He refreshed the screen. The messages hadn’t changed. The percentage of people who wanted him to kill himself was now at ninety-eight per cent. His hand and his knife went up to his head again.
If it came to it, I was going to damn well fight for my life. I was not going to die here today. There were armed officers out there. I would scream my head off. I would protect my major organs with my hands until they got here. I’d been stabbed before, it wasn’t pleasant, far from it, but life was life as I knew. I didn’t know what he would do, no matter what the Twitter feed said. He could easily decide to dispatch me to prove another unhinged point.
He refreshed the screen again, but the tweet and poll were no longer there. His account had been deactivated. He couldn’t see the Twitter feed at all. We both stared at the screen for a minute. Taking it in.
Then I started to back away from him. Very slowly.
One small deliberate step at a time.
He looked up.
I lifted my arms in front of me. I had nothing. I stepped again. Closer to the sofa. To the cushions. They would help. Anything. I had to defend myself.
He stared for a moment. I wasn’t even sure if he saw me or not. It was a blank far-off stare.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘They voted for me.’
‘You don’t have to–’
He lifted the blade and brought it down hard into his stomach.
66.
‘Shit. No. Drew.’
He yanked out the knife and blood spurted from his abdomen. He was still standing. Still with the blade in his hand. Bent over a little. He raised it again.
‘Drew. No.’ I looked around in panic. Why did people live so tidily?
The laptop.
He stabbed down again, and again the blade entered his stomach. A grunt, a huff of air was released. He was sinking at the knees.
I ran for the laptop. Grabbed it and with a sideswipe I hit him. The casing smashed into the side of his head with a resounding thwack. He was weak and a third stab wound had now been administered. The knife fell from his hand and dropped to the floor. His T-shirt was soaked with blood. It ran like a sheet down the front of his jeans. The carpet, once a dusty mat for my face was now puddled. Drew’s face was grey.
I let go of the laptop. It bounced on the floor. I pushed the knife under the sofa with my foot and grabbed Drew under the arms as he sank into the puddle of blood. He was losing a hell of a lot of the stuff.
‘Oh, Drew.’
I screamed for help and pushed my hands over his stomach.
I screamed out again as I pressed down.
Memories of doing this in the past seeped into my head. Of a dark seedy basement. Of a young colleague.
I was here again. The blood seeped through my fingers.
‘Leave me,’ Drew whispered.
I wasn’t sure how much longer he would be conscious.
‘This is what they wanted. They probably would have voted for this from the start when they saw the original photograph, the one on the street when I was pushing him away from the car.’ He coughed. Blood ran from his mouth. This wasn’t good. ‘If they’d have had the option,’ he finished.
‘Drew.’ I pushed down harder, spreading my hands in an attempt to cover all his injuries. ‘You give them too much credit.’ I yanked off my sweater. Pulled it over my head and pushed it down on his stomach. I screamed out again.
The screams of last year echoed through my head when I’d screamed out that there was an officer down.
If I let go of him he would definitely die. If I didn’t get him help… he would most probably die.
I looked down at Drew’s ashen face. At the blood I was now kneeling in. That surrounded us.
The blood that his family would come home to.
I didn’t see how this would end well for him.
I had to make a decision.
I pulled on his hands. ‘Drew. You have to push down on here. You have to fight. You have two beautiful children to fight for. The people who voted for this, they are meaningless. Your children, they’re not. PUSH.’ With the faintest movement I could feel, he pushed down. I let go and ran to the door. Scrabbled for the key which he had thrown on the floor. My hands shook as I struggled to fit it into the keyhole. Eventually it was in and turned. I flung open the door.
‘I need emergency medical help in here. NOW.’
I flew back inside.
Drew’s arms had slipped down to his sides. His eyes were glazing. My jumper on his stomach, now slick with his blood. It looked like a butcher’s shop in here. I skidded down beside him. Applied more pressure. Blood pooled up.
Footsteps pounded through the door as police and paramedics ran in. I was pushed aside as they started to work on him.
Aaron was by my side followed quickly by Pasha and Martin and Ross.
‘Are you hurt? Is any of this yours?’ asked Aaron.
I shook my head. ‘None of it. It’s all his.’
I heard the paramedics call Drew’s time of death and I turned away.
Epilogue
Aaron knocked and came into my office. I looked up from the professional development reviews I was attempting to complete for the team without much enthusiasm. They were supposed to encourage them to improve themselves, but it was another piece of red-tape that was added to their working day.
‘You done with those yet?’ Aaron asked.
I scowled at him. ‘They’ve got them in on time and now I have to add my comments to all of them. It’s not as though we’re busy and have something better to do is it?’
Aaron laughed at me. ‘You’re not enjoying yourself then?’
‘How did you guess?’
‘Your face,’ he answered as he dropped into one of the chairs in front of my desk.
‘I see you managed to add your comments pretty timely,’ I added.
‘I don’t mind the paperwork side of the job.’
He did and as always I appreciated him for the alternate tone he added to our working relationship.
‘I thought we’d lost you,’ he said, relaying, again, the fears he had about that day with Drew.
‘You don’t get rid of me that easily,’ I said and looked at him, serious and grateful. ‘Thank you.’
He looked confused. ‘For?’
‘Being there. You’re always there when I need you.’
‘And I’ll always be there,’ he said.
‘You will?’ I was surprised.
‘I realised when you were missing that this is where I belong. Here with you and the rest of the team. I am needed here. I am good at my job. If it means I have to let a couple of people know then so be it,’ said Aaron.
I let out such a deep sigh that I practically melted into my chair. ‘You don’t know what that means to me.’
I flipped the lid down on my laptop, happy to close the PDRs for now.
‘I’ve just closed the file on the job,’ he said.
‘Filed as detected, yes?’
‘Yeah, we had all the evidence ready to go had he survived. The missing knife from his knife block matched up to the wounds in Sebastian Wade. It would have gone through to court if he had lived.’
‘I’m glad about that,’ I said. ‘It’s closure for the families. They don’t have to be dragged through a trial. Though no outcome is the best one for his own family.’
I stopped and looked at Aaron. ‘And what about you? Are you sure about your decision, about staying?’
Aaron nodded. ‘It was difficult coming back after the heart attack, Hannah. I still feel exhausted every night and it may be that I do have to take a gentler role if I find I can’t do this and these hours, but I’m going to give it a try before I jump. Stress didn’t give me a heart attack and Lisa is behind me all the way.’
‘Have you spoken to Baxter yet?’
Aaron nodded. ‘He wasn’t happy.’
I was worried. ‘You know we’re going to have to deal with it, don’t you?’
He nodded ag
ain. A slow steady movement. ‘I don’t want to leave the team so if he forces the issue then I’ll do what needs to be done, Hannah. And with you and Lisa by my side then I can do it.’
I smiled at him. I was lucky to have Aaron and I was grateful he had decided to stay. Now we just had to keep him here and hope that Baxter didn’t win this battle.
Books in the series;
Three Weeks Dead (Prequel novella)
Shallow Waters
Made to be Broken
Fighting Monsters
Other books by Rebecca Bradley ;
Dead Blind
About the Author
Rebecca Bradley is a retired police detective who lives in the UK with her family and two Cockapoo’s Alfie and Lola, who keep her company while she writes. She needs to drink copious amounts of tea to function throughout the day and if she could, she would survive on a diet of tea and cake.
If you enjoyed The Twisted Web and would be happy to leave a review online that would be much appreciated, as word of mouth is often how other readers find new books.
DI Hannah Robbins will return next year, but in the meantime if you’re interested in meeting the team again and finding out how they got to where they are on the Major Crimes Unit, then you can read the prequel, Three Weeks Dead, a short novella where a young DC, Sally Poynter, has to get through to a desperate husband before he commits a crime that will have far-reaching consequences. You can view that HERE.
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Please look her up, as she would love to chat.
Acknowledgements
A novel is never written in isolation, it takes a team to put a book together and this one has been no different. Therefore I have several people I need to thank.
Jane and David Isaac for reading an early copy of the manuscript and for help on how Aaron would be feeling after his heart attack.
Denyse Kirkby as always for her support with Aaron’s Asperger’s. It’s important that he is as real as any of the other characters and Denyse supports me with that.
Marie O’Hara in discussing school disciplinary procedures and Anne O’Hara for her keen eye.
Debi Alper for her skill with a pencil and for her clear thoughts on the book, and my early readers for supporting me on my journey.
Last but by no means least my family, without whom none of this would be possible. I love you.
The Twisted Web (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series book 4) Page 23
