He got in his car and started to drive, he had his destination in mind. A quick glance in the rear view mirror before he turned left at the end of the road. As he drove he wondered how long it would be before Sian caught up with him, he knew she liked the chase, and if nothing else he was a good sport. He was looking forward to a meeting of the minds, without the clues he had left he knew he could be a free man until the day he died. But pride had gotten the better of him, Adam had done his job, it was now time for the rightful genius to take credit for the artistry that was Amy’s murder.
Maybe she would never find him, where he was headed no one knew about. It was remote, Why on earth anyone would think to look for him there was ridiculous. As long as he was careful he may be able to get credit for his crime(s) and keep his liberty. The thought amused him, he would become a legend, Philip Thorne would be mentioned in the same breath as Dahmer and Bundy. His chest swelled with pride at the very idea, if he stayed a free man he would go down in history as the one that got away. Books would be written about him, police men and women would be given his case file to see his brilliance at eluding them. He turned the radio up as Mariah Carey started to sing ‘All I want for Christmas’, his favourite Christmas song. It was a couple of hours before he hit the motorway, just a couple of things to take care of first. The traffic was light as he joined the M25, and stayed that way up until he reached the toll bridge over the river Severn. The queue in front of him moved slowly, it was as if the heavens were telling him that he would have to be patient, that his new life would come eventually.
He hadn’t called Catherine to tell her he was on his way and whether it would be alright if he stayed until he got himself sorted. He knew she wouldn’t have a problem with it. It had been a good few years since he’d seen her, but he wrote to her at regular intervals. He’d never mentioned her to Hayley, some things he liked to keep just for himself. Besides, he’d often thought he may need a refuge someday and he could think of no better place to be holed up than the remote village she lived in. He liked the idea of the simple life she lived.
Like the rest of his life he had planned this day meticulously, he knew there were many ways to trace him. His phone he left behind, his car he drove to a few streets away. When he”d locked it he placed the keys on top of the offside front wheel, carrying his hold-all with all his worldly possessions in he walked, it was about five miles until he reached his destination. His thick coat kept him warm against the bitterly north easterly wind. As he walked through the council estate it was a veritable hive of activity, even this cold kids played in the street, a couple of old guys chatted over a garden fence. He walked confidently avoiding eye contact with anyone, at the far end of the estate was a block of garages. Two rows faced each other, twenty either side, many of the metal doors dented and covered in flaked paint. A couple with their doors permanently raised, makeshift bedding in some. He walked to the last but one on the left, the door no better cared for than the others, he hadn’t wanted it to stand out. He’d rented this garage for the better part of fifteen years, he rented it from a resident of the estate as they were the only ones eligible. He paid cash yearly and the guy said nothing – the terms of his lease didn’t allow sub letting. He undid the padlock and tossed it onto the grass verge, he wouldn’t be returning so there was no need to lock it. Inside was a car, it had been changed three times since he’d had the garage. It had started off as a blue Ford Escort, then went to a Vauxhall Astra, then a few years back he’d changed it to the car that sat before him. A Renault Megane in graphite grey, it was about ten years old, he came here once a month to take it for a short drive to keep it in good running condition. He’d paid a small independent garage cash for it, once he’d had it twelve months he declared the.vehicle as destroyed or whatever the DVLA liked to call it. So as far as anyone was concerned the car no longer existed. He only had to drive it to his destination where he would find another lock up to hide it until it was needed again.
It was early evening when he finally arrived, just as he’d thought Catherine was thrilled to see him, and even more thrilled when she knew he wanted to stay. They chatted long into the night, things couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. It appeared that she rarely saw either of her sons, one was three years ago and the other eighteen months. She also had a lock up where she told him he could store the car. He’d explained to her that he wanted to get away from relying on motorised transportation and wanted to get a bicycle. He knew she would lap up the fact that he wanted to go green. Things looked good for his continued freedom.
EPILOGUE
And so he began…
Welcome my loyal readers, yes I’m back. You will remember that I told you previously that I had left things out of my original book; well I am here now to fill in the blanks. Not just blanks but also subsequent indiscretions, I truly believed that once I had dealt with my feelings for Amy that it would be the end of that side of me. I was wrong. I suppressed the urge for many years, in fact it lasted until my wife was pregnant with our second daughter. She became distracted with her pregnancy and the other young mums she hung about with and I needed to fulfil my desires in the best way I knew how. There weren’t many and the satisfaction was never as gratifying as my Amy. But in the spirit of full disclosure I won’t spare any details.
In the coming pages I will disclose details of all seven women I killed. I will tell you my faithful reader where the metaphorical bodies are buried. I will also let you in on the cat and mouse game I have secretly been playing with my old colleague DI Sian Price. She doesn’t know she has been playing but in the pages that follow many puzzles that have given her sleepless nights will be revealed.
I will admit I made mistakes along the way, but to my advantage they were all too dumb to spot them. With the exception of the final one – though that I may have got away with it had it been a lesser investigator. But to give credit where credit was due DI Sian Price has been a worthy adversary. That one last mistake was stupidity and I chastise myself everyday for it, I’d managed to carry on with my life for the better part of nine months. I was enjoying a new sense of freedom, living off the land, a simple existence. And I could have lived like that for the next twenty years.
I was unaware of what they knew while I turned the soil that day. It was a little after eleven, I’d been up since five-thirty, it was a routine I was used to. The chicken coups were always my first task, collecting the eggs and cleaning out the chicken shit. Then seven thirty we usually met at the old wooden kitchen table for a pot of tea, the same everyday, the pot would be sat on the Rayburn stove waiting. By eight I would be feeding the animals, the pigs could certainly eat, and the chickens were like mad things when you held a bag of feed near their troughs. At eight thirty I liked to take a walk over the back fence, up the steep bank to the unused railway line. I would sit on the rail, feet planted firmly between the sleepers, the smell of oil still pungent in the air. With the packet of cigarettes I would shake one out and light it. The view was amazing looking back at the house. The one and a half acre garden with all of its neat vegetable beds. Nothing was allowed to be grown unless it had a purpose. No flowers. The upkeep was a full time job for both of us, I took the heavy work due to her advancing years, but the effort was worth it. I generally sat there and had two cigarettes while watching the world go by. Sometimes I sat there and contemplated my life, I missed my hobby. I’d thought about writing the second book but it might prompt questions I would be unwise to answer. I had yet to see any sign of the first book being published.
At nine o’clock I liked to do the heaviest job of the day, sometimes that would be chopping logs, this day it happened to be digging over a couple of the large beds in preparation of planting. I had almost finished the first one, my back was beginning to feel the strain when two figures started to make their way along the old cobblestoned path which led to where I was. I could have run, but why? I recognised Sian instantly, the guy next to her meant nothing to me. From previous experienc
e I guessed that he would be the local plod. As it turned out he was a bit of a prat, and I was glad that it was her that cuffed me that day. I don’t recall much of those few minutes, it was surreal. I had imagined that moment a thousand times since the morning I ‘discovered’ Amy’s body, and to be perfectly honest it had never been that boring. She walked up to me and without a ‘hello’ or anything started reading me my rights while pulling my hands behind my back and placing the cuffs on them.
He looked across at the opposite cell, the irony not lost on him that his first book was written in that very spot. It was about a year ago that he sat at that desk, his pad at the ready, and started his novel ‘Velvet Heart’ as a free man. He knew the day would always come when he would pay for his actions. And that time was now. When the inevitable became apparent he had hoped beyond all hope the this would be where he would end up – amongst friends.
“It’s good to have you back Pinky.” Chef said.
“I’ve come home Chef, now to tell the rest of my story. And they thought the first one was explosive.”
The End
Amy Cooper Forever Page 26
