Deadly Waters

by OMJ Ryan

  ‘Thank you.’ She waited for her eyes to adjust. ‘So I’m guessing you’ve brought me here for a reason, Gibbo.’

  ‘I’m afraid so. But I mean it when I say, this was never part of my plan.’

  ‘So why are you doing this to me?’

  ‘Because I fucked up, that’s why; back at the shed, I got ahead of myself and made a school-boy error with the bat and blanket. I knew you’d rumbled me as soon as the words left my mouth.’

  ‘But this is madness. You know as well as I do that you can’t get away with it. I’ve already sent Entwistle off looking for Mountfield’s accomplice. It’s only a matter of time before the team pressure him into giving you up. And he will cave.’

  Gibson let out an ironic cackle. ‘He won’t cave. He has no idea what’s going on.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Jesus, Phillips. I thought you were smart, but you really don’t get it, do you?’

  ‘Get what?’

  ‘Mountfield is a prehistoric, old-school copper with all the sophistication of a house-brick. He couldn’t be trusted with something as important as this.’

  Phillips frowned. ‘Are you saying he’s not involved in all this?’

  A broad grin spread across Gibson’s face. ‘Bingo.’

  ‘So then who are you working with?’

  Gibson raised her eyes to the sky for a moment before dropping her gaze back to Phillips. ‘God, Phillips. I’m working with God.’

  Phillips couldn’t hide her contempt. ‘God? How the hell does God come into this? Have you gone fucking mad?’

  Gibson didn’t appreciate Phillips’s reaction. Her eyes narrowed as she began maniacally gripping and un-gripping the handle of the gun in her right hand. ‘How dare you. I’m doing His work, you contemptuous bitch!’

  Phillips’s plan to humanise herself with Gibson had veered badly off-point and she knew she had to change tack. If not, she was going to die. She immediately softened her tone and attempted to get her back on-side. ‘Hey, look, I’m sorry, Gibbo. I didn’t mean to upset you. It just wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. I wouldn’t have put God in the middle of a case like this, that’s all.’

  Gibson remained silent.

  Phillips figured playing to Gibson’s ego might also help her stay alive. ‘I’m intrigued Gibbo, and it’s obviously your doing. How is Mountfield involved in all this?’

  Gibson’s chest appeared to puff with pride. ‘Doing this work, I knew at some point I’d need a fall-guy. And if anyone deserves to rot in Hawk Green, it’s Detective Constable Don Mountfield.’

  ‘Because of what he was doing to the girls, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly! I’ve known all along that that creep has been abusing his position and power to rape and brutalise women on the street. He’s been at it for years. I’ve worked with him for five of them, and he was doing it long before I joined the team. Once I figured out what he was up to, I tried to talk to Atkins about him, but they’re both part of the old-boys network; they trained together. So I was fobbed off and told to leave it alone. But why should he get away with forcing girls to have sex with him just because he’s a copper?’

  ‘So you set him up for murder?’

  ‘Call it what you like and judge me how you will, but I’ve made sure he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.’

  To buy herself precious time, Phillips continued to massage Gibson’s ego to keep the conversation going. ‘That was really clever, you know. Killing the girls on Mountfield’s days off, or when he was sick. You made sure he was squarely in the frame for their murders.’

  ‘He’s a creature of habit, so it wasn’t difficult.’

  ‘And I bet you’re the reason he vomited on the Armitage surveillance op too, aren’t you?’

  Gibson flashed a wicked grin. ‘Guilty as charged. I have to admit, I enjoyed that bit.’

  ‘Wow. You screwed him good and proper.’

  ‘I did more than that. I got justice.’

  Phillips was confused and couldn’t hide her feelings. ‘But how can you say you want justice when you’ve been killing innocent women?’

  ‘Because he’s nothing but a predator, whereas I’ve been doing God’s work,’ Gibson said, proud of herself.

  ‘You’ve been drowning women in the name of God?’

  ‘No, Phillips. I’ve been baptising them.’

  Phillips bit her tongue in an attempt to stifle her incredulity. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean, you’ve been “baptising” them?’

  ‘Exactly what it sounds like, Phillips. I put each of those women into the water in order to baptise them. To ensure they were ready to face God. It was my job to send them to be judged in the next life.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because they were junkie whores who had neglected their God-given duty to protect their children. It couldn’t be allowed to carry on. Those children had to be saved, whatever the cost.’

  Phillips struggled to understand the logic in Gibson’s words. ‘But how does killing their parents protect the kids?’

  Gibson said nothing for a moment. Her grip tightened on the handle of the gun, which seemed to quiver in her hand, increasing Phillips’s anxiety as she flashed back to the last time she was on the business end of a gun.

  Gibson steadied herself and swallowed hard before answering, ‘Killing those whores was the only way to ensure their innocent children were taken away from them for good. I mean, look at Estelle Henderson. Her daughter has been in and out of care for years, and Social Services keep giving Henderson chances. That poor kid could never know security and stability, living like that. But with Henderson dead, and no grandparents to look after her, she can finally find a foster family to give her the life she deserves.’

  ‘But what about Chantelle’s little boy, Ajay? He has grandparents. Why did she have to die?’

  Gibson’s voice trembled now, brimming with raw emotion. ‘Precisely because he has grandparents. With Chantelle gone, they’ll be able to give him a stable home. And he won’t have to watch his mother slowly kill herself on that junk. Day after day, turning into a zombie. Showing no love, no attention, no kind of care at all. It’s no way for any child to have to grow up. It would destroy Ajay.’

  Phillips had seen enough historical victims of abuse in her time to recognise that Gibson could well be describing her own childhood, or that of someone very close to her.

  ‘Is that what happened to you, Gibbo?’ Her voice was soft and gentle.

  Tears began streaking down Gibson’s face, glistening in the moonlight. Her words appeared caught in her throat. ‘Enough talking,’ she said coldly as she wiped her cheeks. ‘Turn around and face the water.’ Gibson moved the gun closer to Phillips, which caused her heart to quicken and her breath to shorten.

  ‘Please, Gibbo, don’t do this. I’m not your enemy.’

  Gibson remained unmoving. ‘Turn around and link your hands together over the back of your head.’

  Phillips reluctantly obeyed as Gibson prodded her in the back with the barrel of the gun, ‘Move!’

  As they edged towards the water, Phillips continued her attempts to connect with Gibson, talking over her shoulder. ‘Who hurt you, Gibbo?’

  ‘Shut it. I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Please, Gibbo, tell me what happened. If I’m going to die, I at least deserve to know what drove my killer to do it?’

  ‘I said I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Phillips had reached the water’s edge now, and time was running out. She had to keep pushing. It was the only way to stay alive. ‘Was it your mother, Gibbo? Was she the one who caused you so much pain?’

  Gibson remained silent for a long moment, but Phillips could hear her breathing heavily. Desperate to keep her talking, she tried another avenue.

  ‘So how are you planning to get away with murdering a copper, Gibbo? You know the guys won’t rest until they find my killer.’

  Gibson chuckled now. ‘I’
m sure they won’t, but thanks to you, they’ll be looking in all the wrong places. Your call to Entwistle ensured they’ll be looking for Mountfield’s accomplice.’

  ‘Which helps you how?’

  ‘Because it gives me an oh-so-easy way out. All I have to do is drive back to the allotment and make it look like you and I were attacked whilst searching the shed for evidence. The scene and my physical injuries – which will be self-inflicted, of course – will point to the fact we disturbed our attacker, who then left me for dead. I’ll sound panicked and confused when I call it in. Naturally, all hell will break loose as the hunt for DCI Phillips ensues. A hunt I’ll insist on being at the centre of, and ensure leads as far away from me as possible. The current in this stretch of water will send your body towards Liverpool. It could be weeks before they find out you drowned. And all the time, hidden in the shadows, I’ll continue doing God’s work, baptising more and more of those wretched mothers, giving their kids a chance at life. Their deaths will only add fuel to the fire that Mountfield had an accomplice; someone still at large. And as Mountfield continues to protest his innocence, the identity of his accomplice will remain a mystery. It’s perfect.’

  ‘And what about when they start looking into Mountfield’s former colleagues, which they will. What then? If they figure out what happened to you as a child, they’ll make the link.’

  ‘There’s no way that can happen. I made sure of that a long time ago. And besides, you know what male coppers are like. They always look for men when it comes to dead prostitutes. They seem blind to the fact a woman might be the killer.’

  ‘Got it all figured out, haven’t you?’

  ‘More good luck than planning, to be honest. Your call to Entwistle was a real stroke of genius, and I thank God for giving me the chance to continue His good work.’

  Phillips finally lost control. ‘It’s not good work, or God’s work. It’s murder!’

  Gibson pressed the gun hard against Phillips’s spine. ‘I don’t expect you to understand. Now, shut up and get in the water!’

  Before Phillips could respond, Gibson shoved her hard in the back, causing her to tumble forwards, headfirst, into the icy ship canal. The shock was instantaneous as crippling pain consumed her entire body. It felt like she was being jabbed by a million ice-cold needles.

  Instinctively, she kicked her legs, and a second later she surfaced, gasping for air. Her arms flailed wildly as her water-filled boots began dragging her back under. Her lungs were working overtime now, contracting and expanding at a rapid rate in their desperate pursuit of oxygen, and her heart felt like it would explode.

  Struggling to stay above the surface of the choppy water, she felt something loop around her neck. Initially it felt loose, but a second later it was pulled so tightly around her throat, she was lifted upwards. Overwhelmed by the cold and disorientated by the lack of oxygen in her lungs, Phillips began to hyperventilate. She attempted to cry for help, but no words would come out.

  In the melee, she could just make out the fact Gibson was talking to her from the bank now. ‘What you’re experiencing, Jane, is cold water shock. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept by now.’

  Phillips could feel her limbs growing heavier as her body began diverting blood to her vital organs in an attempt to keep her alive. Grabbing at the rubber around her neck, she tried in vain to release herself from its grip.

  ‘It’s no use, Phillips. It won’t come off unless I release it at this end,’ said Gibson as she pushed the pole down under water, forcing Phillips’s head beneath the surface. She held her down for a long moment before allowing her to resurface. Instinctively, Phillips continued grabbing at the rubber loop around her throat, desperate.

  ‘Don’t worry. It won’t take long for your body to completely shut down.’ Gibson forced her under again. Longer this time.

  Panic now took hold of Phillips.

  Acting on pure instinct, when Gibson finally allowed her to resurface, Phillips reached out and grabbed at the handle of the pole behind her head, but Gibson coolly yanked it from her grip and pushed her under again, forcing Phillips deeper into the water. As her arms flailed in the freezing darkness, her hand struck something solid sticking out of the mud; a metal tube of some kind. Pulling at it, she managed to dislodge it a split-second before she was pulled back up to the surface.

  Gasping for air and kicking her heavy legs, she raised the metal tube above her head and swung it as best she could against the pole behind her. Despite being unable to see Gibson, she smashed the tube into the pole over and over. Then she felt it jerk against her neck as though pushing her forwards.

  She dropped the tube and grabbed the pole. There was more give, so she yanked down hard again. A split-second later, there came a splash and Phillips realised Gibson no longer held the pole.

  For a long moment there was no sign of her, until eventually she broke the surface of the water, gasping for air. Gibson’s mouth was opening and closing but as the cold water shock set in, no words would come out. She struggled to keep her head above the choppy waters, and it was clear to Phillips something was wrong. Gibson appeared to be sinking rapidly as she splashed and flailed in the water like a terrified child. Grabbing one of her arms, Phillips attempted to pull her towards her, but she was like a dead weight.

  ‘I can’t…s-s-swim…’ Gibson managed to say before going under again.

  Phillips was struggling to stay afloat herself, and could feel her body shutting down. Despite everything that had happened, though, she couldn’t stand by and let someone drown.

  Reaching around in the water, she found Gibson’s arm and tried to pull her back to the surface, but with her own weakening body, it was no use. She tried again, but Gibson was getting heavier and heavier with every passing second. With one last-ditch effort, she wrapped her fingers around Gibson’s thick hair and tried to pull her upwards. Her fingers could not maintain their grip, however, and simply slipped through it. In that moment, Phillips realised she herself was sinking. Her only chance of survival was to get out whilst she still could.

  With the pole still wrapped around her neck, Phillips kicked and lurched her way through the water, inch by inch, hoping and praying for land beneath her feet. To her dismay, the water remained impossibly deep, and her limbs grew ever heavier. Feeling her body shutting down, she reached hopelessly for the shore, which seemed a mile away.

  To her surprise, her hand slapped down onto something hard. Lifting her head as much as she could muster, she realised she had swum to a fallen tree lodged in the thick ice at the edge of the canal. Frantic, she grabbed at it with her right hand before pulling her left hand round and onto a branch sticking out of the ice.

  Using every ounce of strength she could muster, she managed to lift her shoulders up and out of the water in one arduous movement. She rested a moment. The frigid wind rushing over her soaking wet body was unbearable. Gripping onto the branches for dear life, she pulled herself out a little farther before being forced to rest again. She repeated the process for the next few minutes, until her shins and ankles were all that remained in the water. In that moment, soaking wet, frozen to the bone and exhausted, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and go to sleep, but she knew hypothermia would kill her if she did.

  Gritting her teeth, she somehow lifted her leaden arms, one at a time, up to the next set of branches, and with one last Herculean effort hauled herself free from the water to collapse heavily on the fallen tree.

  Resisting the urge to stay where she was and let sleep take her, Phillips continued to drag herself over the tree and onto the bank, where she dropped to the ground, overwhelmed by exhaustion. Lying on the frozen surface, her body shook violently and she could feel her life ebbing away. She knew she had to stay awake, she had to keep moving. Forcing herself onto her feet, she stumbled forwards into the darkness, hoping and praying she could find the squad car and radio for help.

  Epilogue

  Two months later.

 
; Manchester Crematorium, Chorlton-cum-Hardy.

  Phillips finished her call and wandered back towards Jones.

  ‘How’s Don?’

  ‘I think it’s fair to say he’s not a happy bunny, Jonesy. I promised him an exclusive and I didn’t deliver.’

  ‘He’ll live, Guv.’

  Phillips put her phone in her coat pocket. ‘Yeah. More’s the pity,’ she said as he pulled her collar up against the bitter wind that blew across the crematorium car park.

  Jones grinned. ‘Shall we go inside?’

  Phillips nodded and led the way.

  They stood against the back wall as Rachel Gibson’s coffin was carried into the Chapel of Rest. The benches in front of them were packed with mourners, many of whom were serving police officers.

  Each had come to pay their respects to the fallen Sex Crimes officer killed accidentally in line of duty. That was the coroner’s official verdict, of course, but Phillips and Jones knew different. Thanks to the wonders of the law, whatever crimes Gibson had committed when she was alive had died with her. The case against her had been officially discontinued due to her death. And with that, the deaths of Candice Roberts, Chantelle Webster, Sasha Adams and Estelle Henderson had all been filed under their original classification: accidental drowning. Meaning Richard Webster would never really know what had happened to his daughter Chantelle.

  In a way, Phillips was glad about that. Chloe Barnes’s murder would also officially remain unsolved, now that Gibson was no longer around to speak in her own defence. Phillips had pushed for a Trial of the Facts, where a court would hear the facts and decide whether there was a case to answer on the available evidence. Her request was denied. Trials of the Facts were rare and very expensive, so not deemed a good use of public money. It was the worst possible outcome for Phillips and her team, but one they had to reluctantly accept.

  Ironically, Gibson’s prediction of what would happen to a body left in the Manchester Ship Canal had been scarily accurate; she was found almost two weeks later near Liverpool, the exact amount of time it had taken Phillips to recover from hypothermia and exposure.