, has anyone checked the woodland at the back of Palmer's place.'

  'Not that I'm aware of, as soon as they picked the scent up they would have concentrated on tracking it down. Why, do you think it's worth having a nosey?'

  'It might be, I…' Lasser's phone began to buzz. 'I bet you a hundred quid it's Bannister?'

  Currie shook his head. 'That's a bit steep for me.'

  'Coward,' pulling out the phone, he checked the number and frowned, before sliding it to his ear. 'Medea, is everything OK?'

  'Relax, everything's fine, I'm just letting you know that Suzanne's been on the phone and I'm going over to her house for a bit. So if you get home and I'm not back then you know where I am.'

  'Oh right, no problem.'

  'I've left you a salad in the fridge.'

  'Right well, you have a good time and I'll catch you later.'

  The line went quiet for a couple of seconds and Lasser thought she'd gone. 'Listen, you be careful out there.'

  'I'm always careful,' he glanced at Currie who gave him a small smile before turning away.