Nowhere to Run

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘This is the background part of the app programme,’ he explained. ‘All the users’ information is stored here.’

  ‘What sort of data do you collect?’

  ‘Names, addresses, credit card details – for updates,’ he explained. ‘And then we keep records of their routes, including their favourite ones, personal best times, and any other training data they want to record.’

  ‘Why collect so much information if you don’t intend to pass it on to third parties?’ asked Higgins.

  Kay held her thumb up to him behind Ashe’s back, lowering her hand as the IT expert turned.

  ‘In case users lose their running data,’ he said. ‘We provide a full back-up service with the app, so if users lose their phone or change it, we can transfer the data over for them.’

  ‘Is it possible, then, for you to monitor, say, one particular runner’s progress over time?’ Kay asked. ‘Just by analysing the historical data the app records?’

  ‘Yes. We don’t use it, but the coding programme is set up to be able to do that.’

  Kay’s head jerked up at the sound of a gate being slammed shut and footsteps in the yard outside.

  ‘Ah, that’ll be my wife, Cheryl,’ said Ashe, standing.

  Kay glanced at Higgins, and then watched as Ashe moved to the door.

  ‘I’m in here, love.’

  A petite redhead appeared in the doorway, her long hair tied back in a ponytail, her arms and legs muscular and tanned, poking out from designer-labelled running shorts and a T-shirt.

  Kay sensed her own calf muscles grow flabbier as she looked at her.

  There was nothing like meeting a serious athlete when you were several weeks behind on your own training regime.

  ‘Cheryl does all the book-keeping for the business,’ Ashe explained after introducing them.

  ‘I work part-time a couple of days a week and then look after Cameron’s business the rest of the time in between training,’ Cheryl added, flicking her hair over her shoulder and brushing her palm over her forehead to slick away imaginary sweat.

  ‘And you did this in Bolton as well?’

  He nodded. 'Yes. Cheryl missed the warmer weather down here, though, so we decided to move back a few months ago.' His nose wrinkled as he glanced around at the meagre office space. 'Hopefully, the business will grow, and we can afford a place of our own soon.'

  Kay nodded to Higgins. ‘I think we’re done here, Constable Higgins.’ Kay turned to Ashe and his wife. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Ashe. Can you confirm the telephone number we can reach you on if we have further questions?’

  ‘Sure.’ He moved past her, leaned across the desk, and scribbled on a notepad before tearing out the page and handing it to her.

  ‘Thank you.’ Kay turned to Cheryl. ‘Do you use your husband’s app for your training?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh no – I don’t understand smartphones at all,’ she said. ‘I’ve still got one of those old flip-open ones. It makes phone calls and sends texts. That’s it.’

  ‘Cheryl’s a great book-keeper, but all the technology stuff goes over her head, doesn’t it, love?’ Ashe smiled, putting his arm around his wife’s waist.

  She smiled at him before turning her attention back to Kay.

  ‘He’s right, it does. I haven’t got a clue.’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Do you know what I think? I reckon that after he’s got all the information from the app, he can analyse it to find out where women are running, what times they run at, and how fast they run.’

  Kay finished talking and waited while Sharp scribbled on the whiteboard, re-capped the pen, and picked up his coffee.

  ‘So, routine is their killer, is that what you’re saying?’ asked Higgins.

  Kay turned in her seat to face her colleague and leaned an arm over the back. ‘Exactly, and he’s using the app to track their movements. I know what I’m like when I’m out for a run – I have favourite routes, especially since I’ve been training for the charity race.’

  ‘Then we know how to draw him out, don’t we, Hunter?’

  Kay turned at the sound of Sharp’s voice. Her eyes widened as her thought processes caught up.

  ‘Really?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘How?’

  ‘I executed a search warrant based on your report, and we’ve used that to request a copy of Ashe’s database. We know all the routes his users take. All we need now is someone capable of running those routes.’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  He folded his arms across his chest. ‘I’m very serious,’ he said, his smile disappearing. ‘I think you’ve made a valid case for your theory. And we’re out of time.’ He pointed to the calendar on the wall. ‘The charity run is on Saturday. If we don’t catch him before then, based on your theory, we might lose him for good – because he’ll move on. There isn’t another race scheduled in this area until June.’

  Her shoulders slumped.

  ‘Kay.’ Sharp crossed the space between them. He reached out and patted her shoulder, then pointed at the whiteboard. ‘We’ll be there with you. Based on what evidence we’ve got, we now know the sort of person he targets, and we can work out where the grab points are in each park.’

  ‘We’ll need to contact the women on that database,’ Kay said. ‘Advise them to stay away from their usual routes and stop using the app until we’ve got him in custody.’

  ‘Higgins can do that while we’re setting up the operation,’ said Sharp, clicking his fingers at the young constable.

  Kay sighed. She knew he was right. ‘I just feel uncomfortable being used as bait.’

  A frown creased Sharp’s brow before he spoke. ‘At least you know what you’re getting into,’ he said. ‘Those two women didn’t.’

  Kay closed her eyes, ashamed. ‘Yes, Sarge.’

  He moved away, gathered up the files on his desk and turned towards the door. ‘I’ll bring the DI up to speed on our proposal.’ He opened the door and paused. ‘Good work, detective.’

  Kay managed a small smile before he stalked from the room.

  Chapter Nine

  Her legs ached, her thighs burned, and Kay knew her face was beetroot red because even the sweat running down it was warm.

  ‘Just another lap to go.’ Sharp’s voice fizzled through her earpiece.

  Kay could hear laughter in the background and cursed them all while her shoes pounded the concrete bike path.

  The sun had disappeared over the horizon an hour ago, and as soon as Sharp had received confirmation from the Kent Police IT experts that they’d hacked the app and set up a new account for her, including a month-long running history, they set out to catch their killer.

  In her other ear, the running app counted off the distance, a calm and collected female voice belonging to someone who, in Kay’s opinion, had never run in her life.

  ‘Okay, you’re hitting the last two hundred metres,’ said Sharp. ‘Slow to a walk, and look exhausted.’

  Kay choked out a response, slowed as he suggested, and walked until she found a bench she could stretch against.

  A street lamp cast a pyramid of light around her, confining the surrounding parkland to darkness.

  She forced down the panic that threatened to have her running in the opposite direction within seconds.

  Instead, starting with her aching calf muscles, Kay began to stretch. She worked her way up until she was flexing her arms across her chest, and had just raised her hands above her head when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  She cried out as Ashe emerged from the bushes behind the wooden seat, his hands in the pockets of his dark coloured jacket.

  ‘Detective Hunter,’ he said, ambling closer. ‘I was hoping I’d see you here.’

  Kay swallowed, Sharp’s voice in her earpiece shouting, mobilising the team towards her position.

  ‘Mr Ashe,’ Kay spluttered. She coughed a couple of times to clear her throat and tried again. ‘Hello – what are you doing here?’
r />   ‘Don’t run away.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He came closer. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I only wanted to talk to you.’

  Kay narrowed her eyes. ‘I gave you my business card. You could have called me at the station or left a message for me.’

  ‘It’s much better if we talk here. Away from prying eyes.’

  ‘I really don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Kay said, backing away.

  He held up his hand. ‘No – really, I just want to talk.’

  He drew closer, a desperate look in his eyes, and a small smile etched across his lips.

  Kay caught movement in her peripheral vision and jerked her arm away, Ashe’s fingers brushing against her skin.

  ‘Please – we need to talk,’ he urged.

  ‘Don’t touch me,’ Kay hissed, backing away.

  ‘It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,’ he said. ‘Shall we sit down?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘It’ll only take a minute, I promise.’

  She fought down the urge to put into practice the self-defence training she'd received at the refresher course only two months ago, instead of giving him the impression she was weak. She took a step backwards.

  Ashe lurched towards her with both arms open wide.

  ‘No! Leave me alone!’

  Her cries were cut short by a series of shouts – voices from the dark parkland behind her and further along the bike path.

  Kay moved fast, blocking Ashe’s escape back into the bushes, trying to make her slight frame intimidating.

  Ashe spun round to face her, his face stricken. ‘Don’t do this – you’re making a terrible mistake!’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Kay gasped as a dark shape pushed past her.

  Higgins launched his body at Ashe, pulling the man to the ground, sending both of them tumbling into the long grass behind the bench.

  As Higgins pulled the software engineer to his feet, Sharp slid to a stop next to her.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Kay nodded. ‘I think so, Sarge. He scared me.’

  ‘You did good,’ said Sharp. ‘Let’s go back to the station and see what he has to say for himself.’

  Chapter Ten

  When Kay walked through the door into the observation room, she saw that DC Richard Christie had joined Sharp in interview room two, his pen hovering over his notepad.

  On screen, at the table opposite two detectives and with a duty solicitor beside him, Ashe groaned and held his head in his hands, keeping his gaze lowered.

  Kay put down her coffee cup, leaned forward and turned up the volume.

  ‘Interview commences at eight forty-two,’ said Sharp, pushing the record button on the machine next to him, and then indicating to the detective constable beside him to begin.

  ‘First of all, Mr Ashe, we’d like to know why you were following our colleague in the park tonight?’ Christie narrowed his eyes. ‘Why did you approach her?’

  Heat rose to the other man’s face under the detectives’ scrutiny. ‘I-I was testing a new update to the app, that’s all. I happened to see her, and I wondered if perhaps I might be able to help with your investigation.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, I thought if we told female runners in the area that the new update enables them to share their route with their friends in real-time, rather than retrospectively like the old version, it’d help them.’ Ashe looked from Christie to Sharp. ‘It’s a safety feature, you see? They wouldn’t feel like they were running alone.’

  ‘Hardly appropriate to accost one of our officers at night with a marketing spiel,’ said Sharp.

  ‘So, Mr Ashe,’ said Christie. ‘How long have you been tracking your victims using your software?’

  ‘I haven’t, I swear.’

  ‘Is this why you had to move from Bolton two months ago?’

  Sharp leaned across the desk. ‘Tell us, Ashe,’ he said. ‘If we phone our colleagues up in Lancashire, are we going to hear a similar story to our two murders?’

  Ashe sighed and raised his head. ‘It’s not what you think.’

  Christie turned at a knock at the door, his concentration broken.

  Higgins appeared. ‘Apologies for interrupting, Sarge, but could I have a word?’

  ‘Interview paused at eight-fifty,’ said Sharp, hitting the stop button.

  Christie followed him through the door and closed it behind him.

  Kay shot from her seat, reaching the corridor outside at the same time as the two detectives.

  ‘What is it?’

  Higgins glanced from her to Sharp, and then back, before drawing a long breath.

  ‘There’s been another murder,’ he said. ‘In a park two miles from where we picked up Mr Ashe.’

  Kay blinked, the corridor lights suddenly too bright.

  ‘When?’

  ‘The body was discovered by a dog walker twenty minutes ago,’ said Higgins. ‘The call’s only just been routed through to us from Headquarters.’

  Sharp’s shoulders sagged.

  ‘All right, Christie,’ he said. ‘Let’s get back in there and tell Mr Ashe he’ll be staying with us for a while yet. Then we’ll go to the scene.’

  ‘Shall I drive, Sarge?’ said Kay.

  The detective sergeant paused with his hand on the door to the interview room, then glanced over his shoulder. ‘No need, Kay. Get yourself home. It’s been a long day.’

  Kay bit her lip as the door closed behind the two men, and rubbed her arms before walking back to the incident room, her stomach churning.

  Another woman dead, and it was all her fault.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kay aimed the remote controller at the television and jabbed at the buttons.

  Her running shoes sat next to the front door and from the kitchen, she could hear the washing machine on its final spin as the theme tune to a murder mystery series began to ring out.

  She sighed at the screen, switched the channel and threw the remote onto a small wooden table next to her feet before picking up the large glass of red she’d poured ten minutes ago.

  A half-eaten Chinese takeaway sat next to her mobile phone, the prawn dish growing cold as her appetite waned.

  No-one had said anything to her when she collected her bag and coat from the incident room, but she could sense them all looking at her.

  Sharp had passed her at the bottom of the stairs, ignoring her as he raised his mobile phone to his ear. It was DC Christie who told her Cameron Ashe had been released, pending further enquiries.

  Face reddening, Kay had scuttled out of the back door of the police station and up the hill to the bus stop, sure that her fellow travellers could sense her embarrassment.

  She eyed the leftover takeaway and wondered if it would keep until the next night.

  Chances were, she was in for some more late shifts.

  Her mobile phone vibrated on the table, and she groaned at the name displayed on the screen before answering.

  ‘Hello, Mum.’

  ‘You sound tired.’

  It was an accusation, not an observation. Her mother’s voice held no warmth, no concern, and Kay winced at the harsh pitch.

  ‘I’m fine. Long day, that’s all.’

  ‘I knew you weren’t cut out for this sort of thing,’ her mother scolded. ‘It’s not too late to do something else with your life, you know. You’re only twenty-seven.’

  ‘Did you want something?’

  ‘Can’t I call to see how you are?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘Not by the sound of it. Why don’t you find a nice job? Something nine to five that will give you a chance to have a bit of a social life? You haven’t had a boyfriend in ages, have you?’

  Kay said nothing, although her gaze wandered to the bouquet of flowers on the bookcase next to the television.

  ‘How’s Dad?’ she managed.

  ‘Down the pub playing darts. I don’t know why – he
needs to lose weight. I keep telling him it’s not healthy to go down there all the time. He says it’s to give me some peace and quiet…’

  Kay rolled her eyes. ‘Mum, I’ve got to go. Busy day tomorrow, and I’m due in early.’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying, Kay. Find something else to do. Something you’re good at…’

  Kay ended the call while her mother was in the middle of saying her goodbyes and tossed aside the phone.

  'Bloody hell,' she mumbled and wiped tears of frustration from her cheeks.

  Three months since her training had ended, and she could feel her initial confidence and excitement ebbing away.

  She had been so sure that Ashe was their suspect, so sure that his app was the link between the murders, that she had made a catastrophic mistake and caused another woman’s death.

  She sniffed, then picked up her wineglass and padded through to the kitchen, topping it up with the last of the Shiraz before re-capping the bottle.

  She set it down with a clatter on the worktop and blinked.

  What if the murders weren’t connected?

  How on earth were they going to catch a killer who murdered at random?

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, Kay swiped her security card over the panel beside the reception desk and held open the door for a pair of uniformed constables, their arms laden with cardboard boxes.

  They raced up the stairs leading to the incident rooms, their boots thumping across the thin carpet when they reached the floor above.

  ‘What’s all that about?’ she said.

  ‘A raid over at Paddock Wood. Money laundering or something,’ said Sergeant Maurice Hoyle. He turned away from the reception desk and rested his arm on the counter. ‘Are you all right? You had a face like thunder when you left here last night.’

  ‘Bad day.’

  ‘Ah. I heard a suspect was released last night – was he one of yours?’

  ‘I thought he was our killer.’