144
Bannister pressed the doorbell, Lasser kept his eyes on the front of the house, the curtains were drawn, pale light shining behind the drapes. The bushes to his left swayed in the wind, the streetlight reflecting off the Rover on the drive.
Stepping forward, Bannister hammered on the door, and then Lasser saw the curtain twitch slightly, caught a fleeting glimpse of a face before the gap closed up again.
'Someone's in, I just saw a face at the window.'
'Male, late fifties?' Bannister asked.
'About right,' Lasser answered.
'Hoffer, open up!' Bannister bellowed as he slammed his fist back against the door.
Silence.
'Get around the back in case he tries to scarper,' the DCI demanded.
Lasser moved past his boss and strode down the side of the bungalow, the wind dying – sheltered by the house – emerging into a large back garden just as the kitchen door opened and Hoffer came flying out, baseball bat in hand, his face fixed with a snarl.
Lasser managed to lurch back, the bat missed his face by a mere couple of inches, then Hoffer came again, this time Lasser crouched low and the bat whistled over his head. Hoffer grunted and Lasser powered upright, slamming his head forwards and cracking his forehead into his attacker's face. Hoffer grunted and staggered back, and in the light from the kitchen window Lasser saw the white smeared around Hoffer's nostrils.
'Fucking copper prick!' he bellowed, swiping the blood from his damaged nose.
He dashed forward and Lasser suddenly realised he had nowhere to go, then Bannister erupted from the side of the house and crashed into the man, driving him across the patio, the bat falling from his hands as the air was thrust from his lungs.
The DCI landed on top as they fell, then he drove his fist into the side of Hoffer's face.
'John Thorpe, where is he?' Bannister snarled down at him.
'Fuck off, I'm saying sod all!'
Slamming his fist back into the side of Hoffer's head, Bannister pushed himself to his knees.
'When I called here the other day you put the kettle on, all smiles you were, and now we discover that you have been supplying a Class A drug.'
Hoffer rolled onto his back and glared up at Bannister, then his eyes swivelled as Lasser came into view.
'I'd have taken you if it hadn't been for the wanker here.'
'You think?' Lasser asked.
'I fucking know, big man.'
Stepping back, Bannister swiped the rain from his hair. 'Get up.'
Hoffer glared at them both before scrambling to his feet.
'I want to know where John Thorpe is, and you are going to tell me.'
Throwing back his head, Hoffer laughed, his dentures stained red. 'I've shit bigger men than you two.'
'We've just been to the farm in Westhoughton and we now know that your friend is a murderer as well as a rapist,' Bannister's voice came out as a low growl.
'Why are you telling me?'
'Because we have it on good authority that you two are thick as thieves, so I'll ask you one last time – where is he?'
'And I'll tell you again – get fucked.'
Bannister moved fast and jabbed his fist into the man's face, Hoffer's head snapped back, his eyes widened in astonishment.
Fresh blood ran from his nose as he took a step back, his wide eyes suddenly cautious.
Bannister closed the gap. 'I thought you've shit bigger men than us?'
Hoffer lashed out and Bannister swayed back slightly before jabbing out again, Hoffer's nose went with another crack.
Lasser watched as the DCI moved in close again, his hands hanging by his side, his face taut with anger.
'Tell me where Thorpe would go?'
Hoffer coughed, the blood-speckled spittle ran down his chin before dripping to his shirt. He drew in a breath and pursed his lips, taking aim but Bannister lashed out and this time Harry Hoffer cried out in pain, his hands covering his nose as Bannister stalked forward.
'You're covering for the scum of the earth, him and his bastard friends raped a young girl over in Billinge and now he's wanted for murder and the longer you keep your mouth closed the deeper the shit you will find yourself in.'
'Piss off!' Hoffer managed to utter the words though there was no force now behind the insult.
The DCI jabbed out a finger, his eyes burning with disgust. 'Speak now or I will make sure you go down for years. If you refuse then I will beat the shit out of you, and we will still get Thorpe – so the choice is yours.'
For the first time in years the bulging muscles meant nothing, Harry Hoffer looked at Bannister and saw he meant every word he uttered.
'Spill,' Bannister demanded as he cocked back his right arm.
'He lives at Crow's Foot Farm, it's…'
'We fucking know that!' Bannister bellowed, and Hoffer leapt back in fear.
'Have you tried Dennings's place?' he gasped.
'Who the hell is Dennings?'
'It's another farm – close to Crow's Foot, Ronnie Thorpe bought it years ago and John spent a lot of time there playing as a kid, though the place is a right shithole, but he still uses it now and again.'
'Uses it for what?' Lasser asked.
Hoffer looked at him and licked his lips. 'He does his shooting around there.'
'Directions?' Lasser said.
'There's a road that runs alongside the cemetery, follow it to the crossroads and turn left then left again and the house is at the bottom of the lane.'
Bannister slipped his hands into his pockets. 'You know Thorpe is a nutter, don't you?'
In the glare of the kitchen light spilling onto the patio they saw Hoffer blush a deep red.
'Right, you're coming with us,' Bannister said.
'But…'
'And then when we've sorted this, I'm going to lock you up, and you can rot as far as I am concerned. Now shift your arse.'
This time Hoffer did as he was told, shoulders stooped, his nose still leaking blood, he followed them to the car and into the back seat, his face plastered with shock as the cocaine buzz subsided leaving him feeling his age, his mind stuttering as he realised the shit he was in was very deep indeed.
Seconds later, they tore down the street leaving his house behind, and Hoffer finally realised he was royally fucked.
145
May blinked her eyes open and then quickly screwed them shut again as the light assaulted her senses, pulsing in time to the throbbing of her head.
'Who would have thought that fucking you all those years ago would have turned you into a murdering bitch?'
She kept her eyes closed, the fury inside slamming against the bars of her boiling mind, desperately trying to find an outlet, but her arms and legs felt like lead as she lay on the dirt floor.
'I bet you're the one who gutted Mossy aren't you?'
Cracking open her eyes, she winced as the beam of light continued to shine down on her. Gradually, her eyes began to focus, the man moved the beam to one side and she looked up at his smiling face.
'I thought it was you when I saw you leaving the gym,' he said with a shake of the head. 'When Paul at reception told me you were after Adam Stokes's address I knew it was all bollocks. I mean, a fit bitch like you wouldn't look twice at a no-hoper like him.'
'Kill you!' May hissed, ignoring the pain that hammered against the inside of her skull.
Thorpe continued to smile and then he shook his head. 'I'm going to fuck you and kill you and then you will vanish, and I will carry on with my life as if nothing has happened.'
'Kill you,' she said, but in a whisper this time.
The smile slowly slipped from his face and he stepped towards her slumped form. 'Didn't you hear what I said?'
'I remember you, you were the one who couldn't get it up, the one with the big mouth who shouted the odds, but when it came to it you were pathetic.'
The light in Thorpe's hand began to shake as he glared down at her, his face darkening with vehemence
.
'I'll show you, just like I showed Minnie Burrows before I strangled her and dumped her sorry arse by the side of the road.'
The words seemed to fall on her like small hand grenades, but she managed to keep the shock from her face, she had read the papers, seen the television coverage of the woman called Burrows found dead by the side of the busy dual carriageway.
Now, she knew the killer loomed over her, the smile slipping back onto his tanned face.
'That's right, I did her good – just like I'm going to do you – and no one will ever know.'
May Linton felt the sense of despair close around her heart, there was no fear just a crushing sense of failure, her soul screeching in anger and turmoil.
'Nothing to say?' Thorpe asked.
'Fuck you,' May bit back.
John Thorpe laughed out loud as he reached down and grabbed her by the hair.
Despite the pain, May kept her mouth closed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Yanking her upright, he pushed his face in close and started to talk, the words coming out in a vicious hiss of glee as he relived the night of the attack.
Inside, May felt the hatred seethe as Thorpe continued to gloat.
146
Lasser took up position in the centre of the road, lights flashing, sirens screaming as he drove through Hindley town centre. Bannister sat hunched in the passenger seat, his eyes narrowed as the car sped along the road, the vehicles in front parting like the Red Sea when they spotted the Audi in their mirror.
In the back seat, Hoffer held tight to the seatbelt, his nose swollen, his eyes wide as Lasser hurtled through the traffic.
Approaching the roundabout, he hit the brakes and threw the car to the right before flying around a bend. The road began to climb, and the car picked up speed again as yet more cars scattered in front of them.
Thirty seconds later, they hurtled past the cemetery gates, the headstones lined up in the passenger window.
Lifting his foot off the gas, Lasser feathered the brakes, slowing down and then swinging the wheel left onto the dirt track.
The Audi began to bounce as the potholes appeared out of the darkness.
'What about the siren?' Lasser asked.
Bannister thought for a moment and then reached down and flicked a switch, the high-pitched screech stopped, the sudden silence deafening for a moment, then the sound of the wheels ploughing through the waterlogged holes took over, sounding loud in the confines of the car.
In the back seat, Hoffer grunted as his head hit the side window.
Lasser grinned in satisfaction as the car continued to blast down the lane.
147
Thorpe dragged May out through the front door, the wind howled in from the left bringing the icy rain with it.
'Fucking weather,' he moaned, his hand wrapped around May's ponytail, his face inflexible with anger. 'Good job we have the car to get hot and heavy in, a quick fuck and then you die,' he said, hauling her towards the vehicle.
The pain in May's head increased as he continued to pull her along by her hair, she could feel the tall grass and weeds dragging against her legs, her breathing fast and shallow as she tried to clear the haziness from her mind.
She heard Thorpe snatch the back door open and then his hand uncoiled from her hair, blinking the rain from her eyes she found herself staring at the twin barrels of the shotgun aimed straight at her face.
Thorpe was wearing the smile again, though this time May could see the fury in his eyes mingled with a twisted kind of glee. It was the same face, the same look that had stared down at her over eight years earlier.
Back then, her mind had been full of terror as the men pawed her, pushing her back and forth before forcing her to the ground.
'Get in the back,' he said, the gun aimed directly at her face.
May straightened slowly and waited for the fear to resurface but there was none, just hatred. It filled her completely, and she knew that eight years ago the men who had attacked her had left her soul empty and devoid of anything but a burning need to make those same men pay.
'I said ''get in the…'''
'NEVER!' she screamed, the spittle flying from her mouth, her eyes pulsating with fury.
The sight of it made Thorpe step back in shock, the gun wavered slightly; then suddenly they both heard the scream of an engine and May saw the blue light splash over the field at Thorpe's back.
She saw Thorpe jerk and turn, the gun moving with him and she took the opportunity to throw herself forwards.
John Thorpe's eyes were wide as he saw the car hurtling along the lane, the blue lights making him squint and then the bitch hit him, and he was slammed into the open back door of the car.
May struck out with her right hand, her short nails raked down his cheek drawing blood, the sight galvanising the hatred inside.
'Cunt!' Thorpe bellowed and drove the stock of the gun down onto her shoulder.
She never even felt the blow; her mind was now utterly consumed with making Thorpe pay for turning her life into a living nightmare.
She drove her fist forwards into his right cheek, the sound of the siren screeched out at them and she felt Thorpe thrust her away and run.
May hesitated, shocked that her attacker was trying to escape her wrath and then they were both caught in the headlights glare as the car turned down the narrow lane, the engine roaring.
Thorpe could feel the fear raging through his mind as the speeding car approached. Turning at the hip, he pulled the trigger and one of the headlights was blown to pieces. Then he ran, his long legs covering the ground as he sprinted across the short stretch of stubby grass heading for the dark woodland visible through the rain that drove into his terrified face.
He had no idea that May Linton was following, her ponytail flying, her face carved with determination and loathing as she gave chase.
148
'Bastard!' Bannister snarled when the windscreen turned opaque, the shotgun scatter hitting the glass as well as demolishing the headlight. Thankfully, the distance saved them from the screen being blown in and then Lasser hit the brakes, the car slithering forward on the wet grass before juddering to a halt.
Harry Hoffer lay across the back seat, his hands covering his head as Lasser and Bannister flung open their doors and leapt out, the DCI grabbing the torch from the glove box. Lasser twisted in time to see Thorpe vanish in the woods closely followed by the woman he had seen coming out of the lift. He quickly snapped a cuff over Hoffer, securing his right hand to the door.
'Who the hell…?' Bannister demanded.
'May Linton,' Lasser interrupted, and then they both set off, arms and legs pumping as they sprinted across the open ground, within seconds their shoes started to take on water, the driving rain drenching their clothes.
Reaching the trees, Bannister flicked on the torch, the beam hitting the boughs of the ancient trees before snaking off into the darkness.
They came to a halt, both straining to hear any sound, the rain pattering the soft ground, mulchy with sodden leaves.
'Kill you!'
The scream of fury came from their left, and they set off running again, Bannister leading the way, the torchlight jittering with every step, Lasser trying to keep up as his feet slithered on the treacherous ground.
The path angled left and began to follow the steep banking that dropped down to the valley floor below, seconds later Lasser's feet slid from beneath him and he fell hard onto his back, landing on a thick tree root, sending a bolt of pain along his spine. His muscles – still tender from the beating – seemed to throb with agony.
By the time he had clambered back to his feet, Bannister was twenty yards away.
Wiping the rain from his eyes, he groaned before setting off again, his whole body aching with fatigue.
'Getting too old for this,' he gasped as he tried to close the gap.
149
Thorpe ran down the narrow path, the shotgun clasped to his chest, his heart
racing as he tried to fathom how the filth had tracked him down.
'Kill you!'
Skidding to a halt, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the light from the head torch lancing out between the trees.
'Mine now!' the voice screamed.
Suddenly, the truth hit Thorpe like a freight train; this woman had over eight years' worth of hatred seething inside her. Eight long years in which she had honed that hatred and turned it into a hard core of powerful fury.
Planting his feet, he raised the gun to his shoulder, as his finger curled round the trigger the light suddenly vanished and the darkness swarmed in around him.
Thorpe tried to resist the temptation to pull the trigger, but his finger refused to follow the demands of his brain, the shotgun was discharged into the night. He heard the heavy shot hit the branches but there was no scream of agony to accompany the sound.
When the light flashed to life over on the left, he realised he had been outsmarted by the woman, the gun fell from his shaking hands, he turned and set off running again, the fear growing with every stumbling step he took in the darkness.
Bannister heard the boom and then saw the light spring to life low down to his right, he made a snap decision and lunged off the path, torch gripped in his right hand he started to slither down the steep embankment, the leaves piling up in front of him as he fell to his backside, the momentum building as the ground dropped away beneath him.
Lasser hesitated at the top of the banking, his eyes narrowing as he saw Bannister's light speeding down the hillside.
'Oh crap, here we go again,' he gasped before following suit.
He managed to stay upright for six steps then his legs buckled; he hit the ground hard and started to roll down the steep banking, grunting in pain every time he slammed into the ground, adding to his tally of bruises.
It was a tree trunk that brought him to a halt, punching the air from his lungs and out of his stretched mouth in a grunt as he hit it with a thump. Then he struggled round the tree and started downwards again, his shoes fighting for grip as he surfed the wet leaves, hands skimming over the surface he hurtled down the hillside.
Blood Bought Page 42
