Ruthless a Gripping and Gritty Crime Thriller

by Charlie Gallagher

  James snatched back at his radio. ‘Confirm the ambulance is en route, Control. Two casualties. Not conscious. Not breathing. I am commencing CPR on the male.’

  Another police car came jolting to a stop beside his own. James was already pushing down rhythmically on the man’s chest. He faced the car as it arrived with blue lights spinning. PCs Alan Smith and Angie Boakes ran over to him.

  ‘Sarge, what do you need?’ Constable Smith said.

  ‘There’s a female in the car. Just do what you can. I’m not even sure we can get her out.’

  They had their own torches and immediately turned them on the crashed car and the woman’s twisted torso. PC Smith spoke into his radio. James concentrated on the chest compressions. Constable Boakes ran back over with a face mask. She seemed unsure of what to do with it.

  ‘Just stick it on his face. I’ll blow into him, don’t worry.’

  She did as she was told and backed away.

  ‘The woman?’ Jamie was already tired; his own voice sounded breathy.

  ‘We can’t get to her, Sarge. We’ve asked for the fire brigade with their hydraulics. It doesn’t look good though.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  The ambulance was the next to arrive. Two paramedics in green overalls worked around Jamie as he kept up the compressions. He was starting to really feel it in his shoulders and back. The ambulance crew cut the motionless man’s shirt off. Two sticky pads were applied to his chest and side, and then Jamie had to stop what he was doing and back away while they shocked him. He took the opportunity for a rest. The man’s body flinched as the electricity ripped through him, but it was nothing more than the reactions of stimulated muscular tissue. Still no signs of life. He was instructed to get back on the compressions. The paramedics changed tack, they built a robotic device that bridged his chest, then took over giving the compressions with a padded fist. It was stronger and with perfect timing. Jamie was relieved. He stood up and stepped back, he was breathing heavily. The two paramedics knelt in front of him and assured him that he could do nothing more to help. He looked over to the woman still bunched in the front corner of the car.

  ‘Is there anything I can do for her?’

  Neither paramedic even looked up. ‘No,’ one said. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do for her.’

  Jamie stepped away. Angie Boakes was standing by the upturned car, she was fixed on the passenger. Alan Smith was talking on the radio, updating Control with exact locations for more patrols. Angie had her hand to her mouth. She was new to Jamie’s team, new to the force as a whole. She probably hadn’t seen anything like it before.

  ‘You okay?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Yeah, Sarge. It doesn’t look real does it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I reckon it was quick.’

  ‘I reckon it was. I’ve seen this often enough, Angie. The forces in play are something you just can’t comprehend. We all take it for granted that we’re safe when we drive home, but when it goes wrong . . .’

  ‘Pissed up, you reckon?’

  Jamie hadn’t had a look around for causes. He really should do that now. There were stories of a fatal accident a few years back where a car was found one night in similar circumstances, but with four occupants. Three of them were killed instantly and the fourth was worked on by two ambulance crews while three police patrols looked on. In the light of day, it was established that the car had probably swerved to avoid a biker who was coming the other way. The biker had swerved, too, and crashed into a tree on the other side of the road. His injuries were bad but he might not have succumbed to them. As it was, he had bled out silently while everyone’s attention was two hundred metres away and on the other side of the road. No one had survived.

  ‘Possibly. That’s something that can be worked out in due time.’ The sergeant’s attention was drawn to more closing car doors. Two more of his team arrived.

  ‘What do you need, Sarge?’ One of them called out.

  ‘There’s nothing more here. Can you just check there’s no other cars involved? Both sides of the road. I want to establish any impact points. Just to be sure it wasn’t another vehicle.’

  PC Alan Smith came back over, his notebook in his hand.

  ‘The car’s registered to an old couple down in Hythe, Sarge. Like, really old. I’m getting Wendy down there to do a door knock. If she can get off her arse that is. Maybe they’ve sold their car recently or lent it out, but for my money they still believe it to be parked on their drive.’

  Jamie looked at the car. It was a Volvo — an old model, he reckoned. They definitely didn’t even make these anymore. Consistent with a doddery old couple who needed a run to the shops a couple of times a week. Certainly he didn’t think it should be lying on its side on a soaking country lane in the middle of the night.

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘Gives us a problem with informing next of kin. Hopefully they’ve got ID on them.’

  ‘It would appear I can go have a look.’ Alan gestured at the two paramedics. Jamie hadn’t noticed that they’d stopped their activity; their bags were packed, the robotic arm back in pieces and packaged in a tough plastic Peli-case.

  The paramedic was matter of fact. ‘I called it at 11:42 p.m. We were always going through the motions, really. He’s basically split his head in half and that’s just the injury I can see. We’re getting no readings. Not a spark. He’s long gone, I’m afraid.’

  ‘He didn’t look well. Thanks for your efforts.’

  ‘No problem. I can’t do the same for her — confirm life extinct, I mean. Not the way it is. If we can push the car back onto its wheels I can call it.’

  ‘What if it’s spinal? The jolt—’

  ‘She’s dead. And if she isn’t then we need to be doing something right now and I can’t do anything until that car is righted.’ The paramedic held a reassuring smile.

  Jamie considered it for a second. He suddenly felt a small pinch of panic, like they were stood chatting when there might be a chance of doing something for her.

  ‘I thought you said there was nothing you could do?’

  The paramedic gestured at the car. ‘Her neck looks odd — even from here I can tell you it’s broken. I can tell you from her colour that she’s got no circulation, so her heart has stopped. But I do like to be sure. Sometimes the box here can get a spark where you’d think that all was lost.’

  Jamie raised his voice to instruct everyone to line up on the topside of the car. The bank was in their favour, the car leaning naturally back towards its wheels.

  ‘No one in the middle. Push the boot and bonnet. If it starts coming back towards us we all jump well out of the way. Understood?’ Jamie received confirmations. ‘On three. One, two, THREE!’

  The car dropped to its wheels on the first heave. The woman inside was thrown away from the door. She ended up over the centre console, her head in the driver’s seat. The paramedic went in through the driver’s door. It took less than a minute for him to reappear, shaking his head.

  ‘I just like to be sure.’

  ‘I’d much rather you were, too. Thanks.’ Jamie turned to Angie. ‘Can you cancel the fire service? We can get her out now. Are we happy there’s no one else involved?’

  ‘No one else involved, Sarge,’ Alan answered. ‘There’s one set of skid marks and a tree with a chunk taken out of it. Looks like they overcooked a bend.’

  ‘Cut and dried then. Did you search the driver yet?’

  ‘Yes. Nothing that’s going to help immediately, I’m afraid. He’s got a wallet with some cash in it, some train tickets and a card for a casino in Ramsgate. It looks old, but they should be able to tell us who it was issued to.’

  ‘They should. But that won’t be quick and it won’t be enough.’ Jamie turned his attention back to the car. The paramedic had left the driver’s door open. The passenger door was damaged and wouldn’t budge. A little more of the woman’s face had been revealed; she had come to rest peering across at them al
l. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth too, like she’d screamed at death with all her might. The leg and arm on her left side were both twisted and a straw-coloured fluid stained her ear. She was wearing a black dress, a short, white cardigan unbuttoned on her top half and strappy black shoes. She had a black handbag in the footwell on the passenger side. If she had ID, that’s where it would be. Jamie knelt on the driver’s seat to lean over. As he put more weight on it, he could feel her head roll into his knee. He tried to ignore it and leaned forward a little more, rainwater running off his nose. He snatched at the strap, scooping up the bag. He retreated quickly back out of the car.

  He searched the contents of the bag. Angie held the torch. He found a black smartphone with a damaged screen that still woke up when he pushed the button on the front. It was security locked. He also found a packet of tissues, two lipsticks, two crumpled twenty pound notes and a small, circular mirror.

  ‘No ID,’ Angie said.

  Alan Smith was back. ‘Sarge, Wendy woke up the elderly couple who own the car. It’s nicked.’

  ‘Of course it is. You don’t carry ID if you’re stealing cars, I suppose.’ Jamie rubbed at his face as he considered his options.

  ‘So what do we do? Wait for someone to call up and say that their loved one is missing? Last seen planning on stealing a car with their other half?’

  ‘We could. But there might be a quicker way.’ Jamie pulled the driver’s door back open. He still held the woman’s smartphone. Her right hand was under her head, pointing towards him as he leant in. Her eyes stared directly at him. He took a firm hold of her index finger. Even through his blue glove it felt cold.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ he offered.

  He held her finger against the button on the phone. He felt the phone vibrate a rejection. He was holding his breath as he tried again, this time with her thumb. The phone unlocked, the screen changed. Now it showed a smiling woman cuddling up to a curly haired dog that was nuzzled up under her chin. It was the same woman. She was almost unrecognisable with life behind those eyes. Jamie opened up the call screen. He moved to the screen marked Favourites. The first name read Rhi xx. He tapped the name and the phone immediately made a calling tone.

  Chapter 3

  Rhiannon Davis woke in some confusion. She was on her bed, still clothed, and the only source of light was the television. The canned laughter in some American comedy series came through very loud, but there was something else, something she couldn’t quite work out. Her phone was ringing.

  She sat up with a start and started the hunt for her phone. It was on at the bottom of her bed. She checked the screen and smirked at the caller ID.

  ‘Hey, Aunty Mel.’

  ‘Hello.’

  A male voice? And not one that she recognised. Her aunt had a new boyfriend but she’d met him a couple of times and he had a northern accent. This voice didn’t.

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘I’m sorry to call you so late. I’m Sergeant Lee. I’m a police officer based at Langthorne Police Station and I’m trying to work out who the owner of this phone is. I hope you don’t mind me calling, only you were the first person listed.’

  Rhiannon’s heart had been racing but now she relaxed and let out a breath. It was the police. Her aunty liked a drink any weekend she wasn’t working. No doubt she had left her phone in some bar and someone had handed it in. It wouldn’t be the first time she had lost it and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  ‘I don’t mind. Where did she leave it this time? Did someone hand it in? People can be nice.’

  ‘Can I take your name, please, love? Just so I know who I’m talking to.’

  ‘Rhiannon.’

  ‘Thanks, Rhiannon. And whose phone am I holding, love?’

  ‘My aunt’s — Melissa. Melissa Cooper.’

  ‘That’s great, thank you, Rhiannon. Do you know Melissa’s date of birth at all?’

  ‘Why do you need that?’

  ‘I don’t necessarily, Rhiannon. Don’t worry. It just means I can create a record of finding the phone.’ The man paused like he was still expecting it.

  ‘It’s the first of May, I know that much. She’s thirty-five, so . . . what’s that? 1982?’

  ‘Sounds about right. And you said she’s your aunt, Rhiannon, is that right?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Do you know where your aunt lives, Rhiannon?’

  ‘Well . . . yes. She lives with me.’

  There was another pause.

  Rhiannon was starting to feel tense again. ‘Is she okay? How did you get hold of her phone?’

  ‘I tell you what, Rhiannon, I’d rather return this phone tonight — it looks like an expensive one. Let me know your address and I’ll drop round with it, okay?’

  ‘Now? Okay. It’s 101 Linwood — in Langthorne.’

  ‘Linwood, I know it. I’ll be with you soon, okay?’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  The call ended. Rhiannon opened the Facebook app on her phone. She scrolled down her timeline and stopped at her aunt’s last update. She rarely did anything without putting it on social media. Sure enough, ninety minutes earlier, a selfie with a raised drink and a lopsided smile, her arm draped round her new man’s neck. It looked like he might be holding her up. The post had a caption, Mel is feeling lucky — date night with this gorgeous man.

  Rhiannon stood up to get herself a glass of water. She flicked off the television and headed downstairs where she turned on all the lights so the police would know she was home.

  * * *

  Jamie Lee angled his book so that Angie Boakes could see it. She copied the details over.

  ‘The age is about right,’ she said.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Do you want me to come down with you?’

  ‘Probably, Angie. We’ll see what comes back from the checks first. But I’m pretty sure it’s going to be our girl.’

  Angie had already unclipped the radio from her chest. She called Control and stepped away.

  Jamie’s phone went off in his pocket. He pulled off his gloves hurriedly to accept the call. ‘Sergeant Lee.’

  ‘Jamie, it’s Keith from the crash investigation team.’

  Jamie felt a tinge of guilt immediately. ‘Hey, Keith. Sorry to wake you up, mate.’

  ‘You would have been criticised if you hadn’t by the sounds of it. Don’t worry. I got a few details from your message but, tell me, what have you got down there?’

  ‘We have a single vehicle RTC. The subject has left the road and ended up on its side. Two casualties, both confirmed life extinct at the scene and both remain in situ. There’s no sign of any other vehicles involved. The presumed driver has been thrown from the vehicle. He is as yet unknown. The female passenger is still in the vehicle and we may be able to identify her within the hour. If we do, I will be letting the next of kin know tonight. It would appear that the vehicle is stolen. We’ll conduct some more enquiries around that, but the victims of the theft are elderly, so it might be that they are revisited in the morning.’

  ‘Sounds like everything is in hand. I’ve been to the Alkham Valley before for the same sort of thing. That’s quite a busy route come the morning, is it not?’

  ‘It is. But there are workarounds. We can get diversions in place before the traffic arrives, I will put a call in to Highways.’

  ‘Okay. There’s little point me coming out in the middle of the night. I will aim to get to the scene for six a.m. The rest of my team can join me when they get in. Are you okay to hold the scene overnight?’

  ‘We’ll find a way. I reckon I can hold it with three officers.’

  ‘Great. I’ll get some sleep and I’ll be with you at six a.m. Are you the night shift or the late turn, Jamie?’

  ‘The night shift. Assuming I’m not tucked up, I’ll meet you here for a proper handover. But right now you know about as much as I do.’

  ‘See you in the morning.’

  Angie had been hovering in the background w
ith her work phone in her hand. As Jamie ended his call, Angie angled the phone so the screen was towards him. The digital image of a female looked out. She looked stern, her eyes flushed red as if she had been crying. She was backed into a grey board that revealed that she was five feet six inches tall.

  ‘Melissa Cooper, 101 Linwood,’ Angie said. ‘This is the mugshot from her arrest for drink driving in 2014. She was never charged — she must have passed the test when she got back to the station.’

  ‘That’s her, though, right? Just different hair?’

  ‘It looks like her, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Definitely. Okay, Alan will need to stay on scene preservation. Can you jump in with me and we’ll go and talk to the next of kin.’

  ‘Yeah, no problem. Who did you speak to?’

  ‘Niece. And she didn’t sound very old.’

  * * *

  The door opened and Sergeant Lee got the instant impression that Rhiannon was a pretty girl. She was wearing a white vest top and small cotton shorts over her slight build. She had long, tousled hair that fell over deep brown eyes, full lips and sleek cheekbones. She bit down lightly on her bottom lip and stepped back, her bare feet squeaking on the wooden flooring.

  ‘You must be Rhiannon.’

  The girl’s expression was changing. She’d appeared instantly bright, had rolled her eyes in an exaggerated gesture. What’s my aunt been up to now? Now two police officers had stepped into her hall, their expressions stern, their hats tucked under their arms. Jamie had seen it play out the same way before — people could always just tell.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ Rhiannon said.

  ‘Rhiannon, is there anywhere we can sit?’

  She looked even more uncertain. The living room was off to the left. It was in keeping with what Jamie had seen of the house so far — clean, but lived in. Rhiannon moved a clump of magazines from a sofa then sat in the armchair opposite. She bent one leg under the other and rubbed at her foot. She looked nervous all of a sudden. Jamie and Angie both sat.

  ‘Your aunt was involved in a road traffic collision. She was a passenger in a Volvo car. I’m sorry, Rhiannon, but your aunt’s injuries were very serious. She passed away earlier tonight.’