by Ed James
And he was already out, aiming the gun across the roof at her. ‘Steady now.’ He waved the pistol. ‘Come on, let’s get going.’
Palmer set off across the road, her legs like jelly. ‘Did you know we’d get them all together?’
John followed her close, pressing the gun against her spine. ‘I didn’t think you’d be this quick. I’m impressed.’ He reached round to open the front door. Unlocked. ‘Then again, you found me, so you have some skills. Go on.’
Palmer entered and walked along the hall. Raised voices came from the living room, echoing through. David, Sally and Melissa stood in the living room, arguing. They saw her and stopped.
John brushed past and stormed into the room, marching right up to David. He pushed the gun against his head. ‘This is loaded, in case you’re wondering. More than enough bullets left to kill everyone in this room.’
Palmer stayed on the threshold, frozen to the spot. She had no training for this. No experience. No nothing.
‘Stop!’ Thompson charged through. Too late. She spotted the gun, watched it swivel round to point at her head, then put her hands to her head, clutching her mobile.
‘Drop the phone.’
It clattered to the ground. John stepped on it, crunching it beneath his boot.
‘John.’ Palmer stepped into the room. ‘John, don’t kill anyone. Please.’
Her turn to face the barrel. ‘Shut your mouth.’
‘You’re a cornered rat.’ Thompson was inching closer. ‘Nowhere for you to go. You know that. Was this your plan all along?’
‘You don’t know anything.’
‘I’ve called in backup, so you should just give up now.’ Another step from Thompson. ‘Okay?’
John pointed the gun at her chest. ‘This is the only important thing in my life. I could’ve run away, could’ve left this godforsaken place, but I haven’t.’
‘Don’t do this.’
John swung the gun round to aim at Melissa. ‘Do you know how much torment you put my father through?’ He pointed the gun at Sally. ‘Do you?’ Then David. ‘Where’s Nathan?’
‘He’s dead. Died in Spain.’ David kept his focus on the gun. ‘Where is my daughter?’
John stepped closer, pointing the gun at David’s head. ‘She’s dead.’
‘You fucking animal!’ David lurched forward, reaching for the gun, but John kicked him, cracking his heel into soft knee. David went down, hard.
John kicked him in the groin, again and again until he squealed. ‘You wish I was an animal.’ He crouched and pressed the barrel against David’s temple. ‘None of this affects anything. It doesn’t change what you did, or the life my father lived. The shit I’ve been through. But it’s a consolation to be able to do this to you.’
‘I can help you, John.’ Palmer tried to distract him, but he didn’t move away. She caught Thompson’s look of surprise out of the corner of her eye. ‘I’ve worked with people like you, John. I’ve helped them control this. You need help and I can give you it.’
‘Shut up. Shut up!’
‘Your father should’ve been helped through his ordeal. He shouldn’t have suffered alone, shouldn’t have had to lose himself in drink and drugs. You don’t need to do the same. Stop now.’
‘Bullshit.’ John charged over, aiming the gun at Thompson’s head. ‘She is your fault, isn’t she? Thought you’d be smart bringing someone like her in to help you and your thick bastard squad.’
‘She shouldn’t be here.’
‘It’s all bullshit. You let the real villains get away with crimes.’ John swung the weapon round to aim at Melissa again. ‘These people, they’re all to blame. They’re all guilty.’ Then Sally. ‘My father told me about you. You were the tease, weren’t you? Lured him along so you could play your games with him.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘Wasn’t it? You were interested in this punk here.’ John aimed the gun at David. ‘You liked him. Wanted him to make the first move, but he didn’t, so you used my father.’ He pressed the gun right at her forehead. ‘And. You. Ruined. His. Fucking. Life.’
Palmer spotted movement outside. A car pulling up, headlights off. The passenger door opened and Corcoran got out, limping and grimacing. She gasped. If John saw him, he would shoot them all. No question, no hesitation. ‘John, they were just kids.’ That got his attention, made him aim the gun at her. ‘They were kids. I detest what happened to your father, but I don’t think they knew what they were doing.’
‘Shut up!’
‘I think every one of them was tortured by what they did. It’s haunted them throughout their lives. Haven’t you done enough to their children?’
That hit him, her words like a clenched fist in the teeth.
‘They’ve suffered, John. Their children . . . You starved Sarah to the point where her liver and kidneys won’t function properly. Howard will always hear that song and will likely suffer permanent hearing damage. Matt will never sleep again without nightmares. They’ll all carry physical and mental injuries. And you’ve killed Dawn. You’ve crossed that line.’
‘Shut up!’ John pulled the hammer back. ‘Shut up!’
Corcoran stumbled into the living room, limping and bleeding everywhere.
John aimed at him. ‘Stop!’
Corcoran forced himself across the room, stepping with his bad-hip foot, sliding with the other, leaving a trail of blood on the red carpet. He put his head against the gun barrel. ‘Give yourself up, John.’ He was breathing heavily. ‘There’s nowhere to go.’
Palmer didn’t know where to look. ‘Aidan!’
John pulled the gun away from Corcoran slightly. Panic in his eyes, like he knew he’d lost control over the situation.
‘You’ve done enough.’ Corcoran narrowed his eyes, shifted his head closer, daring him to shoot. ‘Go on! Kill me! I already died! DO IT!’
John held his gaze for a long time, his emotionless eyes focusing right on Corcoran. Then he put the gun against his own head and the noise was deafening.
Fifty-four
[Corcoran, 23:21]
Corcoran lay on a gurney in the back of the ambulance, two paramedics injecting and examining and doing God knows what else they did with a gunshot wound. Outside, Steph and the other police controlled the crime scene, stopping the journalists and rubberneckers getting through.
The second ambulance lights danced on the glistening pavement, the siren silent, as the paramedic helped Dawn into the back.
Palmer gave a thumbs up as she walked over. ‘She’s looking good, Aidan.’
‘That’s a relief.’ Corcoran gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath. ‘This is absolute agony. Can I have any more morphine?’
His paramedic shook his head. ‘You’ll overdose.’
‘That feels like a good idea right now.’
Palmer hugged her arms tight. ‘Don’t even joke about it.’
‘Well, well, well.’ Thompson appeared next to Palmer, hands in pockets, blowing air up her face. ‘The dream team took him down, eh?’
‘He took himself down.’ Corcoran grimaced. ‘I should’ve stopped him earlier.’
‘Come on, you didn’t know until—’
‘—I burst into that basement like an idiot.’ He grunted as the paramedic stuck something in his leg. ‘Doing that let him get away. Let him confront all those people . . .’
A shake of the head from Thompson. ‘Get over yourself.’
Palmer laughed. But she recovered before Thompson noticed. ‘John was going to kill them all, you know? That was his plan. He targeted the kids to torture the parents. He wanted them to suffer horrifically before he killed them.’
‘But this was his endgame. Making them all suffer for what they did. Your work was crucial in there, Dr Palmer. Better keep it to yourself, don’t want the powers that be kicking out us lowly cops in favour of your type.’ Thompson gave her a wink. ‘Okay, well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds.’
Corcoran couldn’t look at Palmer. ‘Alana, th
ere’s nothing going on here.’
‘Keep telling yourself that.’ She strolled off, laughing.
They sat in embarrassed silence while the paramedics worked at Corcoran’s injuries.
He looked up at Palmer. ‘There is nothing going on here, right?’
Palmer was blushing. ‘I mean, you’re a nice guy but you’ve got so much baggage.’
‘You’re one to talk.’ Corcoran looked at her. Two days ago, she was an obstacle, someone getting in his way, bringing her psychobabble mumbo jumbo with her, preventing him doing his police work.
But now . . .
She was a friend, someone he’d been through a horrific ordeal with. That sting in his gut when he realised John had her . . .
Maybe in time . . .
No.
‘Look, Marie, I’ve got a wife and kid. Back in London.’
‘Oh.’ She tucked her hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘I didn’t tell you.’ Corcoran winced as something really bloody sore was rubbed into his thigh. ‘We’re separated. It’s over. Lucy kicked me out, put in a restraining order. Won’t let me see Adam.’
Her eyebrows danced up and she looked at him. ‘What the hell did you do, Aidan?’
‘Nothing.’ Now Corcoran couldn’t look at her, though this time it was because of shame. ‘After we caught him, I got depressed.’
‘Ross Murray?’
‘Right, him. I fell onto train tracks and injured my hip. Forced to take time off work and of course I was too stubborn to get surgery. But I’d let Zoe Wilson get in my head, let her fuck up that case. Let two people die.’
‘But you caught him, Aidan.’
‘I did. And at great cost.’ He could only shake his head, like it’d blow away the cobwebs. But it all stayed the same. ‘I went back to work, but . . . A long time ago I made a decision to never talk about my private life at work. You know how we need to compartmentalise? Well, I did. What happened at work, stayed at work. Only . . .’
‘It followed you home?’
‘Right. And I couldn’t open up at home. The stress got to me, exploding after we put him away. I was off for months, a zombie. For seven months. All I did was lie in bed or sit at the breakfast table. Even taking Adam to school was beyond me. I just kept thinking about what Ross Murray had done to all those women. About how I could’ve stopped them. The last two victims. Kate Pearson and Alison Gray. I could’ve stopped them. Two people died because of me. How do you . . .?’
Palmer reached over to touch his arm, gentle and soft. ‘Aidan, I deal with the other side of the coin. People like Murray Ross and’ – she swallowed hard – ‘John Mitchell. I try to rehabilitate them. I tell myself I can do that, that there’s still an essence of humanity in there.’ She reached for his hand and he let her take it. ‘But seeing you like this? That’s the hardest part. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you caught a serial killer and now you’ve stopped a serial abductor, and yet you blame yourself.’ She squeezed his hand, sending a pulse of life up his forearm. ‘You can’t change the past, but you can accept what you are.’
He looked over at her, frowning. ‘What am I?’
‘You’re a hero, Aidan. And you’re suffering survivor’s guilt. But I’ve told you not to blame yourself. I know you didn’t stop him killing Kate or Alison, but you did allow all the families of those victims to grieve. You gave them closure and you helped them start to heal. You need to do that yourself.’
He looked at her again, saw reflected light sparkling in her dark eyes. And he almost let her have it, to admit she was right, but that would be too easy. ‘I wish I’d caught John Mitchell rather than . . .’ He shut his eyes.
All he could see was John Mitchell’s brains exploding, blood spraying across David Crossley and Sally Norton.
‘And now there’s no chance for you to help him.’
‘I could have, you know? It would’ve been hard, but . . . I don’t believe he was past helping. He wasn’t the worst person I’ve been in a room with.’
‘That’ll be me?’ Corcoran tried a smile and she actually laughed. ‘You know, a wise person told me “you can’t punish yourself for not saving everyone”.’
That got a smile out of her. ‘We saved Dawn, we saved their parents. It’s all we could’ve hoped for.’
A gust of wind blew into the back of the ambulance. ‘I know. I just wish we . . .’
‘Aidan, stop!’ She ran a hand through her hair. ‘You put yourself at serious risk there. Pressing your head against his gun. That was stupid. We didn’t know he wasn’t going to kill. You saw what he did to David Crossley. And he just left Dawn to die.’
‘But you really think he’d have killed me? An innocent man?’
‘I thought you were guilty of not catching all these killers at the right time?’
That hit him like a punch in the guts, forcing a laugh from his throat. Not the right time, maybe, but God it was what he needed. ‘You can always do something earlier, right?’
‘Exactly. Focus on what you have done.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry about what happened with you and your wife, Aidan. I really am.’
‘One of those things.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re right, maybe I need saving. Learn to control my impulses and stop repeating the same cycles.’ He grinned at her. ‘Do you know a good psychologist?’
One year later
Fifty-five
Palmer
The black cat crawled round Palmer’s legs, forcing himself onto his back and raking against her shoes. Cute as hell, but such a little sod. She reached down to tickle his tummy but he raced off through the flat, ears up. ‘Must be good being back with him?’
The communal gardens bloomed outside, lush cottage garden plants under a sprawling hawthorn in full blossom.
Sarah Langton took a sip from her coffee. ‘Good old Milhouse.’ She was almost back to her previous weight, but her pallor was like she’d died a year ago. Pale, yellowy skin stretched too tight. ‘They’re saying I might be able to go back to work next month.’
‘That’s good. But you should take your time, Sarah.’ Palmer wrapped her hands around her mug, her green tea left in too long, but she didn’t want to say anything. ‘You’re looking healthier but your ordeal—’
‘I wish Christopher was here to help, but . . .’ Sarah sighed. ‘He’s back home with his parents. This was all too much for him.’
‘It’s a lot to go through for anyone.’
‘You know we were childhood sweethearts, right? It stopped being so sweet. That’s why I slept with Klaus. Why I kept on sleeping with Klaus.’ Sarah shut her eyes. ‘What a bloody mess.’
‘It’s okay to think that, you know? To put emotional distance between yourself and your situation. To describe it, to colour it with words. Helps you say what you really mean, helps you see where you need to change the most.’
‘It’s messed up, that’s all it means.’ Sarah’s phone rang. She reached over to the breakfast bar and picked it up. Her smile looked genuine and warm. ‘It’s Howie.’ She let it ring out.
‘Howie?’
‘Howard Ritchie.’
Palmer nodded, gave her a warm smile. ‘You can answer it.’
‘I’ll call him back later.’
Palmer took a sip of her tea. Definitely way too strong for her. ‘So you’re still in touch with the other three?’
‘Just Howie. I mean, they’re okay. It’s weird. For a fortnight, myself, Howie and Matt . . . the three of us were just metres away from each other, but we didn’t even know anyone else was there. I was in there just over six weeks and Matt was there all that time. We couldn’t help each other.’
‘But you can help each other now?’
Sarah’s face lit up with a broad grin. ‘And we are. Howie’s back surfing and cooking. Matt’s talking about going back to work, but he’s found it hardest of all of us. He’s not right in the head. And Dawn was a hero. Even though she was only in his grip for hours
, she was there with us through those sessions. Kept calling us, arranging meetings. Made us talk about it. Can’t believe what he—’ She caught herself. ‘What John put us through. All because of our fucking parents.’ She picked up Milhouse and cradled him in her lap, stroking his luxurious fur. ‘I mean, you grow up thinking your folks are these heroes, that they know everything. They remind you of the sacrifices they made for you and . . . Then you find out what they did. I mean, Mum wasn’t the worst of them, but Christ, if she hadn’t brought him along, none of it would’ve happened.’
Her phone rang again.
‘Take it. Please.’ Palmer got up. ‘I’ll see myself out, okay?’
‘Okay.’ Sarah bit her lip as she answered the phone. ‘Hey, Howie, guess who I’m with?’
‘Say hi from me.’ Palmer walked out of the flat and skipped down the steps, pleased to help victims instead of villains, for once.
Outside, a black Golf had boxed her car into the car park. She stopped with a groan.
Corcoran stood by the Golf, smiling at her. ‘Only way to get your attention.’ He looked frayed, tired, but in control. Moving a lot freer too as he came over to kiss her cheek.
‘My god, you can walk?’
He laughed. ‘Finally got my hip resurfaced. Took me so long to face up to reality. Couple of months off work but I feel like a new man now.’
‘I’m impressed. But how did you find me?’
‘I spoke to Sarah this morning. She said you were meeting her.’
‘Right.’
He stared at her. ‘Thanks for listening to me. I didn’t thank you before. Things have been . . . well.’
‘I’m here for you, Aidan. I just wish I’d seen you in the last, what, five months?’
‘Sorry, I can blow hot and cold.’
‘So why now?’
He gave her a dark look. ‘There’s another case, and it’s even worse than the last one . . .’
Uncover the very best in crime and thriller writing.
Sign up for the Crime Files newsletter
@CrimeFilesBooks
/crimefiles
/crime-files-podcast