Crossfire (The Clifford-Mackenzie Crime Series Book 1)

by R. D. Nixon

  The way Mulholland kept glancing at the door at the back of the room pulled Bradley’s own reluctant gaze with it, until finally he strode across and dragged the bolt back. The waning light from the open front door washed only limply over the threshold, but it was bright enough to illuminate the sticky crimson pool on the stone flags. The lumps of greyish matter distributed throughout the mess brought nausea up into Bradley’s throat, and he gagged and swallowed it, and turned to spit on the floor behind him.

  He heard the soft sound of Mulholland’s derision and felt spots of humiliation, like burn marks, on his skin. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, scrubbing at the acid taste that coated his lips until pain replaced it. He made an effort to control the shaking in his voice, not altogether successfully.

  ‘Come on then.’

  He stepped over Stein’s outstretched legs, trying not to look directly at the mutilated skull as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. When had he turned so soft? He’d killed before, and although he hadn’t taken as much pleasure from it as Mulholland clearly did, he’d certainly not shied away from it either, knowing the rewards. And speaking of rewards, if that stone was still up here in this cottage, as Stein had seemed to think, he’d bloody well keep searching until he found it.

  It was not the opal he found, however; it was something far more unsettling. He worked his way along the wall, kicking at the stones near where he’d found the silk wrapping, and tried not to become infuriated when they yielded nothing more. As he made his way around the room, he saw something lying on the floor; crumpled cloth of some kind. Not one piece, but two… How had they slipped his attention before? Bradley kicked at the little pile, some part of him still six years old and convinced a rat would come scurrying out if he touched it with his hand.

  ‘What’s that?’ Mulholland said at once.

  ‘No idea, but it’s making me wonder,’ Bradley said. Satisfied they were devoid of vermin, he bent down and picked up the two pieces of cloth. He looked at the smaller piece; smudges of red indicated someone had recently used it to wipe blood from a cut. He pocketed it, thoughtfully, then shook out the larger piece and held it up. A worried anger started to worm in his belly; this was not something that had lain in this cellar for years – the cloth was modern. New, even.

  ‘How old did you say that kid was, the one who came in with his mother to report Mackenzie?’

  ‘I think they said he was ten. Looked smaller to me, though.’

  ‘Uh huh.’ Bradley turned back the waistband of the pyjama trousers to reveal the label: George at Asda. Boys. Aged 7/8. Shit. He took his phone out of his inside pocket and flipped open the leather cover.

  ‘Dream on,’ Mulholland said. ‘You’ll be lucky to get a signal. Who’re you trying to call, anyway?’

  ‘Sarah.’ Bradley put the phone away. ‘She must know about this; why else would Stein bother to bring the boy up here? That bolt on the door is brand new. Thing is, how much does he know about what’s going on? Not that it matters. Even if he only knows about this,’ he jerked his head towards the cooling cadaver, ‘we’ll have to find him; he’s a loose end. Maybe hurt, too – there was blood on that cloth.’ He saw his chance at last, and put a little superiority into his voice. ‘Right, I’ll wait here for Sarah. You get out and start searching.’

  ‘No, I think I’ll wait here. We can find the lad later.’

  The shift in power wasn’t even subtle. Although Mulholland didn’t need to resort to theatrics by drawing his weapon, the hard light in his eyes was enough; Bradley had finally lost whatever edge he’d held over the younger man – if he’d ever really had any at all.

  Jamie stopped in the road, straining to listen against the wind; he could hear a car in the distance, he was sure of it. Mackenzie’s words flashed through his mind:

  Keep low until you’ve checked out the driver. Could be your mother, or it could be my partner Maddy...

  He’d said any car would be moving pretty slowly, but this car was really motoring up here. Maybe it was moving so fast because whoever was driving it was in a hurry to rescue him? The mixture of panic and wild hope was making him feel a little sick. He kept walking down the hill, turning his head so he could hear better, keeping an eye on the side of the road to make sure there was somewhere he could duck out of sight if he had to.

  On his left the side of the mountain rose away, littered with rocks of varying sizes. He pulled the big leather jacket tighter around him, then slipped in behind the largest of those rocks, at the top of a short, steep part of the hill. From there he could see the car coming around the corner at the bottom, and if he concentrated really hard, he should be able to tell if the driver was a woman or a man. And he’d recognise his mother right away, even if her face wasn’t clear.

  He stared until his eyes burned, the jacket sleeves gripped tightly where they fell over his fingers. His breath became shorter, his chest tightened... Not now! He breathed more slowly and felt his airways loosen. False alarm then – just normal, everyday panic.

  The car was still a fair distance away, but finally the faint glow of headlights lit up the mist and he knew, with a lurch of despair, that he wouldn’t be able to see past them until the car was right in front of him. There was no time to waste weighing up; the risk was huge, but worth taking, and he scrambled out from behind the rock and halfway down the slope, keeping half-curled and relatively sure he wouldn’t stand out in Mackenzie’s black jacket, as long as he kept still.

  He squinted past the lights as the car drew level and the driver took shape; it wasn’t his mum’s spiky-haired outline, but there was no way that was a man. Mackenzie had described his partner as red-haired and scary-looking, and she fitted the description exactly. He gave a small cry of relief and leapt up, waving, as the car pulled slightly ahead, but the woman had seen the movement and glanced back towards him, her mouth open in surprise. It was Maddy, for sure.

  The car came to a sudden, sliding halt, and as Jamie ran the few feet up the road, the woman pressed the button to lower her window, staring at him in amazement. Her hair was definitely a light, reddish blonde.

  ‘You’re Maddy, aren’t you!’ he said, unable to keep the grin from his face. ‘Where’s my mum?’

  The woman suddenly smiled and looked a lot more friendly. ‘Thank God, it’s you! She’s waiting for you. Hop in, quick!’

  Jamie climbed into the back and Maddy put her window back up. Then she put the car smoothly back into gear, and Jamie sat back as they pulled away, already thinking about the fame this adventure would get him when he started comp school next month. Mackenzie had seemed really ill, but now everything was going to be all right, and he himself would be the hero, just like he’d thought back in the hotel, with newspaper stories, maybe even TV news—

  His door locked with a muted clunk and he looked up, catching Maddy’s eyes on him in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Just to be safe, sweetie,’ she said. ‘Can’t have you falling out, eh? Seat belt on, too.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah, I suppose so,’ Jamie said, but he felt uneasy all the same. ‘Why are we still going this way?’

  ‘Can’t turn around here. I need to find a wider space.’

  ‘Okay. Then I’ll show you where your friend is, so you can pick him up. I’ll have to help you though, ’cause he can’t stand up.’

  Maddy’s head whipped around in surprise, then she turned back to the road. ‘He’s not dead?’

  He was pleased he’d been able to deliver the good news. ‘No, but he’s quite bad. He’s down in the valley – I’ll show you.’

  She shook her head. ‘We’ll send an ambulance back for him.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I said we’ll send someone!’ Her voice lowered again, sounding calmer, but still a bit tight. ‘Better to let the professionals do it. Now hush, these roads are dangerous enough without being distracted by chatter.’

  He looked at her again; her focus was entirely on the road ahead. He could see in the mirror that she was angry now,
and he felt a tremor of fear. ‘Where did you say Mum was?’ he ventured. She didn’t answer. Jamie’s heart fluttered again, and he reached out to try and pull the lock up with his fingers. It wouldn’t budge. A sudden certainty flooded over him, and his voice came out hoarse and thin.

  ‘You’re not Maddy, are you?’

  She ignored him, but then it hadn’t really been a question anyway; whoever she was, he was sure no friend of Mr Mackenzie’s could be this horrible. He felt a sick wriggling feeling in his belly, and unclipped his seat belt – he still couldn’t escape, but it felt a little better.

  ‘Who’s in the valley? This friend of Maddy’s?’ she asked at last.

  Jamie hesitated, but he caught her quick, knowing glance in the mirror again and couldn’t think of a fake name fast enough. ‘Mr Mackenzie,’ he muttered.

  ‘The investigator? And he can’t walk? What’s he done, broken his leg?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What then? Has he been shot?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not very forthcoming with information, are you? Tell me this at least: the American who took you, is he dead?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so. I think one of the policemen shot him.’ Jamie could bear it no longer; he lunged forward in his seat and caught at the woman’s shoulder. ‘Where’s my mum?’

  She jerked away from him. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Which you can actually take as a good sign. Now tell me about the policemen.’

  ‘I didn’t see them, just heard them; Mr Mackenzie told me who they were. They were talking to the American, and then I heard a shot and ran away.’

  ‘So the American had already let you go?’ The woman’s voice was hard, and Jamie’s fear grew. He clung to the news that she really seemed to have no idea about his mother at all; maybe, as she’d said, that was a good sign. He sat back again, trying not to acknowledge what he knew in his heart; they were going back to the cottage.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Charis heard the smooth engine coming up the hill behind them, and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. It was impossible to tell how far away the car was; the mist distorted the sound until she wasn’t even sure she’d really heard it at all, but Maddy cast around frantically for somewhere to get out of sight.

  ‘Here!’ she hissed and scrambled up the slope off the road. Charis heard the shift of gears and followed, her hands stinging as they scraped over rough rocks. Maybe it was the police? But summoned by whom? Doohan wouldn’t have alerted them; it would put him straight back in prison.

  Somewhere over to her left she heard Maddy moving about, and then the car was on the road below them and they could only see the gleaming, rain-wet roof and the muted glow of headlights. Maddy was already starting to climb back down, but Charis was first to reach the road again and took off up the hill, hearing Maddy’s regulation black shoes hitting the road at a run behind her. Before long, the taller woman overtook her, and there was little sound then except for harsh breathing and pounding feet. Just when Charis thought her heart was going to burst with exertion, Maddy turned a white face back to her.

  ‘It’s stopped!’

  Charis had to hold her breath to listen, but Maddy was right – and in that moment they both heard the unmistakeable sound of a car door slamming.

  ‘We’re there!’ Charis said in a rush of relief.

  ‘No, listen,’ Maddy said bleakly, as the car took off again. ‘They’ve gone.’

  Charis felt ill and a little faint. ‘Do you think they found Mackenzie?’ she ventured. ‘Maybe they saw him, or his bike, and stopped to look.’

  Maddy hesitated. ‘If...I see him I don’t know if I can just—’

  ‘Just walk past him?’ Charis said gently. ‘Me neither. But Jamie’s up there and I’ve got to go to him. I understand if you want to stay with Mackenzie.’

  She started forward again. She didn’t know what she would do if she rounded the next corner and saw Mackenzie lying in the valley, but thank God for the mist – it obscured almost everything, and as long as she kept her focus on the road she couldn’t see him, not even by accident. After a moment she was relieved to hear Maddy following her; she’d told the truth when she’d said she was prepared to do this alone, but it didn’t mean she wanted to.

  The road veered down to the left, just as Doohan had described. Charis and Maddy stopped and looked at one another.

  ‘It’s down there, isn’t it? The cottage.’ Charis said quietly. ‘Jamie’s down there.’

  ‘And so’s whoever drove past us back there,’ Maddy reminded her. ‘They don’t know we’re coming, so that’s in our favour at least. About the only thing that is though. Keep to the side of the road and follow me.’

  She took a small handgun from her pocket, smoothly in control once more, and Charis stared at her in mingled dismay and relief, and with a growing sense of unreality.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Maddy said, seeing her face, ‘it’s legal.’

  ‘Why didn’t you threaten Daniel with it?’

  ‘I didn’t want him going back and reporting me. I could do without being arrested right now, aye? Now come on.’

  Hunting around for a weapon of her own, Charis found only a smoothish, hand-sized rock among the scrubby bushes at the side of the road, but she pushed it into her jeans pocket anyway; it was better than nothing, and would probably give someone a hell of a headache if she used it right. She met Maddy’s incredulous look with a defiant one, and Maddy looked as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just turned away.

  There was nothing around them except swarming midges and a rapidly darkening sky; the mist had lifted a little, but the day was drawing its last breaths, and the poor weather meant night would not be long in coming. Struck by the sickening realisation that Mackenzie would never see another sunrise, she reminded herself that, unless she did something about it, neither would Jamie. It took everything she had not to push past Maddy and take off down the lane by herself.

  The roof of the cottage came into view and Charis stopped, her heart suddenly beating too fast. The place was a wreck, with ragged holes in the roof, and the one window she could see had only two panes left in its frame. How could Jamie have been kept up here, with Stein down in the town, if there was nothing to stop him escaping? Oh God, if he’d been tied up all this time and unable to get to his inhaler—

  ‘Slow down,’ Maddy whispered, her voice harsh in the quiet evening air. Charis realised she had almost run into her, and hung back with an effort. There were three cars down there: the posh car the American had been driving, that had so fascinated Jamie; a smart, four-door saloon, with a Hertz sticker in the back window; and Bradley’s dark blue Discovery. She briefly wondered who had been driving the hire car, but the question was wiped from her mind as she saw a movement by the window. A darker shadow in the already dim room. She heard a crash and a familiar, unmistakeable cry, and all reason left her.

  She tore loose from Maddy’s restraining hand and started to run.

  Going back into the cottage had robbed Jamie of the last of his courage. The cold from the stone floor seeped through the wet, borrowed socks, chilling his feet again, and it was gloomy inside, but he could see there were two men there now. As the woman pushed him in too, Jamie’s legs suddenly couldn’t hold him up any more. He stumbled and fell to his knees, but no-one seemed bothered; in fact it was almost as if he weren’t there – except for the gun now pointed at him by the same police officer he and his mum had seen about their camera.

  He watched and listened, terrified beyond comprehension as the three people in the room bit and snarled at one another, snapping questions, not listening to answers, shouting each other down. Jamie felt despair creeping over him as he realised that, while they were fighting amongst themselves, Mackenzie was waiting for him to bring help; he’d probably die out there by himself all night, soaked through.

  ‘What the hell are you wearing, boy?’ It was as if the big officer had read his thoughts.

&n
bsp; ‘It’s a jacket.’

  ‘I can see that. Am I allowed to guess who it belongs to?’

  ‘Don’t care.’ He kept his voice sullen and, trying not to let the sudden fear show in his face either, he stared at the floor.

  ‘How do you know Paul Mackenzie?’

  ‘Who?’

  The officer gave an impatient sigh. ‘That jacket belongs to Mackenzie. How did you get it?’

  ‘Dead body.’ Jamie looked up in time to see a strange expression cross the man’s face; sort of a hopeful, but wary one, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, but he wanted to. Really wanted to. If Jamie hadn’t already hated him for killing the American, that look sealed it.

  ‘Dead? You’re sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. Took his jacket, didn’t I?’

  ‘The investigator?’ the woman broke in. ‘I thought you said he was still alive?’

  Jamie watched the officer carefully; the expression had turned suspicious again. He remembered the misunderstanding in the car, and seized on it. ‘I thought he was your friend. I didn’t want to upset you.’

  ‘So he is actually dead then,’ the officer insisted.

  ‘Crashed his motorbike.’

  ‘Always thought that’d be what did him in,’ the officer said with satisfaction. ‘Did he die right away, d’you think?’

  He seemed almost cheerful now, and Jamie decided to keep his mood up by telling him what he clearly wanted to hear. ‘No. He was alive when I found him, but he died a little while ago. Broke loads of bones and stuff.’

  It worked; the man’s face went pink as he suppressed a laugh. Jamie wished he could get hold of that gun so he could shoot the man’s ugly, mean head right off.

  ‘Happy now, Bradley?’ The skinny officer was still holding the gun pointing at Jamie, but it seemed more relaxed. Jamie wondered if he would have a chance to rush at him, like they did on TV, but deep down he knew he wouldn’t.