Last Light: An absolutely gripping thriller with unputdownable suspense

by Helen Phifer

  The voices in his head were getting louder, and he wondered if he should have stopped taking his medication like that. After all he’d taken it for years and they’d worked, keeping him calm, happy, able to live a relatively normal life. He hadn’t killed anyone since he was a teenager, since the day he stamped and bludgeoned his dad to death with his own bible. The desire to kill again had always been there, never really going away. It had just been kept at bay with the tablets. If he hadn’t seen that old slag Sandy again it probably wouldn’t have happened. Seeing her going about her business, looking the same apart from the wrinkles and slack jaw, had brought it all back to him. The way his father had spent more time with her than his wife, the way he’d beat him and his mum then take her drinking to the pub. He hated her as much as he hated him. It’s funny, he thought, he’d lived here most of his life and not once had he walked into her in all these years. Then he’d seen her, drunk, loud and causing a fuss, going into the church hall. The vicar had looked at her in disgust, and he wondered if he remembered it was the same woman he’d screwed inside the church all those years ago. From the look on his face he would have said it was a big old yes. Did he regret it, he wondered? He obviously had a thing for whores. Following him the last few weeks had been quite an eye-opener: he visited the flat opposite Sandy’s a couple of times a week. He’d seen him pick up one of the younger, better-looking prostitutes that hung around the pier in his car. Driving her to the back of the wasteland where she’d given him a blow job on the back seat. He’d never used them himself, he didn’t need to, but he did like to watch now and again.

  Putting the phone down he wondered if he should be paying special attention to the pretty, blonde copper. She hadn’t done anything to upset him, as such, but she was likely to be the one to put a stop to all of this and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. Killing was like an addictive sport, one he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed. Once he’d killed the vicar he might just have to start watching her; if she got too close then she would be next on his list. After the vicar he didn’t really have a reason to carry on, but if he did, it would be because he couldn’t stop. Tilting his head, he stared at her photograph, wondering what she’d look like hanging upside down from a cross with her throat slit.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Browning let Lucy leave the custody suite first: the interview hadn’t gone very well. Collins’s lawyer had stopped them at almost every question. Lucy waited until the heavy door shut and locked behind them, making sure they were out of earshot.

  ‘He’s going to walk unless the search has brought up anything.’

  ‘At least we’ve had the chance to interview him, let him know we’re onto him.’

  The slight doubt she’d been having earlier was weighing heavy on her mind and she was regretting being so hasty.

  ‘Yeah, well at the moment it looks like the only thing he’s guilty of is being addicted to having sex with prostitutes.’

  ‘Can you blame him, given his home life?’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t suppose so. Fuck, I wanted him to break down and confess.’

  ‘You and me both. Come on, we tried. It keeps the public’s faith that we’re doing something and the top brass from breathing down our necks.’

  As they walked into the office, Col threw a printout from the online edition of the local paper at Lucy, who caught it. Her face paled, and she flopped down onto Mattie’s empty chair. ‘Oh shit, how did they get around to it so fast?’

  He shrugged. ‘There’s always someone with a phone around.’

  ‘But already, Christ, has Mitchell been back?’

  The loud footsteps vibrating the spiral staircase answered that question.

  ‘Did you call my name?’

  ‘Please tell me you found a huge, fat, grey cat and a box with my missing jewellery?’

  ‘Sorry, Lucy, it was clean. No cat, no jewellery that you described. There was a stash of some quite unsavoury porn mags in the garage. But there were no bloodstained clothes or objects. His wife went mental by the way. Dougie had to take her to the van and calm her down with his smooth-talking charm. She said she was going to sue you, the force, us and our cocksucking mothers.’

  Leaning onto Mattie’s desk, she put her head in her hands. ‘This is a complete disaster. Thanks.’

  He patted her arm. ‘You win some, you lose some; if you didn’t take the risk you wouldn’t get anywhere in this game.’

  She looked up at him and smiled. ‘I know, thank you. I guess it’s back to the drawing board.’

  He turned and left, running back down the steps.

  Browning looked at her. ‘Should we release him?’

  ‘I suppose so, there isn’t anything to keep him for, is there? Will you do the honours? Tell him not to go anywhere though. He’s not completely off the hook. I better phone the press office and get them to issue a release that he was only helping out with enquiries and that no charges have been made. Oh and please could you drop me off a copy of the interview notes when you’ve typed them up.’

  She stood up; she was going home for a bottle of wine and an early night. This had turned into the worst day ever.

  * * *

  When she drove out through the station gates she was so tired she didn’t see the car pull out after her, following at a slow distance. Her head was a mess and she was tired, all she could think about was drowning her sorrows and sleeping. She needed the wine to make her sleep, because after today’s cock up, her mind would kick into overdrive the minute she lay down. The doubt swirling around in her head like some grey mist, convincing her that for all her bravado maybe she wasn’t ready to take on a case of this magnitude. What were the top brass going to say? Whoever was replacing Tom might push her off it. Her mind had a habit of replaying every single scene from the day until the early hours, just so she could scrutinise her actions and make her feel even worse than she already did. Stopping off at the off-licence she bought herself a couple of bottles of wine, a family size bar of Galaxy, and the biggest bag of chilli Doritos she could find. If she was drinking, she was eating crap as well. God she hoped Ellie wasn’t sleeping at hers tonight; she wasn’t in the mood for arguing with her. The other day had been a rarity, the teenager was normally sullen and miserable. Snapping at her every comment. Before she set off again, she rang George.

  ‘Can you tell Ellie I’m working late, it’s better for her not to come around, please.’

  ‘Is everything okay, Lucy, you don’t sound yourself?’

  She let out a high-pitched laugh. ‘No, everything is not okay. How could you think that? You left me for a younger woman. Work is crap, and I’m beyond tired.’ He paused, and she broke the silence. ‘I’m fine, it’s been a long few days that’s all.’

  ‘Do you need to talk?’

  Christ she did, Mattie wasn’t here to unload her spectacularly crap day onto. George was always such a good listener; she felt the familiar stab of pain in her heart that he was no longer her husband or best friend.

  ‘No, I’m good. Just tired, if you can let Ellie know that would be great.’

  She hung up before she got all emotional on him. Why did he have that effect on her? She should hate him for what he’d done to her, yet she couldn’t. He was the first man she’d ever really loved and deep down, under all the hurt, she still loved him, and if he came and asked for her forgiveness, as stubborn as she was, she would probably take him back with open arms, and he knew that. Wiping her eyes with her sleeve she drove home, not daring to turn the radio on in case any soppy songs came on – because that would see her sobbing and snivelling for the rest of the night into her wine glass.

  When she got home the house was in darkness, and she breathed out a sigh of relief. She loved her daughter but she was in no mood for anyone tonight.

  Standing under the steaming hot shower she let the water soothe her aching muscles and her tired mind. When she finally stepped out she had to smother herself in body lotion her skin was so wrinkled
. She’d almost finished one bottle of wine and the bar of chocolate; going downstairs in her clean pyjamas she poured the tortilla chips into a huge dish and carried them through into the living room. Placing it on the coffee table next to the almost empty wine bottle, she picked up her glass and finished the last mouthful.

  A loud knock on the window made her jump, and she got up wondering who it could be. It was tough if it was work: she was off duty, full stop. She glanced at her phone to make sure there were no missed calls. Crossing the room she peered out through the blinds, but she couldn’t see anyone. Maybe the takeaway guy had the wrong house, it happened. Turning to sit down again, a loud hammering started on her front door. Wishing she was dressed and not in a pair of unicorn pyjamas with a towel around her head, she opened the door a little and looked around. She couldn’t see anyone and wasn’t going outside to check. If those little bastards from a few houses down were playing knock a door run, she’d kneecap them when she got hold of them. She shut the door and was almost back at the sofa when someone pounded on the door again. Pushing her feet into her slippers this time, she strode towards the door and threw it wide open. She looked around, she had no immediate neighbours and no one ever knocked this late.

  She walked down the front steps towards the front gate and heard the air whooshing behind her. As she turned, the cricket bat connected with the side of her head, sending an explosion of stars bursting through her mind, and she fell to her knees. The sharp pain and the combination of the wine made her stomach lurch. Opening her eyes to see who the fuck had hit her, Lucy heard an angry scream as the bat hit her again, sending her flying forwards. Dazed she hit the floor and lay there unable to move. Blinking her eyes she saw a short, round figure standing over her.

  ‘You bitch, you’ve ruined my life. How dare you do that to me? You’ve made me a laughing stock and I won’t have it.’

  Lucy tried to fight her off, but her head was bleeding profusely, and her eyes kept trying to close. She lifted her hands to protect herself from further blows and felt the wind knocked out of her as the woman threw herself onto her chest. She tried to push her assailant off but couldn’t; she was too heavy, and her lungs were on fire with the sudden pressure that was crushing them.

  Then the weight was gone from her chest, and she heard Browning’s familiar voice.

  ‘You’re under arrest for grievous bodily harm. Lucy, Lucy, can you hear me?’

  She tried to say yes; instead, she felt a warm blackness begin to fill her mind as his voice became fuzzy and far away.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Browning had Jan cuffed and in the back of his car where she was kicking the shit out of the back of his seats. He threw open the door and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck.

  ‘I’ve never hit a woman in my life, but so help me God if you carry on I’ll fucking kill you.’

  He slammed the door shut, running back over to Lucy’s lifeless figure on the ground. She was out cold and bleeding everywhere. Her face was a mess where the heavy wooden bat had smacked against her, catching her eyebrow and eye, but at least she was breathing, even if she was going to look as if she’d been in a boxing match. He could hear the sirens in the distance and prayed they’d get here quick because he didn’t know how much longer he could keep his hands from Jan Collins’s throat.

  The police van arrived first, and the two officers ran towards him; they took one look at Lucy but he pointed at the car. ‘Get her in the back of the van now. I’ve arrested her for GBH until we find out how serious her injuries are.’

  ‘Is that the DI? Oh God, there’s an ambulance on the way. Won’t be long?’

  A second set of sirens filled the air. Browning, who wasn’t one for public shows of affection, was kneeling on the damp grass next to her and had tight hold of Lucy’s hand. ‘It’s okay, Lucy, the ambulance is nearly here. We’ll have you sorted out and cleaned up in no time, you’re going to be okay, kid.’

  He looked up at the sound of the loud slamming doors and breathed a sigh of relief. Standing up he stepped away so the paramedics could work on her. He turned to watch the two officers who were fighting with Jan. They were trying to drag her into the back of the van, but she was kicking off big style. He was about to tell them to pepper spray her when the youngest, who hadn’t been in service long, shouted out: ‘Fuck this. Calm down, lady, or I’ll spray you.’

  She did her best to kick him in the shins, so he pulled out the gas canister and aimed for her eyes. This resulted in a barrage of screams and foul language as she launched herself at him.

  Browning shook his head. ‘She’s crazy.’

  The spray seemed to do the trick and all the fight left her as her knees sagged, so that they had to drag her the rest of the way to the van, screaming that she was now blind and would sue them all. He ran over to help them throw her into the cage, and the doors were slammed shut. All three of them leant against the back of the van, trying to catch their breath.

  ‘Who is she and why has she battered the DI?’

  ‘That’s the vicar’s lovely wife. I think she’s battered Lucy because we arrested her husband who was tied to a bed at some prostitute’s flat this morning.’

  ‘Bloody hell, shouldn’t she be full of forgiveness and understanding if she’s a vicar’s wife? I’ve had easier fights with men who are six foot and off their heads on steroids.’

  ‘I guess you could say she’s having a bad day, maybe she’s not feeling the love of the Lord right at this moment in time.’

  The paramedics had Lucy on a trolley and were putting it on the lift on the back of the ambulance. He walked over to them.

  ‘Is she going to be okay?’

  They shrugged. ‘Hopefully; she’s got a couple of nasty head wounds that will need stitching.’

  ‘I’ll follow you up; I’ll just make sure the house is secure.’

  He watched the ambulance drive away, glad she’d asked him to drop a copy of Collins’ interview notes off. He didn’t want to think what could have happened if he hadn’t turned up. He went into her house feeling like an intruder. He would be the first to admit he wasn’t particularly close to Lucy. They got on okay, but she was a lot younger than him and he had been pissed off when she’d got the promotion to DI and he hadn’t. He wouldn’t want to see anyone hurt like this though. He saw the empty wine bottle and the full one next to it, along with the untouched bowl of tortilla chips. He couldn’t see any sign of a struggle inside the house, so he turned the lights off, picked up her phone from the coffee table and locked the front door. The crime scene was outside on the front lawn.

  Another van had turned up, this one with an officer and the duty sergeant.

  ‘What the hell happened here?’

  ‘The vicar’s wife lost her shit after we’d arrested him earlier. She must have followed Lucy home and lured her outside where she battered her with that cricket bat.’ He pointed to the bloodstained bat which was lying on the grass next to a large puddle of blood.

  ‘Jesus, that’s mental. Is Lucy okay?’

  Browning shrugged. ‘Don’t know; she’s out cold. I’m going to the hospital. When she wakes up I’ll get a first account from her. Have CSI been called out?’

  ‘Yeah, on their way. I can’t believe it; in all the years I’ve been on the force I’ve never known anything like this.’

  ‘Me either. I’ll update you on her condition when I get there; someone needs to contact her next of kin and let them know.’

  ‘I don’t know if you’re aware – I checked it and she’s still got George down. Do you think she’ll want him there?’

  ‘Bollocks, I don’t know. Leave it for now, I’ll see how she is then we can take it from there. Christ what a sorry mess this whole bloody thing is.’

  Browning walked to his car shaking his head.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Lucy didn’t know where she was, except for the fact that she was lying flat on her back, being driven along the world’s bumpiest road and her head
felt like her brains had exploded inside her skull. She opened one eye and saw the green uniform of the paramedic who was staring down at her.

  ‘It’s okay, we’re taking you to hospital. You’ve got a couple of nasty gashes on your head.’

  She tried to talk and found her voice didn’t want to make an appearance. Instead she blinked then shut her eyes again. Before long she was being wheeled into the brightly lit accident and emergency department, where the lights hurt her eyes, and she found she couldn’t open them both at the same time anyway so squeezed them shut. Then she was on a bed in a cubicle and the paramedics were telling the doctor that she’d come off worst against a cricket bat. It all came back to her; that woman was even angrier than she’d ever imagined. She must have followed her home or got her address from someone. She had wiped her out with the first blow, the dirty fighter. If she’d come at her with her fists, she would have been able to get the better of her. She wondered if Jan was the killer, then remembered the search had brought nothing back from her house. So she was just pissed off with her, then.

  The nurse held the curtain back for the doctor to come in. He began to lift her eyelids and shine a torch into them.

  ‘I think we’ll get her scanned just to be on the safe side. Lucy, can you hear me?’

  She opened her eye.

  ‘We’ll get you sent down for a CAT scan to check there’s no serious swelling inside your head. Once that’s been done, hopefully we can glue your head back together. You’ll need to stay in for twenty-four to thirty-six hours so we can monitor you though. Cricket bats are a lot tougher than skulls.’