Time Is Running Out

by Michael Wood

  She turned her head to look behind her. A body had fallen on top of her as it had been hit, trapping her.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she cried. She struggled under the dead weight to get free. As she pushed it off her, the body rolled over, and she saw it was that of her boss, ACC Valerie Masterson, looking at her with dead eyes.

  ‘Valerie?’ Sian reached out. Her hands were covered in blood. She held her by the shoulders and began shaking her. ‘Valerie? No. No. Valerie, come on.’

  Christian grabbed Sian and pulled her up. ‘Sian, come on. We have to get inside.’

  ‘That was Valerie. They shot Valerie. Did you see her?’ She screamed hysterically.

  ‘Just move.’

  They ran for the building as another bullet flew past them, shattering a window.

  Finn was at the door to the station. He held it open and practically pulled Christian and Sian inside.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Sian could barely talk through the tears. Her whole body was shaking.

  ‘Are you all right? Are you hit?’ Finn asked.

  ‘No. I’m fine.’ She looked down and saw all the blood on her clothing. ‘It’s not mine.’

  Once inside the building, they stood back from the window and looked out at the car park. Bodies were strewn about where they’d fallen.

  Sian looked around her. She took in Finn’s wide-eyed disbelief, Scott’s look of horror and Christian’s blood-spattered face.

  ‘Where’s Rory? Where’s Matilda?’ she asked, panicked. She turned and looked out of the window. ‘Oh my God, Rory’s still out there,’ she said as tears fell down her face. She placed a bloody hand on the glass and banged on it hard, shouting Rory’s name.

  ‘Sian, get back.’

  A bullet shattered the window. Everyone screamed. Christian grabbed Sian and pulled her to the floor as they were all hit with shards of broken glass.

  ‘Is everyone all right?’ Christian called out.

  Outside, Rory was cradling the dead body of the woman he planned to marry. He was rocking back and forward, crying loudly.

  ‘I’m going back out there,’ Scott said, standing up.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Christian said. ‘You could get yourself killed.’

  ‘Look how many we’ve lost. I’m not losing Rory.’

  ‘Scott, don’t!’

  He ignored his superior officer’s advice, opened the door and stepped out into the dull-grey morning.

  The shooting seemed to have stopped. A heavy silence descended. Those who were able to had made their way back into the building. Scott looked down at the dead; bodies strewn about the car park and rivers of blood flowing. He looked back at the building, saw the broken windows, bullet holes in doors, blood splashed against the brickwork.

  In the quiet, Rory could be heard talking to Natasha.

  ‘You’re going to be all right. The ambulance will be here any minute.’ He was stroking her blood-matted hair. ‘They’ll make you better. You’ll be all right. I know it.’ Tears were streaming down his face.

  He saw the ACC and Ranjeet and others he recognised but didn’t know the names of. He was headed for Rory when he saw Matilda Darke standing still, looking up.

  ‘Ma’am,’ he said quietly. ‘Ma’am, are you all right?’

  ‘It’s him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know him.’

  ‘Know who?’ Scott followed his boss’s gaze and looked up at the gunman on a building high up behind the station. ‘Shit. Ma’am, we need to get back inside.’

  ‘What’s the point in surviving when everyone around you is dead,’ she said calmly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what he said to me.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  Matilda didn’t break eye contact with the gunman. She didn’t move despite Scott telling her to get back inside for her own safety.

  The gunman squeezed the trigger. The first bullet hit Matilda Darke in the left shoulder. She staggered backwards. Scott ducked out of the way. Another shot rang out, and the second bullet took off the back of Matilda’s head.

  Chapter Three

  09:00 – Stannington Secondary School

  At Stannington Secondary School on Greaves Lane, the day was just beginning. The teenagers were filing into the building with their usual strolling gait, while the teachers were downing their coffees and preparing their lessons.

  Chris Kean was tall and athletically built. He was handsome and many of the female students had a crush on him. They were barking up the wrong tree. He was in a committed relationship with Detective Constable Scott Andrews and living in a beautifully created two-bedroom apartment above the garage belonging to DCI Matilda Darke.

  He entered the staffroom already looking harassed, and the day hadn’t even properly begun.

  ‘Graham isn’t coming in again,’ he said, slumping on the seat next to his colleague and good friend Ruth.

  ‘Why not?’ she replied

  ‘Apparently he’s still not up to it. What’s that even supposed to mean? I often wake up not feeling “up to it”, but I still come in.’

  ‘I’m guessing you’re covering his classes today?’

  ‘Yes. I was supposed to have two free periods today to get started on those mock exams. Bloody man. Why doesn’t he just retire?’

  ‘Graham Pinkerton is one of the most dedicated and professional teachers I have ever worked with,’ Pauline Butters, the head of geography, chimed in. ‘I will not hear a word said against him. You’d do well to take a leaf out of his book, Mr Kean. You’ve not been here five minutes – don’t make any enemies.’ She gave him a lingering glare before marching out of the room.

  ‘That told me.’

  ‘She’s probably going to fill up the inkwells,’ Ruth said with a smirk.

  ‘They’re dinosaurs, both of them,’ Chris said. He took a deep breath. ‘So, how are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. Why?’

  ‘No reason,’ he said with a hint of a smile.

  ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re wanting to ask me something?’

  ‘I was just wondering why you didn’t return my calls last night.’

  She turned to look at him with a steely glare. ‘I had an early night.’

  ‘Oh yes. Who with?’

  She tried to hide her smirk, but it was difficult when Chris was in full teasing mode. ‘I’m really sorry to disappoint you, Chris, but last night, I was alone. I had a headache, so turned my phone off and went to bed.’

  ‘Oh,’ his smile dropped. ‘So, you didn’t see Ryan then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Will you be seeing Ryan again any time soon?’

  ‘What’s the fixation you have with wanting me and Ryan to hook up?’

  ‘It’s not a fixation. I just want you to be happy.’

  ‘Chris, I hate to break it to you, but a woman can be perfectly happy without having a man in her life.’

  ‘A woman’s happiness is predicated on not having a man in her life,’ Julia Simms said as she passed them with a mug of strong coffee in one hand and a bacon sandwich in the other.

  ‘See,’ Ruth said.

  ‘She’s still bitter about her divorce. Don’t listen to her. Not all men have secret other families—’

  ‘Do I look all right?’ Fiona Mayhew interrupted, turning from the mirror she’d been glaring into for the past ten minutes.

  ‘You look lovely, why?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘My bloody hair’s growing back in clumps. It’s thick at the back and thin on top. I don’t really want to go back to wearing a wig,’ she said. There was a sad expression on her face. She’d only been back at work for two months following an intense course of chemotherapy to burn away the cancer in her stomach. She had lost weight and her hair, which gave her serious confidence issues, especially when faced with spiteful teenagers on a daily basis.

  ‘I think you’re gorgeous,’ Ruth said. ‘You’ve got colour in your cheeks and give it another two weeks and your
hair will be thick and lush all over. You should definitely keep it short though – it shows off your cheekbones.’

  ‘Do you think?’ she asked with a rueful smile.

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Chris?’ Fiona sought a man’s opinion.

  ‘I’ve always thought you were a very beautiful woman. And you still are,’ he said with earnest.

  ‘Ah, Chris, that’s really sweet,’ Fiona said, blushing.

  ‘Why are you never that considerate with me?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘At the school Christmas party you said I looked like a glittery hooker.’

  ‘No offence, Ruth, but you did,’ Fiona said. She picked up her bag from the table. ‘Must dash. Thanks for what you said, Chris.’

  ‘I could go off her,’ Ruth said playfully.

  ‘Now, back to what we were talking about.’ Chris grinned. ‘You and Ryan—’

  ‘Look, Chris,’ she interrupted. ‘Ryan is a lovely bloke. I like him a lot, but the last thing I need right now is another relationship. We’ve met a few times, we’ve had a few drinks, let’s just leave it at that, shall we?’

  ‘If you say so,’ Chris said, sitting back and folding his arms.

  ‘I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have algebra to teach to some kids who don’t want to learn it and will never use it a day in their adult life.’ She stood up and smiled and began to walk to the door, but turned back and leaned over Chris’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. ‘I’ll tell you one thing; Ryan is a bloody animal in bed.’ She kissed him on the cheek and headed back for the door.

  Chris turned around, a huge grin on his face as Ruth turned back, winked, and left the room.

  ‘I knew it,’ he said to himself.

  ‘Mr Kean, your class of year nines are waiting for you,’ Pauline Butters called from the doorway.

  ‘Thank you very much, Graham,’ he said under his breath.

  As he left the room, Chris took out his phone and sent a text to Scott:

  Graham hasn’t come in again. I’ll be late home. Love you, xx.

  Chief Constable Martin Featherstone didn’t have any appointments until ten-thirty, so had decided to have a lie-in and a leisurely breakfast. After, he took his time in the shower and was wearing only his underwear and socks and was sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning up his white shirt, when his wife, Roisin, walked unsteadily into their bedroom. She stood in the doorway, leaning on her walking stick and slightly out of breath. When she saw her husband, she smiled.

  ‘Is it wrong that I find you sexy dressed like that?’ she asked, looking at him with her head tilted to one side.

  ‘Not at all.’ He smiled. ‘I find you sexy when you’re dressed in your paint-splattered decorating clothes.’

  ‘You’ve never said before.’

  ‘I thought you might think I had some kind of weird fetish.’

  ‘My fetish is for men in white boxers and black socks showing off their sexy hairy legs,’ she said as she sidled up to him and rubbed his thighs. She leaned down and kissed him passionately on the lips.

  ‘I hope you’re going to be like this when we’re in the Lake District in exactly thirteen days’ time.’ He grinned.

  ‘Will you be bringing your black socks?’ she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

  ‘Kinky.’ He smiled.

  They both laughed.

  Martin stood up and reached for his trousers. He was fifty-one years old but looked younger. He had a full head of dark brown hair, a hint of grey on the sideburns, and no signs of any wrinkles, just a few lines around his eyes when he smiled. He was handsome and cut a fine figure as he stood in his uniform at six foot three.

  Born and bred in Taunton in Devon, he’d lived in Sheffield for the past twenty years yet still couldn’t shake the West Country accent. He’d been chief constable of South Yorkshire Police for the last five years and enjoyed being in charge of such a huge force.

  ‘What are your plans for the day?’ he asked his wife as he looked into the floor-length mirror and tied his tie.

  ‘Lunch with Diane at one, hospital for more physio this afternoon. That’s about it,’ she said forlornly.

  ‘Are you ok?’ He looked through the mirror at Roisin’s reflection. She was sitting on the bed, her head down.

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m tired of being in so much pain. I’m so bloody bored. I want to go back to work, and I hate having to carry this sodding stick around with me wherever I go.’

  Nine months ago, Roisin had been walking back to her car following an intense swimming session at Pond’s Forge when she was jumped by a masked man and mugged. Thinking back, if she’d allowed him to steal her bag, she would have got away with a few grazes and bruises from hitting the ground, but she hadn’t. She fought back and held on to her bag as if it contained her life’s savings. The mugger punched her in the face. She fell to the floor but still gripped her bag by the handles. Her attacker kicked her several times in the stomach before taking to stamping on her leg. She screamed as she heard the bones breaking. Even when she relinquished the hold on her bag, the attack continued.

  Roisin was in hospital for six weeks while the bones in her leg had to be reset and her knee reconstructed. She had to learn to walk all over again. Recovery was slow and frustrating, and as a trained physiotherapist herself, she made a terrible patient.

  ‘I thought Diane said you could go back into work on a part-time basis and do some paperwork.’

  ‘She did. That’s what this lunch is all about. It’s just… Paperwork, really? Can you see me sitting behind a desk, filling out sodding forms and making appointments?’

  ‘It’ll get you out of the house.’

  Martin’s mobile started ringing.

  ‘I suppose it’ll keep my brain ticking over – I’m sure it’s disintegrating,’ she said with a hint of a smile. ‘I’ve started enjoying Homes Under the Hammer, for crying out loud.’

  ‘Featherstone,’ Martin said, answering his phone. He listened and his eyes widened in shock. His face paled and his mouth opened. ‘I’ll … I’ll be right there,’ he muttered before ending the call.

  ‘What is it?’ Roisin said, sitting up.

  ‘There’s been a shooting at HQ.’

  ‘A shooting? Oh my God. Is everyone all right?’

  ‘Valerie’s been killed.’

  ‘Oh no,’ she said, slapping a hand against her chest.

  ‘I need to go.’

  Roisin struggled to get up from the bed and limped over to her husband. She held him by the arms and looked up into his eyes. ‘Promise me you’ll not do anything silly? I want you back here alive tonight. Promise me, Martin.’ Her voice was shaking and full of urgency.

  He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I promise.’

  He left the bedroom without turning back.

  Roisin sat back down on the bed and started to cry.

  Chapter Four

  A paramedic on a motorbike was on the scene within four minutes of the 999 call being made. Matilda had lost a great deal of blood, and as much as Scott tried to put his first-aid training into action, Matilda was flailing her arms around to get him off her. Shock had set in. The paramedic calmly took charge. He turned her onto her side, intubated her and stabilised her breathing as he barked orders to Scott to apply pressure on the open wound at the back of her head. Once Matilda was calm, he stepped in and Scott was able to stand back.

  He looked down at his stricken boss. He could see her skull. He looked her up and down. Her clothes were covered in blood. There was so much of it.

  ‘Is she…?’ he asked quietly.

  The paramedic didn’t hear him. An ambulance crew ran into the car park and dropped to the floor to help their colleague. They spoke in a medical language Scott had no understanding of. It could have been Klingon for all he knew.

  ‘Scott.’ He turned as the mention of his name and the slightest pressure on his arm. ‘Scott, come on, let’s get you insi
de,’ Sian said.

  He looked at her with wide-eyed bewilderment. ‘She was shot.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Her head. It just…’

  ‘I know, Scott. Come on, let’s get out of the way.’

  ‘I…’ He turned to look at the building looming high over the car park where the gunman had shot from. There was nobody there.

  He turned back and saw Matilda being carefully placed on a trolley and wheeled away towards an ambulance. Where she’d lain, a massive pool of blood trickled along the cracks of the tarmac. He waited until the ambulance doors were closed before he started to move away. He wondered if it would be the last time he’d see his boss and landlady.

  DI Christian Brady was in his office with the door closed. He’d been in the changing room and washed the blood off his face and put on a new shirt. With shaking fingers, he’d done up the buttons and ploughed towards his office with his head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. The first thing he did was call his wife. His voice was shaking as he told her of the horror of what had just happened, and she’d burst into floods of tears, demanding he come home. If only he had that option. She made him promise to stay safe and keep in touch.

  He’d had a brief chat with the Chief Constable, who’d put him in charge until he could get there. The Armed Response Unit had been dispatched, and the hunt was on for the gunman. Out of the window, he could see members of the HMET looking sombre and forlorn. Matilda would have known what to do in a situation like this to rally the troops. He shook his head. He couldn’t believe what he’d witnessed out there in the car park. Matilda had just stood there, frozen in fear. That wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t make an attempt to run for safety. Why? Was she putting herself in harm’s way to save her team?

  He closed his eyes tight and saw again the image of her being hit in the head by the bullet. She dropped to the ground like a stone and didn’t move. Scott selflessly threw himself towards her and tried to stem the flow of blood, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do. She was unconscious and unresponsive when she was put into the back of the ambulance and driven away at speed. He wondered what was happening to her now. Oh God, he hoped she was all right.