Naomi dare not move. She felt him drop his hand to his waist and unbuckle his belt, pull it from the loops. He lifted his hand again and fumbled against her neck. At first, she did not understand what he meant to do, then she felt the leather against her neck and she knew.
“No!” She lifted her hands to pull the belt away but he jammed the pistol more tightly against her head and she dropped them down.
It wasn’t easy and it took him some little time, but eventually he had the belt slipped through the buckle and pulled tight against her throat.
“We’re going to climb,” he told her. “Any trouble and I’ll just pull.” He demonstrated with a painful jerk.
“You see this,” he shouted. “We’re going up there. I’ll go first and she’ll come on behind. Any of you buggers shoot me, I’ll bring her down too. You got that?”
“Ted, what will you gain by taking Naomi up there?”
She didn’t recognise the voice.
“You can’t get anywhere from the roof and that’s where the ladder leads to. It’s just an inspection ladder, Ted, they use it to check the water tank and the heating vents. You can’t get don from the other side and you can’t get off. You’ll just sit up there and we’ll just sit down here.”
“Suits me. Now move.”
Somehow, he managed to wedge them both onto the ladder. Ted a step above, keeping tight hold on the leather belt that wrapped around her throat. Every time he moved higher. He pulled painfully on the loop. Naomi had trouble breathing before, but now, she could feel her head swimming and the effort it took to grip the rungs was unbelievable. She tried to wedge one hand between the belt and her neck, but he just jerked harder and pulled it tighter and the difficulty of climbing with just one hand in contact with the ladder, when she couldn’t see where the rungs were proved to be more than she could handle. And her feet were bare, slipping and sliding against the cold, slick metal.
“Move it! Move faster!” Ted was shouting at her.
Naomi sobbed in desperation. Her feet slid again. Hands didn’t seem able to grip. Lungs on fire. Body cold and drenched with freezing rain. Naomi came close to just letting go.
“Naomi. We’re with you. Naomi it’ll be all right. You just hold on.” She heard him, his voice dim and fuzzy in ears that were filled already with blood pounding and the sucking of half breath. Alec. She had to make it down. She had to make it back to him. She couldn’t die. Not now.
“Somehow, she reached the top and Ted Harper dragged her down over the low parapet and onto the roof. He released his grip on the leather and she slid her fingers behind the tightness of it, pulled the soaked and tightened belt a little away from her throat. Enough to breathe.
She felt him move away from her and reached out, trying to get her bearings judge how far from the edge she might be.
“Come and bloody get me!” Ted Harper was exuberant. “Who’s a loser now, copper?”
He fired his gun in the direction of the armed men. Once and then again and Naomi knew that he had only one thing on his mind. To inflict as much damage as he could to anyone unlucky enough to get in the way.
***
The Armed Response Units had pulled their vehicles into a tight formation and were using them to give cover. Two police and one army vehicles, Alec noted, though in the gloom and pouring rain it was hard for him to differentiate between the well- armed men. The pilot had joined them and Alec sensed that the man was angry at not having been able to do more to stop Ted Harper taking Naomi. Alec didn’t know if more would have been possible. In the situation, at the time, he would not have said so. What insight hindsight would reveal, he knew from experience would be another matter.
“Did you know he had a second weapon?”
Alec shook his head. “I knew they had handguns, but not who, or what.”
“Well, we’ve one man down. Not seriously wounded, I’m thankful to say, but from the look of him, he’d like to try for a few more.”
Alec nodded. He could barely see Ted Harper dancing on the roof. Rising to fire a shot, then ducking down again.
“Will she have the sense to stay down?”
Alec nodded. “I believe so. She can’t see where she is, remember. She’ll only have a rough idea of where the edge of the roof is. I doubt she’ll want to move.”
He hoped she wouldn’t want to move.
The man beside Alec had a scope on his rifle that looked fit to see Mars, not just Ted Harper. The red tracer was diffracted by the torrential rain. It ran down his nose, into his eyes. He remained amazingly still despite that, only occasionally raising a hand to wipe the pouring water from his face. “Can you see him?”
“I can’t predict where he’ll pop up next is the trouble and there’s always that chance it’ll be the lady and not him. Split second makes all the difference.”
Alec gnawed at his lower lip. He wanted to be up there, with her. He wanted to kill Ted Harper.
***
Naomi was listening to him move. He was taunting them. He’d fired six shots, so far. She’d counted them and she’d heard him replace the clip. Did the gun just hold six rounds, or was the clip capable of a forced round? Did he have more ammunition?
She noticed that he moved in quite a restricted plane around her. Not so far away that she might be out of reach. She noted too that so far, no one was returning fire and guessed she must be the reason.
“You see,” Ted Harper was delighted. “Cowards, the lot of them. Just don’t have what it takes. Try and pick off your boyfriend shall I? I can see him. Oh yes, hiding out down there, but from up here I can see him well. She had dragged herself slowly to the parapet, feeling her way along, so she had some sense of where she was in relation to the ladder. Ted was taking little notice of her, pausing in his dance only to crow over the fact that he was up here, the hero in his own head. They were down there, poor sods in the pouring rain waiting for him to see how many he could kill.
Suddenly, Naomi knew she could take no more. The thought that anyone else would be injured by this crazy man appalled her. More than that, the thought that he might, by some freak chance, really hit Alec was more than she could cope with. Ted Harper had lost his mind, she was certain of that and he’d pushed Naomi to the edge of reason.
She was tired and cold and had gone beyond being afraid for her own life. She just wanted this to be over. She waited until he had fired the next shot, waited while he moved into his new position for the next. She’d got the measure of him now, could tell by the sound of his booted feet exactly where he was. She waited a moment longer till he rose up again, gun raised, laughter bursting from his crazed mouth. And then she hauled her weary body to its feet and she launched herself at Ted Harper. Pushing him with all her strength and all the force of will that she possessed, catching him at that moment of unbalance as he leapt to his feet ready to fire again.
Ted Harper stumbled forward and Naomi dropped down, ready to throw herself again, the thought that she too might fall, entering her head only for long enough for it to be dismissed.
Before she could rise up again she heard the sharp report of a rifle shot. Instinctively, she dropped on her belly and pressed her face into the floor. She felt him tumble past her, his leg catching her shoulder as he cartwheeled down. He was dead already. Long before he ever hit the ground.
CHAPTER 34
On the morning of his sixteenth birthday, Patrick slept late. It was almost noon when the household finally stirred and decided it really was time to rejoin the world.
They’d camped out at the Emmett’s house, gravitating there because of Mari’s presence late on the night of Naomi’s rescue. Lillian had put Naomi and Alec in the spare room, Mari being housed in their younger son’s bedroom, he being away at university.
Patrick and Harry slept on sofas downstairs. Lillian had been worried about them having enough room and being comfortable, but in truth they would have slept anywhere by them.
Simon, interview safely in the bag –in reality a t
ape of random recollections and impression and reactions that he’d have to put in some kind of order before it could be used - had been shoed off home, or wherever else he needed to be. Lillian, disapproving of her son’s methods, made it plain she didn’t want to know.
Simon had departed cheerfully enough, knowing that Lillian’s irritation would not survive a good night’s sleep.
They cooked breakfast at lunchtime, crowding into Lillian’s cheerful kitchen and all getting in one another’s way, barring Naomi who sat at the table, Napoleon by her side, drinking tea and saying very little while Alec fussed around her.
“And what will you do today,” Lillian asked Patrick. “Go home and unwrap your other presents?”
Patrick shook his head. “I want to go to Morton Park,” he said unexpectedly. “I want to sit in the sun and be quiet and not think about anything and then later, I want to go to the cinema. I don’t care what’s on and I want everyone to come. And then…then I want to go out and eat somewhere, really late at night – anything but Pizza.”
Harry laughed at that.
“We should get a cake,” Naomi said, trying to make an effort to join in.
“Mari, nan, already has one,” Patrick said.
“And how would you know that, “ Mari asked him.
Patrick shrugged. “I just know. Dad, he bust up my skateboard. You think I could get another? I’ve got some money saved and I’ve been given some for my birthday.”
“Before or after the park,” Harry asked. “Better go before, I think, then you can take it with you. Finish breakfast and we’ll go to…oh that strange shop you like in Pinsent.”
“Ok. Thanks,“ Patrick said. “Then we’ll come back and get everyone. Yeah?”
Naomi nodded, though all she really wanted was to go home and sleep some more. She’d spent the night curled up as close to Alec as she could get, his arms around her, her face buried in his shoulder. She’d cried herself to sleep and had a shrewd idea he’d done the same. All of the emotion kept so tightly controlled over three days, spilling out.
“What happens now?” she asked after Patrick and Harry had departed.
Alec held her hand. “We help Lillian clear up this mess. You wash, I’ll dry. The we go to Morton Park and I give you a live commentary while Patrick does unspeakable things on his board and Harry cringes.”
“Ordinary things,” she said.
“Ordinary things.” He confirmed. “I think we need ordinary things. And then, when Patrick’s day is over, I’m going to take some leave and we’re going to the travel agent and we’re going to slam some money on the counter as say, ‘how far away can you send us for this’ and when we get there, we’re going to lie in our hotel room and sleep for as long as it takes.”
“I don’t want to close my eyes. I feel so dark inside.”
“Then we’ll lie on the beach. Somewhere hot and bright so that you can see the light. Naomi, will you marry me?”
She smiled and leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, Napoleon nudged the pair of them with his nose.
“Maybe,” Naomi said.
If you enjoyed Heatwave you might be interested in Mourning the Little Dead by Jane A Adams, also published by Endeavour Press.
Extract from Mourning the Little Dead by Jane A Adams
Prologue
The day she heard about Helen had been heavy with the threat of storms. The wind that had blown from the sea all week, bringing with it a prematurely winter chill, had dipped almost to nothing and by evening the air crackled with a heated stillness that was unexpected for this late in September. Heat, and the promise of thunder. Naomi could imagine the stone-grey clouds gathering beyond the horizon and the yellow foam crashing and moiling upon the beach and dragging at the smooth worn stones.
In retrospect, she perceived that there had been a sense of expectation that day. She should have known something momentous was about to break. But that evening she had suspected nothing.
That evening, Naomi had the windows open, and the tall electric fan beating the stillness from the air while Napoleon’s thick black tail beat another rhythm out on the wooden floor. She had switched the television on and lay slumped on the fat blue sofa beside the open window while the news played through the day’s events.
It was a tiny snippet of a report. A few lines on the local bulletin, but Naomi felt the shock of it hitting like a fist in the stomach, winding her as effectively as a physical blow.
Police were searching for the body of Helen Jones. Twenty-three years on from the event, someone had confessed to killing her.
One
‘Are you OK?’
She could imagine Alec’s rather too handsome face creasing with concern. The grey-blue eyes clouded by one of those moments of seriousness he did so well.
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It was a shock, though, I don’t mind telling you. Where are they digging?’
‘Lansdowne Road. You know, on the Bellingham estate. They were building it back when—’
‘Yeah, I remember. Some of the new families had kids at our school.’
‘I’ve brought you some wine,’ he said. ‘Thought we might send out for a takeaway. Or maybe you’d just like a drink right now?’
She smiled. ‘I don’t think I could eat. I’ll get some glasses. What kind is it?’
‘What? Oh, that one with the goat on the label. I remembered you liked that one.’
Naomi laughed then. Alec was a beer drinker for preference. He’d taken an interest in other forms of alcohol just to please her. It was typical he’d only remember the picture on the label.
‘I’ll find the glasses,’ she said again.
‘Here. Let me.’
‘I can manage, Alec. I know my kitchen better than you do. Anyway, how do you think I cope most of the time?’
‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I just...well...You know.’
‘I know.’ She had long since given up being offended by well-meaning offers of help. Naomi crossed to the wall cupboard and reached to open the door, feeling her way carefully along the row until she came to the long-stemmed, pale blue glasses she had bought the week before. She knew they were pale blue because the friend who had gone shopping with her had told her so. Naomi had chosen them for the long, elegant stems and the satisfying shape that sat so comfortably in the palm of her hand.
In her previous existence, she had never given much thought to the way things felt. Now, it was her main criteria when it came to making a choice.
She held the glasses out towards him. ‘Corkscrew in the drawer to your left. I’ll let you do the honours.’
‘Right you are.’
She could feel him smile, hear it in his voice. She leaned back against the kitchen counter and listened to the sounds of Alec rooting in the drawer for the corkscrew and then opening the bottle. The wine glugged impatiently into the glass and Naomi could imagine the deep-red glowing purple through the pale blue. She should have told him to let it breathe, she thought.
‘So,’ she asked him. ‘What went on? The news was pretty vague; just that there had been a confession and they were digging for the body.’
‘That’s about the size of it.’ He shrugged. She fancied she could feel it, but maybe it was just that she knew Alec and his body language all too well.
‘Here, you want to carry your glass? Then I can bring the wine. Got it?’ He waited until her fingers had curled securely around the stem and then moved towards the door. Naomi followed him into the living room. When he spoke again his voice came from across the room and she guessed he had settled on the sofa close beside the window. Napoleon’s tail thumped steadily upon the floor, but the dog did not bother to get up. Naomi sat down in the worn leather chair beside the fireplace and reached out to check that the little table was where it ought to be. She set her wine glass down upon it.
‘So tell me.’
Alec sighed. ‘Not much to tell to be truthful. I got in this morning and the place was buzzing. Some woman
had come in—’
‘A woman? A woman confessed to killing Helen?’
‘No, no. Look, hold on and let me tell. This woman had come in and demanded to see someone in charge. Turns out her father had just died and the confession was amongst his things.’
‘You’ve seen it?’
‘No.’ Alec sounded slightly puzzled. ‘They’re keeping the whole thing tight. DCI Logan spoke to the woman and then spent the next hour closeted with Superintendent Phillips. His secretary routed about a half-dozen external calls, and next thing was a team was being assembled ready to dig up 43 Lansdowne Road.’
‘The residents. They’re implicated?’
‘No. Poor bastards have only been there six months. They’ve had to pack their bags and clear out. Phillips is having them put up in a hotel. Taxpayers’ expense.’
‘Why have them move out? I thought they were just digging in the garden.’
Alec shook his head, she knew that by the little pause before he said, ‘No. Rumour has it the concrete for the floor was poured two days after Helen went missing. If so...Anyway, they’ve called in a team of builders to assist our lot. The news might have been low key this evening, but mark my words, by tomorrow it’ll be reported as the next house of horrors.’
‘They don’t think...?’
‘Far as I know this is just about Helen. Look,’ he added, ‘I’d have come earlier if I could, you know that.’
‘There was no need, Alec. Truly. But thanks anyway,’ she added, realizing suddenly that she was glad he had. ‘You know, I must have thought about her every day since it happened. I must have wondered, every single day, where she went. Was she dead? Was she alive or...I don’t know...spirited away somewhere? We all knew she must be dead, but, you know, hearing it on the news like that it was still...shocking.’
‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘Yes, I do know.’
They were silent for a moment. A silence that grew like a shadow across the room between them. Not uncomfortable, but full of things that neither one had the nerve to say. Naomi broke it, asking. ‘Who confessed, Alec?’
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