Smith drove as fast as he could through the rush hour traffic. The sun had already set and the evening half light was descending. The moon hadn’t yet come out. He parked outside Emily Riley’s house and turned off the engine. There was a light on inside the house. Smith knew he should wait for back up to arrive but he also knew that Bridge was in grave danger. He got out of the car and slowly approached the house. The curtains were drawn so he couldn’t see what was going on inside. He thought hard about what he was going to do. He didn’t know if Emily Riley was inside or not. He tried the door handle. The door was open. He carefully opened it and looked inside. He could hear a strange noise coming from within. It sounded like somebody was counting slowly. It was a child’s voice. Smith went inside and walked up the stairs. He stopped outside what appeared to be the main bedroom. He pushed the door open and looked inside. There was nobody inside the room. He was about to look somewhere else when he spotted something by the side of the bed. He moved closer to get a better look. Bridge was lying face down on the carpet.
CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR
“Bridge,” Smith said.
Bridge sat up and looked at Smith in utter disbelief. A young girl appeared in the doorway.
“What are you doing here Sarge?” Bridge said.
“What are you doing?” Smith said. “Why were you lying on the carpet?”
“We’re playing hide and seek,” the girl said. “Do you want to play?”
“Not at the moment,” Smith said.
Bridge stood up.
“What’s going on Sarge?” He said.
“Where’s Emily?”
“She had to work. She’s at the hospital. She’ll be home later.”
“Can I have a word in private?”
“Maggie,” Bridge said. “It’s your turn to hide. Don’t make it too hard though - I’m not very good at this.”
Maggie turned round and ran down the stairs.
“Emily Riley is Selene Lupei,” Smith said.
“No she isn’t,” Bridge said. “I thought Jessica Blakemore was.”
Smith told Bridge everything.
When he had finished, Bridge sat on the bed with his head in his hands.
“Are you absolutely sure?” He said.
“I’m afraid so. I thought you were going to be the next one.”
“This is too much to take in,” Bridge said. “Emily is so kind. I was really getting to like her. What about Maggie? What’s going to happen to Maggie? I can’t believe all of this.”
“We need to find her.”
“She’s at the hospital. She should be just about finished her shift by now.”
A commotion was heard downstairs. The sound of Maggie’s screams could be heard. Smith and Bridge ran down to see what was going on. Three armed officers had stormed the house and were busy searching the place. One of them pointed his gun at Smith.
“It’s alright,” Smith put his hands in the air. “She’s not here. Bridge is alright.”
Bridge put his arms around Maggie. She was staring at one of the armed officers.
“Is that a real gun?” She asked him.
“It is,” the man said.
“Are you going to shoot us?”
“He’s not going to shoot anybody,” Bridge said. “Shall we see if we can finish your new jigsaw tonight? You go through and get it started.”
“Can I start in the middle?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Bridge said.
“Go and get her,” Bridge said. “Go and find Emily. I’ll stay here with Maggie.”
Whitton, Yang Chu and Brownhill walked in the house.
“Where is she?” Brownhill said.
“She’s at work,” Smith said. “She’s at the hospital. I’m going to go and find her.”
“Me and Whitton will come with you,” Brownhill said. “Yang Chu, you stay here with Bridge in case she comes back home. One of the armed guys can stay with you.”
Smith drove with Whitton in the direction of the hospital. Brownhill drove closely behind him.
“Do you think she’s even at work?” Whitton said.
“Let’s hope so,” Smith said. “She’ll be off guard there. We should be able to take her easily there.”
He stopped in the car park of the hospital and turned off the engine. Brownhill parked next to him. They walked through the entrance of the hospital and headed for the reception desk.
“Hi,” Smith said to the man behind the desk. “I’m looking for Emily Riley. She’s a nurse here. Do you know if she’s still on duty?”
“She’s just knocked off,” the man said.
“Do you know where she is?”
“How should I know? Probably on her way home.”
“Who’s the doctor in charge?”
“Doctor Simmons,” the man said and started to leaf through a pile of papers.
“Where can I find him?”
He was starting to become impatient.
“He’s probably in the staff room,” the man said.
Smith followed the signs and found the hospital staff room. He went inside and spotted Doctor Simmons straight away. Pete Simmons had treated a young girl who was in a coma a few years earlier. The girl had made a miraculous recovery and proved instrumental in helping solve one of Smith’s first murder investigations. Simmons was sitting on a chair with his eyes closed.
“Doctor Simmons,” Smith said.
Simmons didn’t stir.
“Doctor Simmons,” Smith raised his voice.
Simmons’ eyes opened and he stared at Smith.
“I know you,” he said.
“DS Smith, can I have a word?”
“You’re the Australian,” Simmons said.
“I thought you’d be lapping up the Pacific air by now.”
Simmons had always expressed a desire to retire to Australia.
“Two more years,” Simmons said. “Two more years of blood and guts and I’m off to the sunshine. What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for Emily Riley.”
“She knocked off about an hour ago.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“Home probably,” Simmons said. “It was a rough shift. That pile up on the A19 was a right mess.”
A nurse with thin hair in a ponytail and a silver ring in his nose walked in. Pete Simmons nodded to him in acknowledgment. The nurse sat down and opened up a book.
Smith took out his phone and dialed Bridge’s number.
“Sarge,” Bridge answered straight away. “Have you found her?”
“Not yet,” Smith said. “I take it she hasn’t come home then?”
“No, she should have been here by now.”
“I’ll let you know if we find her,” Smith said and rang off.
“Do you have any idea where she might be?” Smith said to Doctor Simmons.
“Emily is an enigma,” Simmons said. “She doesn’t need the money. I don’t know why she puts up with the crap that gets thrown at her in here.”
“Are you looking for Nurse Riley?” The nurse with the long hair looked up from his book.
“Yes,” Smith said, “do you know where she is?”
“She left with Derek.”
“Derek?”
“Derek Grimes, I couldn’t believe it. She asked him out for a drink. Derek’s a real loser.”
“What do you mean?”
“Derek is an orderly here,” the nurse said. “He’s a real sad case. He’s over forty and I bet he’s still a virgin.”
“That’s enough,” Pete Simmons said.
“I need his address,” Smith said. “I need it right now.”
“He’s got a crappy flat off Monk Gate. I don’t know the number.”
Ten minutes later Smith drove through the city headed for Monk Gate. He’d found Derek Grimes’ address from one of the women in the hospital administration department.
Derek Grimes, he thought, sad, lonely and middle aged. It fits perfectly. Bridge
was never meant to be her next victim.
The full moon had still not shown its face and Smith could feel a glimmer of hope rushing through him.
We might just be in time, he thought.
He parked outside the flat on Monk Gate and turned off the engine. Brownhill parked behind him and she and Whitton got out. They approached Smith’s car. Smith got out.
“This is Derek Grimes’ flat here,” he pointed to a small place above what looked like a DIY shop. The lights were not on in the flat but the curtains were open.
“Looks like nobody’s home,” Whitton said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Smith said. “She likes to kill by the light of the moon remember.”
It was as if the moon had heard him. An ethereal glow slowly filled the sky and the moonlight lit up the skyline of the city in the distance. Smith watched as it climbed higher in the sky. It had an orange tint to it.
“We need to go in now,” Smith said.
“We wait for back up,” Brownhill said. “This woman is a savage killer.”
“There’s no time. She’s going to kill him if we don’t go inside.”
He crossed the road and walked up to the DIY shop. Brownhill shook her head and followed him. Whitton walked closely behind.
“Whitton,” Smith whispered. “You come in with me. I hope your self defence skills are up to date.”
“Of course. What about yours?”
“Nope,” Smith said.
He turned to Brownhill.
“Boss,” he said. “You wait out here. In case she tried to make a run for it.”
“So I’m still the boss then?” Brownhill said.
“Of course,” Smith looked around for the door to the flat.
A grubby blue door at the side of the DIY shop seemed to be the obvious choice. Smith tried the door handle. The door was locked.
“We need to get hold of the landlord,” Brownhill said. “We need to get a key.”
“There’s no time,” Smith said.
He walked back to his car and returned with two large screwdrivers.
“Try to be quiet,” Brownhill said.
“I have done this before.”
He inserted one of the screwdrivers next to the lock.
“Although it was a long time ago,” he added.
He jammed the screwdriver in the door. He did the same with the second screwdriver and twisted it in the opposite direction. The door opened with a crunch. Smith looked inside. The whole stairwell was in darkness. He went inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the blackness. Whitton stayed close behind him. They slowly walked up the stairs. Smith had to hold on to the rail, it was so dark.
They reached the top of the stairs and stopped. Smith put his ear to the door and listened. He could hear low murmouring sounds coming from inside.
“She’s in there,” he whispered to Whitton. “I’m going to kick the door in and we’ll take her by surprise.”
“What are we going to do when we get inside?”
“I haven’t thought about that. We’ll go on three. One…”
He took a deep breath.
“Two…”
He looked at Whitton and smiled.
“Do you fancy a drink after we’re finished up here?” He said.
Whitton nodded. She looked absolutely terrified.
“Three.”
Smith kicked the door as hard as he could and winced. The pain shot right up his leg. The door didn’t open.
“Shit,” he said.
He kicked the door again and it crashed open.
CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE
The light from the full moon outside the window lit up the whole room. An overweight, balding man was sitting on a chair next to the bed. His head was slumped down and his eyes were closed. Emily Riley was standing with her back to Smith and Whitton. She was making strange mumbling sounds. Smith noticed that she was holding a knife in her left hand. It was the most unusual knife he had ever seen. The handle was made from a light wood and the blade was curved like the arc of a new moon. The moonlight was reflected in the steel. Emily turned round. The expression on her face was something Smith would never forget. She gazed at Smith and Whitton and then at Derek Grimes. She said something in a language Smith didn’t understand and raised the knife in the air. She crept closer to the unconscious man on the chair.
“Emily,” Whitton said. “Put down the knife. Everything’s going to be alright.”
Emily moved a step closer to Derek Grimes.
“Emily,” Whitton said again. “Drop the knife.”
Emily grabbed Derek Grimes by his thinning hair and tilted his head back. She took a long look at the moon and placed the knife against his throat. A trickle of blood started to ooze down his neck. The knife was obviously very sharp. Smith didn’t know what to do. Emily said something in the strange dialect again and looked at the knife.
“Selene,” Smith shouted. “Selene Lupei.”
Emily stopped moving. She looked at Smith in disbelief.
“Selene,” Smith said in a calm voice. “We know why you’re here - we understand but you have to stop.”
Emily appeared to stop and think about something for a moment. She looked at the knife again.
“Selene,” Smith said. “Natasha misses you. I’ve spoken to your sister. Natasha would like to see you.”
Emily froze. Her whole body turned rigid. Her arms dropped to her side and she dropped the knife on the carpet. It landed next to the bed with a dull thud. She collapsed in a heap on the floor and started to sob. Smith bent down and picked up the knife. He was surprised by how heavy it was. He handed it to Whitton.
“Get this thing out of here,” he said. “We need an ambulance here now.”
Whitton turned and left the room. Smith leaned over the lifeless body of Derek Grimes and checked to see if he was still alive. His pulse was weak but his heart was still beating. Emily Riley was sobbing uncontrollably on the carpet. The full moon had reached its peak of brightness and it lit up the whole room.
“Emily,” Smith said. “I need you to come with me.”
Emily stared up at him. There was no life left in her black eyes.
“Natasha,” she pleaded. “Natasha.”
Two of the armed unit stormed in and immediately pointed their guns at the figure huddled on the floor.
“It’s alright,” Smith said. “It’s all over.”
“Emily, I’m going to put handcuffs on you now. Please do not move.”
He held out his hand to one of the armed officers and was given a pair of handcuffs. He held Emily Riley’s hands behind her back and snapped the handcuffs on.
“Please stand up,” he said to her.
She did as she was told. She was shaking.
“Take her downstairs,” Smith said to the armed men. “Be gentle with her.”
Two paramedics entered the room.
“I think he’s been drugged,” Smith said. “Probably Chloroform.”
“We’re going to need some help,” one of the paramedics looked at Derek Grimes lying on the chair. “He’s not exactly a beanpole.”
Ten minutes later, Derek Grimes was wheeled on a stretcher into the back of an ambulance. Emily Riley had been taken away in a separate ambulance to be checked over. DI Brownhill had gone with her.
Smith went to his car and took out a packet of cigarettes from the glove compartment. He lit one and inhaled deeply. Whitton walked over to him.
“It’s all over,” she said. “The nightmare that lasted almost three months is over. I’m never going to forget this one.”
“Does Bridge know what happened?” Smith said.
“Brownhill phoned him. Apparently he’s in a right state.”
“Crap taste in women. He’ll get over it.”
“You’re all heart.”
“Speaking of crap taste in women,” Smith said. “Are we still alright? I mean you and me?”
“Buy me a drink and I’ll let you know,” Whitton said.
Smith smiled. He opened the box of cigarettes and took one out. He took out his lighter from his pocket. A piece of paper fell out and landed on the pavement. Whitton picked it up and read what was written on it.
“Be very careful of wolf dressed as sheep,” she said.
I hope you enjoyed reading. Please take the time to stick a review on Amazon. You can also drop me a mail on [email protected] any time. I would love to hear feedback from you about any of my books.
‘Horsemen’, the next DS Smith thriller will be out soon. Read the first few chapters here.
CHAPTER ONE
Smith stopped at the reception desk. The man with the peculiar piercing in his left cheek was talking on the telephone. Smith smiled at him and waited. The man shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he would gladly end the awkward phone call but it was out of his control.
“Ok,” he said eventually. “I’ll let Doctor Grace know as soon as he gets in.”
“Morning,” he said to Smith. “You know the drill.”
“Morning Joe,” Smith took out his phone and placed it on the tray Joe had put in front of him.
“Do you mind if I ask you something? You know she’s a real whack job don’t you?”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“It’s been four weeks now,” Joe said. “And you still keep coming back. Why?”
“I have my reasons. Can I go through?”
“You know the way,” Joe said as the telephone started to ring again.
Smith walked down the corridor and nodded to the stocky woman standing by the first security door. She opened it and let him pass without saying a word. Smith continued down a long corridor that was badly in need of a coat of paint. The sound of singing could be heard from inside one of the rooms. Smith stopped to listen and smiled. The old woman who had shaved off half her hair was singing in a low voice. She was singing something about talking to the bees in the forest. Smith walked through the second security door and stopped outside a blue door. He knocked and waited. There was no answer. He opened the door and looked inside. The room was empty. A pencil drawing of a cat in profile was pinned to the wall.
Selene: A disturbing DS Jason Smith thriller (A DS Jason Smith Thriller Book 6) Page 29
