by JANICE FROST
PJ risked the question. “Is everything alright, sir?”
“The manager at Barney Cole’s place said that a member of staff saw Jonty leave with Barney about ten minutes ago. Apparently Barney looked upset. She didn’t see Ava.” They waited, rigid with suspense, for the manager to call back. The phone rang.
Something’s wrong. PJ saw it immediately in Neal’s expression.
“Have you called 999?” he rasped. “Why the hell not? Call right now. I’m on my way!”
Come on. PJ wanted to shake Neal. It had to be Ava who needed the paramedics, right? Neal was raking his hand through his hair.
“DI Knight, DC Jenkins, I want you to go to Seth Conway’s address. If he’s there, arrest the bastard.”
“Hang on a minute! What’s going on? Is Ava okay? What’s happened?” PJ’s words tumbled out, all formalities forgotten.
“The manager found her on the bathroom floor in Barney’s flat. She’s unconscious. That’s all I know,” Neal said. He looked at PJ and added, “As soon as there’s any news, I’ll call you.”
PJ held her DI’s gaze for as long as she dared, hoping he would understand that she loved Ava too.
* * *
Not since his ex-partner Myrna had announced that she was in labour had Neal felt such a compulsion to be somewhere before he’d even set out. He’d experienced a moment of blind panic when Mariana described how she’d found Ava lying unconscious on the floor of Barney Cole’s bathroom. At least she’d had the sense to check that Ava had a pulse before calling him back. He couldn’t believe that her first instinct hadn’t been to call an ambulance.
The way PJ’s eyes had bored into his. She knows. Was it so obvious then, this feeling he had for Ava that he wouldn’t acknowledge, even to himself? To think he was brazen enough to chide Jock over his feelings for Maggie! Neal was a deeply private man. PJ’s look had made him feel terribly vulnerable.
His phone rang again, and he heard the manager’s voice.
“The ambulance is here. DS Merry has regained consciousness. She asked me to give you a message. It’s a bit weird — I think she might be concussed. But she was very insistent.”
“Go on,” Neal said.
“She said to tell you Hermione’s moored at the haunted tower. Barney was talking about watching Harry Potter earlier and Hermione’s his favourite character. Maybe—”
Neal ended the call.
Ava had regained consciousness. Was that a good sign? Neal’s gut churned. What to do? He could send a patrol car to the Hermione, leave it to others to bring Ava’s attacker in. Or, he could stick a blue light on his car and race to the hospital.
Neal steeled himself, and grabbed his car keys. This was what Ava wanted, wasn’t it? She’d left the message for him because she wanted him to catch their killer. If he turned up at her bedside now, she’d be disappointed. He knew he would be, in her place. His duty was suddenly crystal clear.
Outside, the very air seemed charged with anticipation. The late afternoon light cast long shadows from the buildings around him so that he was walking in strobes of light and darkness. Not long now.
From somewhere far off the sound of an ambulance siren blared out. Ava? The memory of his sister Maggie lying bleeding from the neck, flashed into his mind. Then he turned the key in the ignition and drove out. To his right lay the road to the hospital. Neal checked for oncoming traffic and yanked the wheel sharp left.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Jess held back. The urge to obtain justice for Leanne nearly made her act, but she was afraid, not only for her own safety, but of crossing that line. If she rushed forward now, and plunged the knife into this man’s back, it wouldn’t be self-defence. It would be cold-blooded murder. She lowered her arm and watched him move hesitantly forward. He too was afraid. The air in the room was heavy with the scent of their mingled fear.
I’m so sorry for letting you down again, Leanne. For a moment Jess was back in that corridor with the girls poking fun at her and Leanne fearlessly coming to her rescue. Then she was on Stromford High Street, the first time she’d betrayed Leanne’s kindness. Wind forward to Leanne being led away by the police, defiant, giving Jess a look of boundless sadness.
A pent-up sob escaped from Jess’s lips. She might as well have screamed. The man spun round. Jess raised the knife. His eyes moved in confusion from her face to the knife.
He held up a hand. “Whoa.”
“Stay away from me,” Jess shouted.
“You’ve got the wrong person,” he said.
“Shut up!”
“You’re not police, are you? What are you doing here? Did he bring you here?” He seemed as confused as she was.
Before Jess could reply, they were both distracted by the sound of a car approaching. The man took his advantage. He strode over to Jess and knocked the knife from her hand. She froze. Without the weapon she was helpless.
But the man made no move to hurt or restrain her. He picked up the knife and then just stood there. It took a couple of moments for the penny to drop. Someone the man feared was in that car. The one who’d bound and gagged her and left her in the half darkness. Jess sidled up a bit and he moved to stand beside her. Their eyes met momentarily and he gave a slight nod.
The boat tipped and someone stepped on board.
“Seth?”
Jess suppressed a gasp. She knew that voice.
“Jonty!” she cried.
The man beside her cursed and grabbed her wrist.
“Ouch! Let go.” To her surprise, Seth released his grip.
It took a moment more for Jess to understand what was happening. She looked into Jonty’s eyes and saw a cold, inhuman stare. He had become someone else.
Jonty snorted. “Seriously, Seth?” His eyes went to the knife jerking nervously in Seth’s hand.
“Let her go,” Seth said.
“I don’t think so, mate.” Jonty laughed. It had no humour in it. “What are you even doing here, Seth?”
“Henry told me you’d taken his boat. I knew you’d bring it here. This is where you brought Leanne and Ruby, isn’t it?”
We’re two to one, Jess thought. But Jonty was huge. She’d never noticed it before. He was stooped, as always, but only because he was too tall to stand upright beneath the low ceiling of the narrowboat. How wrong she’d been! Barney hadn’t been Jonty’s shield, he’d been his smokescreen.
Seth took a step forward, placing himself in front of Jess. Jonty laughed again. “Quite the little gent, aren’t we, Seth? Don’t be fooled by this display of gallantry, Jess. Your hero’s nothing more than a pathetic, filthy paedo. Tell her, Seth.”
Seth was silent.
Jess guessed he was weighing up his chances. He had a weapon. Jonty was unarmed, or appeared to be. Jess froze.
Seth launched himself at Jonty, crying out to Jess, “Run! Get out of here! He’ll kill you! Go!”
The two men collided with a crash. Caught behind them in the narrow space, unable to move forward, Jess was forced to witness Jonty’s savage assault. He struck out in all directions, fast and hard. His first kick knocked the knife from Seth’s hand. His second drove into his chest, cracking ribs and sending Seth reeling back against the partition. Jonty spun around and delivered a final kick, sending Seth to the floor with a bone-crunching crash.
It’s over, Jess thought. But Jonty wasn’t finished. He drove his fists into Seth’s face, punching over and over until it was reduced to a pulpy mess. Jess watched in mounting horror. Would he ever stop? On and on Jonty thrashed. Even when Seth was still and quiet, the beating continued. It was sickening.
Jess saw her chance.
The knife was still lying where it had fallen from Seth’s hand. With her eyes on Jonty, Jess slowly reached down and picked it up. This time there was no hesitation. She raised the knife.
“Stop!”
Barney stood in the doorway, a look of sheer horror on his face.
Jess froze. Jonty staggered to his feet, his mouth twi
sted in a bloody smile.
“Hey, big guy. Don’t be scared. We’re just having a bit of fun.” He looked down. “It’s not real, you know. We’re acting. Just like in a movie.”
Barney stared down at Seth’s bloodied, lifeless form.
“What are you doing here, Barney? You were supposed to wait in the car. I told you to wait in the car.”
Barney gulped. Tears began rolling down his cheeks.
“Shit!” Jonty said, “Shit.” He wiped Seth’s blood from his face with the back of his hand and stood, shaking his head. “Shit, Barney.”
Jess recovered first. She side-stepped Seth’s prone body and stumbled to the door. Looking Jonty in the eye, she laid a hand gently on Barney’s arm, ready to steer him up the three wooden steps to the deck. Jonty’s gaze slid from Jess’s face to Barney’s and he gave his brother a nod.
“Jonty.” Barney said plaintively. He took a step towards Jonty. Jess tugged on his sleeve.
“Come on, Barney. Come with me now.”
Together, they stumbled up the steps to the deck.
* * *
Any misgivings Neal had about going after Jonty soon dissipated. He approached the stretch of gravelled road leading to the towpath where he hoped to find the Hermione moored. Jonty had taken a risk, mooring here, but after his interview, he must have realised that it was only a matter of time before the police determined who had really murdered Leanne Jackson and Ruby Kennedy. He needed to be near enough to town to collect his brother, but far enough away to avoid immediate detection.
He had chosen an isolated stretch of the River Strom that was shrouded in woodland. Ava had provided the clue with the words ‘Haunted tower.’ She was alluding to a derelict World War Two RAF aviation tower that was reputedly haunted.
Neal turned a blind corner and his car screeched to a halt, inches from two running figures directly in his path. A woman, blood-spattered and apparently exhausted, slumped over the bonnet of his car, while beside her, a young man stroked her hair, muttering, ‘There, there.’
Neal looked over the steering wheel and met the terrified gaze of Jess Stokes.
Neal stepped out of the car. “Police.”
Jess’s face crumpled with relief. “Jonty . . . he . . . he killed someone. R . . . right in front of us. He . . . just kept on . . . and on. There was so . . . much blood.”
“It’s alright. You’re both safe now.” Neal glanced around. “Where is he now?”
“On . . . on the boat,” Jess said. She pointed behind her, but the river was round a curve in the road, out of sight.
Neal handed Jess the keys. “Get in the car. Lock the doors. If you see Jonty, drive off. Can you do that?”
“W. . . what about you?” Jess asked.
“Just let me do my job.” Neal managed a thin smile. “Backup’s on its way.”
He waited until they were both in the car, then set off on foot, round the curve, and keeping close to the treeline.
The boat was dark grey, nondescript, a less colourful version of the kind of vessel people hired to drift along the county’s picturesque waterways.
Two cars were parked alongside the towpath. Seth’s and Jonty’s? From what Jess said, Seth was already dead. Was Jonty still on the boat? Neal looked along the towpath in both directions and saw no one. It was possible that Jonty had escaped into the cover of the trees and was already on the run.
The boat had two entry points. With an eye on the bow, Neal stepped aboard at the stern and crouched to pass through some wooden doors into what seemed to be a kitchen and living area. He saw Jonty immediately. He was standing over the bloodied remains of Seth Conway. He didn’t seem to have heard Neal arrive.
“Jonty Cole.” Neal was about to issue the standard caution, when Jonty, suddenly animated, moved behind a partition and hid himself from sight. Neal took a couple of steps forward. “We can do this the easy way, son. Or—”
Before he could finish, there was a tearing sound and the partition came crashing down on top of him. Neal raised his hands in front of his face to shield it from the splinters of wood flying up from the demolished wall. Blood trickled down his wrists from the cuts made by shards of split pine embedded in the soft flesh of his hands and fingers.
“Or what, dickhead?”
Neal looked into Jonty’s eyes. This was a man capable of ripping his victims apart, pounding them into a pulpy mess with his bare fists. As always in moments of extreme danger, thoughts of Archie rose in his mind. He blinked away the image of his son’s face. Not now. There wasn’t time.
Jonty bared his teeth. His face, still dripping with Seth’s blood, was frozen in an expression of utter savagery. Neal had an impression of a supernatural being.
A snarl of rage erupted from deep in Jonty’s throat and he flung himself at Neal, knocking him to the floor amidst the fallen timber. Before Neal could recover, Jonty straddled him and forced a broken plank against his throat, pressing down until Neal sputtered and choked.
Jonty grinned evilly. “Or what, shithead?”
Neal grasped Jonty’s wrists, straining to keep some of the weight off his neck. The wood chafed against his throat, scoring the fine skin until blood began to pool against the splintered wedge of wood.
Time slowed. Neal fought to use his legs against his assailant, but his limbs seemed only to scrabble ineffectually beneath Jonty’s weight. Sounds became muffled. His vision blurred. It tunnelled to a pinpoint and began to fade.
* * *
Neal didn’t immediately register the release of the pressure on his windpipe, or that his vision was clearing. He was drifting slowly, willingly, towards a searing white light in the far distance.
“Jim! Breathe, you sonofabitch!” Neal felt a sudden, sharp sting on his cheek. He gasped. He breathed in, spluttered and gagged. The pressure against his throat was gone.
“Easy, sir.” He blinked. It couldn’t be. Ava Merry was hovering above him, her eyes full of concern.
“J . . . Jonty,” he rasped. Ava smiled, and glanced to the side.
“Out for the count.” She held up an object for him to see. Swirls of green and red coalesced into a design of ferns and roses on a traditional narrowboat flat iron.
“You’re supposed to be in hospital.”
“Lucky for you I’m not.” She grinned. “I escaped from a burly paramedic and followed you here. Jess and Barney are okay. They’re in your car.”
“Ava?”
“Sir?”
Their eyes locked. Neal was reminded of the last words of a poem by the metaphysical poet, George Herbert — ‘Something understood.’
He said, “Help me the devil up, will you?”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Ava stood outside the front door of Jim Neal’s house, clutching a bottle of champagne. Before she could knock, the door was flung open and Archie Neal, restraining an excited dog, beckoned her inside.
Ava smiled. “This must be Lachie.” She kneeled to allow the dog to lick her face. She thought suddenly of Jess Stokes and her friend, Pam, whom she had met while out running on the west common earlier in the day. They had been out exercising Boris, Henry Bolt’s borzoi. Ava had stopped to say ‘hello.’
“I still miss Bunty,” Pam said, looking down at Boris who wagged his tail. “Some people think I’m crazy to adopt Boris after all his master did. But it’s not his fault, is it?” She stroked Boris’s brindled fur. Henry Bolt had confessed to poisoning Bunty simply because he feared that Boris would try to mate with her. But he hadn’t mugged Pam, or slashed Jess’s tyres. The former had most likely been Jonty’s work, the latter a random act of vandalism.
Ava looked at Jess. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good,” Jess said, sounding as if she meant it. “Can’t wait for my moment in court.” Jess had agreed, unreservedly, to testify against Jonty Cole when his case came to trial.
“And Mitch? I hope he’s recovered from being a suspect?”
“He’s good too.” Jess smiled. “W
e’re good. I’ve been accepted on an access course starting in September. I’m hoping to qualify as a teacher one day. I want to specialise in teaching kids with learning difficulties and disabilities.”
“That’s great news, Jess. Congratulations.”
Another question hung in the air.
“Barney’s going to be okay,” Jess said before Ava asked. “Mitch and I are befriending him. He doesn’t want to see Jonty. Not at the moment, anyway.”
“Ava!” The sound of Maggie Neal’s voice brought Ava back to the present. She planted a kiss on Ava’s cheek. “It’s great to see you! I’m so pleased you could come.”
“Congratulations, Maggie.” Ava kissed her back, warmly. “Let me see it, then.” Maggie held out her hand for Ava to see the rose gold engagement ring Jock had given her just a week ago.
Ava gave a low whistle. “It’s beautiful, Maggie.”
“Thanks, Ava. Why don’t you join Jim for a drink? Jock and I are just putting the finishing touches to the meal.”
Ava hesitated. To tell the truth, she was a little nervous at being invited to dinner at the Neal household. She wasn’t quite sure whether she was there as Neal’s colleague or Maggie’s friend, or both.
Maggie showed her into the living room. Neal was sitting in an armchair, reading. He looked up and gave Ava a warm smile. “Drink?” he asked, his hand already reaching towards a crystal decanter. “Whisky okay?” Ava nodded.
Maggie had disappeared and Archie had gone upstairs.
“How are you feeling?” Ava asked, looking at the necklace of fading cuts and bruises around Neal’s throat. He had been hospitalised for a day and off work for a week. “Voice is nearly back to normal, I hear.”
“I’m fine,” Neal answered, predictably. “Ridiculous for them to insist I take so long off work. How are you?”
Ava touched the spot on her head that had collided with the sharp edge of Barney’s table. Jonty had struck her with enough force to knock her off her feet. “I’m fine too. I was only out for a couple of minutes. Don’t know why they insisted on me spending the night in hospital. Concussion my ar—, er, foot.”
