A Gift for Dying

by M. J. Arlidge

  ‘She’s young,’ Miller said quickly. ‘She’s still learning, but she’ll get there.’

  ‘With the right guidance.’

  ‘Of course,’ Miller responded. ‘I’ve got no problem with her at all. She will be … she is a good detective. And I’ll help her in any way I can. It’s my duty, given what you’ve done for me –’

  Gabrielle braced herself for more – a stumbling, awkward protestation of solidarity and intent – but to her surprise Miller suddenly ground to a halt. Gabrielle turned to her, unsure what to expect next, but was wrong-footed once more. Miller was not looking at her, but at something directly behind her.

  ‘Look,’ Miller breathed, gesturing over Gabrielle’s shoulder.

  Gabrielle swivelled in her seat, scarcely daring to hope. But this time she was not to be disappointed. Hidden in a shadowy alleyway off the main street was a brown Ford pickup truck with Louisiana plates.

  78

  ‘Do you want to wait for backup? Or should we go in?’

  The two women stood in the shadows of the crumbling apartment block. All trace of her earlier emotion had vanished – Detective Miller was back in the zone. She was itching with excitement, pacing round the parked pickup truck, even as she checked and rechecked her firearm.

  Gabrielle stepped back to take another look at the derelict building which rose above them. The battered greystone was forlorn, but not forgotten, covered in signs revealing that it was scheduled for demolition. The work was not going to start for another three months, however, making the empty shell a perfect hiding place. The whole place appeared lifeless and abandoned, but screwing up her eyes Gabrielle could just make out a faint light coming from within.

  ‘I say we go in.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Miller responded eagerly.

  ‘Backup will be another twenty minutes. And there’s every chance the cavalry will alert him to our presence.’

  It was a tough call. Going in without backup was dangerous, but with the element of surprise they might take Redmond without a fight. Slipping her firearm from her holster, Gabrielle eased off the safety catch.

  ‘Ok, let’s do this. But we take it slow …’

  Nodding, Miller stepped forward. The main door had planks nailed across it in a forbidding ‘X’ shape, but arching her body through the gap, Miller was able to grasp the handle. Neither woman was surprised when it opened easily and Miller now wriggled through the gap in the boards. Gabrielle followed suit, disappearing into the darkness.

  They crept forward, barely daring to breathe. The building had been derelict for a considerable period of time – floorboards creaked ominously, plaster came away in their hands and exposed wires hung from the ceiling. Gabrielle assumed they weren’t live, but she wasn’t going to test her theory and worked her way carefully forward, testing each foothold before advancing. The place was rotten – it looked like it might swallow you up if you took a wrong step – and each move was fraught with danger.

  Someone was in the building – she could hear movement – the question was where? The noises seemed to be coming from ahead of them, but the darkness was disorienting. Gabrielle was sorely tempted to fire up her flashlight, but to do so would risk alerting Redmond to their presence. So, she pressed on through the dark, her weapon raised.

  She could just make out a doorway on their left. Gabrielle paused to make sure Miller was with her, then whispered:

  ‘On three. One, two, three –’

  They moved swiftly into the room, their eyes searching the gloom, their guns seeking a target. Something scurried away quickly into the shadows and Miller reacted sharply to it, but Gabrielle laid a restraining hand on her arm.

  ‘Rats,’ she whispered.

  Turning, they examined the rest of the room. It was empty, so retreating quickly, they moved on. There was another door off to the right and they hurried there now, but this too was deserted. The final room on the ground floor was too dangerous even to enter, several floorboards having completely given way. No one had set foot down here for some time.

  They were about to turn back into the hallway, when a sudden noise made them stop. A loud creak, emanating from almost directly above their heads. Followed by dull, muffled voices. Was someone up there with Redmond? She nodded to Miller, and the pair retraced their steps, moving swiftly but silently along the hallway until they reached the main staircase. Once again, Gabrielle flashed a look at her watch, its face glowing up at her in the gloom. Backup was still ten minutes away – too long to wait when there was a chance of catching the killer – or killers – unawares.

  Gabrielle took the stairs steadily, but swiftly. This was partly because she was nervous, but mostly because the sound of voices was getting clearer now. They could definitely make out a female voice now. Gabrielle gripped her firearm tightly, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it, praying that luck would be on her side if she did.

  Cresting the staircase, she found herself in a long, gloomy hallway. The noises were coming from a room close by on the left. Inching along the wall, Gabrielle kept her steps light and wide – even the tiniest noise now might betray their presence. Butting up against the door frame, she gestured silently to Miller, then stepped confidently but quietly across the open doorway, taking refuge on the other side. The women were well positioned now to cover the interior of the room from different angles. Gabrielle pushed away thoughts of family, of the danger she was putting herself in, then nodded to her deputy. Spinning around the door frame, they trained their guns on the room beyond.

  To Gabrielle’s surprise, it was empty. There were a chair and a table. On the latter sat a number of takeout boxes and a smouldering cigarette, balanced delicately on the lip of an ashtray. There were a couple of cardboard boxes on the floor, some old newspapers and beyond that a flickering TV screen, which appeared to be playing the evening news bulletin from WGN. The female newscaster’s delivery of the latest developments of the hunt for ‘The Chicago Butcher’ were crisp and clear, making Gabrielle pause. Was this the female voice she had heard downstairs? The still-lit cigarette suggested someone was in here. The question was who?

  Unsettled, Gabrielle retreated to the hallway, her Colt .45 leading the way. She pressed on purposefully, thinking only of bringing their suspect in, so much so that her foot almost went through a rotten board – the seasoned officer managing to extract it just in time. Righting herself, she gestured at Miller to follow, then took a step forward.

  As she did so, a figure darted across the far end of the hallway, his gun roaring as he went. Gabrielle lurched to the right – the bullet slamming into the wall where she’d been standing. Immediately she returned fire – once, twice, three times – the bullets tearing down the long hallway, just missing their target, who darted into the room opposite. Gabrielle turned swiftly to check that Miller was ok, firing an order at her startled deputy.

  ‘Stay behind me.’

  Miller obliged. Keeping close to the wall, Gabrielle slid along the hallway, her gun fixed on the open doorway of the room. Her finger was tensed against the trigger, ready to fire again. She hadn’t wanted it to play out this way, but now it was do or die. She moved quickly down the corridor and, on reaching the open doorway, swung round it, keeping low to the ground. She was ready to fire, but the room was empty, a bitterly cold wind roaring in through the open window.

  Hastening over to it, Gabrielle peered out cautiously – just in time to see a tall, shaven-headed man pulling himself to his feet amid the garbage bags below. For a moment, their eyes met – it was Redmond. Gabrielle raised her gun to fire, but he was already on the move and she was a second too slow. Cursing, Gabrielle turned and fled the room almost knocking Miller over as she did so.

  She reached the stairs in seconds and threw herself down them. Now she was advancing across the hall. Wrenching the door open, she kicked once, twice, smashing the wooden planks from their holdings. She could hear Miller close behind her, but didn’t hesitate. Darting out into the cold air, she s
printed to her right, angling sharply down a narrow alleyway, which led to the back of the building. Rounding this, she raced along the rear, hurdling broken furniture and abandoned toys until she found the window Redmond had jumped from. Orienting herself, she now spotted his escape route, a wider alleyway leading north, and sped down it. To her enormous relief, Redmond could be seen ahead, scrambling towards the end of the alleyway.

  ‘Police. Freeze!’

  A bullet flew several feet above her head, but Gabrielle didn’t flinch, hurrying down the alleyway after him. Redmond’s eyes met hers briefly – then, deciding against chancing another shot at such long range, he turned and fled.

  The chase was on.

  79

  Kassie kept her head low, weaving her narrow frame through the crowds. She was only forty feet or so from the stage now, but the wall of humanity in front of her was making progress difficult. People had been tolerant of her so far, but now she was starting to excite comment and the odd expletive as she eased past people, connecting with elbows and shoulders. It was stupid really – she could hear perfectly well and if she bothered to look could have taken in the stage perfectly, but something was propelling her on.

  Was it hope that was driving her? A need to believe that everything would be ok? Or something else? Her heart was beating fast and she felt a little dizzy. One minute she felt overcome, like she might suddenly faint amid the crush of the crowds, the next she felt light-headed and euphoric. It was bewildering, a little scary and yet somehow compelling, hence her stuttering but persistent progress.

  On and on she drove, treading on someone’s foot, but moving forward too swiftly to hear the full extent of their displeasure. And then suddenly there she was, pressing against the crash barriers that bordered the stage. Turning around to look back, she took in the multitude of faces and wondered for a moment how she had made it through such a forbidding mass of flesh and blood, but another loud cheer from the crowd jolted her out of her thoughts and she turned back to the main event.

  A middle-aged woman was talking, urging the citizens of Chicago to police their city, to root out the evil within their community. She seemed to be the main draw, the organizer of the vigil perhaps, and the volume of the crowd’s responses seemed to be growing with her every utterance. It felt like the gathering was reaching its climax – turning into something different and more raucous – a clarion call to concerned citizens everywhere.

  The West Towners present were borne along by it, as was Kassie. The speaker was not unaffected either, raising her voice as she pointed to people in the crowd, urging them individually to act, to fight back. It was like she was anointing people, giving them special licence to lead the fight, and Kassie sought her approbation, craving her favour and the reassurance it would bring.

  The woman seemed not to see her, gazing to the left of her, above her, to the right of her … and then suddenly she found her. She paused for a moment, then launched back into her speech, even as she lowered her eyes to meet Kassie’s. Immediately, Kassie stumbled, knocking into the person behind her.

  ‘Hey. What’ya doing?’

  The words sounded muted and distant. Kassie wanted to cling on to them, to drag herself back into the present, but it was too late. Her eyes had locked on to the woman’s and there was no going back. There was a moment’s breathless silence, then without warning Kassie screamed long and loud, before crumpling to the ground.

  80

  He was in agony, but still he pressed on.

  He had plunged fifteen feet or more from the window, landing heavily below. His fall had been partially broken by the garbage bags that littered the alleyway, but he had smashed his elbow into the hard ground. His whole arm was numb – had he broken it? – but there was no question of tending to it now, not when his pursuer was so close behind.

  How the hell had they found him? It didn’t make sense. He had been so careful, holing up in one of the few derelict apartment buildings that hadn’t been turned into crash pads for hipsters. It was the perfect bolthole for someone who needed to remain below the radar.

  Another shouted warning from behind. The cop was gaining on him and he half expected a bullet to slam into his back at any moment … but he wasn’t beaten yet. He knew these alleyways like the back of his hand and he put his knowledge to good use now, cutting left, then right, before doubling back on himself to confuse his pursuer. Chicago is a city of alleyways and he had always used them to his advantage.

  Still she dogged his footsteps. She was clearly no fool. Nor was she a coward, running towards danger rather than from it. CPD officers were supposed to be tough and she was the evidence to back up this claim, but he still had one thing in his favour. She wouldn’t shoot if there were civilians in the line of fire and the streets were busy tonight. He could hear noise in the distance – there was obviously some event going on – and as he’d dodged and weaved his way down the alleyways that linked the city’s main thoroughfares, he’d caught glimpses of people, all heading in the same direction. He wasn’t sure what it was all about – there wasn’t a game on tonight – but it offered him a chance of salvation. There was no chance of outrunning his pursuer, but he could outthink her.

  He had kept out of sight so far, fearing that he would be spotted by patrolling uniformed officers, but caution was no longer an option. She was only fifty feet behind him, in range if she could get a decent shot away and he didn’t want to die in a fetid Chicago alleyway – not when he still had so much more to do.

  Reaching the end of the cut-through, he stumbled out on to the street.

  A startled woman looked up at him, taking in his red, sweaty face, before walking away. He followed her progress, noting that she was heading to a nearby park that appeared to be overflowing with people. He didn’t hesitate, overtaking the woman and pushing as fast as he could towards the far side of the road, hoping to lose his pursuer in the crowded park.

  But the cop – a middle-aged black woman – was already on the street, her eyes seeking her prey. A moment’s indecision, then she cut left, in the same direction as him. He cursed quietly – he had gained a few feet on her, but she would soon catch up, if he couldn’t find somewhere to hide. Redoubling his efforts, he limped hard towards the busy park ahead.

  As he did so, he began to pick up sounds again. A woman’s voice – amplified by a PA system – but also applause and occasional shouts of defiance. And now it dawned on him what it was. He had seen it on the TV but hadn’t paid attention at the time – and now here it was right in front of him. The candlelit vigil for Jacob Jones and Rochelle Stevens. It was almost too good to be true. It was perfect. And now, in his hour of need, it would be his salvation.

  Busting a gut, he darted towards the entrance. But suddenly he found himself flying sideways. He hit the sidewalk hard, his throbbing head striking the ground. The wind had been knocked clean out of him, but even so he scrambled to his feet – only to find his assailant doing likewise. The young female officer was already reaching inside her jacket, pulling her weapon from its holster.

  ‘CPD. Drop your weapon and …’

  Redmond didn’t hesitate – smashing his forehead into her face. She reeled away, stumbling drunkenly backwards on to the ground. He snatched up his weapon – he could waste her now, easy as shooting fish in a barrel – but he had to keep going. The park was within reach.

  He took a step forward, but, even as he did so, the cold barrel of a gun jabbed into the back of his head. In the confusion, he hadn’t registered his original pursuer approaching. What now? Could he shrug her off and turn and fire in time? He thought it was possible, but even as he weighed the odds, a cool voice behind him said:

  ‘Go for it, Kyle. Give me a reason to pull the trigger.’

  81

  Kassie sat on the cracked plastic chair, holding an ice pack to her throbbing head. Her eyes were closed – the hospital’s strip lighting only serving to aggravate her headache – but now she heard footsteps approaching. Even without
looking up she knew who it was.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Kassie said quietly. ‘They insisted I call someone …’

  ‘It’s ok,’ Adam said wearily, seating himself next to her. ‘While you’re staying with us, you’re our responsibility.’

  This made Kassie feel even worse.

  ‘What happened?’ Adam said softly.

  Suddenly Kassie felt a rush of gratitude towards Adam. Despite everything, he was still trying to be kind. Few people had been so patient with her.

  ‘I fainted at the vigil, hit my head … Next thing I know I’m in the back of an ambulance. I told them to let me go, but they insisted on bringing me here.’

  ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘I’m fine … and the doctors say there’s no harm done. To be honest, I just want to get out of here.’

  ‘Had you been smoking? Before you fainted?’

  Kassie hesitated, so Adam persisted:

  ‘The doctor said he could smell the skunk on your breath.’

  ‘One joint, that was all.’

  ‘You’re supposed to be giving up …’

  ‘I know and I will, but that’s not what this was about.’

  ‘So, what happened?’

  Kassie knew this moment was coming, but wasn’t ready for it.

  ‘Was it the crush of people? Did someone harm you in some way?’

  Kassie picked at her fingernails.

  ‘Look, I’m not angry with you, whatever you might thin—’

  ‘I had another vision.’

  Adam pulled up short. From the look on his face, this was what he’d suspected, feared perhaps.

  ‘I was at the vigil and it was great,’ Kassie continued quickly. ‘It was exciting, uplifting … but then I saw her …’

  ‘Saw who?’

  ‘The woman who was speaking … Madelaine something.’

  ‘Madelaine Baines.’