Chase Down (A Detective Ryan Chase Thriller Book 2)

by M K Farrar

  She walked out onto the landing and drew up short. Something was off. She was sure the stack of boxes that contained the packing she’d done so far had moved about a foot to the left. Had they been like that when Reese had woken them during the night? She couldn’t remember. She’d been more focused on her daughter than worried about the boxes.

  Her husband exited the bathroom in a billow of steam, a small towel wrapped around his waist. She tried not to wince. It really was far too early in the morning to see quite so much of his growingly rounded body.

  “Andy, did you move those boxes?” she asked.

  “No, why would I want to move your boxes?”

  Helen wanted to protest that they weren’t exactly her boxes, since they contained stuff that belonged to all of them, but she didn’t.

  “I’m sure they’ve moved. Not far, but just a bit to the side.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just imagining things. Maybe you moved them and forgot. I mean, it’s not like they’ve been moved far. Perhaps one of us just bumped up against them and they slid across the carpet.”

  Maybe she had been imagining things. Or she’d moved them herself, though she couldn’t think why she’d have done that. “No, they’re too heavy to have moved by someone bumping them.”

  It was such a little thing, it seemed stupid to get hung up on the position of a few boxes, yet it had left her uneasy.

  “Maybe one of the kids dropped something behind them,” he suggested, “and had to move them to get it.”

  “Do you really think they would have done that without complaining about it to us first? And like I said, they’re heavy. I’m not sure they could have done it on their own.”

  “There’s only one way to find out for sure. Let’s ask them.”

  “They’re both still asleep. They’re not going to give us a straight answer.”

  “Well, maybe you need to wake them up then. Shouldn’t they be getting ready for school by now? Which reminds me, I need to get into work, or I’m going to be late.” He took a couple of steps and paused again. “And don’t forget that I’m staying in Exeter tonight. I’ve got that big meeting.”

  “Right. I remember.”

  He brushed past her, leaving her to deal with the kids, and she tried not to focus on the spike of resentment that went through her. Andy would be dressed and out of the house within fifteen minutes, while she’d be left battling with Reese and Tyler, all while trying to get herself ready and to work on time as well. At least there weren’t any viewings arranged for today. If she had to worry about how tidy the house was before they all left on top of everything else, she thought she’d lose her mind. Of course, that there weren’t any viewings didn’t speak well for their chances of selling.

  Helen decided to tackle her son first and went into his room. She opened the curtains—not fully, but enough to let in some light. “Come on, kiddo. Time to wake up. You’ve got school to go to.”

  Tyler groaned and pulled the covers over his head to block out the light.

  Helen tugged them back down again. “Come on. Up you get.”

  “Five more minutes.”

  She hardened her tone. “No, now.”

  Helen left her son’s room and went to her daughter’s, bracing herself. Reese had a sharp tongue that she used to lash out without thinking about who she hurt or the consequences. Sometimes Helen felt as though she was in a constant battle with her daughter, and it was exhausting.

  But when she opened Reese’s door, she was surprised to discover her daughter already sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, applying mascara to eyelashes that didn’t really need it.

  “Oh, you’re up already.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I might as well do something useful.” She plugged the wand of the mascara back into the tube. “What were you and Dad talking about with the boxes?”

  Beneath the makeup, dark shadows under Reese’s eyes told of her sleepless night.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Helen said, not wanting to worry Reese further.

  “I heard you ask him if he’d moved them.”

  “If you heard me, why ask what you already know?” Helen said, exasperated.

  “Do you think the man I saw last night might have done it?”

  Helen blinked in surprise. “What? No, of course not. There was no man. Your dad checked, remember?”

  Reese bit her lower lip. “Yeah, I remember.”

  Helen lowered herself on the edge of the bed next to her daughter. Where Reese was normally all brittle barbs, there was something more vulnerable about her today. The whole incident must have really shaken her up.

  “Honey, this house is safe. It’s all locked up at night. No one was in here.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  Helen didn’t know how to convince her daughter that everything was fine, but she really didn’t have time to sit around debating it. She didn’t even think Tyler had got out of bed yet.

  From downstairs, Andy called up. “I’m off now. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye,” she shouted back, but her soul felt heavier. She was on her own now until at least Friday night. It wasn’t even seven a.m., and she was already exhausted.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You look shattered,” Mallory said, sliding a large coffee from one of the local cafés onto Ryan’s desk.

  “Thanks, I am.” The knot that had appeared in his stomach ever since getting the news about Cole Fielding still hadn’t abated. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “How come?”

  He didn’t want to admit the truth. “Neighbours kept me up.” It was kind of what had happened, after all.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t your neighbour eighty?”

  “She knows how to party.”

  Mallory laughed. “Good for her.”

  Ryan couldn’t bring himself to tell her about Cole Fielding. Besides, without her knowing the real reason behind his fear about Cole waking up, she wouldn’t understand his reaction anyway. He was sure she’d be sympathetic—after all, the man had killed Ryan’s daughter—but taking her sympathy would have felt like a lie. Like it was something he didn’t deserve.

  His thoughts had been with Cole Fielding far more than they should have been. He hadn’t heard anything more from the detective who had worked the case, and he hadn’t wanted to get in touch for fear of appearing guilty. He told himself that if Cole was talking and he was guilty of anything, he would have heard about it by now. So, did that mean Cole wasn’t talking? Or did it mean Ryan was innocent?

  The two possibilities battled in his mind, forcing out other thoughts. His OCD was raging, too, and he had to keep his hands in fists at his sides to prevent himself straightening up Mallory’s desk, which looked as though a teenager had been working at it. How she could focus under such conditions was beyond his comprehension, but some people thrived in chaos, and he’d worked with her long enough to know if he asked for something, she’d be able to put her hand on it in an instant.

  He felt as though if he knew if Cole Fielding was talking then it would put his mind at rest. He could either prepare himself for the truth coming out, one way or another, or he could stop worrying about it.

  Cole Fielding had been in the Bristol Royal Infirmary since his ‘accident’. It angered Ryan that the NHS was having to fund the bill for that son of a bitch’s care, but then the public would also have been funding his prison stay if Cole had got the length of prison sentence he should have had. The other option would have been for Cole to have gone on to live a normal life, and just the thought filled Ryan with fury. That man had taken Hayley’s life and hadn’t even seemed sorry about what he’d done and the lives he’d destroyed. Ryan was sure Cole would never have been someone who would turn his life around. He’d have probably hurt someone else and ended up back behind bars.

  “Have we got anything else from the loft yet?” she asked.

  “The fork is still being processed.
SOCO found fingerprints, too, but whether they belong to the killer, or just to the family or even builders, we’re yet to find out.”

  “It could be a big breakthrough if we can get a match. Your instincts on someone already being in the house were right.”

  He nodded slowly. “Looks that way. What concerns me is where is the killer now? I still feel as though he—or she—was someone who already knew the house and the family’s routines well, which most likely means it’s someone known to them. I just wish I could pin down who.”

  DC Craig Penn approached his desk, and Ryan was glad to have the distraction.

  “Boss, I’ve been working on this practically all night, and I’ve tracked down several white Ford Transits that were caught on camera in the area after the time the house alarm was reset.”

  Ryan sat up straight. He hoped this was going to give them a real lead.

  “Good work. Have you narrowed any of them down?”

  “Not yet, I’m still working on it. Three of them are registered to businesses, so I’m going to need to find out exactly who was driving them at that time. If they can prove they were in a different area or have an alibi during the time of the murders, so before three thirty a.m., then we can strike them off the list.”

  “Excellent.”

  “One of the vans is registered to an individual,” Craig continued, “so I’m trying to track him down. No luck yet.”

  “Keep me updated, and pull in another detective to help, if you need it.”

  He hoped this was going to lead to something. A part of him was still kicking himself that he hadn’t taken Liz Wyndham’s earlier police report more seriously, while the other part niggled that he could be wrong, and Liz Wyndham had just been paranoid. The white van might have had nothing to do with the killer. Even so, this was a lead he’d be an idiot not to follow. It wasn’t as though they were drowning in them.

  He called that morning’s briefing to fill everyone in on the developments from the previous day, and made sure Craig had additional help finding the drivers of the Transit vans. He put Mallory on to chasing up forensics about the DNA or prints that might have been found on the fork, and then slipped out of the office.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ryan stood in the entrance of the hospital. People walked past him in both directions, some carrying flowers and balloons, others with their heads down or side by side with their arms around each other’s shoulders. A couple of people sat in wheelchairs, and hospital porters wheeled patients past on gurneys.

  Maybe he shouldn’t do this. He could turn around right now and walk out, but his feet felt glued to the floor.

  Was Cole likely to have anyone with him? Any family who cared? There hadn’t been anyone with him in the courtroom—or at least no one who’d owned up to being related to the man who’d killed an innocent little girl and then called the family of that same girl wankers for fighting to make sure he paid for what he did. Maybe he had someone out there who still loved him, but Ryan saw things in more black and white than that. Someone who’d do such a thing wasn’t deserving of love.

  Ryan considered lying about who he was to gain access. He could say he was Cole’s uncle who happened to be in the city and wanted to drop in on his sick nephew. Maybe it would backfire on him if the nurse told someone he’d been in to visit Cole. Would the nurses even recognise his name as being the father of the girl Cole had killed? Did they know what Cole had done? Did it matter to them, or did they treat him just like any other patient?

  First, he had to get to the ward Cole was on, and then he’d take things from there.

  With his heart thumping, and dizzy with adrenaline, he made his way through the hospital. He paused outside the double doors for the correct ward, sucked in a deep breath and blew it out again, and then pushed his way through. He didn’t normally feel this way when visiting either suspects or victims, but this was different. This was personal.

  Two nurses manned the reception desk. One was sitting at a computer while the other stood, flicking through paperwork of some kind. As he approached the desk, the nurse who was sitting glanced up. She was in her twenties, with dyed red hair tied back in a retro style with a headband, and she flashed him a smile.

  “Hi there,” she said. “You look a little lost.”

  “Do I?” His nervousness must have shown on his face. That wasn’t good. “I think I’m in the right place.” He flashed his ID, hoping it wasn’t for long enough to allow her to get a good view of his name. “I heard Cole Fielding is awake. I wanted to have a word with him, if he’s up for it.”

  Cole had been released from prison some time ago after serving his ridiculously short sentence for killing Hayley and he wondered how much the nurses knew of his past.

  He hadn’t told her why, hoping she’d make her own assumptions about that. If he said as little as possible, at least no one would be able to accuse him of lying.

  She frowned. “He’s awake, but he’s not exactly in a condition to talk to you. He’s managing some blinking in response to questions, but that’s all.”

  Ryan’s stomach knotted. He was blinking answers. Would that be enough to get the truth?

  He tried not to let his feelings show on his face. “Anything might help at this point.”

  “It’s impossible to know if he remembers anything that’s happened to him.”

  So, she had assumed he was there to investigate the reason why Cole Fielding had ended up in a hospital bed for months on end.

  “Is it likely that he’ll get any better?” he asked.

  “Honestly, we’re all surprised he’s made the improvements that he has. He’s clearly a fighter, so anything is possible.”

  Anger roiled inside him at hearing the nurse speak of the man who killed Hayley as a ‘fighter’, and he forced himself to tamp it down.

  Ryan kept his voice level. “Maybe finding out what happened to him will help.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I thought he tried to kill himself.”

  “Yes, well, that’s what we’re assuming, but the investigation is ongoing, and of course, him being awake now changes things. He might be able to tell us differently.”

  She glanced around as though checking who was near and then hunched over a little and spoke in a low voice. “Okay, but don’t stay too long. Ten minutes at the most, and if he starts getting distressed then you know it’s time to leave.”

  “Of course.”

  That she didn’t want Cole to be ‘distressed’ made him want to growl with fury. Distressed was the absolute least he deserved. Cole Fielding deserved to suffer, and yes, perhaps people would argue that he had, but even if he stayed like he was now—trapped inside his body with little way of communicating with the outside world—it still wouldn’t feel like enough to Ryan. The sound of his mocking laughter in the courtroom would forever play in a loop in Ryan’s head. Cole didn’t deserve to have a life of any kind.

  Ryan would always have said he was against the death penalty—and he’d even argue that he still was—but it was different when things were personal. Having to exist in a world with Cole Fielding still in it and Hayley wasn’t, was the hardest thing to comprehend.

  He ducked his head in a nod and made his way to the part of the ward containing the hospital beds and their patients.

  God, what a depressing place to work. All these bodies lying in bed, mostly unresponsive. How could the doctors, and especially the nurses, stand to be around this all day, every day? How much could they even help their patients? They could feed them and keep them clean and turn them to prevent them getting bedsores, but the chance of them ever getting any better was slim to none. To care for a person who didn’t even know what was happening around them and to get no thanks for it must be soul-destroying. Perhaps they would argue that their patients were aware of what was going on and they could hear everything that was being said, but there was still no proof of that.

  Would Cole know he was there? He would if he was awake.

 
He headed to the final bed in the row. A couple of nurses worked with the other patients and offered him smiles and nods as he passed. Ryan knew his appearance helped put them at ease. Tall, not bad-looking, well-put-together in his suit. He had a smile he reserved for winning people over. It helped to be the kind of person others were open and receptive to, even though he felt as though he wore his persona as a mask to hide the neurotic mess he felt like he really was beneath.

  Cole Fielding lay under a white hospital sheet, standard hospital wear covering his body. Ryan remembered the swaggering, cocksure man Cole had been in the courtroom. He’d worn his youth in that way young people did—as though it was a right and would last forever, and made him invincible. Now that man lying in the hospital bed appeared to be at least a decade older, his cheeks hollowed and his eye sockets two pits of shadows. His eyes were closed.

  Ryan’s heart beat faster, adrenaline flooding through him, heightening every sense. The stink of the hospital, all these bodies stagnant in bed. His breathing grew faster, but he forced himself to slow it. He’d been in plenty of difficult situations in his life and managed to keep his cool, but this felt different.

  He stood over the bed. “Cole? Cole Fielding?”

  Cole’s eyes fluttered open. They were glazed and unfocused.

  “I’m a detective, Cole. I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions.” Ryan held his breath, waiting for a response.

  Would Cole recognise him? And if he did, would Ryan know if it was from the courtroom or from the night of Cole’s accident, the same one that had landed him in this hospital bed?

  Cole’s gaze flicked in Ryan’s direction and paused on him briefly before sliding past and focusing on something over Ryan’s left shoulder.

  Ryan tried again. “Cole? Do you know what happened to you the night of your accident? Can you blink once for yes and twice for no?”