HEATWAVE
Jane Adams
Copyright © Jane Adams 2007
The right of Jane Adams to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2007 by Severn House Ltd.
This edition published in 2014 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Table of Contents
Prologue
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
Extract from Mourning the Little Dead by Jane A Adams
Prologue
Naomi had been half expecting Alec’s proposal, but even so, it came as a shock to hear him actually say it. It was probably inevitable though, considering they had spent the better part of the day attending the wedding of a friend and one time colleague. Naomi had chosen her dress with care; something suitable for an afternoon wedding, a formal reception and then far less formal dance and the simple blue silk that felt so wonderful when she stroked it and clung emphatically to every curve had, she knew, been something of a triumph. Alec’s pride in having her beside him had been unmistakable and the little exclamations of envy and admiration from several other women had been very gratifying.
It wasn’t that Naomi was vain, or that she particularly wanted to score points. It was simply that two years, no, maybe even a year before, she would have been horrified at attending anything so public, so exposed. As it was, her thorough enjoyment of the day and even her anticipation of the event - the shopping trip with her sister to find just the right dress and the careful matching of accessories- was such an important marker on how far she had come. The fact that she could not see the rich blue green and that she had to trust her sister’s judgement on which shoes and bag did or didn’t ‘go’ had not diminished in the slightest her pleasure in knowing that she looked good and felt better. The accident that had taken her sight, her career, her entire way of life from her had seemed finally to be receding if not exactly into the background, then at least to a manageable distance.
But now the day was ended. Naomi’s sense of triumph given the chance to wane and weariness taken over, it all seemed a little hollow. The occasion had been so overwhelmingly filled with memories. Colleagues – Alec’s still; once hers; had flocked to them, told her how wonderful she looked, how great it was to see her. How well they thought she had coped with it all….and that was the problem, really. Yes, she had…coped…whatever that meant. Naomi had long since been of the opinion that you played the hand life dealt you and didn’t waste time and effort bemoaning what might possibly have been. But that didn’t mean that it was easy. It didn’t mean that the pain went away.
Lately, as she had rebuilt her life and settled in to the changes this new hand had dealt, she found that now her time was not merely spent learning how to cope, that she was actually bored. She felt restless, ready to move on to a new challenge and that new challenge, so far, had failed to materialise. To have these shadows from her previous life, pressing in on her all day, sitting next to her and talking shop only served to remind her of all the things missing and profoundly missed.
“Naomi, you know how I feel?” Alec sounded uncertain that she did. “You say yes now and I’ll be the happiest man alive.”
“Will you?”
“Sure I will.”
“Alec, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready for this. For marriage and all that.”
“I all but live here, at your place. We could move into mine. It’s plenty big enough.”
And that had been what did it. The idea of her leaving this carefully chosen asylum she had moved to after her accident was more than she could bear. They’d all thought she was crazy, starting off somewhere new, but for Naomi that had been the beginning of everything. The fact that she knew this space intimately, had chosen everything in it. Had designed it around herself and her new set of priorities was something, she figured, those well-meaning friends and family could not bring themselves to understand and for Alec to suggest she might abandon that…it was too much. Too much to even contemplate.
“I can’t Alec. Not leave home. Not yet.” She spoke more sharply than she’d intended. “Alec, I love you, but I’m not ready to be anyone’s wife.”
He sighed and she felt him sink back into the sofa. “But you’ll think about it?”
“I’ll think about it.” She smiled. “Take it as a maybe? Huh?”
“I ask the woman to marry me and she says maybe.” He laughed and reached to clasp her hand. “I don’t suppose Harry has anything to do with your indecision?”
“If Harry asked me I’d tell him no. Does that make you feel better?”
“A maybe is better than a straight no,” he agreed. “I’m rushing you, aren’t I?”
She nodded. “Yeah, you are. Alec it just came home to me today that I don’t know who I am any more. In here,” she touched her temple,” I’m still the Naomi I used to be. Out there, I’m…I don’t know what I am. If I said yes to you tonight, it would be because I could then say, I’m Alec’s wife. It would be because you were giving me some kind of identity. Not because I wanted to say yes.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“I think so, yes. Ask me again?”
He kissed her. “You know I will. Again and again until I get the answer I want.”
“You’d better do.” She paused, not sure what the etiquette was when you’d turned someone down, though she suspected that Alec had almost expected her response and knew it would make no difference between them. “Are you staying?”
“No, I’ve got a long day tomorrow and I’d never get up in time to go home and change. Still on for tomorrow night though?”
“You know it is. I’ll be home for about six.”
“You’re off out with Harry and Patrick tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Don’t grouch about it. Harry is one of my oldest friends, so don’t play jealous.”
“I’m not! Well, maybe just a little. Anyway, I thought Helen was the friend, Harry, as I recall, was just the big brother. OK, ok.”
Naomi could imagine him holding up his hands in mock surrender.
“Just as long as I’m sure you’d say no, if Harry asked you. Look, tell Patrick I’ve borrowed that game he wanted to try out. I’ll drop it in for him.”
“Will do.”
He got to his feet, pulling her up with him, then kissed her again, the kiss more passionate this time. Reluctantly, she pushed him away. “Go, or you’ll be turning up to work in your best suit.”
“Would it matter?”
“Go! I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“That’s far too long away. OK, I’m going,” he added as she pointed at the door. He kissed her again and her resolve almost melted away. Almost, but not quite. She needed to be alone now. To think about the day. As she heard the door close and the engine of Alec’s car as he drove away, she stood still in the middle of her living room floor and thought about it. Would she say no, if Harry asked her to marry him?
Yes, she was pretty sure she would, though the comfor
t she derived from his solid, reliable presence sometimes make her wonder. If he should pounce at a weak moment…She laughed, the thought of Harry pouncing amusing her. He’d need his son, Patrick to prompt him and probably still mistime.
Alec on the other hand… She loved him, certainly, but did she love him enough? Frankly, at that moment, Naomi really didn’t know.
CHAPTER 1
P.C Andrews was suffering from the heat. August had begun with heavy rain and days cold enough to feel like October. Then, the second week had begun and all had changed. The past nine days had produced heat enough to melt the tarmac and have the local authority mumbling about a hose-pipe ban.
Andrews was patrolling in shirt sleeves. Regulations supported the wearing of a stab vest at all times, but Andrews, after suffering his for the past week, had succumbed to temptation and left it back in the patrol room. Even stripped down to basics his white shirt wilted and sweat ran from the back of his neck, trickling down his spine and soaking the waistband of his trousers. His slow march had taken him from the promenade and down the high street and he was just looking forward to a quick chat with Molly at the café, before he turned back towards the sea front and the sea breezes once again, when he noticed the car. Quite what attracted him, he wasn’t certain. The black Ford Granada, prowled along the high street, driver searching for a parking space large enough to accommodate him. Five men could be glimpsed inside.
Air conditioning, lucky sods, Andrews thought, noting the closed windows. The driver seemed to have given up on his search for a parking spot and accelerated into a side road opposite to where Andrews was standing .
The Police Constable watched as the front seat passenger and those from the rear got out, straightening themselves up and glancing around as though to get their bearings. They were dressed casually in jeans and T shirts- one in a faded pair of red shorts. Three looked younger, in their twenties. The older man carried a dark blue hold- all with a Nike motif, white against the dark background. The driver stayed put, engine running, heat haze from the exhaust blurring across the number plate.
Andrews frowned. This didn’t look right. Nothing wrong with five men sharing a big car, of course, or a friend dropping others off for a quick errand and the air conditioning would need the engine running, he supposed. But Andrews didn’t think this was it. He keyed his radio and slipped back into the shadow of a fruit shop awning, watching as the men came back onto the main road and turned left, walking purposefully now, heading past Andrews on the other side of the road.
“Can you give me a PNC check,” he asked control. “Ford Granada, black, registration…” He listened, keeping the men in sight. Moments later, he was hearing the report of a stolen car. Keeping in the shadows and the men in view, Andrews prepared follow.
Inside the bank, Naomi relaxed in the chill of the air conditioning. It was cold enough to raise the hairs on her arms and send a sudden shiver down her damp spine. She wore a bright blue summer dress, short and fitted. It set off dark hair that had been allowed to grow since winter and a figure, newly honed from the last several months of gym workouts.
The boy standing behind her, slouched in baggy jeans. His one concession to the weather, the fact that his black T-shirt, blazoned with a Celtic dragon, had short sleeves, instead of his usual long, covering the hands style that was his regular out of school wear. He clutched a skateboard in a grubby fist, a permanent fixture through the summer months when the bright weather had dragged even Patrick out from his computer games and away from his drawings.
“The queue’s moving,” Harry told Naomi. Patrick’s father took her arm gently and eased her forward. Napoleon, Naomi’s glossy black guide dog, huffed reluctantly to his feet.
She dropped her hand to stroke the dog’s ears. “Poor old boy,” she said. “Just find a cool spot and we’ll make you move.” He wriggled against her, beating his tail heavily, but rather half-heartedly against her leg. They had already agreed that after the bank they’d head inland to Morton Park, with its massive lake and old shade trees and skateboard run. Take a picnic and spend the rest of the day being utterly lazy.
Harry was at the start of his annual holiday. He and Patrick planned to go away for a few days later in the week, taking Mari, Patrick’s grandmother with them to visit relatives in the Lakes. But today, nothing important was arranged and, Harry, as he had confided to Naomi earlier, felt guiltily content, as though he were playing truant from his job.
“Is it usually this busy on a Monday?” Harry asked.
“Um, can be. How many tills have they got open?”
“Two,” Harry told her. “Out of five.”
She smiled at his disapproval. “Never mind, we’re moving now and at least it’s cool in here. I’ve just got some stuff to pay in, shouldn’t take any time at all once we’ve got to the counter.”
“Listen to this track, Nomi,” Patrick said. He’d brought his walkman, another part of his summer uniform. He detached one small black plug from his ear and lodged it precariously into Naomi’s. She reached up to adjust it, then smiled. “Chilli Peppers,” she said.
“Yeah. The cover version of this was crap.”
“Language, Patrick,” Harry said sententiously.
“I only said…ok. Good, though, isn’t it?”
“Is er…is that the track I kind of like?” Harry offered.
“Yeah its…” But whatever Patrick had been about to say was drowned out by a roar of sound. A sharp crack and then a blast followed by screaming and a falling, like a shower heavier than rain as plaster from the ceiling cracked and hit the floor.
“Nobody move and no one’s going to get hurt. Understand me? Now, on the floor. I said on the floor."
"Harry? What?"
“We’re being robbed,” Harry told her. He sounded so affronted she almost laughed despite the fear that gripped her.
“Harry I figured that one…”
“Dad, Naomi, just get on the floor, will you?”
She felt Patrick tugging at her skirt and dropped down beside him, good sense finally kicking in. “Napoleon, come here,” she pulled the dog close and reached both arms around him, holding him tight. He whined softly, but seemed otherwise remarkably unconcerned and Naomi marvelled, not for the first time at the equilibrium of her sleek coated friend.
A woman continued to scream. Not a scream of pain, but a repeated hysterical squealing, regular and oddly controlled. Like a car alarm, Naomi found herself thinking, and just as irritating. Others could be heard, crying, whispering, trying to soothe.
“I said shut the fuck up.” The man’s voice again, closer this time .
“She’s scared. What do you expect?” The woman’s reply was firm and cool.
“I expect her to shut up.” This time the voice was level with them and the clump of feet near enough for Naomi to edge back instinctively at their passing.
“In the bag. Now. I said, in the bag.”
“How many are there,” Naomi whispered.
“Four, all armed,” Harry told her. “Faces covered with those SAS type balaclavas. God,” he added, “I wish she’d shut up.”
Naomi had already tuned the woman out. Training had taken over. Training and experience of the twelve years she’d been a serving officer. Ex DI Naomi Blake was focused on the voices over at the counter. The man in charge, calling the shots, his voice the slightest bit muffled from the mask, but clear and authoritative for all that. Barking his commands and expecting them to be obeyed. A new voice, softer, more uncertain, echoing his master’s orders. Must be at the second window, she thought. No sound from the other two men, or at least nothing she could discern above the woman’s squeals and the urgent murmur of other voices all around her.
“Where are the others?”
“Near the door,” Patrick told her. “They’ve not moved since they came in.”
“Just hold on,” she told him. “They’ll be out of here in no time. Try to remember as much as you can. Ok?
“Hey you
. Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”
Startled, Naomi realised from the sudden tension in Harry’s body that the man was talking to her. And just as suddenly, she knew that his was a familiar voice. She’d heard it before.”
Then, ”what the fuck?”
Sirens heard from outside on Main Street. One, two three, maybe four cars, she counted, trying to differentiate between them, screeching to a halt and doors slamming hard.
“Police!” a different voice shouted from over near the doors.
“Damn,” Naomi cursed softly.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Harry questioned.
”No, dad, I don’t think it is,” Patrick told him heavily. “We’re in here with four armed men and the police are blocking their one way out. Personally I think that’s a crap thing.”
Naomi closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the sudden attack of nerves that pounded at the pit of her already knotted stomach.
“How many people in the bank,” she asked quietly, her words almost drowned by the sirens.
“About a dozen, I guess,” Harry told her. “Then there’s the counter staff and whoever…”
“Hostages,” Patrick filled in what Naomi was thinking. “They’ve got themselves hostages, haven’t they Nomi?”
She nodded slowly, not feeling able to confirm Patrick’s words aloud.
CHAPTER 2
Outside the bank, backup had arrived and Andrews found himself the centre of attention. “There were four of them got out of the car,” he explained. The driver must have cut loose when he heard the sirens. I didn’t see him go,” he shrugged uncomfortably. “I couldn’t be everywhere. Anyway, I called in with the index number and control told me the car was stolen. So I kept them in sight and kept the commentary going. They went into the bank, paused just inside the double doors there, pulled on masks and took weapons from the bag.”
“What kind of weapons?” Sergeant Peel, the most senior officer present, asked him.
Heatwave Page 1
