There was no sign of anybody along the road, apart from the crowd of neighbours standing by the broken stone wall.
At the end of the road, I had no idea which way to turn. I shrugged and turned right. Within moments, I knew I’d made the right call.
A crowd of mothers and their youngsters had congregated on a patch of grass to the side of a playground. Several of the adults had a hand on their chests. Some of the others covered their mouths.
It was clear something huge was going down.
I turned onto the street expecting carnage, but I wasn’t prepared for what greeted me.
A blue, late model Land Rover Discovery was parked askew, blocking the road. I raced from the car, clearly looking like an extra from The Walking Dead with the amount of blood I had pouring down my face and covering my clothing. I’d discarded the blood-soaked rag in the car.
A crowd of police officers and spectators stood on the other side of the Land Rover, but as I stepped through them my blood ran cold.
Andrew lay half on, half off the kerb, his head twisted at an unnatural angle to the rest of his body. A trail of blood spewed from him and ran into the gutter making its way to the drain.
He appeared dead.
I dropped to my knees beside him and was surprised to see his eyes flicker open.
My blood dripped and mixed with his in the gutter, and I found myself thinking this mixture of blood was the same mix running through my unborn baby’s veins. I felt a sense of responsibility towards this man who, for all the wrong reasons, had been turned into a criminal. He was Amanda’s brother, and I owed it to her to help ease his suffering.
I took his hand in mine. “Andrew, can you hear me, mate?”
He blinked.
“An ambulance is on its way.” I glanced at the older uniformed officer who nodded confirmation.
A strange sound came from Andrew’s partially open mouth, and I realised he was trying to say something.
“What is it, mate? Can you tell me where Mary is?”
Andrew’s eyes flashed brightly for a second, before the light faded, and then closed. Sound, however, was still coming from his mouth.
I crouched down lower, placing my ear above his mouth.
“Tell ... Mindy ... I’m ... sorry.”
I felt the life slip away from him as his hand fell to his chest.
A feeling of total devastation flooded through me, knowing what this would do to Amanda after everything she’d suffered already this year. I couldn’t hold back the tears, and I sobbed into the other man’s neck until darkness descended on me.
Chapter 45
Frances felt her emotions were about to bubble over as she watched the ambulance containing Adam speed away with sirens blaring.
She took a deep breath and swallowed back the tears while she dialled the station.
“Cal, it’s me. There’s been an accident,” she said, in a controlled voice.
“What’s happened?”
“Andrew Flynn is dead, and Adam is seriously injured. He’s been rushed to hospital.” She described what had happened in brief. She would make a formal statement later.
“Oh my God. Is he gonna be all right?” Cal gasped.
“I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood, and the emergency team seemed concerned.”
“Are you okay?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. I’ll go and inform Amanda about them both before heading over to the hospital myself. I’ll keep you informed.”
She dreaded telling Amanda that not one, but two of the men she adored had been injured, one of them fatally. But she wouldn’t put the poor woman through any more trauma than necessary, after her earlier confession. To top it all, they still had no idea where Mary was.
On the way back to Adam’s car, she felt deflated, as though she’d just been kicked in the stomach. Adam breaking down before passing out had shaken her up more than she cared to admit. She’d never seen him lose control like that before, but he had lost a hell of a lot of blood, so he could be forgiven for behaving strangely.
*
As Frances parked the car outside Sandra’s house, the curtain twitched, and within seconds Amanda appeared at the front door.
Amanda’s eyes darted to the passenger side after Frances climbed from the car, clearly searching for Adam. Taking a few uncertain steps towards Frances, she stopped and, raising her hand to her throat, shook her head, her eyebrows drawn together in a tight line. “No! Oh no, no, no.”
“Adam’s fine. He’s been injured, but I’m sure he’s going to be okay,” Frances said, not totally believing the words herself. “Can we go inside? I’ll tell you all about it.”
Amanda, still staring at her in some kind of shock, said nothing, but allowed Frances to lead her inside.
“Where’s Sandra?” Frances asked, once they stepped into the deserted lounge.
“Gone for the children,” Amanda said in a breathy voice. “What happened?”
“After we left here, we headed over to Sable Street on the off chance we might spot Andrew. Neither of us expected to, but we did.”
Amanda squealed and grasped Frances’ arm.
“We stumbled upon a police chase, and Adam recognised Andrew, so we followed and managed to stop the chase. After a scuffle Andrew hit Adam with something, splitting his head open.”
“Is it serious?”
“He’s lost a lot of blood, but I’m sure he’ll recover.”
“And Andrew—did he escape?”
“He did, but I’m sorry, Amanda, I’ve got bad news, I’m afraid.”
Amanda snatched her hand away and held it to her throat.
“Andrew was hit by a car, and he died at the scene.”
Frances expected wailing, sobbing, tears of some kind, but Amanda didn’t make a sound. Instead she sat staring into space, hardly blinking.
“Amanda?” she ventured after a few minutes.
The sound of car doors closing, followed by children’s chatter, had Frances on her feet and doing a bit of curtain twitching of her own. She met Sandra and the children at the front door. Although Frances hadn’t seen the kids before, they were exactly as she’d imagined from Adam’s stories. She closed the lounge door, not wanting them to see their mother in the state she was in.
Sandra stopped talking mid-sentence when she noticed Frances.
“What’s happened?”
Frances nodded at the children, and Sandra hurried them through to the kitchen via the other door off the hallway. She shoved a packet of biscuits in Emma’s hand, instructing her to share them with her brother, before turning back to Frances. They returned to the hall.
“Adam’s hurt. A nasty head injury. He’s been rushed to the hospital, which is why he’s not here to tell you ... Andrew’s dead.”
Sandra gasped and steadied herself on the stair banister.
“I’ve told Amanda, but she’s not said anything.”
Sandra pushed past her into the lounge. “Amanda, my poor, poor darling.” She sat beside her daughter and pulled her into her arms.
Amanda, suddenly jolted from her daze, wriggled from the older woman’s grasp and got to her feet. “Will you watch the kids? I need to go to the hospital.”
“Course, I will, love. Will you be all right on your own?”
“Don’t worry—I’ll drive her there. I’m going to check on him myself,” Frances said.
“Thanks, love.” Sandra nodded, seeming satisfied at this.
“Let’s get going, then.” Amanda headed for the door.
“Won’t you need a jacket, love? It’s icy out there.”
Amanda doubled back down the hallway and snatched a coat from the hook in the cupboard under the stairs. She kicked off her slippers and stepped into her boots.
The kids, hearing their mum, excitedly ran into the hallway chattering ninety-to-the-dozen.
Amanda fell to one knee and hugged them both to her, and they squealed with delight, clearly thinking it was just a game.
Frances could see the pain in their mother’s face.
“Don’t worry about them, Mand. They’ll be fine.” Sandra eased the children from Amanda’s arms and shooed them off towards the kitchen again.
With an indignant sound, Emma crossed her arms over her chest and flounced off into the kitchen, followed closely by Jacob who found his sister’s strop highly amusing.
Amanda headed for the door and up the path without another word.
Sandra gave Frances a sad smile and shrugged one shoulder.
“She’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Frances whispered, before also heading up the path to the car.
They raced to the hospital in silence. Frances shot Amanda several side glances to check she was okay, but she seemed to be in a world of her own. Nobody would believe by just looking at her that she’d received two pieces of devastating news.
As Frances whipped into a parking space, Amanda turned to her. “What if he dies?”
“He won’t die. He was okay apart from the blood loss, he even drove afterwards. He won’t die. You hear me?”
“But what if he does?”
Frances swallowed down the lump in her throat. She didn’t know what to say as she’d thought of nothing else since Adam was whisked away in the ambulance. She shook her head. “Come on, let’s find out, shall we?”
They got out of the car and fell in step as they headed towards the emergency department.
“Can I arrange to see Andrew too? Where will he be?”
“He will be taken to the mortuary once his body is removed from the scene. Someone will be in touch once they are ready for you to identify him.”
“Did he tell anybody where Mary is?”
Frances gave her head a slow shake, her lips turned down. “I don’t think so, although Adam did get to him before he died. Maybe he got the chance to tell him something, but Adam passed out himself soon after.”
Frances opened the swing door and allowed Amanda to enter ahead of her.
The queue for the reception desk was backed up to the automatic sliding doors, and the waiting room was already filled to bursting. Frances groaned and checked her watch—4.15pm already. She had so much to do, but she didn’t intend to go anywhere until she had an update on Adam.
After a few minutes, they reached the desk. The receptionist barely lifted her eyes from the keyboard as she asked what they wanted.
“Detective Adam Stanley was brought in via ambulance a short while ago. Can you tell us where he is, please?” Frances said.
“Are you related?” The woman peered over the top of her metal-framed glasses at them.
“I’m his partner, and this is his ...” She glanced at Amanda.
“I’m his girlfriend.”
“Take a seat and I’ll get somebody to update you as soon as they can.”
Frances led Amanda to the far side of the room and leaned against an old style radiator. She motioned with her head for Amanda to sit beside her.
A woman, in her fifties with a mop of frizzy brown hair and a bandaged hand held above her head, sat on the seat closest to them. She was eying them up and down until she noticed Frances watching her amd she gave a brief nod and turned away. The man beside her waffled on to anyone who would listen that he had her finger in a Tupperware container.
Frances shuddered and turned away.
A young boy around nine or ten years of age sat on the tiled floor at his mother’s feet. He had one of his shoes, with a sock inside it, beside him and was rubbing a terribly swollen ankle. His mother wiped her watery red eyes with one hand and stroked the boy’s hair lovingly with the other.
The front door swished open and a man, holding a young, gangly teenage girl in his arms, entered. She looked too big to be carried, and the guy looked as though his legs were buckling underneath him. The screams coming from the girl pierced Frances’ ears.
They soon learned she’d been bowled over by some monster dog and fell down a grassy bank—her shoulder had clearly been dislocated.
Moments later, a dirty, rough looking woman pushed in a wheelchair holding a frail old man with blood pouring down his face.
“Does Adam intend to report me?” Amanda suddenly asked in a whispery voice.
“What? No, I don’t think so.”
“He will. He’s too honest, which is why I didn’t want to tell him about Mary in the first place. When they find her, he’ll hand her over to social services. I’m positive of it.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now. I’ll go and see what’s happening.”
Frances approached the receptionist again. “Listen, love. I’m on duty and haven’t got time to waste sitting around here.” She produced her badge. “I need to speak to somebody immediately about Adam Stanley.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but we are busy, you know,” the receptionist said, irritably.
Moments later, a petite blonde nurse beckoned them from a side door. They followed her through to another waiting room.
“How is he?” Amanda asked, grasping Frances’ arm.
“Mr Stanley is in surgery right now. He suffered trauma to his frontal lobe, and he has a bleed on the brain.”
Amanda gasped and staggered backwards to the lime green plastic chair, where she landed heavily.
Frances’ mind was also reeling. A bleed on the brain! How can that be? He was okay and even drove afterwards. She sat beside Amanda and took her hand.
“Will he ...? Will he die?” Amanda asked.
“I know it sounds bad. And yes, any brain surgery is, of course, dangerous, but your friend was extremely lucky. Whatever it was that punctured his skull, just nicked his brain. The doctors are confident there will be minimum long-term damage.”
Amanda began to sob.
“However,” the nurse continued, “we’ll know more over the next few days. If you wait here, the surgeon will be in to speak to you as soon as he can.” She gave a sympathetic smile and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
They sat in silence, consumed by their own thoughts for a short time. Then Frances got to her feet.
“Listen, Amanda. I really need to get off and check what’s happening at the station. We had another murder this morning, so I’ll need to work twice as hard while Adam’s off his feet.”
“Of course. I understand.” Amanda nodded sadly.
“Will you be okay? I’ll get back just as soon as I can, but in the meantime ...”
“Don’t worry. I’ll call as soon as there’s any news,” Amanda cut in. “Go!”
*
The station was buzzing with news of Adam’s injury. Frances nodded and smiled until she got to their offices, where she shut the door behind her. She found Cal going through the tapes from the burger bar.
“How’s the boss?” he asked, glancing away from the screen.
“Not good. He’s having brain surgery as we speak.”
His head whipped round at her words. “Fuck! I thought you said it wasn’t serious.”
“I don’t remember saying that exactly, but yeah, I didn’t expect brain surgery. So, we’re left to sort out this mess now—for the boss. How’re you getting on?” She nodded at the screen.
“I think I have something.” He motioned for her to take a seat. “I found the tape of Grayson Phelps, and he did indeed enter the restaurant with a holdall, soon after the shooting of Lynley Antonescu.”
“Go on.” She pulled a chair closer and sat down beside him.
“The footage, although grainy, clearly shows him shove the holdall under one of the booth tables. He leaves after a few minutes, minus the bag.” He nodded to the screen.
The scene played out just as he said.
Cal forwarded the tape on for a few minutes. “Then, another man enters the scene. He’s careful not to face the camera, but he takes the holdall and leaves."
Cal paused the video which showed an unclear image of what appeared to be an older man wearing an overcoat, collar pulled up, and wearing a hat.
/> “Great work, Cal. Did you check if they still have the tapes from the other dates? It’s possible all the shooters did the same thing.”
“Not yet. I’d only just found it myself as you walked in. I’ll call them now.”
Frances left him to it. She had a bunch of calls of her own to make.
She walked through to the office she was now sharing with Adam, closed the door behind her and leaned against it, finally able to drop the act. Huge, hot tears flowed down her face and dropped from her chin. She struggled to breathe against an intense burning sensation in the pit of her stomach.
After a few minutes, she dried her eyes, pulled her fitted blue jumper straight, and cleared her throat before pulling her phone from her pocket. She made a call.
“Amy? It’s Frances.”
“Frances?”
“Holly Frances.”
“Ah, yes. How’s Adam? I believe he was rushed off in an ambulance.”
“Not great. Andrew stabbed him in the head with something—he’s having brain surgery as we speak.”
“I know. They found a blade stashed up the sleeve of Andrew's jacket.”
“That’s terrible! It’s a wonder he didn’t kill Adam!”
“Saved a lot of taxpayer money when that Land Rover mowed the bastard down, if you want my opinion.”
“Yeah, well, that’s as maybe. But his sister is still grieving and wants to identify the body as soon as possible. So, if you can let me know, as soon as she’s able?”
“Course I will.”
“What about Mary? Any developments?”
“No. Nothing. Andrew had nothing on his person apart from a pocketful of cash. The car he was driving was clean too.”
“It’s as though that little girl has vanished off the face of the earth.”
Chapter 46
Amanda was numb. What the hell was wrong with her, for God’s sake? Her brother was dead and her boyfriend was having brain surgery. Yet she felt numb to it all.
Of course she was anxious for Adam—wasn’t she? And concerned for the safe return of Mary. But her feelings were nothing like what they should be.
Psychological Thriller Series: Adam Stanley Boxed Set: Behind Shadows, Positively Murder and Mind Bender Page 57
