Then again, Haider did say greed was one of the greatest motivators for murder.
“What about Howard? Did you murder him as well? And Niall?” Osian tried to disrupt Derrick’s recitation of his non-existent credentials. “Why kill them both?”
“A Shakespearean tragedy almost as brilliantly dramatic as Romeo and Juliet.” Derrick adjusted his hand on the gun. “Howard made a mistake.”
“Did he?” Osian prompted when Derrick fell silent.
Silence is bad.
We want him talking.
Silence means he’s thinking, and I don’t trust his thoughts.
“I. Trusted. Him.” Derrick ground out the words.
“Did you?”
“With my reputation. With my parents’ money. With my heart.”
Ahh.
Well, there we go: greed, lust, and a philanderer.
The trifecta of most true crime shows.
“Was he snogging Niall?” Osian eased back ever so slightly when Derrick shoved the gun at him.
“I warned him.”
Osian blinked at him. Warned him? Niall or Howard? “The note in Birdie’s room.”
“I saw Niall with Howard. And I warned him to stay away,” Derrick insisted. He shifted the gun to his other hand and wiped the sweat from his fingers. “I never did find where the note went.”
Given the mess of Birdie’s room, Osian could imagine how a threatening note disappeared. It made him wonder if Niall had received it then gone to confront Birdie, assuming she’d been the sender. They might never know the entire truth of the murders at the Evelyn Lavelle.
Part of Osian wanted to tell the still rambling Derrick to be quiet for a minute. The longer he went on, though, the better their chances of survival. Maybe the bastard will talk himself to death?
“Oi. Mate. Everything all right over there?” A man leaned out a window a few gardens over, shouting out to them. “I’ve called the police.”
“Why don’t you show me where Ian is?” Osian wanted to redirect Derrick’s obvious panic, hoping to keep him from shooting them and running off. “You can tell me all about your plans for the theatre.”
“Ossie.”
Osian couldn’t think about Dannel. He wanted to distract Derrick enough in the hopes they’d leave Dannel behind. “You don’t have much time if the police are on their way.”
“Will you shut up?” Derrick snapped.
Sirens in the distance drew their attention. Osian kept his eye on the gun while planting himself firmly in front of Dannel. One way or another, he had no doubt this would be over soon.
Derrick tugged his sleeve down over his hand, hiding all but the end of the barrel of the gun from view. He motioned for Osian to come closer. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Let’s go see the old man.”
Osian felt Dannel grip the back of his shirt. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”
I hope.
As a paramedic, Osian had learnt to never make promises to patients or their family members. It never ended well. He could only do his best with things out of his control.
And a man with a gun was definitely out of his control.
“Ossie.”
Osian twisted around. He bent forward to rest his forehead against Dannel’s, keeping his voice low. “Text Rolly and Haider. I love you.”
“Ossie.”
“We’ll be fine.” Osian didn’t get to say anything further. Derrick nudged him in the back with his weapon. “All right. All right.”
“If you move, I’ll shoot him.” Derrick gestured threateningly toward Dannel. “And then I’ll kill you. What are two more bodies on my list? Don’t move. Don’t call the police.”
Following Derrick through the alley to a parked vehicle, Osian tried to keep his anxiety at bay while being shoved into the boot. Dannel was safe now. He could figure everything else out.
What if I bust out of the boot in the middle of the street?
Ian was the only thing keeping Osian from acting on his plan. They had no idea where Derrick had sequestered him. If Ian was alive, they might not get a better chance to rescue him.
Plan B.
Easing his phone out of his pocket after waiting for forever to make certain the car wasn’t going to stop suddenly, Osian made sure to adjust the sound. He had no idea if Derrick would be able to hear it over traffic sounds. No point in taking an unnecessary risk.
Who to message?
Haider.
A simple message seemed the best option. Osian shifted in the boot, trying to find a slightly less awkward position. He quickly typed a message to Haider.
Osian: Trapped in the boot of Derrick Green’s car. Assuming we’re on the way to where he’s got Ian. Leaving my phone on so you can do your fancy detective tracing thing.
Haider: What were you thinking?
Haider: Never mind. I can list the ways you buggered this up later.
Osian: Alphabetically?
Haider: We’re going to track your phone. Do not turn it off. Do not antagonise your abductor.
Osian: I’ll be a model prisoner. Is Dannel okay?
Haider: Constable Ortea is with his brother.
Osian: I think we’re stopped. Hiding my phone.
Osian had enough time to slip his phone into his pocket and panic about what might happen before Derrick yanked open the boot and ordered him out. “Three stars for the ride. Bit of a cramped seat, but the driving was smooth.”
What part of don’t antagonise the killer did I miss?
All of it, apparently.
“Let’s reunite you with Ian.” Derrick managed to sound surprisingly menacing.
And hope to hell he’s alive and I can keep us both that way.
Twenty-Eight
Dannel
Alone.
Dannel watched Derrick lead Osian away. Bugger.
Bugger.
The sirens grew closer. Dannel searched for the emergency communication app on his phone. On days when his mind decided spoken words were impossible, he found typing things helped immensely. And the pre-written explanation at the beginning tended to keep everyone else from being confused.
“Sir? Sir. Have you been injured?” A constable approached him cautiously with his partner behind him. “Can we help?”
Dannel tapped the app open on his phone, holding it out toward the police officers who found him sitting on a brick wall in the garden. The young constable didn’t seem to know what to make of him.
Please contact a police officer named Roland Ortea.
Or Detective Inspector Haider Khan.
“Danny?” Roland raced over to him. He’d obviously already been on the way, having shown up moments after the constables. “Are you okay? Were you hurt? Are you in a no-touch mood?”
He typed out Osian’s name on his phone and held the screen out toward his brother.
“Detective Inspector Khan looped me into his chat with Osian. They’ve tracked him via his phone and now on CCTV. They’re a few minutes behind the vehicle. He’s going to be fine.” Roland checked him all over with his hand hovering above Dannel’s shoulder. “Were you hurt? You absolutely daft bastard. What were you thinking?”
“Rude git.” Dannel was pleased to find two words in his wordless haze.
“You scared me half to death. Be glad Mum’s not aware of this little disaster. Heard the call over the radio about some kind of armed hostage situation. And then they mentioned your name.” Roland folded his arms across his chest and glared at Dannel. He sighed deeply after a minute of silence. “Why don’t I give you a lift home?”
“Ossie,” Dannel insisted.
“You need time to decompress. I’ll stay with you and take you to wherever Osian is once you’re capable of more than one-word answers.” Roland had a point despite Dannel wanting to argue.
He didn’t have the words to debate with his baby brother.
Sometimes, brain, you’re a right pain in the arse.
After a heated text conversation on his mobile, t
hey found a compromise. Roland allowed him to stretch out on the back seat of his vehicle. Dannel popped in his noise-cancelling earbuds and cued up one of his Broadway playlists.
He put Hamilton on repeat and tried to get as comfortable as he could in the back of Roland’s car. His brother tossed a blanket to him. It was a part of his “help Danny decompress” kit.
Osian’s idea. Several of their friends and family had them. It helped when going home wasn’t an option.
And Dannel refused to go home.
The heavy blanket and familiar strains of Hamilton helped ease some of his stress. It did nothing for his anxiety over Osian’s safety. It couldn’t.
Nothing but seeing Osian safe and alive could help.
Adjusting the volume of the music, Dannel tried to listen in on the police radio chatter. Roland had thoughtfully turned it down to avoid disturbing him. He couldn’t quite make out the words.
“They found Derrick’s car. No Osian or Ian.” Roland noticed him listening. He adjusted the volume on his radio. “You sure you don’t want to go home to wait?”
“Rolly.”
“Fine.” His brother lifted his hands up in surrender.
“Has anyone told Olivia or his mum and stepdad?” Dannel couldn’t imagine Osian’s family taking his disappearance well.
“Do you want to be the one to tell Olivia?”
“Aren’t you the big and brave police constable?” Dannel stared at his brother, who was shaking his head firmly. “Rolly.”
“Olivia is terrifying. Glittery sparkles and terrifying.” Roland held his phone out to Dannel. “You could call her.”
“Why don’t I text her?” Dannel used Roland’s phone to send the message. His brother could deal with the constant beeping of incoming texts sure to follow. “There. Enjoy the influx of responses.”
“Why did I hand you my phone?” Roland carefully placed it on the dashboard, and pointedly ignored the beep. “Rhetorical question. Don’t answer.”
While Roland dealt with the sudden influx of messages, Dannel leaned against the seat and tried not to think worst-case scenarios. Intense situations were always hard for him. He joked with his brother to deflect from his increasing anxiety.
I should’ve done more.
Done something.
We could’ve taken Derrick down. I might’ve at least tackled the bastard and got the gun off him.
What did I do? Sod all. I stared at Ossie’s back and said nothing.
“Danny.” Roland broke him out of his spiralling thoughts. “You did everything right.”
Dannel stared at his brother.
“I don’t need to be a mind reader to see what you’re thinking.”
“Neurotypicals and your abilities to understand facial expressions.” Dannel folded his arms and huffed in annoyance. “And I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re alive. Osian made a decision on the best way to keep you two from getting shot. And now we’ve got every chance of saving Ian as well.” Roland twisted around in the front seat to focus on him. “We’ll find them.”
Yes, but will we find them alive?
Dannel couldn’t voice the question in his head. It would make everything too real for him. “Take us to where they found Derrick’s car.”
“Danny.”
“Whatever they find, I want to be close by.” Dannel glared stone-facedly at his brother. He’d find a way to get there by himself if necessary. “Please? Sitting here’s going to drive me up the wall.”
“One of these days, you’re going to get me sacked.” Roland settled back into his seat and started the vehicle. “If you two insist on investigating crimes, I’m getting you into self-defence classes as well as scheduling for you two to get private investigator licenses.”
“Rolly.”
The rest of the drive went by in silence. Roland had apparently decided his point was made. He turned up his radio, listening in to the police chatter. Dannel tried not to hyper-focus on the tinny voices.
“I hate riding in the back seat.” Dannel sat forward, resting his arm against the front seat. “It’s disorienting.”
“Here. Make yourself useful. Answer the messages for me.” Roland offered his phone to Dannel when they stopped at a light. “Consider it a distraction.”
Driving in London always involved additional stress in Dannel’s opinion. He thought they might’ve made better progress going on public transport or riding a bike. Every second spent in bumper-to-bumper traffic did nothing for his growing anxiety.
Dannel tapped his foot against the floorboard while staring unseeing at a message on his brother’s phone. “Olivia wants to know what she can do.”
“Tell her we’ve got it under control.”
“Lie.”
“Sometimes lying is the kindest thing you can do.” Roland glanced sharply to the right when a cabbie cut them off. “Bastard.”
Instead of outright lying, Dannel went for a simple answer of “We don’t know yet.” He signed the message off and tossed the phone on the front passenger seat. They’d resort to calling eventually.
“Danny.”
“Don’t.” Dannel exhaled sharply.
Panic yelled louder in his head than his usual practicality. He didn’t have the emotional energy to respond to any more of the messages or answer his own buzzing phone. The drive was going on forever.
Dannel dug his fingers into the palms of his hands, trying to harness his growing panic. “How much longer?”
“We’re literally around the corner. I promise.” Roland paused briefly. “In fact, I see the detective inspector’s vehicle.”
His brother eased into a spot between two other patrol cars. Dannel wanted to bolt out of the vehicle, but he had no idea what direction to go. He spotted Haider in the distance, speaking to a uniformed officer.
“Do we wait?” Dannel asked.
“He’s seen us.” Roland held a hand to stop Dannel from hopping out of the car. “Patience.”
“See how patient you feel when it’s Wayne who’s missing,” Dannel muttered.
Haider jogged over to them. He bent down to Roland’s open window, peering into the back seat to see Dannel. “We’ve found them.”
“Alive?” Roland asked when Dannel found the word stuck in his throat. “Ian and Osian?”
“They’re down a well.”
Dannel blinked a few times. “Down a well?”
Twenty-Nine
Osian
When Derrick forced him out of the boot and stole his phone, Osian had thought a bullet was next on the agenda. Life hadn’t flashed before his eyes. Dannel had.
Their life together. He wanted to weep and punch Derrick right in the face. More the latter than the former.
He’d expected to be shot. Staring into the dank abyss of a mid-century well that was behind an old church hadn’t been even close to what he’d thought would happen. I am not ready for this to be some bizarre origin story in my superhero journey.
They’d definitely travelled further across London than Osian anticipated. He’d obviously been in the boot longer than he thought. Where are we? I definitely don’t remember this church.
“Get in.” Derrick gestured with the pistol.
“I’m sorry. What?” Osian stared between the gun and the well. “Get. In?”
“You heard me perfectly well. Hop in the well. It’s not deep enough to kill you.” Derrick’s assurance didn’t make Osian feel better. “Would you rather be shot?”
Are those my only options?
What are my options?
Jump in feet first? Head first? Let the wanker push me into the well? Or attempt a controlled climb on wet stones in the dark?
What could possibly go wrong?
None of the possibilities were brilliant. Going into the well did have the added bonus of not being shot in the head. Osian wished he’d been able to keep his phone.
He placed a hand on the edge of the well. Slick bricks. Worst rapper in history. Focus on not dyi
ng, Osian.
Taking a deep breath, Osian climbed over the edge of the well. Thank the building gods someone used rough stone for this well. He managed to find footholds almost immediately.
Moving down quickly, Osian got his hands out of the way with a second to spare before Derrick slid a metal grating across the top of the well. Brilliant. A safety grill. I’m confident it’ll do wonders for me.
“Osian?”
Am I hallucinating?
“Ian?” Osian tried to lower himself to the bottom as quickly and safely as possible. He landed in a puddle of water and had to feel around to find his elderly neighbour. “Of all the wells in the world, you had to walk into mine.”
“He made me jump into the well.”
Osian knelt beside Ian. His eyes were slowly getting accustomed to the darkness, but he still couldn’t make out much. “Where do you hurt?”
“My soul aches.” Ian repeatedly coughed, then groaned.
“I can’t do triage on your soul, Ian.”
“A pity, darling. I’d enjoy watching the attempt.” Ian paused for dramatic effect. “The seeing part might be difficult at the moment.”
“I’m going to check your body for any breaks.”
“Feel me up, darling,” Ian encouraged.
With a sigh, Osian did his best to gently check him over. Ian, thankfully, hadn’t broken any bones on the way down, aside from potentially a couple of toes. It was difficult to assess in the dark without making things worse.
Despite the summer heat outside, Ian started to shiver. Osian hoped he wasn’t going into shock. He didn’t really have any options to help Ian from inside a well.
Someone’s got to be looking for us by now.
I had my phone on long enough for them to track.
“You’ve been a lovely neighbour to a lonely old man like myself.” Ian continued to shiver beside him. The damp wasn’t helping. “You and Dannel.”
“Ian.” Osian sat beside Ian, trying to provide body heat to keep him warm. “We’re going to be rescued.”
“I can’t go on.”
“Ian.”
“Do you know how many death scenes I’ve practised over the years?” He sounded proud of the accomplishment. “Allow me a little pleasure in a dark place.”
Ghost Light Killer Page 16
