by Jack Slater
‘All the work he’s done since then,’ Tanya went on. ‘Trying to stamp out such things. Obviously, I jumped the gun and I was wrong and I can’t face his little girl or his wife, knowing what I’ve done. Or my parents. The other two deserved all they got, but he didn’t. I wish so much I could take it back. Turn back the clock. But I can’t, so here I am. Now, just go away, will you?’ Her voice got stronger as she finished.
‘I can’t and you know it,’ Jane said. ‘I’m a police officer. My whole career is based on helping and protecting the public. Every member of the public, good, bad or indifferent. And you’re not a bad person, Tanya. You wouldn’t have come up here if you were. And you’re certainly not indifferent, are you?’
‘Well, I’m not good, am I?’ she argued. ‘I’m not good at avoiding you, or you wouldn’t be here. And I’ve killed three people, one of them entirely innocent, so how can that allow me to be classified as good? Thou shalt not kill. Isn’t that one of the Ten Commandments?’
‘Yes, but it includes thyself,’ Jane pointed out. ‘Suicide’s also a sin and two wrongs don’t make a right.’
Tanya’s face twisted in disgust. ‘If all you can do is come out with clichés, you might as well just go away.’ She started to unbutton her coat.
Sensing that Jane was losing her, Pete stepped forward into clear view. ‘Clichés only got be clichés because they’re repeated so often. And that’s because they’re right. You talk about your parents. I am one and I can tell you, they’ll get over any disappointment that you made a mistake. They’d never get over the fact that you’d died for it. That you’d died for any reason. It’s not the way things are meant to be. We’re not designed to cope with burying our own kids.’ He took another step forward along the edge of the grass.
‘Of course we are,’ Tanya argued. ‘Why else do people in the third world have ten kids or more? It’s so that at least a few will survive to look after them in their old age.’
‘And they’ve got more to help them recover from the loss of any that don’t make it: to distract them from it. Yours haven’t. They’ve only got you. You go, that leaves them nothing. No one. They’ll be completely bereft.’
Tanya shed her beige wool coat and dropped it on the ground. ‘Stay where you are.’ Beneath the coat, she wore all black. Blouse, skirt, tights and low-heeled shoes that Pete knew from his daughter were called ballet flats.
He raised his hands, palms out. ‘All right. You’re in charge here. I’m just saying this isn’t the answer. I’ve lived longer than you. I’ve seen a lot more than you have, of the worst things society can produce as well as some of the best, and I’m telling you, it’s a fact: there are better ways to deal with this situation. Better for everyone. You. Your family. Hardeep Randrashan’s. Even mine and Jane’s, here.’
She frowned. ‘What the hell have your families got to do with it?’
‘What, you think we wouldn’t be affected by seeing you jump off and splatter on those rocks down there?’ Pete nodded towards the drop behind her.
‘I didn’t ask you to come here. In fact, I told you to go away. You refused. That’s not my fault.’
‘We refused because it’s what we do. We try to save lives. To keep people safe. All people, no matter what mistakes they might have made in life. You’re young. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’ve got people who love you. You don’t want to waste that. To end it in a mess of blood and gore that’ll give the kids playing down there nightmares for the rest of their lives. What have they done to deserve that, eh?’
For the first time, he saw a hint of doubt creep into her eyes.
No, she didn’t want to do that to innocent children. But were there any down there? Pete didn’t know and neither did she. Her eyes flicked sideways and down, towards the drop just inches from her feet. Then she looked back at Pete. Straightened her back. ‘Life isn’t perfect. Sometimes there are unintended consequences.’
‘That only counts if we don’t know about them beforehand,’ he said quickly. Behind his back, he waved to Jane, trying to get her to move out across the grass, towards the clifftop, so that Tanya would focus on her, allowing Pete to close in on her. ‘If we do, then we’re guilty of them, whether we wanted to cause them or not.’
‘Just as I’m guilty of killing Hardeep Randrashan. An innocent man. Not just an innocent man, but one who was fighting the same issues as me. A man who was on my side, effectively. There’s a note in my pocket, there.’ She pointed to her coat, on the ground between them.
‘We don’t need a note. We need you,’ Pete said, a wave of fear sweeping through his innards.
To his left, Jane moved outward from the bushes.
Tanya’s head turned towards her. ‘No. Don’t come any closer.’
‘I’m not. I’m just checking down there.’
Pete moved as soon as Tanya’s attention was off him. A wide step sideways, then he leapt forward. Landed and dove, arms outstretched, trying to reach her before she could react.
‘No!’ she shrieked, spinning away from him, towards the cliff edge. Her body tilted out over the abyss. Pete sensed Jane coming in from his side, striving to reach them. One of Tanya’s feet left the ground, stepping out into nothingness. Pete’s right arm went around her lower legs as his left went up to grab her skirt, near the waistband. She screamed, falling backwards, away from him. He clasped her ankles to his chest, his grip firming on the front of her skirt as he hit the ground on his side, legs lifting as his head and shoulders hung out over the vertiginous drop.
‘Come here,’ he snarled, twisting his body in an effort to stop them both from falling.
Tanya’s feet dug into his chest, her weight taking her beyond the point of no return.
Shafts of agony ran through Pete’s torso. Inches further and he’d have broken his back on the edge of the cliff. His left hand locked into the material of her skirt and whatever she wore under it, her weight pulling his arm back over his shoulder so that he cried out in pain as Jane’s body came down hard over his legs, anchoring him to the ground and safety. He struggled to hold on, but then Tanya wriggled, trying to kick out.
‘Jane, roll me over,’ he said. ‘Quick, before I lose her.’
‘I can’t. You’ll slip.’
‘Do it!’
Jane’s body lifted off him. He felt her hands at his thigh and flank. She began to lift and push.
‘No!’ Tanya screamed. ‘Let me go!’
She twisted and writhed, legs jerking in his grasp. Jane got him over onto his side, rolling him so he could hold on to Tanya better and haul her back up, but Tanya realised what was happening and changed the way she was fighting him. Suddenly, one of her legs jerked up, bending sharply at the knee to slide it free of his arms, leaving her shoe behind for his to roll onto. Her heel slammed into his chest. Pete grunted, but held onto the foot he still gripped. Jane got him turned fully over. The shoe was a minor discomfort under his body, but the relief in his back was incredible.
Tanya’s free foot, wrapped in black nylon, came hard and fast at his face. He ducked to the side, digging his knees into the ground for purchase.
‘Let me go!’ she yelled. Her free foot came at him again, but this time from an angle. He had nowhere to go. It hit the side of his head like a hammer.
‘Ow! Damn it.’ He straightened his legs. ‘Drag me back, Jane.’
Tanya bucked upwards, bending from the waist, then dropped back, trying to free his grip on her skirt, but Pete hung on, focused on not losing her. Her foot hit him again. This time, he hadn’t seen it coming. It slammed into his face. Pain exploded in his nose. Every instinct drove him to let go of her and protect his face, but he fought against it. Then her foot got purchase on the edge of the cliff, pushing away from him as Jane tried to drag him backwards by the ankles. He couldn’t see anything but sparkling lights. Blood was pouring from his smashed nose. The two women were pulling him in both directions at once as if he was on a medieval torture rack. He dropped his f
ace onto Tanya’s leg, holding on for all he was worth. The pressure eased abruptly from her direction and he slid backwards a few inches, only for her heel to slam into his back. He grunted. She tried the same move again.
‘Tanya, pack it in,’ Jane gasped. ‘We’re trying to save you, for God’s sake.’
‘I don’t want you to,’ she cried. ‘Let me go!’
Her foot came down on the back of Pete’s head and she bent up from the waist again, hands reaching for his face. He could still see nothing, but the shift in her weight and the pressure on his left hand, just below her waist, shifted enough that he could sense she was about to try something new. He felt her fingers on his hand. Her other hand fumbled around his face, seeking purchase. Pete squeezed his eyes shut defensively but her other hand did its work, slender fingers wrapping around his little finger, prying it loose.
Shit, he thought. She’s going to try and break it.
He twisted his hand, but her skirt was too tight over her stomach to allow much movement that way. Then her other hand got a grip at an angle across his face. Her little finger hooked into his still-tender nose, thumb pressing into the notch of his temple while the sharp nail of another finger pushed into the corner of his eye.
He twisted his head away but, in doing so, allowed her the purchase she needed on his hand. She gripped his little finger firmly and wrenched it backwards. Pete yelled, trying to fight her. He felt Jane’s grip vanish from his ankles. He bellowed, forced to release Tanya’s skirt and twist his hand away as Jane’s weight landed across his lower legs.
‘Shit,’ she swore as she missed whatever she’d been trying to do. Grab the girl’s free leg, he imagined. But at the same time, he felt Tanya’s weight swing back away from him. He shook his head and opened his eyes. They were still blurry with tears, but he could see. Tanya had swung her free leg back in an upside-down high-kick. Then, with her backside resting against the red stone of the cliff, inches from his face, she jerked her other leg away from him, her powerful thigh muscle far stronger than his arm. He almost lost his grip on her, just his weight holding her ankle in place beneath his torso. Then her other leg came back up, bending at the knee, the foot driving in once more at his face. He tucked his head down so that he took the blow on the crown of his head, but it was finally enough. With a jerk and a twist, her ankle went from under him.
‘No!’ he shouted as she fell away, arms wide, legs spread like an upside-down free-falling parachutist. She looked back at him and actually waved and smiled as she sailed downwards as if in slow motion, her clothes fluttering around her. He held her gaze, his emotions raw, for what seemed like for ever but could only have been a couple of seconds, until she hit the roughly heaped rocks at the base of the cliffs.
‘Oh, God!’
It was only when she spoke that he realised Jane’s weight was gone from on top of him. He rolled over and sat up.
Jane turned away, head hanging. ‘Shit,’ she said softly. ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. I’m so sorry, boss. I thought if I could grab her free leg while it was waving about like that, I could help pull her back, but she must have seen me coming. She snatched it away before I could get hold of it.’
Pete stood up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
‘Not your fault. She was determined to go. We did all we could.’
‘Yeah, but if I’d…’
‘Ifs and buts mean nothing,’ he broke in. ‘We tried. She won.’ End of, he thought, but managed not to say. It was way too soon. ‘Have you got any gloves?’
‘Yes. Only my size, though.’
‘Do the coat up and fold the collar into the middle of it.’ He nodded to Tanya’s coat, which she’d dropped on the ground, signalling her intention to jump. ‘It’s not like we need it for forensics.’
Jane looked up at him and her eyes flashed with horror. ‘Jeez, you look terrible.’
‘Thanks.’ He glanced down. The front of his shirt and jacket were splashed with blood. He could feel it congealing around his nose, mouth and chin. ‘A kick in the face’ll do that for you.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Better than I look.’ He sighed. ‘What really pisses me off is that she won. She got away with three murders.’
‘Hardly got away with them. She died for them, didn’t she?’
‘Yeah, but that was her choice. I’m not saying it’s the coward’s way out, because dying like that took some guts, but at the end of the day, she got to choose her fate, and that’s more than she allowed her victims.’
Jane grimaced and crouched over Tanya’s coat, pulling on a pair of pale-blue nitrile gloves.
‘Is the note there?’ Pete asked.
She checked the coat. Pete heard the rustle of paper and she reached into one of the pockets.
‘Leave it there,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to read it. Not now, at least.’
He drew a deep breath. He didn’t want to think about Tanya’s excuses. The fact was, she’d got what she wanted. A clean death. A family that would grieve for her – that would forget the mistakes she’d made and invent some kind of fiction about how noble she’d been. Because, as parents, that’s what they were bound to do. It’s what he would have done. Maybe what he was already doing, in a way, with Tommy – clinging to the possibility that he was just a victim who was coping in the only way he could.
And, like Tanya, Brian Letterman would probably win, at least in the short-term. He would get his way on Tommy’s relocation because he had the ear of whoever would make the decision. But what would the consequences of that be – for himself, for Louise, and especially for Tommy? Tommy would no doubt withdraw even more than ever. Louise, unable to see him every day, might even sink back into the depression that she’d only recently climbed out of. And how would Annie cope? Pete felt physically sick. His jaw muscles bunched as he fought to retain control. He glanced down at Jane, who had fastened and folded the beige coat and was about to stand up with it. ‘Ready?’
She nodded.
‘Let’s go then. I need to get out of here.’
If you missed the first book in the DS Peter Gayle crime series, then turn the page for a sneak
peek at the thrilling Nowhere to Run...
CHAPTER 1
Lauren strained with aching fingers to get purchase on the knot, but all she managed to do was force it tighter around her already sore wrists.
She was breathing hard, heart fluttering in her chest as she struggled to escape. She closed her eyes in concentration. She could feel every strand of the tough braided nylon. It was rubbing her skin raw, but she had to keep trying. Had to get loose. Had to get away before he came back.
In her ten troubled years she had dealt with all sorts of men, but none like this one. She had heard stories of perverts and child-molesters, had even met a couple, not that she’d known at the time, but this guy – he was more than that. He’d kill her. It was there in his eyes when he looked at her. He’d do what he wanted with her, then …
A sob escaped through the gag that was tied across her mouth as her fingers slipped off the rope yet again. She didn’t have the strength for this.
*
Pete Gayle stepped into the Exeter CID squad room and a hearty cheer went up. He paused in the doorway, grinning. Glancing around the big, open-plan office, he saw that the noise was being made by a pitifully sparse crew. The place was almost empty, just his own team there, but they were certainly making up in volume what they lacked in numbers.
A bunch of helium balloons shot up over his desk, bright and multicoloured, on strings that held them about halfway to the ceiling. Two of his three DCs stood up, stretching a ‘Welcome Back’ banner between them.
He stepped forward and took a bow to enthusiastic applause.
‘Welcome back, boss.’
‘Good to see you, Sarge.’ Grey-suited and grey-haired Dick Feeney threw him a salute with his free hand, the bright colours around him emphasising his colourless appearance.
‘About tim
e, too.’ That was Dave Miles, at the other end of the banner from Dick.
Pete raised his arms. ‘Thank you, fans. Thank you very much.’ He headed towards them.
Clustered in the far front corner of the big office, his team consisted of Detective Constables Dave Miles, Dick Feeney and Jane Bennett and PCs Ben Myers and Jill Evans.
Dick and Dave pushed the banner onto a couple of pieces of Blu-tack on the wall behind them.
‘Nice to be back, boss?’ Dave gave him a lopsided grin. Long and lanky, he was dressed in dark trousers and an open-necked white shirt with a waistcoat over it, his dark hair neatly combed.
‘I wouldn’t know. I haven’t even got to my desk yet.’
‘It’s good to see you, Sarge,’ Jill said. Small, slender, dark and immaculate as always, Jill had been a caring but firm PC on the beat and had joined his team two and a half years ago, after impressing him on a case involving a homeless guy whose girlfriend had been raped and murdered. He had looked good for it, with no alibi and a history of drug abuse, but Jill had finally proved that he couldn’t have done it and supported him through the process of finding out who had.
He was now off the streets and the gear, and working in a betting shop. Or, he had been, last Pete had heard.
‘That’s right,’ added Ben, the spiky-haired and baby-faced newbie of the team, having moved into the office just over a year ago.
‘What did Louise think of the idea?’ asked Jane. Shockingly, her red hair, which she had always worn long, had been cut into a stylish bob, parted and swept back at the sides since he last saw her. It was a drastic change, but it suited her.
‘She hardly noticed, to be honest,’ he admitted. ‘She doesn’t take much interest in anything, lately.’
Jane’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry, boss.’
Pete shrugged as he reached his desk and sat down opposite her. ‘So, what’s the news? What’s been happening?’
They sat, the celebratory mood broken.
‘Well, today’s all about Operation Natterjack,’ Dave said. ‘Bloody stupid name. Everybody’s out, dragging drug dealers, distributors and manufacturers out of their beds and off the streets.’
