Dougie reached another fence; this one only came to his waist. He slowed.
Armed response had a better view now, but still, panicked people ran across their path. “Freeze. Put the weapon down, or we’ll shoot.”
“Don’t,” growled Cooper as Dougie rolled under the fence.
A child had already been hurt. They couldn’t risk another member of the public being injured, or a horse for that matter. What a PR nightmare that would be.
A speaker crackled. “And it’s number four, Rocket Queen by a neck. Swift Blossom gaining.”
Another fence easily vaulted. He was going to get away, cross the racecourse and disappear into the woods. Who knew how long he’d hide, waiting for his chance to tick one more name off his list.
The armed officer, lean and dark, brought the G36 to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The bullet glanced off Dougie’s arm.
Hundreds of heads ducked as one as the guests lowered themselves to the floor. Screams rang out, covering the sounds of hooves on the all-weather track.
“...and it’s neck and neck. Rocket Queen and Swift Blossom.”
Keaton was almost there. Cooper didn’t stand a chance of catching them; her leg was leaking blood, her head felt woozy. The track blurred before her, stripes of green and brown smudging each time she blinked. Still, she could see the danger.
Keaton was within arm’s reach. Her strong legs thundered; she was ready to strike.
Cooper skidded to a halt. Dust mushroomed around her as she grabbed the white, waist-high fence. Fear coursed through her as she saw the future. “STOP!” she yelled, but it was useless over the noise of everything happening around her.
Tennessee slid in behind Cooper. Unable to stop himself, he catapulted over the fence. On all fours, he looked up at the racecourse. His mouth formed a perfect oval of horror before he found the strength to echo Cooper. “Stop! Paula, stop!”
DS Paula Keaton froze just as Swift Blossom tore across her path. Her arm jerked backwards violently, and she rolled, gripping her bicep as her arm hung limply beside her. She cursed through the pain of a dislocated shoulder, grinding her teeth while her legs went into spasm.
DS Paula Keaton stopped in time. Dougie Beaumont did not.
Nor did the seventeen other horses running in the Northumberland Plate.
As the final horse crossed the line, a broken body remained on the track. Trampled by beasts weighing five hundred kilos apiece, Dougie Beaumont was crumpled and unmoving.
“Victory for Rocket Queen. Rocket Queen by a head.”
- Chapter 51 -
The first thing he noticed was the smell – sweet and sterile. With his eyes closed, he parted his lips and moved his tongue around his arid mouth. Thirst was the overriding sensation. He opened his eyes; the room was too bright for him, so he clamped them shut again, wrinkling the skin around his orbitals. That’s when the pain kicked in.
He felt as if someone had dropped a twenty-kilo dumbbell on his head. His nose throbbed, his jaw ached. The sheets felt like ice on his chest; his shoulders, elbows and wrists raged. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, but it itched like a hundred spiders were crawling over it. Trying to scratch the itch was impossible. His arm refused to move, his fingers finding nothing but the rough texture of a plaster cast.
Blinking, he tried to become accustomed to the light. He was in a hospital bed, both arms cocooned in white plaster. Spokes held his arms at right angles. He wanted to get out of there. Hormones flooding his veins told him to leave, to get out. If he could swing his legs to the side of the bed, he might be able to stand.
He grunted, but neither leg moved.
His face felt hot with pain, his arms cramped, and his chest stung with every breath. Yet his legs felt nothing. The realisation caused him to yell. He yelled long and loud until a young woman in purple scrubs entered the room and plunged a needle into his hip.
He sighed, then the darkness came.
Cooper got the call that she’d be able to speak to Dougie Beaumont early on Sunday morning. She had plans to go to Alnwick with Atkinson; they’d wanted to visit the castle and gardens, but it would have to wait. She sent a text to apologise and suggested an early lunch after tomorrow’s hospital appointment instead. They had both booked Monday morning off work and Cooper thought it might be a good time to speak to him privately. She wanted to discuss their relationship but didn’t fancy doing it with Julie or Tina earwigging in the next room.
She washed quickly but took her time changing the dressing on her thigh. She’d needed a couple of stitches and a pint of blood, but she was otherwise all right. She’d have a nasty scar, but that was nothing new. If she didn’t like it, she’d cover it with another tattoo.
Checking her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Cooper saw her hair was looking fluffy and could do with a tidy; she’d tackle that later. She had enough to think about without fixating on the length of her hair.
Downstairs, she found Julie at the kitchen table reading the Sunday papers and drinking strong coffee.
“That smells like it could power a jet engine.”
Julie looked up. “Morning, dear. I hope you don’t mind, but I got up early and made a start on the laundry.”
Cooper did mind. She’d never liked people going through her things, no matter how innocent their intentions.
Her mother didn’t wait for Cooper to answer. “You know, if you do a load each day, you’ll be able to keep on top of it.”
“I do keep on top of it.”
“Hardly, the basket was overflowing, and the bathroom needs a deep clean. When was the last time you cleaned under the freezer?”
Cooper poured herself a small coffee.
“I’ve never cleaned under the freezer.”
Julie looked at her with a horror-struck expression.
“Oh, please,” said Cooper. She grimaced then poured the coffee down the drain. “I work full time. More than full time, actually, given it’s Sunday morning and I’m off to interview a serial killer, but don’t let that stop you from having a dig.”
Julie’s face creased. She lifted the paper, hiding behind it. “I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. When was the last time you cleaned under the freezer at Benji’s? Have you even called to see how they’re getting on? Or checked the social media accounts Tina set up for you?”
Julie turned a page, letting the noise of paper brushing over the kitchen table cover the sound of her sniffles. Cooper felt guilty; she hadn’t meant to make her mother cry. Julie must miss Ben terribly, and anything to do with the bar would be an awful reminder that he was no longer with her. If Julie wanted to help with the housework, Cooper should be grateful. She was grateful; she just didn’t want help if it came with a side dish of digs about her home keeping skills. Since returning from her father’s funeral, Cooper had worked a major investigation. She’d seen one colleague almost choke to death and another nearly crushed in a stampede. She’d tried to get through to a teenager who no longer wanted to communicate with her, and she’d tried to rebuild the relationship she’d effectively ruined in the springtime. During all of this, she’d made room in her home for her grieving mother.
No wonder she was drained. There was the dark cloud of tomorrow’s tests hanging over her, possible bad news, medical complications and big decisions.
Letting the air out of her lungs, Cooper opened her mouth to apologise, but Julie beat her to it.
“I’m sorry, dear. You’re right. I just— I just want to make myself useful, so you don’t...” Her voice caught in her throat. “I’m not ready to go back to the bar, and I thought if I made myself useful you wouldn’t...”
“Hoy you out?”
“Something like that.”
Cooper was exasperated. What did she take her for? “You don’t have to make yourself useful, Mum. And I’m not going to ask you to leave.”
Yes, she wanted her home back and for things to return to normal, but Cooper was hardly going to pack her mother
’s suitcase and put her on the next flight to Lanzarote.
“You can stay as long as you need,” she said, but she knew her tone of voice didn’t match her words. “I’ve got to go.”
The heat and humidity of the past few weeks finally tipped the barometer from fair to stormy. The first flash of lightning lit up the sky as Cooper drove into the centre of Newcastle. The rain poured down in sheets; the sky was dark and looked more like night than day. The BMW’s windscreen wipers turned on automatically, immediately finding the quickest setting. At the junction near the Great North Museum, a man comforted his terrified dog as it cowered from the sudden booms coming from the sky. Pedestrians in summer clothes dived under bus shelters, and servers at local cafés hurried to move outside diners indoors before their food was ruined.
Cooper followed Claremont Road and turned left onto Queen Victoria Road. By some miracle, she found a spot in the car park nearest the main entrance of the Royal Victoria Infirmary. The RVI was a hospital that opened its doors as early as 1752 and now operated as a seven-hundred-bed teaching hospital for Newcastle University. Pulling an umbrella from the glove box, Cooper stepped out into a puddle. Warm water seeped through her socks and shoes. The rain was falling faster than the drains could siphon it away. Despite the brolly, water whipped against her face and she was forced to bow her head as she ran towards shelter. In the short time she’d been exposed to the weather, she been completely soaked through. Cooper lowered the umbrella and shook it violently, spraying water in all directions.
Behind Cooper, a knock on a glass panel caught her attention. She turned to see a perfectly dry Tennessee waiting for her.
“Almond croissant or chocolate twist?” he asked once Cooper negotiated the revolving door and wiped her soggy shoes on the mat.
“Almond croissant. How come you don’t look like you’ve been dipped in the Tyne head first?”
“Hayley dropped me off. She has an appointment with her therapist.”
Cooper bit into the pastry and flicked crumbs from her shirt. “Does it help?”
He shrugged. “Can’t do any harm. She hasn’t been in a while, so I gave her a nudge. I’m hoping we won’t be here all day; Alfie’s feeling better so I want to take him to the pool. Plus, Pat said she’d watch him tonight so me and Hayley can go to the cinema.”
Cooper smiled but said nothing. A drop of water weaved its way down her forehead to her nose. She shook her head like a wet dog and looked around the foyer. The area had filled up as anyone due to leave waited for a lull in the weather.
“You spoken to anyone yet?” she asked.
“A Dr Lane briefed me. Douglas Beaumont is awake and in pain. Well, above the waist he is. He’s paralysed from L1 down, whatever that means.”
“It’s the top of the lumbar vertebrae. ‘Bout here.” She poked Tennessee in his lower back, causing him to jump.
“He has fractures to his jaw, nose, orbital, collar bone, both arms, six of these things.” He pointed to the back of his hand.
“Metatarsals.”
“Right. Erm, what else? His ribs, his hip, both legs. Thigh on the right, and shin on the left—”
Cooper cut him off. “Basically, he’s broken his entire body?”
“Then there’s the internal injuries. How’s your leg, by the way?”
They finished their pastries and threw the serviettes in the bin.
“Could be worse,” Cooper said with a snort.
“A lawyer’s with him, and the doc will be keeping an eye on him. We have to stop the interview if he shows any sign of distress.”
Cooper rolled her eyes. The rules were there for a reason, but had Dougie stopped when his victims were distressed? No, he’d beat them then buried them alive.
- Chapter 52 -
Upstairs, Cooper tugged at the neckline of her shirt. Hospitals put her on edge, and though logic told her she wasn’t in any danger, she found herself standing closer to Tennessee.
A stocky man with big ears and a small mouth extended a hand. “DCI Cooper? I’m Dr Lane. I’m sure DS Daniel has told you about Mr Beaumont’s injuries. He’s lucky to be alive.”
His words echoed in Cooper’s head. Lucky to be alive. If only his victims could say the same.
“I know you have a job to do, but I’m sure you can appreciate I do as well. If Mr Beaumont shows any signs of anxiety or discomfort, I’m afraid I’ll have to call an end to the visit. He needs as much rest as possible at this time.”
Cooper shook the doctor’s hand and nodded.
Outside the door to Douglas Beaumont’s room, an officer sat on a plastic chair with a bored expression on his face. Slapping a hand on his shoulder, Cooper sent him home – the man he was guarding was hardly a flight risk.
Inside the hospital room, the first person Cooper noticed was the lawyer. He’d taken the only seat and wore an ill-fitting suit, his striped tie askew. They nodded in greeting, then Cooper turned to the bed.
Whatever she had imagined Dougie’s injuries to look like, she hadn’t expected this. The man lay motionless in the centre of the bed, propped up on pillows. Blankets covered his lower body, but the thin fabric couldn’t hide the casts and braces strapped to both legs. His face was visibly swollen, both eyes were almost entirely closed, and his jaw was held in place by a strap of material.
In defiance of his injuries, Dougie smiled at the detectives.
The expression made Cooper shudder. “How can you smile? You’re going to jail for the rest of your life. Even without a confession, we have ample evidence, including DNA. You will be convicted, Dougie, or should I call you Tyrone?”
“Dougie,” he said through clamped teeth. “I haven’t been Tyrone since the day I left for Scotland. And I’m smilin’ because I did what I set out tae dae.”
“No, you didn’t. Beth Beaumont is alive and well.”
Dougie blinked. “She’s a meth head. I wouldn’t say she was well in the slightest. Besides, someone will finish what I’ve started.”
A chill ran through Cooper, and she glanced at Tennessee. “What do you mean?”
“A story like mine is bound tae be telt. There’ll be books. Hell, there’ll likely be a movie. Hollywood loves a revenge story; John Wick grossed eighty million.”
“You want to be famous?”
“Infamous. And no, not really. I just wanted justice. But the world loves people like me; I outsmarted your lot for weeks. One by one, I tracked doon and murdered those who made my childhood unbearable. You only caught me through my own arrogance, nae through skill. If I hadn’t been so cocky when I met your young man there – if I never telt ya I was going to that memorabilia swap, you’d still be twiddling ya thumbs.”
“We had your DNA.”
“But nee one to compare it tae.” He turned to the doctor. “Drink, please.”
The doctor poked a straw through the wires holding Dougie’s jaw in place so he could take a drink of orange juice.
Cooper shoved her hands in her pockets; they were still wet. “Why did you kill those people? Charles Pennington had a daughter, two grandchildren. Vince and Kerys took in hundreds of children over the years.”
“Should we start at the beginning?” Dougie asked.
The lawyer coughed, and though he couldn’t move his body, Dougie silenced him with a stare.
“I told ya, I don’t need no Poundland Robert Kardashian.” His fingers twitched as he turned back to Cooper. “You ken about my mum?”
“The baby addiction? Yes.”
“Imagine being someone’s entire world. Feeling nowt but love, warmth and safety, then being tossed aside like ya were worse than nothin’. Once she gave birth to Marcus, I was forgotten. I became an inanimate object, gathering dust and taking up space. Then Shane came along and I may as well have been invisible. The older kids may as well have been dead.”
Cooper felt for him, but this man was a murderer. Other people had terrible childhoods and awful parents; they didn’t go on to become serial killers.
> “Then Dad died.”
“And he gave you the football shirt,” Tennessee said.
He nodded. “Aye. I was seven when Dad passed, and for five of those years, Mum acted like I didnae exist. Dad was my only real parent, and he was deathly ill. That shirt swamped me. I was a scrawny wee thing. A right runt. But it felt like a security blanket, ye ken? I loved that shirt.”
“It’s currently in an evidence locker,” Cooper told him. “They had to cut you out of it. It’ll never be in your possession again.”
It was a cruel remark. But not as cruel as burying someone alive.
Dougie was quiet for a moment before continuing. “I moved around a bit after that; one home tae the next until Vince and Kerys offered a long-term placement. I’d have been better back home with Mum. She might not have known I existed, but she never lifted a hand to me. Vince was quick tae anger. He hated backchat, hated being woken up on the weekend, hated shoes in the house. You ken he had a favourite belt for hitting us? One time I left the iron on face doon and it burnt the ironing table. You ken what he did? He dragged me, kicking and screaming, to Hebburn cemetery after dark and strapped me to an obelisk. Bastard whipped me black and blue and left me for the ghosties to get. I’d wet myself twice by the time he came back for me.” His voice slipped away before he changed the subject. “And Kerys was like the evil stepmother in Cinderella. Us foster kids were basically her wee little slaves. If we wanted to eat breakfast, we had tae dae the dusting; if we wanted lunch, we had tae dae the hoovering.”
“You killed Kerys because she made you help with the housework?”
“I killed that bitch because she starved me. I’d have happily helped with chores, but it wasnae about that; it was about control, about having power over us. She knew Vince hit us kids when he was drunk or tired, but she never said a word. Just like Pennington. Every day I went to school looking thinner and sadder than the day before. I would roll up my sleeves when bringing my work to his desk, made sure my bruises were on display. He never once asked me about them. He caught me eating out of the bin one day and didn’t say a damn thing. He was scared of Vince just like everyone else was. And rather than be an adult and protect me, he protected himself.”
Northern Roulette (DCI Cooper Book 4) Page 26