Bannister pulled across the road and flung open the door. Lasser saw the figure freeze as Bannister scrambled from the car. Closing the gap, he watched as Bannister walked forwards, his hands raised. The man with the rucksack took a couple of backward steps. As he turned to run, Lasser slammed into him, his shoulder dipped, his arms locked around Shaun Carver's waist.
Shaun grunted as his feet left the rain-slicked pavement and then they both crashed to the ground. Lasser felt Shaun's arm slither from beneath him and saw the hand reaching for the pocket. Lunging forward he grabbed the arm and twisted, then Bannister was kneeling by his side, one hand locked on Carver's throat.
'Calm down, Shaun, we just want a word.'
'Get off me!' Shaun twisted his head and glared up at Bannister. 'I said get the fuck off me!'
Bannister tightened his grip. 'Where's Robert Flynn?'
Lasser thrust upwards, trapping Carver's legs beneath him. 'Come on, Shaun, answer the man.'
Shaun tried to buck him off, but Lasser was going nowhere.
'I don't know where he is.'
'Sergeant Lasser here said you had him hidden away somewhere?'
Suddenly Shaun slumped backwards, resting his head on the wet pavement; rain fell onto his upturned face. 'When I got back there, he'd managed to get free.'
Lasser looked down at the man, part of him wanted to blame Cathy's death on Carver's stupidity but he knew his conscience would never allow it.
'So you have no idea where he is?' Lasser asked.
Shaun shook his head and then abruptly he stopped, a frown flickered across his face, and then his eyes sprang wide. 'Jesus.'
Bannister eased his hand away. 'What is it?'
Shaun looked at the two men and smiled. 'I know where he's heading.'
Lasser could feel the rain cascading on his head and shoulders, he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been drenched and cold. 'Where?'
Shaun shook his head. 'I won't tell you.'
Lasser drew back his fist; Shaun Carver looked up, his face smeared with defiance.
'But I'm willing to show you.'
145
Robert staggered back, his arms raised as if to ward off a blow, his eyes locked on the figure before him. Dawes seemed to fill the small space; he was dressed like a country gent, a long wax jacket covering an expensive-looking suit. His black hair swept back; his eyes appeared to glitter and shift in the darkness.
'Hello, Robert, are you surprised to see me?'
Robert doubled over and vomited onto the leaf-littered floor, chunks of half-digested chips erupted from his gaping mouth.
The voice was the same, he felt like screaming, all this time he'd never realised that the internal voice belonged to Doctor Dawes.
Robert's jittering fingers snatched for the blade in his pocket, then something smashed into the side of his head and he staggered to the left, his arms pinwheeling for balance.
'That's no way to greet a guest, Robert.' Dawes said, as he strode forward.
Robert did the only thing left open to him, curling on the dirt floor he cried like a newborn.
146
As they reached the junction, Bannister slammed on the brakes, the car slithered on the wet tarmac before juddering to a halt. 'Which way?' he snapped.
Shaun sat in the back seat the rucksack by his side. 'Turn right and head into Hindley.'
Bannister spun the wheel and the car bulleted down the narrow side street. Lasser fumbled out his cigarettes and lit two before handing one over to the DCI.
'Why don't you just tell us where he is?' Lasser asked.
Carver slid the zip of his fleece down before running a hand through his wet hair.
Lasser twisted his head and looked closely at Carver. 'You feel guilty about what happened don't you?'
Shaun sniffed and concentrated on the view through the side window, parked cars flashed by, the rain lashed down. 'I don't have to explain myself to you,' he mumbled.
'You see yourself as a one-man army, is that it?'
Shaun turned and locked eyes with Lasser. 'No comment,' he said with a half-smile.
Lasser chewed at the inside of his cheek. 'The thing is, you had Flynn under wraps, but you never thought he'd get free did you?'
Bannister hit the main road and turned left; the traffic was non-existent; within twenty seconds the car was doing almost seventy.
'You promised Sarah Palmer you'd take care of it,' Lasser pulled on the cigarette. 'She told us all about your little plan and yet when you had the chance to finish it you decided to pay Fleming a visit. Now why would you do that?'
The car swerved as Bannister shot past a slow-moving milk float. Lasser didn't take his eyes off Shaun Carver.
'I've told you…'
'Whichever way you look at it, you fucked up. Your stupidity left a close friend of mine dead and now you think you can put it right by catching Flynn and finishing the job.'
Shaun squared his shoulders and scowled. 'At least I caught him which is more than you lot managed to do.'
Lasser shrugged. 'I agree, mistakes have been made, but come on, Shaun, you had the man and he escaped. I mean, didn't they teach you how to tie knots in the army?'
Shaun felt his anger bloom. 'I…'
'I bet your face was a picture when you got back to your hidey hole and Flynn had vanished.'
'Shut up,' Shaun's voice was low, his brow corrugated.
Bannister eased off the gas as the traffic lights flicked to red, 'Which way?'
'Go left onto Market Street.'
Bannister indicated and slapped on the flashing lights before sneaking through and turning right. After a night of merriment Market Street was deserted, empty pizza boxes and polystyrene wrappers littered the pavement.
'So, why did you go to Fleming's boat?' Lasser asked.
Shaun hauled the rucksack onto his knees.
Lasser raised a questioning eyebrow. 'Did Flynn tell you about the good doctor's visits to the family home?'
Shaun blinked and Lasser smiled at him.
'And you decided to have a word with Fleming, check it out for yourself. Is that it?'
Shaun sighed. 'He said Fleming was responsible for the death of his mother.'
'Yeah, we've heard the same thing ourselves. Of course, if what you said in the trees was true and you had nothing to do with the doctor's death…'
'I don't lie,' Shaun barked.
'Then who do you think killed him?'
Shaun looked surprised at the question. 'I have no idea.'
Lasser peered at him through a cloud of smoke. 'Tell me, Shaun, why didn't you just kill the man, you could have done it and walked away. Why hesitate, after all no one would shed a tear for a man like that?'
Shaun tried to hold Lasser's gaze and found that he couldn't. 'Turn right,' he said.
Bannister did as he was told.
'We've been to see your parents, they told us about your wife and child.'
'They have nothing to do with any of this!'
Lasser tilted his head. 'Somehow, I doubt that.'
'I don't give a fuck what you think…'
'Your mother told us you were undergoing treatment for stress.'
'I…'
'She said you'd lost a couple of close friends on active duty.'
Shaun glared at the man in the passenger seat. He could feel Gemma pushing at his mind trying to gain access and he pushed her away with a snarl.
'You've had enough haven't you, Shaun?' Lasser asked.
'Turn left,' Shaun replied.
As the car came to a halt, Lasser turned, the old brick tunnel yawned, the entrance blocked to vehicles by a line of metal bollards.
Bannister turned. 'You're saying he's in there somewhere?'
Shaun smiled. 'Yeah, he needs his medication and this is where he keeps it.'
Lasser slipped out of the seat belt. 'I suppose it's pointless asking you for directions?'
'What do you think?' Shaun replied.
'Lass
er, there's a couple of torches in the glove compartment, grab them.' Bannister said, as he clicked the door open.
Lasser opened the flap and lifted them out. Ten seconds later, they were standing by the side of the car. The wind howled through the tunnel, the rain lashed into their faces.
Bannister hitched up his trousers. 'You're not going to do a runner are you, Mr Carver?'
Shaun looked at the two men. 'No comment.'
147
Robert screamed as the hiking boot slammed into his ribs. Bright light flared in his head as he vomited again, hot bile sprayed onto the sacred soil.
Dawes pulled a Maglite from his pocket and clicked it on. Robert writhed on the dirt floor, his legs drawn up to his chest, his face contorted with pain.
'I see you've been self-medicating.' Dawes dropped the box of tablets onto the floor.
Robert swivelled his eyes, looking at the small white package with longing, he tried to swallow, but his throat had shrunk to the size of a drinking straw. 'I…'
'You know, I had you down as one of my successes. The medication was working; the therapy seemed to be going well. It just goes to show how wrong you can be.'
Robert tried to block out the words, but the familiarity of the voice wouldn't allow it. He'd spent so long listening to the accent, obeying every command that he couldn't make the switch between fantasy and reality, couldn't bridge the gap.
'You've been a busy boy haven't you? I mean, when the police came to see me, I thought there must have been a mistake. I told them you were a model patient, that you'd never shown any hint of violence towards any member of staff.'
'It wasn't me,' Robert gasped.
Dawes looked down and sighed. 'So come on, Robert, tell me all about it?'
Flynn twisted and looked up, his eyes stark with fear. 'It was you!'
Dawes raised an eyebrow in surprise. 'Me?'
Robert hitched in a breath and managed a nod. 'You're inside my head, you tell me where to go, what to do.'
Dawes smiled. 'Do you know who I am, Robert?'
Robert licked his lips. 'You're the doctor.'
'And do you remember the last time we met?'
Robert tried to straighten his legs and winced as the pain in his ribs blossomed. 'No,' he whispered.
Dawes stepped forward, his leather boots creaked, 'Are you sure?'
Robert thought for a moment, his brain fogged with indecision. 'Was it at the hospital?'
Dawes shone the powerful beam into Robert's face, watching as he screwed up his eyes and snapped his head away. 'So you don't remember my home visits?'
Robert rolled onto his stomach and tried to crawl towards the gap where the door used to sit. 'I don't know what you mean,' he moaned, though somewhere deep inside, he felt a flicker of dark knowledge spring to life.
Dawes squatted on his haunches. 'Does the name Fleming mean anything to you?'
'No.'
Dawes wrapped his knuckles on the back of Robert's head as if he knocking on a hardwood door. 'Are you sure?'
Robert laced his hands over the back of his head, tears of bewilderment cut through the grime on his face; he could taste dirt in his mouth, the dry, bitter taste of the earth. 'I don't know anyone called Fleming.'
'That's strange, you see according to a colleague of mine you said Fleming killed your mother.'
'I said it was the man with the smile, I never knew his name.'
'Doctor Fleming was a good man…'
'I want to go home.'
'I'm afraid that won't be happening, Robert.'
'But why?' Robert could hear the whinge in his voice, he sounded like a child denied his favourite toy.
'Because sooner or later they'll catch you and then they'll want to know why you killed those people.'
'But…'
'Eventually you'll mention my name…'
'I won't, I promise.'
Dawes twisted the end of the torch and the light grew dim. 'I'm afraid I can't trust you, Robert.'
Robert swiped the tears from his face and sniffed. 'But what could I tell them?'
Dawes slid the scalpel from his pocket. 'Who knows what you'll remember. I mean, you say you can't recall my home visits, but a few weeks away from the medication and the memories might start to resurface.'
Robert had no idea what Dawes was talking about, he could remember him from the hospital he could see the small room clearly. Doctor Dawes always dressed in a dark suit, his shoes shining like black glass. But why would he come to the flat, why would he pay him a home visit? Then an image juddered through his mind with such force that the breath wrenched from his body.
He could see Dawes standing outside the door to the flat, a look of surprise carved on his broad features. The smell from the bins had been overpowering, the night sky blighted with black clouds.
Robert looked up and cringed when he saw the look on the doctor's face.
'What are you thinking, Robert?'
'Nothing.'
'Why lie to me? I can see it in your eyes; you've remembered something haven't you?'
Robert thrashed his head left and right. 'No, I promise…'
Dawes lifted his boot slowly before placing it gently onto the side of Robert's head. 'Imagine my surprise when I knocked on the door and you opened it.'
'Please,' Robert hissed.
'That sister of yours was an incredible fuck, Robert, did you know that?'
Flynn squealed as the memories came showering down like shards of broken glass. Dawes had taken a backward step in surprise when he saw Robert staring at him from the doorway to the flat.
Robert screwed his eyes shut as he remembered the doctor walking over the threshold. Dawes had sat on the small sofa and asked Robert how he was feeling. All the time his eyes had roamed around the room as if looking for something or someone.
Back then, the flat had been neat and tidy. His sister had cleaned the place daily, going through the three rooms like a dervish. The place had been filled with the scent of furniture polish, air freshener, and bleach.
Robert tried to remember the conversation, but the boot on the side of his head pressed down until his skull creaked under the pressure.
'All that time and I never knew she was your half-sister. I mean, what are the chances of that, Robert?'
'I…'
'You see Doctor Fleming had a wonderful bedside manner, I learned a lot from that man. He showed me how to manipulate people, how to make then grateful for the treatment they received. Your mother was one of his favourites…'
'Shut up!'
Dawes eased his weight down and Robert gasped
'You know your mother and sister were alike in so many ways.'
'Cunt!' Robert suddenly snarled as reality slammed home.
'Of course your mother was never my type, besides, she was a whore.'
'No!'
'All those men; I told Fleming that if he wasn't careful then he'd catch something, but he wouldn't listen.' Dawes rolled his foot, the sole of his boot grinding into Robert's mashed ear. 'I think he had a real soft spot for her, but you see the thing is Fleming had dark urges that went beyond fucking a patient.'
'Stop!' Robert gasped.
'For some unfathomable reason, he became fixated with your mother, Robert. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen…'
'Bastard!'
'In the end he killed her, but then again you knew that didn't you? Tell me, the time you spent with her after she died, what did you do?'
Robert clawed at the ground, dark earth lodged beneath his fingernails. 'I…'
'Did it feel nice to have her all to yourself?'
'Fuck you!'
Dawes lifted his foot from the side of Robert's head and took a step back; sliding the plastic sheath from the blade he turned the knife in his hand and watched as Robert continued to crawl towards the gap in the wall.
148
Without uttering a word, the three of them broke into a jog. The wind howled, shaking the canopy of t
he ancient trees, sending a blizzard of leaves to the floor. Bannister had his torch trained on the ground ahead. Lasser's was switched off; he didn't see the point in wasting two sets of batteries.
Shaun had the backpack slung over his shoulder, his light-coloured hair bounced as he ran. Lasser snatched the zip up on his jacket and concentrated on staying on his feet.
After five minutes, Shaun slowed to a quick walk and Lasser took the opportunity to drag air into his punished lungs.
'Do you actually know where we're going, Shaun?' he asked through gritted teeth.
'Flynn said there was an old derelict house.'
'And that's where we're heading?' Bannister asked.
Shaun pushed a hand through his hair, his eyes sweeping left and right searching for the wooden bridge that Robert had mentioned. 'He can't function without the pills.'
'I don't want the bastard to function, I want him behind bars,' Bannister snarled.
'Shine your torch to the right,' Shaun replied.
The beam lanced out into the dark illuminating the gnarled trunks of the ancient trees. 'What am I looking for?' Bannister asked.
'There should be a bridge.'
Lasser peered into the darkness; Bannister swept the torch back and forth, every time Lasser honed in, the beam of light moved on.
'There!' Shaun jabbed out a finger and Bannister moved the light back a few feet. The bridge spanned a small stream, on the other side sandstone steps had been carved into the ground, weaving up the steep hillside.
'Right, where to now?' Bannister asked.
'Over the bridge and up the hill,' Shaun said, as he moved forward.
Bannister grunted and set off in pursuit. Lasser hung back fiddling with the torch in his pocket.
Bannister had gone ten yards before he suddenly stopped and turned. 'Come on, Lasser, get a move on!'
'Where are you taking us, Shaun? Lasser asked.
Bannister swept the torch into Lasser's face forcing him to snap his head away. Shaun carried on walking towards the bridge.
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