by J. A. Kerr
“Well?” asked the DI, his tone impatient.
Guy sat back. He couldn’t speak at first. He ignored the DI and pushed the pen and earphones towards Benedict.
“Play it,” he whispered.
“Okay,” said Benedict.
Almost detached, he watched him insert the earphones and fiddle with the controller. Guy’s mind was racing...at last, he thought, they’d got the bastard. He hadn’t listened for long but heard enough to know the information was explosive. He hoped Nick Waters had recorded all his plans. From the piece he’d heard, he discovered Nick Waters was working with Toby Fraser. Toby Fraser had been recruited to spy on Siena. Guy was still struggling to process this information. Nick’s follow-on notes detailed new contacts to replace Fraser. The fates had been cruel. Fraser had been obsessed with his adopted sister. Had his surveillance of Siena introduced Niven back into his life? Had her friendship with Siena been the catalyst? He had so many questions. He doubted Toby Fraser randomly picked the day Niven was with Siena to abduct her. Perhaps her involvement with Matt had been the trigger?
Guy watched Benedict’s face drain of colour as he listened.
“Okay.” DI Clark drummed his fingers on the table. “What was on the pen?”
“Benedict will be finished shortly and you can listen for yourself,” said Guy.
His gut tightened. What if Waters was leading Evan to Anna right now? He knew the recording on the pen was the only thing to convince DI Clark—Nick Waters was extremely dangerous. He motioned to Benedict who understood and without a word and passed the pen and headphones to the officer. Benedict took a moment to rewind the recording and when DI Clark was ready, he pressed play.
Benedict got up and Guy followed. They stood just outside so they could speak. Benedict’s eyes were glazed. “What did you hear?” he asked.
“I heard his audio notes about Toby Fraser.”
Benedict nodded. “He’s a monster. All this time he’s been behind the scenes, pulling his deadly strings. We’ve got him now. Nick Waters isn’t getting away. Everything we suspected about Katie is true. He groomed her and then framed her. He would have taken Siena too…” Benedict’s voice hardened. “Evan was spot on. He has Anna somewhere. A place where he can hold someone long term. Guy, this means Anna is alive. That bastard has her. He mentions you’re top of his hit list.”
Guy stiffened. His worst thoughts confirmed, he’d put Anna in danger. Benedict’s words proved it. He’d been rash and full of hatred after Siena’s attack but his actions had put Anna on a head on collision with Nick Waters. His heart squeezed painfully. He loved her so much, why had he never showed it? He made a promise to himself that if he got Anna back everything would change. He would change.
His mobile bleeped and he looked at the text.
Evan: POI on the move. Will keep you updated.
“We need backup in place to support Evan,” said Benedict.
His words snapped Guy out of his thoughts. He rubbed his chest. His heart was sore. It physically hurt. “Yes,” he murmured. “When I spoke to Evan earlier he thinks Nick Waters is getting ready to run.”
“Guy!” He felt Benedict’s hands on his arms. “Look at me. We will get her back.”
“We can start now,” said DI Clark. His face was flushed. “That’s one sick bastard and we’ve got the proof to put him away forever. Can you contact Evan?”
“He’s following Nick Waters, he just sent me a text,” said Guy.
DI Clark pursed lips. “Can we get an update?”
“I’ll text him and ask him to call,” said Guy. He sent the message.
“Let’s go back inside,” ordered DI Clark.
They all sat down.
“Okay, I’ve heard the recording. He spoke of targeting you via Anna Dunbar several times, Guy. He mentions a room he’s set up, a garage location, but not the address. I need the tech guys to look at the pen; there might be pictures along with files.”
The DI shook his head in amazement. “Nick Waters made audio notes on his plan to abduct Siena and the twins. He listed his plan to frame Katie Burns by planting DNA evidence at both crime scenes.” He coughed. “Guy, he mentions you were behind his prison assault.”
Guy’s face grew hot but he didn’t interrupt the DI.
“Whether real or imagined, it proves Nick had a motive for revenge. However, there is no mention of his involvement in Anna’s disappearance. That means two things. One, he was not in possession of the pen to record his premeditated plans and, two, it was a spontaneous decision to take Anna in replacement of Siena.”
Guy felt sick. Again it reaffirmed his actions made Nick Waters target Anna. Why hadn’t he come for Guy? Clenching his fists he made a vow to hunt Nick Waters down. He had to save Anna. His stomach lurched and bile rose into his mouth. He shot out of his seat, lifting the nearest bucket and vomited. His stomach heaved over and over. Images of Anna trapped and at Nick Waters’ mercy invaded his mind. He was to blame, not Anna. She had done nothing but love him.
“Are you okay?”
Guy turned to see the DI moving away from him, his nose wrinkling in distaste.
“No, I’m not okay,” said Guy shakily. Although he was a hardened ex-copper, the reality of the situation was still a shock. “That bastard has my partner.”
“We’ll find her, Guy,” said Benedict.
DI Clark nodded, he was on his mobile. Guy waited until his call was finished.
“Okay, I’ve briefed DS Martin; he’s getting a team together now to assist Evan Radley. It’s our best chance of finding Anna.” DI Clark’s phone began to ring again. Guy checked his phone and noticed an email from Evan.
Can’t call at the moment. Followed Waters earlier and he met briefly with a known dealer. Couldn’t see clearly what he bought. However, can confirm he took a package back to his hotel room where he remains. An earlier search of his room revealed he’d bought a rucksack and new clothes. Shorts, flip flops and sunglasses. He’s booked flights to Spain. He’s planning to leave the country. We are in place and waiting for his next move.
“This just came in.” He showed DI Clark the email.
“Shit, we need to move quickly. If he’s planning on leaving…”
“Maybe he’ll release Anna,” interrupted Benedict.
No one responded because they understood what type of man Nick Waters was. If he was leaving the country then Anna, if not already dead—would be soon.
Chapter 52
The Braille Club Reborn
Nick
When Nick returned to the hotel and his room, he put the bag he was carrying in the bathroom. The exchange had gone smoothly. He would load up the syringes later because he couldn’t risk going to Anna during the day. He was too visible for a start and couldn’t be sure the police weren’t watching him. Better to slip out at night and disappear. He felt edgy again. There was gloves inside the package. The dealer supplied them. He didn’t want to buy something like that with CCTV cameras in stores, too risky. The gloves were to handle the drugs. He didn’t want his prints on anything. However, the dealer’s prints were all over the bottle of morphine—not his problem. His suit, booties and other things were at the garage. Nick remembered the blood—Anna’s blood. He grimaced. It could be cleaned but not eradicated.
He switched on the television and scanned the various stations but saw no update on Anna Dunbar. Slipping on the gloves he moved into the bathroom. He took out the vial of morphine and the six syringes, 200mg was considered a lethal dose for most adults. Pushing the needle into the bottle, he pulled back the plunger and filled the syringe, adding a little extra for good measure. He placed the cap back on the needle and repeated the process. While he didn’t anticipate any trouble, it was best to be prepared. Satisfied, he placed the filled syringes carefully on the bathroom shelf for later. He resisted the urge to fill another syringe because he knew he was being ridiculous. He didn’t want to fuck things up and tried not to think about it. Restless, he left his room to eat
in the hotel restaurant.
Downstairs in the busy restaurant, he forced himself to relax. Everything was riding on tonight. His whole future depended on getting the job done. Nick grimaced as images of Anna Dunbar on the floor entered his mind. In a way, he should thank her. Inadvertently, she’d given him a new path, but he didn’t relish what he had to do. When his meal arrived, Nick found he’d lost his appetite. He picked at his food before pushing it away. He glanced at his watch and groaned. Feeling even more uptight than before, he returned to his room, filled a glass of water and swallowed the diazepam. He needed to be calm and collected, not a nervous wreck.
Sitting at his laptop, he checked in online for his flight. After he’d dealt with Anna, he would travel directly to the airport. He pulled out the rucksack he’d bought earlier and packed his purchases. It didn’t take him long. He placed his passport in the front zip pocket. It wasn’t his real passport. Prisoners on licence couldn’t travel abroad, for obvious reasons. He would miss his parole meeting unless he flew home. But that decision could be made later. He planned to delay checkout until the end of the week. If the police were keeping tabs on him, he wanted them to think he was holed up in his room.
The hours seemed to drag. Nick turned up the volume when another piece on Anna Dunbar appeared on the news. However, it appeared the police were no further forward. They were still appealing for witnesses to come forward and hinting organised crime was behind it. They did not rule out the possibility of a revenge attack. Nick snorted because they were right—it was a revenge attack. He felt calmer, the drug he’d taken earlier already in his system.
Systemically, he checked and rechecked the syringes before he slipped them into his pocket. Unplugging his laptop, he placed it inside the rucksack. He had never found his pen. Out of everything, this was his biggest worry. There was enough incriminating evidence to put Nick away for life. For days, the worry was at the back of his mind—he accepted the pen was gone. He had mentally tried to retrace his steps but it was impossible. He could have lost it anywhere. Katie’s, the Harrison home or just dropped it somewhere. None of these options were good for Nick. The pen was his Achilles heel, it would destroy him if discovered. The only thing keeping him sane was that it looked identical to an ordinary pen. He prayed, if found, no one would suspect, but the strain of where it was and who had it was getting to him. Yet another mistake in his growing catalogue of errors. There was no way Nick was going back to prison. He’d rather die than go back to prison. That made him a dangerous man, in his opinion. He hoped his luck would hold. Nick glanced at his watch once more. Another two hours until he could leave under the cover of darkness. He set his alarm and lay down on the bed. However, he quickly realised sleep was not on the agenda for him tonight.
He sat up instead and glanced around the room, glad to be leaving it and his current life behind for good. Since his decision to move on, Nick had been impatient to begin. The hours since he returned to his room had been long and anxious—he itched to get out and finish the job. He’d come this far, he was so close to achieving the ultimate revenge. No body…meant no closure. Walker would never know what happened to Anna. The temptation to play with the man’s emotions blocked out everything else. Nick felt a rush of excitement and power. His confidence returned and he was back in control. Gazing at his damaged hand, his hatred for Walker had not lessened and rising from the bed he checked his jacket. He felt for the lethal syringes in his pocket, paranoid he would leave without them. They were his ticket to vengeance and freedom. Nick might have considered letting Anna go if she hadn’t been injured. After all, she didn’t know his identity. He could have drugged and driven her somewhere then left her. There was nothing to connect him to the scene. Anna would have no idea where she had been held. But not now, Nick would not pass up this opportunity for revenge. He believed events happened for a reason—Anna Dunbar was destined to die.
In his panic he had left without sedating her. At first he was annoyed with his mistake, before he remembered the water bottle laced with sedative. Anna had drunk some but not as much as he would have liked. He’d left her lying there for a whole day and feared her neck was broken and that, regardless of what he did, there would be consequences. There was no going back. Guy Walker and Benedict Harrison would never give up. This offered the perfect diversion from the abduction case. He had to make Anna disappear. Guy Walker would search for her, he didn’t strike Nick as a quitter, and Harrison would get involved. Distraction and destruction was exactly what he craved. Most cases fell apart with no body and no evidence. He had dealt with patients who struggled when a loved one went missing. They never achieved closure because a small part of them hoped their loved one was still out there somewhere. They found it hard to live with the uncertainty, a double-edged sword of hope and despair. He had asked his patients if they would rather know. As one patient explained…if they were dead at least they could mourn but living in limbo, never knowing for sure was torture and the ultimate revenge on Guy Walker.
With the garage secured, and the utilities paid for the next year, it would give Nick the breathing space he needed to get out of the country and disappear. He’d transferred small amounts of his funds into several accounts under the numerous fake IDs he possessed. He was certain the trail he’d arranged would confuse the police. Nick would not take his flight to Spain, he wished it was that easy. But his fake passport would not stand up to the rigours of the UK authorities. Instead, he was booked under an alias for the Channel Tunnel. Once he was in France he would decide where to travel next; perhaps Spain, perhaps not.
He spent time with the clippers shaving his head. The beard was next to go. He put in his contact lenses and removed his glasses. He ran his hand over his smooth skull in fascination. Checking the bag he’d brought from the car, he lifted out the protective suit. He wanted to be prepared. He didn’t have time to enter the garage and suit up. Instead, he wanted to arrive and get to work. He rolled the suit trousers up like before and slipped on the hoodie. He stuffed the booties in his pocket. Ticking of items in his head, Nick sorely missed his pen. It was a useful tool and memory aid. He struggled to write things down, thanks to Walker, he thought darkly, and the pen had been the perfect solution. But now it was missing—its contents linking him directly with the abduction of the Harrison twins and more.
Leaving prison with the pen in his possession, the day thereafter had been so eventful, its loss had gone unnoticed. Nick’s unease increased knowing it was out there, and his earlier agitation returned. He switched on the television but it only made his anxiety worse. He was unusually on edge and struggled to understand why. In the back of his mind, he realised tonight was a risk. Before, he acted out of passion and with Siena his passion had turned to obsession. But with Anna Dunbar he felt nothing but irritation. Was the risk worth it? He remembered DI Clark’s threat. Doubts assailed him and he curled his hands into fists. The resulting pain from his hand focused his attention. He made up his mind in that moment, he wanted it over and stopped pacing the room. Nick would leave now. The walls seemed to be closing in on him. He left clothes and several items he no longer required in the room, he wanted it to look like he was coming back.
He stared at his face in the mirror. Again the change was like before; Nick no longer looked like himself. He wore the baseball cap over his head and had changed from the shirt and smart jacket of earlier to a t-shirt and hoodie. He looked like the man in his passport picture—he took a deep breath. His nervous state was annoying him. Pulling the rucksack onto his back, he opened the door of his room and stepped outside. Adrenaline surged through him as he scanned the hallway—it was empty. Head down, he walked quickly to the stairs. He resisted the impulse to look around but calmly made his way down the three flights of stairs to the underground car park. Heart hammering, his eyes darted around but, again, he saw no one as he approached the hire car. He opened the car door and slid inside; so far so good.
Calmer now he was on the move, he started the car
and drove out of the car park. He watched his mirror for any signs of being followed. Once or twice he thought he saw a car but, as he watched, they either turned away or went in a different direction. He chided himself for being paranoid. Gradually, the tension in his body relaxed and he entered the industrial park, certain he hadn’t been followed. He parked the car out of sight and it was a ten minute walk to the garage. He noticed the last time he was there he could enter from the rear over some wasteland. Looking around quickly, he unrolled the legs of his suit to protect his clothing being tagged or pulled on the undergrowth. The hoodie he would dispose of later. He stood in the shadows for a few minutes and listened. What was he expecting? A niggling doubt the police might be on to him persisted. When nothing happened and he heard no approaching vehicle or person, he checked his watch again. Showtime, he thought and almost giggled.
He bent down to slip the booties on and paused. There was something sticking to his shoe, his fingers picked and finally dislodged the lump. He stared at the object in his hand in disbelief until suddenly he understood what it was—a tracking devise. His heart thudded with alarm as he tried to think. How long had they been trailing him? Furious, Nick painstakingly checked the rest of his clothing but didn’t find anything else. He looked at the sophisticated device again. His first instinct had been to smash it, grind it into the ground with his foot. But, he had a better plan now. It was critical to throw them off the scent because this was not the work of the police. Was it Guy Walker? He sensed whoever was tracking him had done so from a distance to allow them to hide their presence. Guy Walker was clever, he thought savagely, but not clever enough. His plan was about to backfire on him. It would give Nick the time to deal with Anna and get away.
He retraced his steps, jumped into his car and sped away. His mind was whirling. How had the devise been planted on him? How long had it been there? He stopped at McDonald’s—it was perfect for his purposes. He looked but saw nothing in pursuit and drove into the car park. Rolling up the suit legs, he stepped outside. Bending to tie his shoelace, he stuck the tracker under the bumper of the parked car beside him. He quickly returned to his car and pulled away. He was shaking, his mind in turmoil. Were the police involved too? Guy Walker was an ex-copper after all. He’d have lots of buddies to help.
