by Mark Newman
‘Look at him, he’s a fucking fraggle. We’ll let the Old Bill take it from here.’
‘And what about the copper?’
‘Bring him along for the ride, he could still be useful.’
Chapter 25
Garrett didn’t even register that Cullen had left. He reached out to her, his hand lingering mid-air, denying the urge to touch her face. His gaze dropped to the marks on her throat, unable to comprehend how he could do that to his own wife.
He backed away, the truth too painful to decipher, seeking refuge in the darkened corner of the garage. There he huddled, his arms wrapped around his legs—just staring at the mass of polythene.
Garrett tried to make sense of the last twenty-four hours, nothing more than a mash of fragmented memories. Everything led to this point, the headaches, the sickness, the endless cycle of arguments, and the rage that burned within. It all slotted together like the missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
He remembered the way she’d looked at him, her face hard and unforgiving as he’d held the Dear John note, mocking him that he wasn’t the only one with secrets.
Something snapped, he’d swung forward, grabbing her, pushing her face down on to the bed, twisting her arms up high into the middle of her back.
Despite her protestations that she couldn’t breathe, he’d forced her head down further into the duvet. Lost in the moment—his mind awash with rage, he couldn’t allow her to leave. He’d kept his grip solid, watching as her body bucked and flailed before coming to rest.
By the time he’d finally released his grip, Maria’s lifeless body lay splayed amongst the duvet covers. He remembered thinking, no this can’t be possible, after all, he’d only held her for a few seconds. There he’d stood rooted to the spot, looking for a sign of life, before rolling her over onto her back and checking for a pulse. That’s when the panic set in and he began mouth to mouth—but she was already gone.
Chapter 26
The polythene sheeting caused her to sweat despite the cool damp air of the garage and the numbing chill of the concrete floor slowly seeping into her bones.
Fear and adrenaline concocted together as she realised he could still be lurking in the darkest recess of the shadows. Four minutes had elapsed, and all that time she’d kept her breathing controlled and shallow, not daring to move a fraction for fear of alerting Garrett or his captors.
Raised voices from the kitchen indicated they were on the move, she had to act now. Maria crushed any doubts as she slithered from beneath the sheeting. She raised her bound wrists to her mouth. Securing the broken scissor handle between her teeth, she began to move her wrists backwards and forwards along the serrated edge of the blade. The first cut missed, biting into fresh skin, causing her to wince at the sharp pain as warm blood spilled onto her forearms and face. Maria realigned the scissor blade, ignoring the torn skin, she hacked through the tape. With her hands free, she leaned forward, slicing through the ankle restraints.
Maria rose to her feet, unsteady at first, taking a second to gain her balance. She skulked across to the internal door, pulling it a little way towards her as she listened to the raised voices. It was difficult to hear every word, but the gist of the argument revolved around whether or not to take Reid as hostage, leaving Garrett for the police.
One of them wanted to burn the house down, three dead bodies, he said, nice and clean—no trace.
Her mind was made up, it was now or never.
Fearing that she might not get another chance, Maria crept along the hallway to the front door. It was locked from the inside preventing her escape.
Fate had decided for her—Maria crouched in the shadows and waited.
Chapter 27
Cullen never saw it coming; he was too preoccupied with getting out of there, fumbling for the key to disengage the double locking system of the front door. The bitch had stabbed him, came at him like a wailing banshee from the shadows, plunging the scissors deep into his shoulder. He moved, trying to block her strike, deflecting the main force with his forearm, but she’d still managed to nick the main artery. He was bleeding out fast. The seconds ticking away.
The youths dragged him to the car, he was still semi-conscious. Cullen’s eyes focused then blurred as they loaded Reid’s battered carcass in to the boot, maybe he was already dead. He caught their eye, saw them exchange a glance. He knew that look; the one that said he was a dead man walking, it was just that his brain hadn’t caught up yet.
Cullen tried to talk, the words dying in his mouth as his body entered shut down mode. His last thoughts, at least he’d be dead, so no chance of being buried alive, leaving him to choke his last breath in the damp squib.
Chapter 28
Maria watched from the shadows as they bundled Cullen and Reid in to the car. Her natural instinct was to run, to get as far away as possible, but this scenario wouldn’t play out like that. She had to put an end to it. One way or another, it ended here tonight.
Now it was just her and Garrett, and she had to draw him out.
Chapter 29
It was all down to fate, an accidental meeting. Reid was out with work colleagues for an end of shift drink, and Maria was on a pre-planned girly night out. Three glasses of Prosecco had taken their toll as she stumbled in to him on her way to the ladies room.
He used it as an excuse to strike up a conversation, pulling out his warrant card and offering to sit with her, just until she sobered up a little. She knew it was a ruse to spend time with her, but was happy to go along with it, after all she needed a bit of excitement in her life. Garrett was unbearable to live with, and over the preceding weeks they’d spoken less than a smattering of words to each other the entire time. Reid offered his number; at first she hesitated, he insisted, just in case she ever needed to talk. Not wanting to come across as rude or impolite, Maria took it.
He’d known she was married but that was part of the thrill. That was his thing, married women out on the prowl; they were all the same, anything to relieve the boredom and monotony of their home life.
Two days later, after another argument with Garrett, Maria found the number scribbled down. She’d forgotten all about it, discarded on a scrap piece of paper at the bottom of her bag. Why the hell not? She thought, as she held his number in her hand, trembling a little at the thought of phoning the gallant stranger.
Maria needed to vent, and it was easier to do that with someone she’d met in a drunken haze rather than a close friend. She needed someone who wouldn’t judge her, and Reid could just be that guy, beside that, he had a spark about him, something Garrett had lost a long time ago.
They arranged to meet up out of town, and Reid knew the perfect spot, away from prying eyes. The Millers Crossing Restaurant Hotel just off the busy A46 carriageway provided anonymity, a place where they could both blend in amongst the raft of weary commuters looking for a convenient pit-stop on their way home and the businesses that used it for hosting affordable, out-of-town team building and conference events.
Reid booked a room, just in case. He’d used it once or twice in the past, experienced enough to know that if things were going well, they’d be back in the self-contained studio apartment after two drinks ripping and tearing at each other’s clothes. He wasn’t wrong.
Maria was quick to realise Reid could prove to be her ticket to a new life. Portraying herself as a woman on the edge, trapped in a loveless marriage, she took every opportunity to implore to Reid to act. Over the weeks and months that followed, she reeled him in, drip feeding him just enough information about Garrett, playing on and exaggerating what she referred to as his violent outbursts.
She convinced Reid that she loved him and couldn’t wait to move in and set up home as a couple. The only hurdle—monetary circumstance. The house, everything, it was all in Garrett’s name. Maria couldn’t just walk away from it all, she’d invested too much time to leave it all behind.
Reid was like a lovesick puppy. He couldn’t bare Maria being in the same house as Garrett, l
et alone his bed. He wanted him gone, out of her life and off the scene. Despite her reasoning to stay, Reid begged her to leave and move in with him. He had the money and the means to look after her. The way he saw it, there was no need to wait, they could set up home and start a new life together. Maria could file for divorce with immediate effect. As a battered wife fearing for her life, the right solicitor could negotiate a settlement in less than six months.
That all changed the day Maria turned up with swelling to the side of her face. Fresh red marks and some light purplish bruising to the her right eye, partially hidden by sunglasses and make-up were enough to convince Reid that Garrett had to go. His initial instinct was to go after him, track him down like prey then beat the daylights out of him. But that wouldn’t do, he had to play it smart, after all he couldn’t risk losing his job, not if he wanted to provide for Maria.
Chapter 30
Garrett wasn’t stupid, he knew she was seeing someone within the first couple of weeks of the affair. At first, he noticed the subtle changes, like the way she wore her hair on certain days. Then came the gradual change in her work clothes, sexier tops that accentuated her curves, and tighter, shorter skirts evident on Wednesdays and Fridays of each week.
She’d also taken to wearing Chanel Number 5 perfume, even though she knew it irritated his sinuses, causing him to sneeze. The final proof, if he still needed it, materialised after a search of the closet—new, sexy black Agent Provocateur lingerie, Maria’s blatant two-finger salute, fuck you, Garrett.
Part of him couldn’t blame her, he was hell to live with, and although he wasn’t proud of it, he’d hit her. He tried to reconcile himself with the fact that it was a moment of blind rage, a one off, but in truth it wasn’t an isolated incident. He was more like his old man than he cared to admit. Although he’d apologised, the guilt ate away at him, he knew things would never be the same between them, he’d crossed the line.
Their relationship continued on a downward spiral. Garrett buried himself in his work, putting in longer hours at the office, pretending it would all come good and life at home would just work itself out. When it didn’t, he turned to the drink.
Chapter 31
Hearing the unmistakable crunch of metal grinding against metal, Garrett risked a peek from the outer edge of the bedroom curtain. Chantry Close coming alive with activity, he watched as police officers ushered neighbours off doorsteps and away from their windows. The most action it had witnessed in a lifetime—enough to keep Mrs. Johnson going for the next decade.
Garrett cast his eye towards the end of the Close, to the smoke rising from the crumpled bonnet of Cullen’s, metallic bronze 3 litre Chrysler CDI. A botched attempt to ram its way to freedom now lying in situ against the ruined side panel of an unmarked, blue police transit van.
He watched intently as the two youths were hauled out of the vehicle and face planted on to the tarmac under the vigilant gaze of the armed response unit. A police photographer had opened the offside rear passenger door and was busy recording the content of the back seat under the direction of a plain-clothes officer. That could only mean one thing— a dead body, the question was who?
Three armed police officers stood at the rear of the car, two of them with their weapons drawn and ready, while the other crowbarred the boot open. From the urgency of their actions, he guessed this one was still breathing.
Chantry Close illuminated as the incident lamps lit up the entire area like a football stadium. Garrett squinted, shading his eyes against the halogen glare. He could just make out the two handcuffed figures as they were bundled in to the rear doors of a waiting van.
His attention diverted to the creaking noise of the doglegged stair. Someone had made it to the first landing. Garrett hid behind the door and waited.
Chapter 32
Maria entered the room, a two-handed grip on the broken scissors for protection. She’d already drawn blood, and wouldn’t hesitate to do the same again. She knew Garrett had to be lurking somewhere.
He waited until she was three paces inside the room, swung the door shut, and lunged.
At first, he thought he’d been punched. Winded but not out, he stumbled forward, losing his balance before crashing to the hessian rug. He tried to pull himself to his feet but his legs didn’t have the strength. A light sheen of sweat smattered across his forehead as he ignored the searing pain in his gut and rolled sideways trying to prop himself up on his elbow, but it was to no avail as the pain worsened. Resigned to his fate, he slunk back down, his head resting on the edge of the rug.
‘Guess you finally got your wish,’ he said, as the warm blood seeped through his shirt, turning it crimson. Garrett pressed his hand against the wound to his lower abdomen before pulling it away to regard his bloodstained palm. ‘You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?’
Maria stood motionless, still clasping the scissors, ready to finish the job should he launch a second attack.
Time running out, his breath shortening to rasps, he had to know. ‘How’d you do it, you were dead?’
She watched with morbid fascination as Garrett’s life ebbed closer to the brink. Her eyes drawn to his pallid, sweaty features as he struggled for air. Maria found it intoxicating, caught in the hypnotic rhythm of each breath, wondering which one would be his last.
It wasn’t how she’d planned it, and now she held all the cards, his fate in her hands. The thought of standing up in a courtroom on a manslaughter charge and giving evidence, hoping the decision would go in her favour was just too big a risk.
Still holding the blade, she crouched next to him, careful to remain just out of his reach. ‘I can help you.’
Garrett lifted his head from the rug. ‘You stabbed me.’
‘You came at me. I thought you were one of them.’
‘No, you tried to kill me,’ wincing, he tried to move, ‘still might get your way.’
Maria leant closer, ‘Lie still, it’s not that bad,’ she lied.
Garrett’s eyes rolled in their sockets as he tried to deal with sudden strike of pain. ‘You reckon? Burns like a bastard.’
Maria looked at him, her eyes cold. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?
‘Tell you what?’
‘The tumor, Garrett, why didn’t you trust me.’
‘Too late for all that—you and lover boy...’ his words trailed off as he closed his eyes.
‘Stay with me, Garrett—I can get you help, just stay with me.’
Maria edged closer. Risking contact, she checked for a pulse in his wrist, ‘Garrett, Garrett.’ She thought that she felt something but couldn’t be sure. Pressing two fingers to his neck she tried the vein, ‘don’t you die on me, not like this, you bastard.’
She grabbed him by the collar and began dragging him to the door; she had to get him out before it was too late.
With the jolt of the stairs, Garrett’s eyes snapped open. ‘What are you trying to do to me?’
‘Come on, work with me, nearly there now—get you help, a doctor.’
He grabbed at her arm holding the scissors. ‘Leave me be, it’s better this way.’
Maria’s voice took on a steely harshness, ‘you think, for who—you or me, Garrett?’
‘Finish it. Go on, do it now—make out it was self-defence.’
Maria tugged her arm free from his grip. ‘We’re walking out of here...Together, now move,’ she said, half dragging, half carrying, supporting his weight with her shoulders.
‘I never meant to hurt you.’
‘No, you just tried to choke me to death. Save it for someone who gives a shit.’ Maria spat the words with venom as she hauled his deadweight of a carcass closer to the front door.
Chapter 33
The police sharpshooters took up position, forming an arc as they trained their sights on the front door and awaited further instruction.
The intel suggested there was at least one perpetrator still hiding in the building. The welfare of the female hostage remained vague and unclea
r. The traffic cop, Reid, claimed that he had forced his way in to the dwelling after hearing screams. Maybe he was still concussed. After the beating he’d taken that was to be expected. He probably wasn’t thinking straight, even so, elements of his story just didn’t add up.
His version of events failed to explain, as an off duty police officer, what exactly his reasons for being in the area at the time were. Then there was the issue of the speeding ticket issued to the homeowner. Kenwood rubbed at his brow, it was complicated, but that wasn’t his concern. He’d leave that to the realm of Internal Affairs. As Chief Firearms Officer, Kenwood’s role was to bring the siege to a quick and peaceful end, preventing any further loss of life.
He stepped down from the command trailer and reached for the loudhailer. ‘This is Inspector Kenwood of West Midlands Police Armed Response Unit.’
Chapter 34
Maria opened the front door and stumbled out into the blinding light, her own body shielding Garrett’s. She didn’t want to get shot, but dared not release her grip on the blood-stained scissors, not while Garrett remained a threat. ‘I’m coming out. I’m all right, I’m okay,’ she said.
The intel suggested that Maria Garrett was already deceased at the scene. That didn’t explain the unfolding scenario presenting itself to Kenwood and his firearms officers as the blood spattered IC1 female advanced towards the cordon, an IC1 male hidden behind her, his hand appearing to clutch at a blade held in her right fist.
Kenwood turned to his second in command, ‘get me Reid up here now, and hurry.’ Kenwood spoke to his team via the radio, ‘hold position, do not engage, repeat, do not engage.’
He raised the loudhailer to his mouth, ‘Drop the weapon, stand still, and place your hands on top of your head. Do it now.’
Ninety seconds later, Reid appeared at Inspector Kenwood’s side.
