by Sarah Flint
His phone light illuminated with another text message. It was hidden underneath an old blanket Meg had pulled from her car. They both squinted at what was written.
2 mins ETA. I have armed police with me. We will stop at end of the road and come to you on foot. Stay down out of the way and watch. Let me know asap if the situation changes.
Will do. Meg texted back. Ben wished with all his heart it could be sooner.
He looked back toward Charlie and the man, lit up as they were in the glow of the lamp. They were just beginning to speak. He could hear the ebb and flow of conversation but couldn’t hear exactly what was being said. His hands were shaking with cold and fear. Meg put a hand on his and gave it a squeeze but nothing could reassure him.
Two minutes was two minutes too long. He wanted to rescue her now. He would never forget the look on Charlie’s face as she led her kidnapper to the copse; so controlled, so calm and so totally at odds with the memories that were flashing through his brain and the sense of panic that was building.
*
Charlie could see that Roberts was almost ready. His preparations were coming to an end. It was almost time for him to begin the ritual. Her hands were bound tightly and although her feet were still free it would be hopeless to try to run. It was pitch black away from the copse; she would surely trip and couldn’t even reach out to break her fall. He would easily catch her and then who knows what he would do.
His MO was to remove a finger before the knife through the heart. If she provoked him, would he torture her further, remove each finger one by one, perhaps do worse, to teach her a lesson.
No, her only hope was to keep him talking. She’d seen her mother’s car, so with any luck... help was on its way. She could only pray that was the case.
‘You said you wanted to know all about me, Daniel.’
‘I don’t care for you now. I did, until I saw you with that man.’
‘But that man is my brother.’ She was going to take a risk. ‘Look. Did you not wonder why I came to this spot? Why I brought you here too?’
She moved her leg slightly, taking care to show only the name etched in the stone. ‘This grave belongs to my husband, Jamie Stafford. He was in the forces, fighting; he was killed in action a few years ago. My brother got me through my grief. He has been there for me, persuading me to move on, encouraging me to go out and find someone else. I hadn’t seen him for a while so when I heard he was waiting outside my office, I couldn’t wait to see him.’
Roberts stopped what he was doing and stared towards her. It was as if he was trying to read her mind, to work out if she was lying.
‘I didn’t want to think about seeing another man for ages, but my brother has been telling me I can’t spend my life pushing any future prospects away. You have to grasp love where you can. I was starting to look.’
‘You looked at me. I saw you watching. I could see it in your eyes that you found me attractive.’
‘I did, Daniel. I still do.’ It was all she could think of to keep him talking. ‘Who knows what could have happened if you hadn’t jumped to the wrong conclusion. What still could? The police will think Vincent was the killer. He knew all three victims. He had the motivation and he left the note. You could go back to being Father Michal, take me out of the country. Pretend that Daniel Roberts never existed.’
She could hear a distant rumble of vehicles, the sound of a door shutting. Roberts appeared not to notice. He was frozen, concentrating on her every word. For a moment she thought he believed her, but then his face creased.
‘Maybe we could have but it’s too late now. You know too much.’
He bent down and picked up the stiletto blade, the hunting knife and the rib cutters, carefully placing them on top of a nearby stone, within easy reach.
Lurching forward suddenly, he grabbed her hands, yanking her off the gravestone and forcing her to her knees.
She heard a shout and turned to see Ben running towards them.
‘Leave her alone.’
‘Who are you?’ Roberts’ voice was icy and stopped Ben in his tracks. Quickly he reached across and picked up the hunting knife, pressing it to her throat. Charlie held her breath. Ben’s voice wavered as he looked towards her, his eyes wide with panic.
‘I’m her friend,’ he said.
*
He knew it. He had almost believed her. She had nearly persuaded him. But she had lied. He had seen it in the way this man looked towards her at her office, like a bridegroom setting eyes on his bride for the first time as she walked down the aisle. He’d watched that expression so many times before. He knew what the man was about to say, before he even heard the words. He wasn’t her brother; he wasn’t even her friend, he was her boyfriend.
Glancing up from where she knelt, he saw the writing on the stone.
JAMIE STAFFORD, AGED TEN YEARS, TAKEN TOO EARLY.
So the grave couldn’t have been her husband’s.
His anger surged out of control. She was just the same as the others. A lying scheming bitch who took his words, his trust, everything he’d offered, and cast it aside. How could he even have started to believe that he loved her, that she might have loved him? He saw a woman step into the clearing behind the man.
‘Please let her go,’ the woman said. She looked older, her eyes filled with fear, her voice trembling as she spoke but he didn’t care.
The man took a step forward but then froze, paralysed, his hands held out as if pleading with him to stop. But he wouldn’t stop; he couldn’t stop.
‘You come one step closer and she dies.’
The policewoman was kneeling at his feet and he had to teach her a lesson. He had to have his way.
‘Show me your hands now,’ he shouted, pulling the knife closer to her neck, nicking the skin as he did so, feeling her wince. She did as instructed, lifting her hands up, still bound together. One false movement and he would kill her. He grabbed her left hand, pulling her fingers out so they were straight.
He saw the man’s look of horror as he reached across, swapping the knife for the rib cutters. He aimed them at her hand, screaming at the man as he did so. ‘You’ll never put a ring on this finger!’
And then all hell let loose.
*
Hunter was appalled as he saw Charlie’s finger flying off into the grass. He heard her cry and saw Ben launch himself towards her, pushing her flat on her face out of Roberts’ grasp.
Roberts reared up, silhouetted against the light, grabbing the hunting knife again.
He heard the roar of warning from right beside him and then the shots; two in quick succession sending Daniel Roberts slamming into a tree behind and the knife spinning off out of his grasp.
The armed officer rushed forward still pointing the gun at Roberts but he wasn’t going anywhere. Hunter was right behind him. Another officer ran up and patted Roberts down but he had no other weapons. His eyes were still open, wildly scanning the scene. Hunter could see the rise and fall of his chest. Roberts was still breathing but he was no further threat.
Charlie was sitting up now, propped against Jamie’s gravestone, her face white with shock, blood pumping from her left hand. Meg was already with her, lifting her arm and tearing her shirt to wrap around her daughter’s hand. Her face too was pale with alarm, but her medical training was kicking in and she was taking control of the injuries, dispatching Ben to find the severed finger. It was a cold night and it looked to have been a clean cut; hopefully it could be re attached if they could get her to a hospital quickly.
The screech of ambulance sirens were loud as several sped down the lane into the car park. The beams of torches lit up the whole bloody spectacle, as the paramedics ran across and took over from the armed officers who were keeping Roberts alive.
Hunter made sure Charlie was taken first. She was his priority. She refused to be carried, walking with Ben and Meg on either side. Her finger was transported, carefully wrapped with a sterile dressing, in ice by Paul. He was her closest
friend in the office, so he would be accompanying them all in the ambulance. If anyone could put a smile back on her face it was Paul.
A cannula had already been inserted in the back of her right hand and the pain killers were starting to take effect. Some colour was creeping back into her cheeks and she was brightening up.
Hunter waited for her to settle.
‘You OK?’ The words sounded pathetic. He wanted to say so much more. He wanted to say how sorry he was for sending her in to deal with Vincent Atkins on her own. He wanted to say sorry for not realising who their killer was, and for getting to the churchyard too late for her, but he was never any good with words.
She grinned back at him, her expression returning to the one she usually wore. ‘I’ll be fine, guv. In a few hours’ time the surgeons will have my finger sewn back on and it’ll be back fully functioning, as will I, though it might take a little while longer to get my mouth back in full working order. For once it couldn’t save me. I had to rely on Jamie sending me some guardian angels.’
Charlie smiled again and waved her bandaged hand, as the paramedic shut the door, taking them all to the hospital.
Hunter swallowed hard at the knot of guilt that was rising up in his throat, threatening to choke him. He felt as far removed from being a guardian angel as it was possible to be.
Chapter 41
It was almost midday by the time Charlie woke. She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids were still heavy, stuck to her cheeks like glue. She saw the shadow of a hand move across her eye line and a beautifully scented cloth was wiped gently around her face.
‘This is like déjà vu,’ she recognised her mother’s voice through the haze. ‘You need to stop getting yourself into trouble. My heart won’t cope if it happens again.’
‘Thankfully you still have yours, Charlie. I wondered at one stage whether you were going to lose that, as well as your finger.’
She blinked her eyes open at the sound of Ben’s voice. It was all coming back to her in a rush. Her hand was covered in bandages, brilliant white and sterile, like her surroundings. It lay by the side of her on the bed, as if it wasn’t part of her body, a large unwieldy attachment that was connected but not working as it should.
‘It has to stay in bandages for today while it’s still swollen and freshly stitched but they’ll want you moving it as soon as you’re able. Oh, and before you start thinking you can go into training for the Paralympics, you can’t. The surgeon who stitched it back on thinks you’ll make a full recovery within a few months.’
‘So you’ll be back making tea for us all before you know it.’
The door had swung open on its hinges and a large bunch of flowers was thrust around the frame, closely followed by Hunter, Bet, Paul, Naz and Sabira clutching an equally large box of chocolates.
‘Mrs H would have been here too, but I told her she had to stay at home and have my dinner ready.’ Hunter winked and laughed. Gone were the ruddy cheeks and bulging vein on his forehead.
‘You’ve cheered up a bit since we last saw you. There’s nothing like a bit of good news to chase away the blues.’ Meg shook her head at Hunter. ‘If I didn’t know you better I’d think you were telling the truth there.’
‘He was.’ They all answered in unison and laughed, prompting a nurse to pop her head round the door and scold them, which only served to make them laugh more.
The pressure of the last few days was over, like the steam from a boiling cauldron being gradually released, so the jokes flowed in true coppers’ style.
‘She’s pointing the finger at you, boss.’ Paul was the first. They all groaned.
‘Get your sticky fingers off those chocolates,’ Naz joined in, directing her comment at Sabira who was already opening the box she’d just brought in.
Bet shook her head and bustled over to Charlie, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. ‘I’m glad it worked this time.’
‘What?’ Hunter looked quizzical.
‘Having our fingers crossed.’ She burst out laughing, her cheeks burning red. Comedy wasn’t her greatest talent but in the present atmosphere everybody was laughing at everything.
‘Oi, that’s my phrase,’ Charlie grinned at her favourite agony aunt.
‘Ooh, Bet, you’ve just hit the “finger” nail on the head.’ Sabira squawked with laughter at her own pun, passing the chocolates round to everyone.
The room quietened as they all popped their chosen flavour in their mouths. Charlie looked round from her hospital bed at each of her colleagues, stood shoulder to shoulder with Ben and Meg. They were all good friends and they’d had a lucky escape... again. This time even Ben and Meg had played their part.
‘So, anyway Charlie, you’ll be pleased to know it’ll be down to me to deal with the Independent Police Complaints Commission investigation when it happens. They might want to discuss our tactics and decisions.’ Hunter raised his eyebrows at her with a grin, before suddenly becoming serious. ‘But really, we’re just glad you’re going to be OK and we thought we’d fill you in with what’s been happening while you’ve been in here.’
‘Skiving.’ Paul couldn’t resist.
‘Well I was going to say that, but we all know that couldn’t be further from the truth. If Charlie hadn’t sweet-talked Caz, and you girls hadn’t taken your lives in your hands to catch Miller, we would never have found Feliks Makary. And if we hadn’t found him, Charlie here wouldn’t have spotted that note with the registration numbers on it, or the mysterious initials FM. Charlie, how did you work out who FM was? I presume you were interrupted when you wrote “F.M. is D” and you were going to write Daniel Roberts?’
Charlie frowned. ‘Well, I knew Father Antonio was hiding something when I spoke to him about Tanisha. So I phoned Joan Whitmore and she told me about Tash making allegations against Father Antonio and a Father Michal, who was there before him. To be honest I was more suspicious of Father Antonio and was going to speak to you about him. We hadn’t caught up with Makary and seen the note at that stage, so I didn’t say anything to you about Father Michal because I thought he’d left the country and it was irrelevant.’
‘Well that makes all of us then that have missed something or seen something important and kept it to ourselves. Can we make a point of passing on everything we see, or don’t see, next time round? Even if we think it’s irrelevant!’ Hunter winked at Naz and Sabira. ‘Go on.’
‘I didn’t know what Father Michal looked like but then Roberts made a strange comment in Atkins’ office, saying he wasn’t who we thought he was. He took his glasses off and pulled his hair back out of his face and I remembered a photo in the church of a clean-cut priest kneeling before the Pope. I suddenly realised it must be Father Michal and he and Daniel Roberts were one and the same person, but he looked so different. I would never have guessed how much hair and glasses could alter someone’s appearance. I didn’t have time to write Father Michal’s full name down and I thought it wouldn’t make sense anyway as none of us were really aware of him. ‘And I knew Feliks Makary held the key, so I took a gamble on you getting it out of him and just scribbled FM down. Thankfully you worked it out.’
‘With a little persuasion.’ Hunter coughed. Charlie grinned and continued.
‘Poor Vincent Atkins was just a distraction but one that Roberts could frame. How is he?’
Sabira took over. ‘I went to visit him earlier at Mayday Hospital. He’s going to make a full recovery. Well at least physically. He said Roberts phoned and told him Molly was at the school and wanted to talk to him, but when he arrived, Roberts said that she didn’t want to know him anymore because of his affair with Susan. He didn’t want to live without his wife so he just did everything Roberts told him. He was happy to die. Roberts wrote the note for him and left the drugs to try and frame him.’
‘Do you think Molly will take him back?’ Charlie remembered his voice down the phone, so despairing and desperate.
‘Who knows? He’s a broken man now. I doubt he’ll e
ver hold down a job, never mind repair a marriage.’
‘What about the others? We were sure Mickey Barton was in the frame. He ticked every box. You had him over a barrel in his interview.’ Charlie turned towards Hunter but Paul took over.
‘Emma phoned this morning. She wanted to speak to you, Charlie. I said you weren’t around but I would pass a message on. She told me that her dad had turned up on their doorstep last night, probably when he was bailed out. She wouldn’t talk to him at first but then he’d started to cry. Emma was crying too as she spoke. ‘She said that Mickey had confessed that he had taken the engagement ring from her mum. He’d been letting himself in and out of the house, stalking her. He couldn’t bear the fact that he’d lost her. He still loved her and had taken the ring a couple of days before she died because it was sentimental to him and made him feel close to her. When he realised that the police thought Susan had been wearing the ring when she was killed, he panicked and tried to hide it.’ Paul shook his head. ‘Well, he did hide it. He was just unlucky that the search team found it. He told Emma that he was going to give it to her when everything settled down but he couldn’t just yet, because we have it.’
‘He’s a silly man. He shouldn’t have tried to conceal the truth from us but he’ll get the ring back.’ Hunter leant against the wall.
‘He won’t get his life back though,’ Charlie propped herself up on her pillow, wincing as she moved her arm. So much had happened in the last few hours. ‘But then perhaps it had been slipping away for a long time. Presumably Emma and Mickey Junior will forgive their father, he’s all they’ve got left. Though I doubt whether he’d ever have been able to patch things up with Susan; they seemed a bit of a mismatched couple anyway.’
