Soul to Take

by Clare Revell

  Somehow she managed to get to Farrell. She grabbed for the gun, holding it in the air as a second shot went off.

  The basement door smashed open. “Armed police! Get down on the floor.”

  Farrell hauled Isabel to her feet, ignoring her cry of pain. He held the syringe to her neck. “I’ll do it, now back off.”

  She could only rest one leg on the floor, still struggling to breathe. She grabbed hold of his arm, using him to stay upright. “Farrell, please…”

  He swore. “How did you get free?”

  “The oil you poured all over me made my wrists slippery enough to loosen the ropes. You were too busy arguing with Zander to retie my ankles.” She glanced at Zander. “Are you all right?”

  He sat on the floor, pale, holding his bleeding arm. “I’m fine. Farrell, let her go.”

  Farrell pushed the needle harder into her neck. “I said back off!”

  She caught her breath as she felt it pierce her skin. This was it. She was going to die.

  “Farrell,” she said. “They will shoot. Is that really what you want? Suicide by cop?”

  “Suicide is an unforgivable sin,” he said.

  “So some people say, yes. No chance of repentance or forgiveness. Your soul will be lost for eternity. You’d be as guilty as those women, only more so, because your actions redeemed them, right?”

  Farrell nodded. “Yes.”

  “But who’ll redeem you? Do this, kill me, and in turn be killed, and your soul is gone. How about you let us go?”

  “No.”

  She swallowed. “OK, then let Zander go. He needs a doctor as he’s a bleeding nuisance right now. Literally.”

  “Isabel, no,” Zander gasped, clenching his arm.

  “Shut up, Zander,” she told him. “It’s time for the grownups to talk now.” She glanced up at Farrell, wincing as the slight movement drove the needle deeper. She prayed he wouldn’t depress the plunger. “Let him go, and then it’s just you and me and the ARU.”

  “Fine. Go, get him out of here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Two ARU officers helped Zander to his feet and took him up the stairs.

  Isabel shivered. “Now we end this. No one else need get hurt.”

  “How?” The needle pulled back slightly.

  “We pray,” she said confidently. “Confession and repentance right?” She reached up, taking hold of his hand that grasped the syringe.

  “Confession and repentance,” Farrell repeated. “The only way to take back your soul.”

  “So repeat after me. Our Father, who art in Heaven,” Isabel began.

  As Farrell began to repeat her words, she twisted, pulling the needle from her neck and twisting his arm behind his back. She managed to spin on her uninjured leg without losing her balance.

  Farrell broke free, holding the syringe tightly and trying to shove it into her throat.

  Isabel knocked his arm away and kicked him hard with her bad leg, sending him to his knees.

  She ended up on the floor beside him, grasping her ankle, tears stinging her eyes as pain soared. “It’s over, Farrell. You’re under arrest.”

  The ARU officers surrounded them. “Hands up. Don’t move.”

  Isabel sucked in a deep shaking breath. “Actually don’t think either of us can comply with that one. He’s all yours.”

  ~*~

  Zander sat in an ambulance, his arm in a sling. DI Holmes had retrieved the vest with the hidden camera. An armed guard stood beside him, just outside the door. Although from the amount of yelling echoing up from the basement, he didn’t think he was in any serious danger now. Isabel though…his heart yearned for her to be safe.

  “You need to get to the hospital,” DI Holmes said, agreeing with what the paramedic kept saying. “The bullet is still lodged in your arm.”

  “It’s not going anywhere,” Zander protested. “And neither am I until I know Isabel is safe.”

  A hive of activity broke out by the house and the news crews swung into action to record it. An ARU officer emerged with Isabel cradled in his arms. Behind him, two ARU officers escorted Farrell, his hands cuffed behind him.

  Zander rose, desperate to get to Isabel, but the paramedic stopped him. He shook him off. “Is!”

  The ARU officer carried her over to the ambulance and laid her on the trolley. “Possible broken ankle,” he said. “Cut to the neck, otherwise she seems all right.”

  The paramedic covered her with a blanket. “Let’s get you wired up here and do some obs.”

  “I’m fine,” she argued. “He didn’t get a chance to do anything.”

  “You’re going to the hospital,” DI Holmes said firmly. “You both are.”

  Zander pushed his way through and gave Isabel a one-armed hug. “I was so worried about you.”

  “We all were,” DI Holmes said. “I need statements from the both of you once you’ve been seen at the hospital. Isabel, you also are to take three weeks leave after that.”

  She sighed heavily. “Guv, no. I’ve only just come back. It’s Zander who got shot. Give him three weeks leave.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Three weeks paid leave, plus a psych eval before you return.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. What happened in there was no worse than what he did the whole time we were going out. Once my ankle is seen too, I’ll be back at my desk.”

  “That is a direct order.” DI Holmes put on his strict voice. “You need time to process all this and work isn’t the place to do it.”

  Zander nudged her. “I’d give in before he grounds you, takes away your phone charger, and decides he has to escort you everywhere.” He looked at the Guv. “I know just the place she can go.”

  “It’s a conspiracy,” Isabel complained. She winced as the paramedic put her ankle in an orange box cast. “What about Zander?”

  “That depends on what the hospital says. I need him here. There’s a CPS file to write and a watertight case to make against Farrell Vixen and Ashton Richards.”

  “We need to go,” the paramedic said.

  “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” DI Holmes said.

  Isabel looked at the paramedic. “Can Zander come with us? Save calling for another ambulance?”

  “Sure.”

  Zander raised an eyebrow. “Why? What makes you think I even want to share your ambulance?”

  “Just because I’m a better negotiator than you. And I want to know where you’re sending me.”

  He grinned. “Some place safe and far, far away.”

  23

  Three weeks later.

  Isabel sat on a deckchair, warm sand beneath her feet, sun blazing down above her, and the blue waves crashing onto the shore in front of her. Three weeks rest on Zander’s parents’ farm turned out to be a blessing. The silver tint on several months of storm clouds. The beach itself was a short bus ride, or half an hour walk from the farm. Her ankle had just been sprained not broken, for which she was very thankful, so she hadn’t needed a cast.

  She leaned back in the deckchair, letting the book she was reading fall to her lap as she closed her eyes behind her sunglasses. She tugged the brim of her floppy sunhat down a little. Zander’s mother had insisted on factor fifty sunblock. Which was probably a good thing, or she’d be burned to a crisp. Something blocked her light. Before she could say anything, the deckchair beside her creaked as someone sat in it.

  “What do you think?” Zander asked.

  “Your idea was wonderful,” she said. “Your parents are lovely. I learned to drive a tractor, to milk a cow, and this beach is incredibly beautiful. Your dad might even let me drive the combine harvester tomorrow.” She grinned. “I can’t believe you ever left.”

  “I didn’t want to be a farmer, and thanks. Now I’ll have that stuck in my head all day long.” Zander grunted. “You’re not looking. What do you think?”

  Isabel opened her eyes and turned to face him. She screamed with laughter.

  Zander sat in the deck
chair, wearing a string vest, knotted, red spotted hanky on his head, and trousers rolled up to his knees. He kept his face straight. “What? Is the hanky too much?” He replaced it with a plain white one, also knotted.

  “It’s brilliant. Let me take a photo for the office wall. You look like a very 1950’s British holiday maker.” She whipped out her phone and took several. “Now with the spotted one.”

  Zander chuckled and swapped the hanky again. “Oh aye. Long before sun hats for blokes were a thing, we’d whip out our hankies, knot the corners and wear them instead.” Once she’d finished, he opened the bag by his feet and pulled out two sandwich boxes. He handed her one. “Mum’s ploughman lunch, scotch egg, and boiled fruit cake. There’s also a can of raspberry lemonade there.”

  Isabel pulled off the lid and took out the greaseproof wrapped sandwich. “I love your Mum’s lunches. So what’s happening back home?”

  Zander took a bite of his lunch before answering. “Chief Superintendent Clydesdale, well, Ashton Vixen-Richards, to give him his proper name, was the inside man at the station. He faked the evidence and set the fire. He’s also admitted to killing the real Ashton Clydesdale and helping Farrell hide the body.”

  “OK. Why? That’s what I don’t understand. I mean, your dad wouldn’t help you murder a whole load of women because Rosa left you.” She paused. “Sorry, bad example.”

  “It’s fine.” He crinkled the greaseproof paper. “Ashton’s best mate was, in his words, fitted up by the cops for a crime he didn’t commit. He died in prison five years ago. Ashton never forgave the cops. Saw this as the ultimate payback. And you’ll never guess who the arresting officer was?”

  “The Guv?” Isabel guessed.

  “Got it in one. Cynthia was coerced into helping them. Apparently, their attitude towards and bad treatment of women began at home. The CPS are pressing charges, but she’ll probably get a suspended sentence and a place in a shelter for now. Ashton and Farrell have been charged with twelve counts of murder, three assaults, one kidnapping, perverting the course of justice, and whatever else the CPS can come up with. They pleaded guilty and are awaiting sentencing.”

  “They don’t want a trial? You’d have thought they’d want the publicity.”

  Zander scowled. “They’ve had enough. Besides, the evidence against them is overwhelming, plus we have Farrell’s full confession in the house on tape.”

  “I thought you were wired?” She ate happily as they chatted. She’d missed him.

  “Yeah, a button cam and wire built into the vest. So there’s video, as well. Not even his lawyer can argue with that. He’s not even bothering to try an insanity claim.” He took a bite of his egg. “So when are you coming back? Guv said three weeks and that’s up in a couple of days. You’re due back on Monday.”

  “I’m allergic to Mondays.” Isabel winked at him. “Just decided. Sorry.”

  Zander pulled out his phone. “Opens text. Is says very sorry, but she’s allergic to Mondays. Can she come back Tuesday instead? Sends text.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t?”

  “Oh, yes, I did.” His phone beeped. Zander laughed. “Guv says Monday is the new Tuesday. See you both at eight-thirty on the dot.”

  She laughed. “He sent you to bring me back?”

  “Kind of. I was coming up for the weekend anyway.”

  Isabel glanced out to sea. “Not sure I can go back, honestly. All those women, dead because of me.”

  Zander put a hand on her arm. “Look at me.” He waited until she faced him. “Not because of you, Is. Because of Farrell. No one blames you, so please, don’t blame yourself. You have to come back. We need you. I need you.”

  “You just don’t want to have to break in another new partner.”

  He nodded. “Well, yeah. I spent weeks teaching you to make coffee properly. I’d hate to start over. No one understands me like you do.”

  “Who are you partnered with at the moment?”

  “Jason. He’s fine, but he’s no you.”

  Isabel grinned. “He’d have a job to be me. I’ll come back on one condition.”

  He looked suspicious. “What?”

  “I get to drive occasionally.”

  Zander’s eyes lit up. “You passed your test? When?”

  “Whilst you were inside,” Isabel said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you. Happened the same day we discovered my bank account was hacked.”

  He pointed a finger at her. “That reminds me. The fraud squad traced all your money. You’ll get it back once they’ve tied up all their loose ends.”

  “I don’t want it,” she said. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about it. I’d like the money to go to one of the police charities.”

  “I’ll let the Guv know. He’s liaising with fraud over this and they can do that directly.” He held out his car keys. “Do you want to drive back to the farm? No wait you can’t. You’re not insured.”

  She laughed, putting the empty boxes back into his bag. “Are you inciting me to break the thirteenth commandment here, mate? Thou shalt not drive illegally. You know the police don’t like that, right?”

  He smirked. “I think we’ve had enough broken commandments for one summer.”

  “Yeah.” She leaned back in the deckchair. “Can we just sit here a few moments longer?”

  “Sure. I’ll get a very pretty suntan with this vest on. It’ll be kind of criss-cross.”

  Isabel raised an eyebrow. “I do have factor fifty sunblock somewhere. Do you want some?”

  “Nah.” His chair creaked as he leaned back, getting comfortable.

  Isabel closed her eyes, letting the sound of the sea and the warmth of the hot summer sun wash over her. Children laughed and squealed as they watched the Punch and Judy show further along the beach. She could hear the bells on the donkeys as they clip-clopped over the sand.

  “Is?”

  She didn’t move. “Yes, Zander?”

  “Maybe I will have that sunblock after all.”

  She tossed it to him. “I am not plastering it all over your chest. You can do that yourself.”

  She tuned out his complaining. Everything was fine and back to normal. Or would be once she returned to work. But the most important thing, her soul was safe in the hands of her Lord where it belonged.

  Say a Prayer Series Glossary

  ARU — armed response unit

  Cornflour — cornstarch

  CPS — Crown Prosecution Service (DA)

  Dob — tell tales, report

  Drapers — shop specialising in fabric and cloth

  Extract the Michael/take the Mickey — make fun

  of, tease

  Faffed — messed about.

  Full English breakfast — bacon, sausage, fried

  egg, fried bread, black pudding, baked beans,

  tomato, hash browns, and mushrooms.

  Gobsmacked — lost for words

  Grass — dob in, snitch

  HDU — high dependency unit. One step down

  from ICU

  Hoicked — yanked, pulled

  Hole in the wall/cash point — ATM

  Hush your larrup — Traditionally means to stop

  beating something. It’s also slang for don’t be

  cheeky, be quiet, give it a rest.

  Ickle — small, tiny, little, a tad

  Lao Órga — (Gaelic) Golden Calf

  My shout — my turn to pay for something i.e.

  round of drinks

  Naff off — Two meanings depending on the

  context. If you are naffed off you are extremely fed

  up, annoyed, hacked off. If you tell someone to

  naff off, it means go away.

  Nick — slang for police station. Can also mean to

  steal. It’s also a name.

  Noughts and crosses — tic tac toe

  Pants — if something is referred to as being pants

  it’s rubbish, really bad, horrid.

  PIN — Polic
e Information Notice — Precinct —

  pedestrianized shopping centre.

  PSD — professional standards department

  (internal affairs or IAB)

  Snit — bad mood

  SOCO — Scenes of Crime Officers (CSI).

  Pronounced Sock-oh

  Tá admháil maith don anam — confession is good for the soul

  Thank you…

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  AMDG

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