Leighton Jones Mysteries Box Set

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Leighton Jones Mysteries Box Set Page 19

by N. M. Brown


  ‘This is for my friend, Laurie!’ she said solemnly and fired the weapon at the centre of the large man’s chest.

  This time, the gunshot silenced him. Vicki stood up and turned, not to the rear of the bus, but to the front. Knowing she had only one chance, she held her arms steady and fired. Both shots hit the driver in the back. As he slumped over the steering wheel, the bus skidded and lurched sideways. The momentum of the fully loaded vehicle hitting the kerb at the strange angle sent it rolling sideways, flipping over in the process. As the vehicle crashed against the landscape, five of the passengers were instantly thrown out of the smashed windows, two were crushed by over three-thousand pounds of the metal death trap they had created; the bus continued to roll before it stopped, nose down in a dried-out creek, the only sound coming from the one wheel which was still spinning.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Leighton had raced back along Route 10, praying his intuition had been right and the bus hadn’t left the road yet. He had checked the cop’s revolver to discover it only contained two rounds. His radio was crackling with intermittent bursts of activity, most of which was concerned with apprehending him. Leaning forward, he picked up the radio handset and took a deep breath before he spoke.

  ‘Control, this is Leighton Jones – former detective with Oceanside. I have commandeered this vehicle in the pursuit of a major group of felons.’

  For a moment there was only radio silence, then an angry crackle. A nervous voice spoke to him.

  ‘Mr Jones, you are not in a position to commandeer anything. Please pull the vehicle over immediately.’

  ‘I am travelling east along Route 10 in pursuit of a silver bus, licence plate number 6BTK021.’

  ‘Mr Jones, we need to speak to you regarding a serious assault on two police officers. Please pull the vehicle over and await the arrival of a police unit.’

  Leighton’s eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. ‘I cannot do that. Please send assistance.’ He returned the radio to the dashboard and dragged a hand over his face.

  When he reached the Desert Centre junction, Leighton found the traffic was much denser. Up ahead he spotted the dull metal of the bus. Panicking that he might lose them, he switched on the sirens and began to weave through the staggered vehicles. All around him, horns blasted and lights flashed, but Leighton Jones was oblivious. His mind remained locked on the fact he seemed to be destined to fail to protect everyone he cared about.

  He caught up with the bus just as it left the highway and took a steep exit ramp for Corn Springs Road. This was a road which Leighton knew from his many Sunday drives – nothing more than a deserted dusty track running deep into the mountains, ending in Corn Springs Farm.

  As the cruiser drifted along the exit ramp leaving the highway, Leighton could see the bus only a few hundred yards ahead. His frantic hand reached out and grasped the radio again.

  ‘Control, this is Jones. I’ve left Route 10 and I am now heading due south on Corn Springs Road. I have a visual on the vehicle.’

  Leighton pressed his foot down and the car lurched towards the swerving bus, which sent up a cloud of dust in its wake as it roared ahead of the police car.

  Leighton’s eyes widened in horror as the bus suddenly lurched across the road and shuddered on the stony verge before swerving back across the road. It seemed to hover for a moment on the edge, before slipping off the road entirely and vanishing.

  The cruiser skidded to a stop at the point where the bus had left the road. Leighton left the engine running and the flashing lights on.

  He stumbled out of the car and made his way to the roadside, where he saw the bus lying sideways a few hundred yards down the creek. Without hesitation, he scrambled down the steep slope towards the upturned vehicle. He was more than halfway there when he realised the gun was still in the car, but it was too late to go back.

  Struggling to stay on his feet, Leighton made his way down through the rough, dusty terrain. He stumbled and slipped, tearing his hands on thorns and rocks. The bus had left a giant scar on the landscape as it slid nose-first into the valley, and Leighton used this channel as a path. The route was strewn with debris and several bodies. As he approached, he saw the doors of the luggage compartment had been ripped off in the crash, leaving a long rectangular cavity in the belly of the vehicle. Further corpses wrapped in plastic sheeting and duct tape had gathered at one end of the cavity.

  It was then the acrid smell of burning rubber and diesel found Leighton like an insistent ghost, dragging him back to his past. He stood hypnotised by the smoking vehicle as if it were some modern wicker man. He wanted to rush to the nearest door and clamber inside, but history seemed to have doubled back on itself again. Once more he found himself faced with a burning vehicle and the prospect of losing someone else he loved. His feet might as well have been nailed to the ground.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  It was the strong chemical smell which drew Vicki out of the fog of unconsciousness. She opened her eyes to find she was pinned beneath the hulking dead body of the large man she had shot minutes earlier. The bus was lying partially on its side with Vicki pressed against the window beneath her. Her lower body was crushed beneath the weight of the body, which was leaking blood and fluids onto her jeans.

  Twisting her head to one side, she felt a searing pain rip down the left side of her upper body. She tried to shift the man away from her but was unable to move her right arm.

  A glance to the side revealed the steel-handled blade was still embedded in her arm, only deeper than before. Using her left arm she tried gripping the headrest to pull her lower body free. It was useless; his weight was too much for her one limb to carry. She sobbed in pain and rage, then gripped the seat and tried again. Her legs shifted a little and Vicki whimpered.

  That was when she realised that someone was staring at her. The elderly man who had been sitting in the opposite seat was now standing over her. There was a strange expression on his face – a mixture of fascination and contempt.

  ‘Please… I can’t move,’ she said.

  ‘I doubt your struggle will do much good. You hideous little cunt!’ He then spat on her. ‘I’d cut your throat right now, like I’ve done to silence my injured colleagues, but not you – I’d much prefer you suffered and screamed. It’s such a beautiful and pure sound. Language is a mongrel tongue, corrupted by every civilisation, but our screams remain pure and honest.’

  As he spoke, the elderly man began to pour fluid from a brown medicine bottle all over the surrounding seats. Vicki closed her eyes and heard the scratch of a wooden match as the scent of sulphur filled the air. She opened her stinging eyes to see the nearby seats covered in bright, dancing flames.

  As the man struggled down through the mangled bus, he laughed and called back to her. ‘When the fat man lying across your legs begins to burn, his body will melt into yours and you’ll be fused with him forever. I think Wendell would have liked that idea. They say burning is the worst way to die you know,’ he said gleefully. ‘I’d love to stay and watch, but I have important work to do…’

  Vicki closed her eyes and let the steady crackling sounds of the fire taking hold fill her head. A hot drip of molten plastic hissed angrily by her ear, close enough to scorch her shoulder. Without opening her eyes, she silently brushed the melted disc off her blistered skin.

  A strange veil descended over her mind as she accepted her fate. She had embarked on the mission for Laurie, to find her killer, and punish them. In that respect, her work was done. It was okay the journey was now over.

  As she slipped further out of consciousness and into some black void, Vicki hoped to encounter Laurie. More than that, she hoped to reach out in the gloom and possibly find her father. In her mind, the sound of the flames taking hold became the comforting sound of the ocean; her surroundings blurred into the scorching sand, in which Vicki felt herself buried in the hot sand… sinking deeper and deeper. All pain and thought began to ebb away.

  ‘Vicki, I�
��m here for you. It’s okay,’ the voice said softly.

  I know, Vicki thought, you’re in the darkness here with me. The darkness was swallowing her, but it felt okay.

  ‘Listen, you need to help me,’ the distant voice said. ‘I need you to open your eyes.’

  Vicki wanted to stay in the warm, safe abyss, but her eyes opened to find Leighton looking at her, his face soot covered, skin bleeding, and eyes concerned. She realised he had somehow extinguished the fire and dragged the heavy man off her legs.

  ‘Hey there,’ he patiently urged. ‘I need you to reach up to me. Can you do that?’

  ‘We were right,’ she said groggily.

  ‘I know.’ Leighton nodded. ‘But you need help, Vicki, so you must reach for me, okay? Do you think you can do that?’

  Vicki slowly raised her left arm towards the retired detective, who gripped her wrist and drew her safely towards him.

  Once she was out of the confinement of the seat, Vicki could see for herself the carnage surrounding her. More than a dozen bodies were as she had been – crushed or pinned against the windows on the driver’s side. A couple of them who had been wearing seatbelts remained strapped into their seats. Almost all of them had their throats cut.

  ‘Come on,’ Leighton said as he slipped a supportive arm around her waist. ‘This way.’

  He led Vicki towards the burst skylight on the ceiling he had clambered through, but as she was struck by a sudden thought, she suddenly stopped. Vicki then turned around and reached back to where the large man lay. She reached over to him and then yanked the cluster of collected rings off his neck.

  By the time Leighton had half dragged and half carried Vicki back up to the dusty road, she was struggling to remain conscious. Her shirt was nothing more than a red glossy rag, which seemed to be wicking away her blood. Leighton had hoped to drive Vicki directly to the nearest hospital then hand himself in, but when they reached the road, he discovered the police car was gone.

  ‘Shit!’ Leighton kicked at the ground.

  ‘The last one escaped,’ Vicki slurred, without fully opening her eyes. ‘He started the fire on the bus.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Leighton said, ‘the road is a dead end, and the police will be here soon.’

  Wincing against his own pain, Leighton helped Vicki to sit on the dusty roadside. He then sat beside her, with one supportive arm around her shoulder. Vicki tapped weakly at his leg, and he looked at her. She still had her eyes closed, but she began to speak.

  ‘You came through, Leighton – you saved me.’

  ‘No, miss,’ he said softly. ‘I think it’s the other way around. But, just you rest.’

  It was at that moment the orange jeep swerved towards them. It screeched to stop and a wild-haired man stumbled out of it.

  ‘Are you Jones – the one who was speaking on the radio?’ he called across to Leighton, who nodded cautiously.

  ‘Where’s the bus?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They took my wife! Where’s the damned bus? I’ve been scanning the police channels. You said it was here!’

  ‘The bus is down there.’ Leighton nodded to the ravine. ‘But there’s no woman on it.’

  Mike Bernal grasped his skull, pacing backwards and forwards in desperation.

  ‘Listen,’ Leighton said calmly. ‘Somebody from the bus got away. They took the police car I was using. Maybe they took her.’

  ‘Fuck!’ Mike screamed and punched the dusty orange jeep.

  ‘Hey,’ Leighton called to him, ‘this road doesn’t go anywhere, other than to a couple of farm buildings. They can only be a few minutes ahead of us.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mike nodded with renewed hope and started back towards the jeep.

  ‘She’ll have a better chance of surviving if we come with you,’ Leighton said as he helped Vicki to her feet. ‘I think I can help.’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Janey had only just started on her journey along the dusty track when she saw the approaching police car and felt the sudden deluge of hot tears drench her face. She turned around and ran back towards the house, waving wildly with one arm while covering her breasts with the other. The car pulled up in front of the farmhouse and screeched to a stop.

  As the dust settled around the hot vehicle, a small, elderly looking detective got out of the car and glanced all around before walking sternly towards the woman. The strange expression on his face suggested he was both surprised and bemused by Janey’s appearance.

  ‘Thank god you’re here,’ she blurted, tears of relief already washing over her grazed face. ‘My name is Janey Bernal, and I was abducted. There was this bus, like a Greyhound, I was drugged and taken here, and–’

  ‘Did you call the cops?’ the man asked flatly. ‘It sounds like they’re on their way.’ He cocked his head, listening to the rising wail of distant sirens.

  ‘No, it wasn’t me,’ Janey said, ‘there was no phone. I was in there just–’

  ‘Is there anyone else here?’ he interrupted.

  ‘No, just me, but I think that others were killed here because–’

  The small man held up a hand to silence her. ‘I have one question for you, ma’am?’

  ‘What?’ Janey frowned.

  ‘What the fuck did you do to Mr Dyer?’

  Janey took a moment to realise the man standing before her was one of the men from the bus. She felt her bladder weaken. The man’s eyes were locked on her, cold and still, as he pulled the long knife from the waistband of his trousers.

  ‘You should accept you will die here today – it is your destiny. But first, you will serve as a crude bargaining chip.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  As Leighton drove the orange jeep cautiously into the yard at the front of a farmhouse, he saw the police car abandoned to one side of the building. Despite his expectations, he found that Mike Bernal’s wife was alive and standing on the porch of the house. Behind her, however, was an elderly man holding what looked like a blade against the shining skin of her neck.

  Leighton, his face ashen, stopped the car and stepped carefully out of the jeep. Vicki remained slumped, semi-conscious, in the passenger seat.

  ‘Well, it looks like the nasty little bitch got herself a sugar daddy,’ the elderly man called.

  ‘What do you want?’ Leighton asked, his voice strained and weary. ‘Whatever it is, we can make a deal and you can let the woman go.’

  ‘Oh, you poor fool.’ The man laughed. ‘I’ll leave here, with both women and that jeep.’

  ‘There’s a perfectly good police car right there.’ Leighton nodded to the cruiser. ‘It’d be faster.’

  ‘And easily tracked from the air too. No, an inconspicuous old jeep will suffice. Now, open the driver door, then step back in front of the vehicle!’

  Leighton, without any other options, did as he was told, returning to stand dead centre in front of the car.

  ‘Now, place your hands on your head and kneel down. If I see you move, I will give this bitch a cheap fucking nose job.’

  Locking his fingers on his head, Leighton knelt in the dust.

  The elderly man pushed Janey out in front of him like a shield and they moved around Leighton and towards the jeep. As Janey neared the vehicle, Leighton mouthed a silent prayer she wouldn’t recognise it. If she did, no vestige of it showed on her face. He knew he had to keep the attention on himself.

  ‘They’ll find you,’ Leighton called. ‘Then it will all be over. We know how the bus operated.’

  ‘You deluded imbecile.’ The man smiled and turned from the car to Leighton. ‘You think this was just about some fucking bus?’ He then looked wistfully to the distance and grinned. ‘Social networks are a marvellous technological development, don’t you think? They allow all sorts of markets to flourish… and grow. Our ten-thousand subscribers aren’t limited to a fucking bus.’

  Keeping the blade held before him, the man pushed Janey into the front of the open jeep. He then clambered in after her
, pushing her against Vicki’s unmoving body. Turning the key, the small man started the engine, rolled down the window and leant out of it.

  ‘Now, before I go,’ he called to Leighton, ‘I want you to see something very special. You ever see one bullet pass through two skulls?’

  ‘Please…’ Leighton began, but he didn’t need to complete the sentence because he saw Mike Bernal rise up like a spectre from the back of the truck and fire his pistol through the rear windshield into the back of the man’s head. A red spider web appeared in the windscreen and Janey let out a long scream.

  In the chaotic moments that followed, six police cars raced into the farmyard, shrouded in a cloud of dust, while overhead a police helicopter droned in demented circles. The members of the arriving SWAT team shouted various instructions as they formed a wide circle around Leighton, who remained kneeling in the dust. Within a few seconds, a range of carbines and assault rifles were fixed on him. Janey and Vicki were helped out of the jeep to awaiting cars, while Mike Bernal was forced to lie face-down in the dirt behind the jeep.

  From somewhere in the distance, the banshee wail of approaching ambulances began swelling to a crescendo. Gretsch, who was wearing full tactical dress, jumped clumsily out of a police vehicle and crouched by the side of a cruiser, then glanced nervously at Leighton.

  ‘Hey, chief,’ Leighton called breathlessly across the yard to his former boss. ‘Looks like there was a bus full of killers after all.’

  Later on, it would be denied both privately and publicly by the Oceanside PD, but eventually, a formal competency inquiry would conclude that it was Captain Gretsch who saw Leighton rub his bleeding shoulder, and intentionally shouted, ‘He’s going for a gun!’

  This mistake ended not only Leighton’s life but Gretsch’s career.

 

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