Liar Liar: Another gripping serial killer thriller from the bestselling author (DC Charlotte Stafford Series)

by Sarah Flint

  She got out and walked slowly to the boot, stooping to retrieve the red rose, and the weapon, marvelling at its weight. A dozen little girls started to sing the words of the nursery rhyme in her head as she unwrapped the paper reverently, running her hands over the smoothness of the grip and down the barrel to its end, from where the bullet would explode, its sharp, deadly force shattering the bastard’s skull. Ring a ring o’ roses, a pocket full of posies. She didn’t care that her fingerprints and DNA would be all over it. Soon she would be gone and they would be left astounded at the ineptitude of their chase.

  She put the barrel of the gun to her mouth and kissed it, savouring the icy coldness of the metal against her lips. Atishoo, Atishoo. In just a few more minutes the sights and sounds of death would be all around them and another arrogant police officer would fall down dead.

  *

  There were only so many roads within the airport complex that could be accessed and Paul had circulated each route several times. All about them people were going about their business totally unaware of the unfolding drama. It was impossible. If only they had a vehicle for their suspects, but they didn’t; just three faces to search for amongst the throngs of people.

  The tension inside the car was unbearable. Naz and Sabira were on their way, anxious to assist too, but so far there had been no sightings. Charlie said nothing; all her concentration taken up staring out of the window, her eyes scanning every corner, every profile. If they were there she would see them… or so she’d thought initially. In frustration she pulled out her phone and dialled Bet’s number.

  ‘Anything yet, Bet? It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack here.’

  She heard the DCI’s phone start to ring but concentrated on Bet’s voice.

  ‘I’ve got people running to several addresses I’ve found for Ross Naylor but nothing so far and I can’t find anything at all about airports. As far as I can see, he and Ricky never left the country. They’d never even applied for passports.’

  ‘What about Ricky’s death?’

  ‘Again, nothing to do with aeroplanes or airports or the area you’re in. He and Ross were involved in a robbery on a country post office in Burghfield Common, just outside Reading. Ricky did the robbery, with what turned out to be a replica firearm. Ross was driving the getaway car, but they were spotted leaving and the number was circulated. Armed police picked them up heading into Reading and after a short chase Ross crashed the car just outside The Oracle. He was quickly detained, but Ricky made a run for it and was chased on foot through the shopping centre and up into the car park. He was given a shouted warning to stop and drop the gun, but instead of complying he turned and aimed it towards officers. He was shot three times, twice in the chest and once in the head.’

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ Charlie shouted, as Bet’s words sunk in.

  ‘What’s brilliant?’ Bet sounded perplexed. ‘That he was shot?’

  ‘You said he ran up into a car park, so it sounds like a multi-storey. Well, there’re a few multi-storey car parks here. We’ve just got to work out which one.’ She turned towards the DCI who had just finished his conversation and was listening intently. His face lit up and he banged his fists against the dashboard.

  ‘Yes!’ he shouted. ‘That’s it. I’ve just been told the signal for Hunter’s phone has pinged up strongly again, as if he’s come out into the open. It’s on the west side of the airport complex, close to Terminal 3.’

  *

  Hunter peered over the edge of the parapet at the world below and wondered if he stood any chance of remaining part of it. The handcuffs put on at his capture were biting into the flesh of his wrists and the gag that had just been tied around his head was so tight that the skin around his mouth was already chafed and sore. Everything the woman did was designed to draw out this moment in as painful and humiliating a way as possible.

  He hated her. He had always hated her, from the moment he had heard her name. Brenda Leach was evil, pure evil, and listening to her boast about how she’d teased and tantalised Samson Powell into doing her will, then used her position to monitor the investigation and play the police in her warped games had made him sick to the stomach. How could she have got to where she had without anybody realising? Worse still, how could his preoccupation with her investigation into his own actions have blinded him to Charlie’s hunch?

  Now it was too late. He had run off into the night with his executioner and without a second thought, his mind fogged by self-doubt, letting no one know where he was. He had broken a cardinal rule and had only himself to blame.

  Next to him, his captors were preparing the weapon they would use. After dismissing Powell as a failure, she had spent time telling her new man how important he was, how she needed him as much as he needed her… and the man had nodded and smiled his gratitude. He was a simpleton but he clearly knew about guns. Hunter watched, morbidly fascinated, as the man spun the cylinder expertly, slotting in three bullets to the chambers, the delight on his face shining hideously in the hazy lighting of the car park. The rain had stopped. Everything stopped, as the barrel of the gun clicked shut. An image of his wife and son crying over his dead body flashed into his mind.

  Brenda Leach held a smooth red rose in her hand, the knowledge of where it would shortly be placed not lost on him. He turned away from them and stared back over the edge, his eyes coming to rest on a vehicle that had pulled to a standstill on the double yellow lines at the approach to the entry barriers. A figure climbed out from it and stood staring up towards where he stood on the roof, it was a figure that looked familiar, that ran its hands through its hair and pointed.

  A glimmer of hope rippled through him, weak at first but gaining in strength as the figure was joined by another and both looked upwards. The two figures ran towards the entrance and disappeared from view and the car reversed out of sight. He remained staring downwards as a flash of sheet lightning lit up the sky, fleetingly emphasising the loneliness of the spot where he now stood. Had it been his imagination or had he really seen Charlie. He didn’t know and he didn’t dare hope.

  The sound of a low guttural laugh drew him from his thoughts as the man stepped towards him, raising his arm as he did so. He couldn’t believe anything his brain was telling him at that moment, but as he felt the barrel of the gun pressed hard against his temple, he was surprised to realise that the coolness of the metal against his skin, in the oppressive heat of the night, felt vaguely welcome.

  *

  Charlie sprinted up the steps, the DCI’s orders ringing in her ears.

  ‘Do not, on any account, show yourself. You are to stay out of sight until I have armed units and a hostage negotiator with us. Call me directly with a situation report when you have them in view.’

  Several flights of stairs behind her was DS Hayley Boyle, labouring slowly up the stairwell. The DPS sergeant was anxious to assist in any way she could and Declan O’Connor had taken the decision to allow her to help Charlie. As the senior officer he would be required to co-ordinate the armed operation and he needed Paul, as a trained driver, to be on hand. It was a risk, but somehow they all knew that the sergeant had been stupid, not murderous. Plus, Hayley Boyle knew the rules and, even though she’d broken some, the DCI clearly wanted this done by the book.

  Sweat was prickling on Charlie’s temples when she reached the top floor. She crouched behind the door that led out into the parking lot and peered through a laminated glass panel. The view was slightly blurred but she could make out the outlines and movements of the three individuals… and there was no time to spare. Hunter was standing with his back to the outer wall, facing his captors in the car park. The tall slender figure of Brenda Leach stood immediately in front and the man in the photos, Ross Naylor, to his side, holding a revolver to his head.

  She could hear their voices, low and urgent, but couldn’t make out what words were being spoken.

  Pushing the door carefully, she wedged it open with a discarded tin can and knelt down,
taking in the proximity of the three figures. Above them the sky crackled and fizzed, a million electrical currents doing battle with each other within the clouds.

  Brenda Leach was laughing now, her eyes flicking from one man to the other, the mole on her cheek dancing a dramatic tango in time with each cackle, a red rose flailing about in the air with every movement. Leach raised her wrist and squinted at her watch before turning towards Hunter.

  ‘What does it feel like being on the other end of the barrel, Detective Inspector Hunter? Not so blasé now are you.’ She pressed a button on the side of her watch. ‘You have exactly two minutes to tell me why I shouldn’t order Ross here to kill you, so start grovelling. Not that either of us will listen.’ She chuckled spitefully, leaning forward to undo the gag. ‘I want to savour every second of this moment as it happens. My decision has not been made on the spur of the moment, like you lot always give as your justification. I have been planning this all my life…’

  She pulled the gag away and laughed as Hunter remained silently staring at her, his eyes disdainful.

  She returned the stare.

  Charlie held her breath, counting down the seconds. She couldn’t just watch it happen, yet she had her orders.

  ‘Arrogant even to your dying breath,’ Leach said finally, checking her watch again. ‘One minute and then I’ll give the order, in just the manner you do.’

  Charlie watched in horror, feeling Hayley Boyle kneel down beside her, her breath coming in short gasps.

  ‘Sarge,’ she whispered, her head and voice suddenly calm. ‘Hunter has one minute before Ross pulls the trigger. I can’t let that happen.’

  Hayley Boyle gripped her arm. ‘You can’t go out there. She’ll kill you too. You don’t know what she’s like when she’s focussed on something.’

  ‘Hunter saved my life…’ her voice petered out. ‘When I go through the door, make sure it doesn’t close properly. Use the can. You’ll need to be able to hear what’s happening. Keep the DCI briefed for me.’

  She pulled her arm away and stood up, taking a deep breath before raising her arms above her head and stepping forward.

  Brenda Leach swung around towards the noise of the door, blinking in obvious delight at the sight of Charlie. ‘Ah, another witness, excellent. But you’re too late! Time’s up.’ She turned to Ross Naylor. ‘Go, go…’

  ‘No, Ross. Don’t shoot. Please. Not until we’ve had a chance to speak.’ Charlie’s voice was strong.

  ‘Go!’ Leach screamed.

  The man’s head turned from one to the other, panicked.

  ‘Do it for Ricky,’ Leach screamed again, blinking wildly.

  ‘That won’t bring him justice,’ Charlie spoke clearly. ‘And it won’t bring him back. I should know. I lost my brother too.’

  The man swung round towards her, his expression desperate, lowering the gun from where it was aimed but still holding it firmly.

  ‘How?’ he paused, unsure. ‘How did you lose your brother? Was he shot by police, like my brother was?’ He raised his arm again so that the gun pointed at Hunter’s chest but his eyes were curious.

  ‘No, he wasn’t shot, like Ricky was.’ She had to be careful. He was watching her closely. ‘But I never got justice for him. I had to watch my only brother Jamie’s dead body pulled from the sea because of the criminal recklessness of a boat owner who took us out ill-equipped during a storm.’ She glanced up at the sky. ‘It was a night like this. We should never have been out at sea.’ She remembered the description of Ross and Ricky’s relationship on Leach’s profile. ‘Jamie and I used to do everything together. He was always there for me, just like Ricky was always there for you. I still miss him.’

  ‘I miss my brother too.’ His voice caught.

  ‘Don’t listen to her,’ Leach had regained some of her composure. Her voice was icy. ‘She’s a police officer, just like the rest. She doesn’t care about her brother and she doesn’t care about you, or Ricky. You have three bullets; enough to kill them both.’

  ‘Please, stop. DI Hunter is a good police officer. He saved my life, Ross. I would be dead without him. My mother would have lost two children.’

  ‘There’s no such thing as a good police officer. They are all murdering bastards, every single one of them, like my father, sticking together against innocent people exactly like they always have done. Do as I say, Ross. Don’t fuck this up. You can’t fail me now.’

  ‘Like Samson Powell did,’ Hunter wiped his hand carefully around his mouth, speaking softly. ‘Because otherwise she will have no use for you, just like she had no use for Samson.’

  ‘Samson was a fool,’ Leach sneered. ‘He thought he knew better than me.’

  ‘You heard what she said in the car, Ross, didn’t you?’ Hunter was looking towards the man, nodding to him encouragingly, his previous disconsolate look replaced now by steely determination. ‘She might be nice to you now but she’ll turn against you. She took the piss out of Samson. She hated him. Remember how she laughed? She said that Samson was weak and had a fatal flaw. That he would do anything for her just because he thought she looked like his mother.’

  ‘Delilah Powell.’ Charlie said the name out loud. She remembered the photo in the dead man’s wallet, the way his teacher Saffron Bolt had said he’d do everything she asked because he thought she too had looked like his mother. So that was why. She stared at Brenda Leach, her coffee-coloured skin, her age and build, her sleek black hair, the way she could change her expression to give the impression of softness, to manipulate and charm… and suddenly she realised why the woman’s face had seemed so familiar, how much all three women resembled each other.

  ‘Ross,’ she joined in. ‘She is just using you, like she used Samson Powell. When she’s finished with you she will get rid of you too, just like she did Samson. She probably told him to kill himself!’

  Ross Naylor looked towards Leach, his face suddenly anxious.

  ‘You know that’s not true, Ross. I have always been there for you, haven’t I? Ever since we first met in the hospital.’ She was smiling towards him now, her tone sugary. ‘Remember how you always used to follow me around and how we laughed because you’d say you were stuck to me, like my surname, Leach. You remember that, don’t you Ross. We stayed together through thick and thin. I was there for you when Ricky was in prison, and when he was out… and I was there for you after the murdering police scum killed him, wasn’t I?’

  The man’s face creased as he stood stock-still for what seemed like an age, his expression changing, as if going through every detail of his childhood and the death of his brother. Eventually, when his memories were spent, his face softened.

  ‘I remember you with me, Brenda. Brenda Leach… Ice; always there, in case of emergency.’ Ross Naylor smiled back at Leach gratefully.

  ‘And I always will be. So… don’t listen to these two liars. Do as I say and kill them both. Now, for Ricky’s sake. Then we can get out of here together.’

  She placed a hand on his shoulder and the man straightened, pulling himself upright and standing tall, as if a bolt of lightning had sprung from the sky through her fingers, mobilising him into action. Pulling the gun up, he cocked the trigger and held it towards Hunter’s head.

  ‘Stop! Don’t shoot.’

  Charlie swung round to see Hayley Boyle take several paces towards them, holding both arms in the air, her phone lit up in one hand. Her face was pale and her hands shook.

  Leach let out a cry, swinging round, her eyes blinking manically. ‘Well, well, well. What have we here? DS Hayley Boyle.’ She laughed derisively. ‘Another useless, snivelling, lying copper. It’s lucky we have three bullets, Ross. One for each of them. Shoot them all, now.’

  ‘She’s the liar.’ Hayley Boyle held out the phone towards Ross Naylor. ‘Look at the image on the screen. She was going to leave you to take the flack on your own, Ross. She had no intention of taking you with her. Look, it’s a picture of the one-way ticket to Brazil she’s bought for hers
elf, so she can disappear straight after this. She was going to get you to do her dirty work, like she did with Samson Powell and then get straight on a plane.’

  Ross Naylor was wavering. Still pointing the gun towards Hunter, he took a few steps towards Hayley Boyle and peered at where she was pointing, reading out the print.

  ‘Delilah Powell, Flight LATAM 362 flying to Galeao International Airport, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Leaving on Saturday 08/07/2017 at 22.10. Terminal 3.’

  ‘That’s not my name. Ignore her,’ Leach screamed.

  ‘That’s Samson Powell’s mother, Ross. Delilah Powell. The woman Samson thought she looked like.’ Charlie wanted to laugh. It was brilliant. That was why she’d packed her things, why she had chosen the airport and why they hadn’t found any tickets booked under her real name.

  ‘That’s not me, Ross. You know my name, Brenda Leach. Remember? I wouldn’t leave you. They’re lying again.’

  Charlie was thinking fast. They had to make him believe she was leaving him, just like Ricky and everyone else in his world had; that he would be all alone.

  ‘She’s the one who is lying. I bet if you check in her pockets, Ross, you will find a passport and tickets in the name Delilah Powell.’

  His face creased in alarm as Charlie recited her thoughts. Wordlessly he motioned Hunter, Charlie and Hayley to move together and stepped towards Leach, pointing the gun towards her as he did so.

  ‘Don’t do this, Ross. I’m telling you the truth. I wouldn’t leave you. You know I wouldn’t leave you,’ she repeated the words, her voice trembling, the mole on her cheek vibrating gently.

  ‘Shut up, Ice.’

  He thrust his spare hand into her jacket pocket, pulling out a wad of printed flight information. Tucked into the middle of the paperwork was a maroon EU passport with a boarding pass slipped in between the pages. He opened it slowly staring at the details, comparing the photograph against the name, with the woman standing opposite, and then, as if in slow motion, Charlie watched helplessly as he grabbed hold of Leach around the neck, squeezing her until she screamed in pain, her voice echoed in his own cry of anguish as he picked her up and hurled her bodily over the wall into the livid night sky.