The Choice: An absolutely gripping crime thriller you won’t be able to put down

by Jake Cross

  Onscreen, on his mobile, at 02.13, the kitchen light blinked on. In night vision it was like a nuclear flash and washed out the entire image for eighteen seconds. Probably Katie getting more water.

  Four cars became three as a Mondeo spotted a gap and leaped into the road. Karl grabbed the indicator stalk, but didn’t move it.

  Onscreen, at 03.58 two green men climbed over his green back gate.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’

  Shaking with nerves, he watched the two men move left-to-right across the screen, towards the shed. He zoomed in. The men seemed to be wearing one-piece outfits. ‘Fuckers,’ he hissed as one of the men bust the hasp on the shed and yanked the door open. The door opened towards the camera, so he lost sight of one man as he stepped behind it. The other guy just stood and watched, turning his head to look around from time to time. That guy looked dark-skinned, even as a bright green alien-like figure.

  The guy ransacking the shed moved away thirty seconds later and closed the door. Then both scuttled across the grass, and Karl felt a shiver run up his entire body.

  Because they didn’t head towards the gate. They weren’t fleeing the scene with a trowel. They weren’t there to rob the shed.

  They went to the back door of the house.

  Three became two. Karl’s van pounced forward, almost striking the back of the car in front. He tried to flick on his right indicator, to race home to Katie, in case these fuckers came again in daylight. She was his priority. She and Michael were the only things he cared about. But the right indicator was already ticking away. He wanted to call her, but couldn’t bring himself to end the video. He needed to know what happened next.

  One of the burglars put his hand on the back door’s handle, then yanked it back quickly, clutching it in obvious pain.

  ‘Electrified, dickheads,’ Karl shouted at the phone.

  The other guy went to the kitchen window and put his face close, scanning the edges. Karl knew he had seen the metal strip running around the frame. He touched it with a finger, and yanked his hand away fast.

  Karl clicked, and the image changed. He had three cameras covering the back of the house. Now he watched the video from the one above the kitchen door. It was the size of a cigarette packet and the colour of the brick it was planted on, invisible in the night. The lens was aimed downwards at an angle, covering just a few feet in front of the door, and it showed the two hooded men in glorious definition. The guy who’d fingered the window was dark-skinned, while the other was a white guy with thick stubble covering most of his face and neck. The white guy scratched his head, momentarily pulling back his hood, and in that moment Karl hit the button to capture a screenshot of the guy’s face.

  They were talking to each other, one sucking his finger, the other spitting on his own burned digits. They were animated, angry. Karl waited for them to leave, to abandon this target and move on to another. But they didn’t. They lurked by the door, talking and pointing. Karl’s heart beat faster as he realised what this meant. Normal burglars would have given up by now. But these were not men who had randomly chosen a house and been foiled. They needed to get inside this house. His house.

  They were the men who’d hunted Liz Grafton, and now they had come for the man she had dragged into the cesspool with her.

  Another honk from behind. Corsa yob, waiting to leave. Ahead, the way was clear, and probably had been for some time. Karl waited for a gap in traffic and exited fast, which got yet another noisy response from a pissed driver. He turned right. Ten minutes until home. He jabbed Katie’s number. They would have to get out of the house. Which meant he would have to tell her. Tell her everything.

  He kept the wheel hard right and turned again into the forecourt. This conversation could not be done on the road, despite how eager he was to get home. This time he parked in front of the car wash to avoid blocking the pumps.

  * * *

  ‘Katie. I met a woman last night.’

  A line that had destroyed a million marriages, but, strangely, he used it to warm her up for the main event.

  A pause, and then, ‘Right. Okay.’ Suspicion, but not the poisonous kind: he was a joker and certainly not a ladies’ man, so she was doubtful that he was about to admit to an affair.

  ‘It’s not what you think. It’s no one I’m seeing, no one I’ve done anything with.’

  ‘Karl, what’s going on?’ Confusion now: she couldn’t deny the worry in his tone.

  ‘She was running. Running away—’

  Another horn blared. In his mirror, surprise, surprise. The yobbo got out of his car and threw his arms wide like someone at his wits’ end.

  ‘Karl, what are you saying? What’s going on? Has this got something to do with the shed? You’re scaring me now.’

  ‘I picked her up, Katie. She was running from someone…’ And now the bombshell: ‘The people after her tried to break into the house last night.’

  Her next words were smothered by a voice from outside. The yobbo, approaching Karl’s van, mouth first. That guy’s biggest worry in the world right now was a guy slowing him down, and he was going to thrust that upon a man whose pregnant wife was in danger? No, no, no. Karl flash boiled. He was out of the car before he knew it, and in the next moment everyone on the forecourt stopped and looked.

  ‘FUCK OFF!’

  He got back in the van. The yob continued his verbal assault, but he also returned to his ride, and then peeled away, highlighting his disdain with a screech of rubber. Karl rubbed his throbbing throat while Katie asked him what hell was going on.

  ‘Go to your dad’s, Katie,’ he said. ‘Leave now. In case they come back.’

  ‘I’m going nowhere, Karl. Who are you talking about? Who will be back? You tell me what the hell is going on.’

  ‘It’s not sa— It might not be safe. If they come back—’

  She cut in, her first word yelled in order to ensure that he shut down while she spoke. The remainder was delivered calmly, but with an undercurrent of simmering anger. He’d only heard her this way on a handful of occasions, but knew he had to tread carefully. And do what she asked.

  ‘Who, Karl? Don’t you dare just tell me people might come here and I should get out. Don’t you do that. You tell me right now what’s going on.’

  He closed his eyes and told it all. The dark road. The man in the mask. Liz and her gangster husband. And what he’d just watched on CCTV. She didn’t interrupt, and when it was over she didn’t shout, or hang up the phone.

  She said: ‘Is that why you were distant last night?’

  So he had failed to act naturally. But she hadn’t questioned it at the time.

  ‘Is that why you put the house alarm on when you left this morning?’

  She would have set it off when she went out to the shed. It was never active while they were indoors.

  ‘Is that why you rushed off so early, to go to this woman?’

  Yes. Yes to it all. ‘I’m sorry. She wouldn’t go to the police. I know now it’s because her husband is a criminal and wouldn’t want her to. I was going to make her leave. But I’ll go straight to your dad’s; I’ll meet you there, and I’ll call the police. I’ll send them to the shop, and they can deal with her.’

  He thought that would appease her. Prayed it would, in fact, because he could think of no better idea. But it didn’t.

  ‘You should have called them last night, Karl. You shouldn’t have got involved.’

  And as for better ideas: ‘I’m not going to my dad’s, Karl.’

  ‘Katie, listen to me—’

  ‘No, Karl, you listen to me. I’m not about to flee from my own house just because somebody tried to break into the shed. My own home. If it’s a big worry for you, then send the police here.’

  ‘Please, Katie.’

  ‘No, Karl. No way. The police can come here, and we’ll talk to them together so I can make sure you tell them everything. But I don’t want her in that shop. Can you call her there?’

  He explained tha
t he’d told the woman not to answer the phone.

  ‘That was stupid. It was stupid even to leave her there. You should have taken her to a police station. How many thousands of pounds have you got in stock? All of that could be missing. I almost hope it is, because it will teach you not to be such an idiot in the future.’

  ‘I know,’ was the only reply he could think of.

  ‘Carry on to the shop and get rid of her, and then come right back here. We’ll phone the police afterwards. If that annoys her, so what? She doesn’t have to talk to them. But you’ll have done the right thing.’

  ‘I don’t want you there alone,’ Karl replied.

  ‘Karl, it’s the middle of the morning. People are on the street. Nobody’s coming here. The alarm is still on. Besides, those men trying to break in last night could be a coincidence, you know? They broke into the shed first, didn’t they? There’s no proof anyone is after you, or this woman. There’s only your worrying mind, and because of it she’s sitting there in your shop and making us argue.’

  ‘But, Katie, her husband is—’

  ‘Karl, be quiet. I don’t care who she is or who her husband is. I care about not having a stranger who might be up to no good sitting in your shop. I don’t want her staying there. Throw her out, then come home and we’ll call the police together. And don’t let her trick you into doing any more favours. Get rid of her, you idiot. I’m not missing my nails because of her.’

  She hung up. He sat there with his mind cartwheeling. He couldn’t ignore her logic. But he also couldn’t ignore that video.

  * * *

  He got increasingly wired as the journey progressed, until he was so eager to get it over and done with that he literally leaped out of the van once at the shop and cracked his head as he ducked under the part-risen shutter. The screech of the rising shutter had brought her to the hatch, and there she was, staring down at him. He was glad she hadn’t fled in the night because now he could get some answers before he went to the police. A name for the beast in the photo would be nice.

  ‘You okay?’ she said.

  He rubbed his head, then forgot about the pain and rushed to the ladder. He climbed three steps and thrust out an arm towards her, showing his phone and the photo of the alien-like burglar.

  ‘Who the fuck is this guy?’

  He didn’t need her words to see that she didn’t know. Her eyes showed puzzlement. He wasn’t sure whether or not that was good news.

  ‘Why is he green?’

  ‘What is he doing?’

  ‘I don’t know him,’ she said, still staring at the screen. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘That’s what I was asking you,’ Karl said. He was hit by a sudden fear that the two burglars might also know where he worked and be on their way. He jumped off the ladder and peeked out from under the shutter.

  ‘I meant, why are you showing me some photo?’

  ‘Two knobheads came to my house last night. Tried to break in. Got the shock of their lives. Literally. What do you know about it?’

  ‘My God,’ she said. ‘It has to be connected. They would have sent them after you.’

  He stood and faced her and threw out his arms. ‘Well, that’s just lovely.’

  ‘I used your phone last night. Tried my husband’s mobile, but it’s off. The cottage doesn’t have one. But as soon as I get hold of him, I’ll have him look into these men who came to your house.’

  He started pacing. ‘This is a goddamn joke, this. Why did you have to jump out in front of my bloody van? I told my wife all about it, by the way. So, she knows everything, and she wants me to call the police even if you don’t like it.’

  She didn’t speak.

  ‘Get down from there. Cops, right now. You’re going to the police and you’re going to tell them men came to my house, looking for you. And you’re going to leave me out of it, okay? I don’t exist. You slept all night in a damn barn somewhere.’

  ‘How can I tell the police about your house yet leave you out—?’

  ‘Jesus!’ he yelled as he realised his error. He started to pace back and forth.

  She shook her head. ‘No. No police. Not yet. How many more times must I say this? I have to find my husband first, and he will sort out this problem.’

  He stopped and glared up at her. ‘By killing people, you mean?’

  She looked back at him in shock. But guilt was there, too.

  ‘That’s right, I know all about your husband, Liz. Teflon Ron. Mr Invincible. Some kind of London ganglord. A bad guy. You were all at that cottage last night to celebrate yet another trial acquittal. And I know that’s why you don’t want the police in on this. Because he’s brainwashed you into believing the police can’t be trusted. That’s idiotic. Think about what happened last night. Rival gangsters came to hurt him. He could be tied up in a cellar somewhere. He could be dead. And that would put you all on your own. Only the police can help you now.’

  The shock and fear of a moment ago were replaced by scorn. Not fear, which he’d tried to elicit in order to make her see sense. Just scorn, big and bright all over her face, as if he’d said something stupid. But, of course, this was Mr Invincible he was talking about. Teflon Ron bested by mere mortals? Impossible! How dare he even suggest that her perfect husband might not be in absolute control of everything in his bubble-wrapped world?

  He didn’t care. ‘Bloody gangsters, Liz. That’s the shit you brought crashing down on my head. But now you’re going to fix it. Go to the cops or just go home, I don’t care. You just get out of here and fix this however you want and leave me out of it.’

  ‘I will, I will. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I told my wife. I wasn’t even going to come here after I found out that people tried to break into my house. But she told me to come and make sure you went to the police. That’s what you have to do.’

  ‘I will, I will. I’m sorry.’

  ‘She doesn’t need grief like this. I shouldn’t even be here. I need to get back, so you need to get out of here and find a phone and call the cops. She doesn’t need this hassle. These people could come back to my house, and she’s there alone, and she’s pr—’

  ‘You open yet?’ said a voice. Karl whirled to face the shutter, and took a step back as he saw a guy squirming through the three-foot gap. Karl flicked a look behind him, but Liz had vanished.

  * * *

  Then the guy was through, and inside, and standing upright, and Karl’s heart leaped into his mouth. Today the man just about six feet from him wore a blue tracksuit and a baseball cap, but his face had not changed. Grey stubble, pockmarked skin. He didn’t need to check the photo in his hand to know that this was the guy from the night before. One of the men who’d come for him. He hid the hand clutching the phone behind his back.

  ‘I need a computer,’ the guy said in an Eastern European accent.

  ‘How did you find me here?’ Karl replied before his brain could caution against it.

  Luckily, though, the guy thought he was talking about the shop because he said: ‘Yellow Pages, my friend.’ His eyes were looking all around. ‘You Karl?’

  ‘Karl!’ Karl yelled up at the hatch. Then he mounted the ladder and started to climb. Slowly, so he didn’t look suspicious. ‘Karl, you’ve got a customer.’ It felt like a hollow, childish trick, and he expected a hand to grab his leg, and the man to say, Nice try.

  Then his torso was through the hatch. His daft little ploy had worked. But that was when Liz appeared and grabbed his shirt to help haul him up. And the guy obviously saw her, because Karl heard a gasp of breath and a thud of feet, and a moment later the ladder was swept from under him. His ribs hit the edge of the hatch, legs swinging free. In order to grab the hatch, he had to drop his phone, or he’d thump down instead. He heard it clatter to the floor. Shit.

  ‘Come here, you cunt,’ the intruder said, and grabbed a foot.

  Liz yelled. Karl kicked both feet like a drowning man and felt a heel hit something hard. Hopefully his nose. Then his foo
t was free, and he was scrambling through the hatch with Liz’s help.

  Together they stared down at the man below. He stared right back, one hand on his ear, his other hand holding a massive knife.

  Only it wasn’t a knife, Karl realised. It looked like a lawnmower blade, with a sharpened end. From his shed. Karl bit back a horrible image of this guy in his bedroom, standing over him in the dark with that nasty blade at his throat. Or Katie’s throat. Or her belly. The picture killed his nerves and anger washed into the void. He’d do anything to protect his wife and his unborn child.

  ‘Oh wow,’ the intruder said. ‘I know you, darlin’. You’re Mr Invincible’s missus. And what would my man want with you, eh?’

  ‘What the hell do you want?’ Karl yelled.

  ‘Her beside you,’ the man said with a leer. He pointed with the blade, as if Karl might not know who he meant.

  Beside him, Liz was shaking. ‘My husband will kill you for this,’ she spat at him.

  A flicker of fear, gone the next instant. ‘’Course he will. Down you come, sweetie, and I promise this will be easier.’

  ‘What do we do, Karl?’ Liz moaned.

  Karl rushed over to the shoe rack that he’d last night warned Liz to stay away from. He selected one of the items.

  ‘Karl, he’s coming up! Do something.’

  Karl returned to the hatch. Below them, the intruder set the ladder in place and started to climb.

  Twenty-Two

  Mick

  Good news: a twelve-year-old girl went into cardiac arrest and died.

  Some organs in the body could survive hours without blood, but not the brain. Measurable brain activity ceased about forty seconds after clinical death, and recovery after three minutes or more was unlikely. Yet there had been reports of people coming back after such time and recounting what they saw while dead, usually the hackneyed bright lights and God. Three minutes. Grafton lay dead for forty minutes before the chainsaw main event. Bad news for Mick.