Love Me Not: DI Helen Grace 7 (formerly titled Follow My Leader) (Detective Inspector Helen Grace)

by M. J. Arlidge

  28

  10.15

  It was a sickening sight.

  The Armed Response Unit had declared the building safe – the fugitives long gone – so Helen had headed quickly inside the pharmacy. She’d been told to go straight to the back office and proceeded there without delay, aware that a distressing discovery awaited her. Years of service had hardened her, but even so her hand went to her mouth, as she entered the small room. A middle-aged man was slumped forward on his knees, his jaw and half of his face blown away, his blood and brains decorating the floor around him. Helen took in the awful details – the impact burn, the clogged hair, the blood seeping into the fabric of his trousers – before raising her eyes to the empty safe. Why had his attackers done this when their captive was clearly cooperating?

  ‘They went out the back way.’

  Helen turned to find Charlie standing in the doorway.

  ‘They pushed a couple of packing cases together in the yard, hopped over the back wall,’ her junior explained. ‘Sanderson’s round there with uniform now, but …’

  Helen nodded, returning her eyes to the scene in front of her.

  ‘They didn’t leave empty-handed,’ she said eventually. ‘They’ve emptied the safe and taken most of the good stuff.’

  ‘So what are they? Thrill seekers? Junkies?’ Charlie asked, taking in the packets of amphetamines that lay discarded on the floor around the owner’s corpse.

  ‘They certainly have a taste for rocket fuel. But that’s not what’s driving them. Everything that’s happened so far has been well planned. They lie in wait for Sonia Smalling, then ambush her. They head here, lock themselves in, calmly go about their business. They kill a man in cold blood, even though it looks like he was cooperating with them –’

  ‘You think they’ve killed before? That they have experience of this sort of thing?’

  ‘The world is full of self-starters these days,’ Helen countered. ‘People who want to be famous, people who believe in a cause. Normally I’d be calling in anti-terrorism now, but the robbery element counts against that –’

  ‘There must be easier ways to rob people though, surely?’ Charlie interjected. ‘They’re looking at life sentences here.’

  ‘So maybe it was personal. The victim’s name is Alan Sansom,’ Helen continued, looking down at the body once more. ‘What connects him to Sonia Smalling? The latter dealt with junkies and thieves day in, day out. Is that the link? Was Sansom burgled at any point, did he dismiss any members of staff, did anyone have a grudge against him? This place is a long way from the scene of Smalling’s murder, so it’s an odd place to head to.’

  ‘What if they just saw it en route? What if they were fleeing the first murder and saw an opportunity to stock up on drugs, cash. The chance to have a little fun …’

  ‘If that’s the case, we’ll have to face up to it, but for now I want us to search for connections. In the meantime, we need a better description of the killers. The CCTV in here is knackered – the wire feed has been cut – so we’ll have to hope our survivor can enlighten us.’

  Nodding, Charlie walked away, but Helen lingered a moment, taking in the brutalized corpse in front of her. She had hoped – prayed – that this morning’s murder had been a one-off. But here was the proof that she was now confronting something darker, something bigger. She didn’t feel ready for it, didn’t have the strength for it, but she was once more being sucked into a nightmare. These killers were cold-blooded, clinical and utterly without mercy.

  Though she might not realize it yet, Melissa Hill had just had a very lucky escape.

  29

  10.18

  ‘I’m her sister! For God’s sake, let me through …’

  The police constable barring her way was eighteen, nineteen at the very most, and looked like a rabbit caught in headlights.

  ‘I’m not supposed to –’

  ‘Look at her, for God’s sake,’ Emilia persisted, gesturing to the young mother, who sat in the back of an ambulance, still cradling her baby. ‘She needs me.’

  The PC stared at the woman, swathed in a police blanket, then back at Emilia.

  ‘Ok, give me your name, rank and number. I’m going to make a complaint to the Chief Constable. I have run all the way here, been worried out of my mind, I just want to make sure that she’s ok.’

  ‘All right, all right.’ The officer gave in and ushered her through the cordon. ‘But if anyone asks, it wasn’t me …’

  Emilia barely heard him. She was already marching over to the ambulance, keen to get there before someone more experienced recognized her. Climbing into it, she sat down on the bench – only then did the woman look up.

  ‘How are you?’ Emilia asked, full of concern.

  ‘Ok … we’re ok …’ Melissa replied, looking a little confused.

  ‘I’m so relieved to hear it. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.’

  The woman nodded but said nothing, returning her attention to her baby, who had quietened down at last.

  ‘How many were there?’

  ‘Two,’ Melissa replied hesitantly, seemingly wrong-footed by the question.

  ‘Two men? A man and a woman?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  Emilia plucked a card from her bag – it was one of her old cards, with Chief Crime Reporter embossed on it – and handed it to Melissa.

  ‘I’m a journalist with the News. You’ve been through hell, but you’re the sole witness to an awful tragedy,’ Emilia said quickly, fully aware she was busking it now. ‘And our readers will be very keen to hear about your experiences. We don’t need to mention your child’s name if you don’t want to, but they’ll want to hear about how you saved your little girl’s life, how brave you’ve been –’

  ‘Look, I’m not ready to talk to anyone –’

  ‘Five minutes, that’s all it’ll take.’

  ‘I haven’t even spoken to the police properly yet, I can’t be talking to the press.’

  ‘I understand that and we can definitely pick this up later. How about I grab a quick picture of the pair of you and then –’

  ‘OUT!’

  Emilia turned to find a furious Charlie Brooks marching towards her.

  ‘Charlie. How nice to see you agai—’

  ‘I don’t know how you got in here, but you’re leaving.’ Charlie grabbed Emilia’s sleeve and hauled her out of the ambulance.

  ‘Steady on …’

  ‘I’m sorry about this,’ Charlie said, addressing Melissa now. ‘There won’t be any more intrusions.’

  Emilia wanted to tell her where to go, but instead smiled sweetly, as an irate Charlie turned to her.

  ‘Is it true that DI Grace let the perpetrators drive straight past her? After the Sonia Smalling murder?’

  ‘Get out of my sight.’

  ‘Any comment you’d like to make? I understand there were two perps –’

  Now Emilia felt herself being propelled towards the police cordon, Charlie having taken her roughly by the collar.

  ‘If I see you near a witness again, I’ll have you arrested,’ Charlie hissed, releasing Emilia suddenly.

  The journalist stumbled a little, then regained her balance and composure. Smoothing down her jacket, she replied: ‘Don’t be a stranger, Charlie. There’s more that unites us than divides us.’

  Charlie was about to respond – forcefully – but Emilia had already turned and walked off. Win or lose, she always liked to have the last word.

  30

  10.28

  It’s amazing what some people will do.

  Matthew Pritchard had risen late, after a heavy night’s drinking. He was a third-year psychology student at Southampton University and last night had been the department’s Freshers’ bash. Usually this provided rich pickings for the older students, who appeared sophisticated and knowledgeable in the eyes of young women who were away from home for the first time. Many of his mates had gone back with company but – for reasons he couldn’t fath
om – he had not. He had tucked into the whisky as a result, drowning his sorrows, and had woken feeling dehydrated, lethargic and generally irritable. Three cups of fennel tea and a long shower had helped a bit but he still felt washed out. Which is why he was now perched by his first-floor window, watching the world go by.

  This was something he enjoyed. All sorts of folk drifted by on the street below – mums, pensioners, students, crooks, coppers, even the occasional junkie or prostitute, wandering home after a busy night. You could tell so much about someone just by the way they looked, the way they moved, and Matthew liked to make up stories for them, imagining what their lives were like. He pictured where they lived, their families, and invented places they were going, things that they were trying to achieve. Sometimes people surprised him by actually doing something interesting – vomiting, shrieking with laughter, even attempting to snatch a bag – but the two in front of him now really took the biscuit.

  He had spotted them when they were still fifty yards away. Something about them seemed weird – perhaps it was the long coats they were both wearing, or her odd combination of mirrored aviators and pink baseball cap. They looked as if they had dressed up for the day in costumes that didn’t quite fit the occasion.

  They certainly looked like trouble, walking fast along the street, casting occasional glances behind them. At one point, Matthew thought they had looked straight up at him and he had withdrawn slightly, but they had carried on unperturbed, so perhaps he was imagining it. He had been expecting them to march straight past his flat, but to his surprise they had suddenly come to an abrupt halt. Then, having cast quickly around to check that the coast was clear, they set about breaking into the small Fiat parked just outside his front door. Bold as brass. Having failed to pop the lock, the burly-looking guy grabbed the upper rim of the passenger’s door and started to bend it back. It seemed to give relatively easily and soon the man was able to reach in and unlock the door from the inside. This would have been harder if the car had had an alarm, but of course all the cars round here were owned by students.

  It all happened so quickly that it was only now that Matthew thought to grab his phone. Snatching it up, he opened the camera app, flicked it to ‘video’ and hit ‘record’. The pair were in his viewfinder and he watched on as they pulled open the door. They paused to kiss briefly, then climbed inside, the bloke immediately getting stuck into the task of hotwiring the aged vehicle.

  Within two minutes they were gone. Matthew stopped his recording, both shocked and impressed. He had witnessed a number of criminal acts in this neighbourhood, but few that had been executed with such practised ease. The thieves were clearly not amateurs and presumably knew which roads to target. It just served to confirm what he had long suspected – you couldn’t trust anyone in this part of town.

  31

  10.31

  ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’

  Melissa Hill was cradling a cup of tea as she sat in the back of the ambulance with Helen. Melissa’s baby was now being cared for by a paramedic, who was bouncing the little girl up and down on her knee. She seemed to have forgotten her terror and was gurgling and smiling at her playmate, which moved and surprised Helen in equal measure.

  ‘I … I’d just popped in to get some things for Isla. Formula, nappies, y’know …’ Melissa began faltering. ‘I hadn’t even got anything yet, I’d just come in when the owner walks past. Didn’t even see me, he wanted to talk to two people who were messing around with the sunglasses.’

  ‘Describe them to me.’

  Melissa closed her eyes for a moment, her body shaking slightly. Helen could tell that she was back in that shop with them and laid a comforting hand on her arm.

  ‘Take your time …’

  Melissa exhaled – long and slow.

  ‘A man and a woman. He’s tall, six feet or more, she’s shorter, five two, five three …’

  ‘White, black, Asian …?’

  ‘Both white. He’s got short, brownish hair, she’s got shoulder-length blonde hair.’

  Helen nodded and shot a look at Charlie. This was better.

  ‘How old are they?’

  ‘He’s early twenties probably, she’s late teens.’

  ‘And what were they wearing?’

  ‘Both were wearing trench coats, knee-length, khaki colour. He was bareheaded, she was wearing a pink baseball cap and aviators. And he had a knife … a kind of hunting knife strapped to his chest.’

  Tears pricked Melissa’s eyes now, as the terror took hold once more. Helen stroked her arm, comforting her as best she could.

  ‘You’re doing really well, Melissa.’

  Melissa gave a grateful smile and tried to gather herself.

  ‘Were they both armed?’

  Melissa nodded.

  ‘With shotguns?’

  ‘Yes, but they were sawn off.’

  ‘Did they threaten you and Isla?’

  Melissa nodded again, clutching Helen’s hand a little tighter.

  ‘They … he wanted to kill me. He joked … he joked about who he would shoot first, me or Isla …’ she continued, her voice quivering.

  ‘Why do you think he didn’t do it? Was he disturbed? Did we scare him off?’

  Melissa shook her head vigorously.

  ‘I could hear you trying to get in, they could hear, but he didn’t seem to care. He was going to do it, then she stopped him.’

  Helen nodded.

  ‘How did she do that?’

  ‘She just grabbed him by the arm and told him not to bother.’

  ‘Exact words, please, Melissa.’

  Melissa closed her eyes once more, unwillingly returning to her trauma.

  ‘She put her hand on his arm and said, “Come on, J, she’s not worth it.” ’

  And, with that, Melissa Hill broke down.

  32

  10.35

  Helen marched away from the ambulance, Charlie by her side. Melissa had told them all she could, so she’d organized for her to be reunited with her husband and returned home under police guard. They would have to talk to her again in due course – to get a formal statement – but she had done more than enough for now.

  Reaching the end of the shopping precinct, the pair cut right, before turning right again shortly afterwards, bringing them around to the back of the pharmacy. The shop backed on to a quiet residential street, characterized by rather tired-looking Victorian houses and a scattering of low-end cars. Helen surmised that this road would normally be dead but today it was busy with uniformed officers, knocking on doors and stopping passers-by.

  Sanderson was standing in the middle of the street, marshalling their efforts. Helen didn’t dawdle, marching straight up to her.

  ‘What have we got?’ Helen asked.

  ‘A pensioner in number twenty-two saw a man hurrying down the road about half an hour ago, but she swears he was by himself. So it’s possible that they’ve split up.’

  ‘Did she describe what he was wearing?’

  ‘T-shirt and jeans, she said.’

  ‘Carrying anything?’

  ‘Not that she remembers.’

  ‘Sounds like a dead end. Our guys are tooled up, wearing long coats, carrying stuff they’ve taken from the pharmacy … And, besides, I don’t think our pair will split up willingly. It was probably just someone who heard the shots or the sirens. Have any vehicles been taken?’

  ‘A student at number five says she saw a dark saloon pull away sharply. It would be around the right time, but she wasn’t able to see who was in the vehicle –’

  ‘Make? Model?’

  ‘She’s not sure and she didn’t get the plate –’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘We’re still knocking on doors –’

  ‘So we’ve no idea which direction they headed in, nor whether they’re in a vehicle or on foot?’

  ‘Not yet. But give us time –’

  ‘We don’t have time,’ Helen shot back. ‘This pair have killed twice
in a matter of hours and my guess is that they’re not finished yet. Get me some concrete information, something I can work with …’

  Nodding, Sanderson hurried off to confer with her uniformed colleagues. Helen watched her, seething with frustration at their lack of progress. A pair of killers were at large in Southampton, committing acts of murder with impunity, and nobody had witnessed anything. Were the perpetrators lucky or cunning? Time would tell, but for now they seemed to be able to ghost into people’s lives, kill and then vanish without a trace.

  33

  10.57

  The car came to a gentle stop and he killed the engine. They were out of sight now, parked up in an alleyway near South Hants Hospital. A long line of lock-ups flanked them – lock-ups that were seldom visited. It was the perfect place to hide away for an hour or so, until things quietened down a bit.

  They had listened to the radio as they drove. Reports were filtering through of a ‘major incident’ in Portswood – he’d loved that – and local journalists were starting to make the connection with the earlier road closure near Ashurst. Information was thin on the ground, but you could sense the fear and excitement in the newscasters’ voices – something big was starting.

  Turning off the radio, he got out of the car. His companion did likewise, crossing to him quickly. She grabbed him by the collar, kissing him fiercely. He responded, his hands straying to her bottom, pulling her towards him, when a sudden noise made him stop.

  It was a deep, dull noise, loud and repetitive. Thunk, thunk, thunk. He was bemused at first – feeling the first sudden stab of fear – then slowly he started to raise his gaze, following the direction of the sound.

  ‘Look, babes …’

  She had spotted it and now he did too. And the sight brought a big smile to his face.