A Second Chance: A British Crime Thriller (A DCI Pilgrim Thriller Book 5)

by A L Fraine

  “’We learn from failure, not from success’, Kendel,” Jon said, quoting Dracula.

  “Oh, I see. Well done. You’ve done your research,” Darryl said, smiling. “But, if you’d been paying attention, you would have found me sooner.”

  Jon frowned, wondering what he meant, but put it to one side for now. “And yet, here we are. This is the end, Darryl. Now you can do this the hard way or the easy way. Your choice. I don’t mind which really, but this is most certainly the end.”

  Sirens sounded off in the distance. Darryl heard them too and frowned.

  “Come with me,” Jon urged.

  “No way,” Darryl replied. He bolted. Without warning, he ran from the room out the far door and kept going.

  “Dad,” Milo called out, but he didn’t run after him. He just froze and watched him go.

  “Shit,” Jon cursed but turned to Kate. He needed to know if she was alright first. “Kate? You okay?”

  She grunted. “Urgh, yeah, I think so. I’m fine. Go on, get him.”

  Jon nodded once before turning and charging from the room, passing Milo, and following Darryl through the building.

  30

  Barrelling through the building, Jon caught glimpses of Darryl ahead, charging through a door that led outside. Jon reached it moments later and slowed, not wanting to get ambushed. A few metres short of the door, he moved sideways to scan the area outside and caught sight of Darryl, sprinting towards the nearby trees.

  “Shit,” Jon cursed and took off after him, running hard. Darryl was running parallel to the dual carriageway, through a gap in the fence and into the woods beyond. Pounding the concrete, Jon worked hard. He needed to catch up. Losing him now would be a disaster.

  If he caught Darryl, it was over. But if he got away, he’d almost certainly go to ground, and they might never see him again. Jon would not let that happen.

  Reaching the trees, Jon kept his eyes trained on the fleeing figure and pumped his legs, feeling the burn in his calves.

  Something caught his attention on his left as he moved. Pausing briefly, he put his hand to a tree and looked over.

  The ground had been disturbed, dug up, and only partially replaced. A spade lay beside a pile of earth, and in a shallow hole, Jon could clearly make out a human face, half-buried, and a single hand stuck up from the dirt.

  It was Sebby.

  “Shit.” He’d killed the boy. He glanced back to the forecourt. Nathan stood beside the car where Jake was sat, and despite everything, he felt sorry for Jake. No one deserved to lose a child—not even cocky shits like Jake.

  But he couldn’t dwell on that now.

  Jon pushed on and charged up the slope. He slowed, breathing hard as he caught sight of Darryl.

  He was climbing over a fence.

  “Great,” Jon remarked between ragged breaths, scanning the fence left and right for a quicker way through. Darryl broke right, towards the highway. Was there a bridge that way?

  Jon veered right, cutting the corner off the route that Darryl had taken. As he got closer to the fence, he saw it link up to the end of a footbridge that crossed the A3. It looked a little easier to climb over, and Darryl was not far ahead.

  He’d caught up.

  Spurred on by his proximity to his target, Jon powered up the last few metres and clambered over the end of the railing onto the bridge.

  Darryl was just a few metres ahead.

  “Darryl, stop.” Jon bellowed, hoping he didn’t have to run anymore.

  Ahead, Darryl dropped out of his run and looked back. He looked shattered and put his hands to his knees to catch his breath.

  Jon briefly smiled to himself. It seemed that he might be in better shape than Darryl after all.

  Darryl straightened as Jon took a few steps onto the bridge.

  “Stop right there,” Darryl warned.

  Jon paused. “It’s over, Darryl. It’s done. You can’t escape this.”

  “Wanna bet?” Darryl looked left, over the side of the bridge, and then back at Jon. He understood Darryl’s implied meaning right away. It was a coward’s way out, but he wouldn’t put it past him.

  Jon raised his hands. “Alright, you just calm down, okay.”

  “I’m quite calm.”

  That was what worried him. He had the air of a man who knew the game was up, and the only options he had left were extreme ones.

  He’d seen it before, when the fight went out of them, and they knew their life as they knew it was over. He could see it here, too, in the way Darryl was talking.

  It made them dangerous, not only to themselves but to others. Darryl was a cornered animal.

  He needed to be careful.

  “Why, Darryl? Why do this? Why kidnap Milo, your own son.”

  “He’s not my son.”

  Jon sighed. “Okay. No, not biologically, but being a dad is more than just blood. It’s who you are to them, and he clearly thinks of you as his dad.”

  “But he’s not. He’s the son of that piece of shit.”

  “Like Sebby was?”

  “That’s right, just like him. And he got what was coming to him.” Images of the boy in the shallow grave flashed before Jon’s eyes.

  This man was a cold-blooded killer with a moral compass that was so far off the charts that he wasn’t sure if talking to him would yield anything of use other than a confession. He had to try, though.

  “They’re kids, Darryl. Kids. They don’t deserve this.”

  “No!”

  “They’re innocent,” Jon pressed.

  “They’re instruments of my punishment.”

  “Punishment? For what?”

  “For what? For what!? Are you kidding me, Jon? Really? You’ve seen what he’s like. You must know what he did to Emily. He corrupted her. He took her and debased her. Drugged her and raped her.”

  “Raped?” That didn’t sound right. Emily never mentioned anything about this.

  “You’re saying she wanted to fuck him? Piss off. He raped her. Drugged her and raped her. Ruined her. She’d been perfect before. When I had her. When she was with me, she was an angel. A perfect, pure angel.”

  Jon understood. Jake hadn’t raped Emily. But in Darryl’s eyes, her having sex with Jake was just as bad. He’d stolen her virginity, which to Darryl, was unforgivable.

  “An angel who escaped you, who ran from you,” Jon replied, pushing him to see what he’d do.

  “So! So what? She was an angel, and I was her saviour. I was a saviour to all of them.”

  “I’m not sure they would agree.”

  “Like I care. They don’t know what’s best for them. Only I know that. But you! You’re just as bad as Jake. You ruined everything.” Darryl took a step towards him, a wicked frown and then a smile spreading over his face.

  “Hey!” Someone called out.

  “What the…?” Jon said, looking for the shouter. Darryl turned, revealing a figure walking over from the other side of the bridge. “Oh, shit.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Darryl asked.

  “I’m with the Surrey Spy Blog,” he called out.

  “A journalist?” Darryl asked, apparently astounded as he glanced back at Jon, his face incredulous. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.”

  “Scott, stay back. Move away,” Jon said, taking a step closer to Darryl.

  “Stay where you are, Jon,” Darryl snapped.

  Hissing through his gritted teeth, he did as Darryl asked. “Scott, I’m warning you.”

  “Ignore him,” Darryl called out. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and he won’t talk to you. But I will, and I have a hell of a story for you.”

  “Scott!” Jon’s voice was laced with warning.

  “I’d like to know your story, Darryl. Why did you do this? The world wants to know. Why take those boys?”

  Jon watched as Scott continued to approach. “No, don’t… Stay back.”

  “Shut the hell up, Jon. I want to tell my story. I want the
world to know it. Ignore him, Scott.”

  They were just a few metres apart.

  “Back off, Wells,” Jon called out.

  “Jon, I’m quite capable of looking after myself,” he replied as Darryl took another couple of steps closer and then lunged. He covered the ground in the blink of an eye. Scott scrambled back, but Darryl grabbed him and pulled an evil-looking dagger from his pocket.

  What was it with people and knives today, Jon mused.

  Scott raised his hands.

  Car horns sounded from below as Darryl struggled with Scott and man-handled him. Jon looked over the side of the bridge, noting that a couple of cars had slowed before speeding off again.

  “Damn it,” Jon said, looking back at the blogger. “You bloody idiot.”

  “It’s okay,” Scott replied, his voice wobbly. “I’m here to tell his story, that’s all.”

  “You hear that? I’m going to be a celebrity. I’m going to be recognised.”

  “Why?” Jon asked. “Why do all this? Why take those children? Why marry Emily?”

  “Um, I’d like to know, too,” Scott added.

  “Scott, be quiet,” Jon ordered.

  “I’ve told you, they’re not my kids,” Darryl answered. “They belong to that sick monster.”

  “That’s rich, coming from you,” Jon replied.

  “Shut your mouth!” Darryl snapped. “I’m in charge here. I’ll gut this idiot, make no mistake.”

  “But, I’m going to tell your story,” Scott protested.

  Darryl laughed. “Piss off. I don’t want you to tell my story. I’m not interested in you or anything you have to offer, sucker.”

  “But…?”

  “Shut up, Scott,” Jon shouted, annoyed that he’d been reeled in by Darryl’s words and feigned interest. “For once in your life, just bloody shut up.”

  Scott clamped his mouth closed as Darryl began to back up over the bridge.

  “You’re not getting away from here,” Jon said.

  “Watch me,” Darryl replied.

  “But, what about Milo?”

  “What about him?”

  “You’re his dad. He called you Dad. He loves you,” Jon said.

  “No, he won’t, not after this.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that though, you can make amends.”

  “Fuck off,” Darryl said. “I would have killed him.”

  “But you didn’t,” Jon pleaded.

  Darryl narrowed his eyes and paused in his retreat over the bridge as he stared back at Jon.

  “You didn’t, did you,” Jon pressed. He’d struck a chord. “You didn’t kill him. You took him, but you couldn’t kill him, and I don’t believe you would have.”

  “You don’t know that. I would have killed him.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You care for him. I can see it.” He wasn’t sure if he could see it, actually, but that didn’t matter right now.

  “Then you’re blind,” Darryl spat.

  “What about Emily?”

  “What about her?”

  “You married her,” Jon explained. “You lived with her for years, you don’t do that with someone you hate.”

  “I don’t hate her,” Darryl admitted. “She was abused by Jake, ruined. I hate him and his spawn, but Emily? No. I pity her, but I don’t hate her. I saw what he’d done to her and chose to save her.”

  “And her son? You took him on when you married her. You entered a commitment.”

  “The parent is not the child, and the child is not the parent. They’re separate. Their own person.”

  “Exactly,” Jon replied, smiling. “Milo is his own person. He might be Jake’s son, but he’s not Jake and shouldn’t be punished for the sins of the father.”

  Darryl opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He blinked and looked stumped. He seemed to chew it over, scowling at Jon, who had used his words against him. He twisted his mouth into strange shapes as if his mind had just blue screened.

  Watching the man fight with his conscience, Jon spotted more movement along the bridge, and for a moment, thought the worst, only to suddenly recognise Kate.

  She had her baton out and was jogging silently towards them. Jon looked right, at the traffic below, remembering the blaring of horns.

  She’d run across the highway.

  “What do you know of commitment,” Darryl blurted out, getting a handle on his thoughts. “You know nothing of what it takes to do what I do. Stay back. I have the power here, not you. But I will come for you, Jon. That I promise. I will find you one day.”

  At the last second, he seemed to sense Kate behind him and twisted, ducking. Scott dropped. Blood sprayed. Jon charged ahead as Darryl turned on Kate and swung his knife at her, catching her shirt and jacket.

  She swung her baton and hit his arm. The knife shot from his hand. It clattered against the railing and landed nearby.

  Jon tackled Darryl, grabbing him around the middle like a rugby player and pulled him to the ground. Darryl flailed, bucking and fighting. He shouted incoherently, bellowing and screaming as Jon pushing him to the concrete and got on top of him.

  “Give it up,” Jon shouted back. “It’s over.”

  “Arrrgh, no,” Darryl roared, but with Kate helping him, they quickly had him cuffed to the bridge. Darryl acted like a wild animal, shouting as he tried to pull himself free from the cuffs, but to no avail.

  Ignoring him, Jon rushed over to Scott and rolled him onto his back. He had his hand pressed against his neck and was bleeding badly. Blood was everywhere. Jon clamped his own hand to the wound and did his best to stem the bleeding.

  “Call it in, get an ambulance here, fast,” Jon instructed Kate, but he needn’t have bothered. She was already on her phone and well ahead of him.

  “Sorry,” Scott hissed, his voice wet.

  “Shut up. You’re not going to die today.”

  “I didn’t mean to mess it all up,” the blogger continued.

  “Actually, you were a good distraction. So, thanks.”

  Scott laughed and coughed. “At least I was useful.”

  “You were.”

  “I’ll have a hell of a story to post.”

  “You’re not kidding,” Jon agreed. “Now shut up, you’re making me uncomfortable with all this sensitive shit.”

  Scott smiled.

  31

  “So, to sum up,” Jon said, looking over at Superintendent Ray Johnston, “Darryl’s in custody, and the case against him is looking pretty damning right now. We’ll have to sort all the evidence out but given what we know and the witness statements we have, I can’t see him getting out for a long time to come. Emily and Milo are okay. They’re upset and shocked, but they’re alive and well. Jake and Sherryl are both in cells downstairs, so I guess we’ll see how that pans out. Depends if Emily wants to press charges, I guess. They’ll get off with little more than a slap on the wrist, given what they were put through, and I have no desire to see them go to prison over their reaction to having their son kidnapped and killed.”

  “No,” Johnston replied, agreeing. “Neither do I. They’ve been through enough.”

  “I agree,” Jon replied.

  “Alright, so how did Jake find out about the garage?”

  “He knows someone—who he won’t name—who has a friend that works at TooFro, who was mates with Remus. Apparently, during the fares he was running for Darryl, Remus passed the garage and saw Darryl with a child there. He texted his friend about it before going back to meet Darryl, where he was killed.”

  “Okay, so it was just coincidence that he found out at the same time as we did?” Johnston asked.

  “Yeah, I’m just glad we got there before Jake.”

  “Mmmm. So, Darryl married Emily out of pity but nursed a dislike of Jake and Milo for years, waiting until Milo was eight before acting on his emotions.”

  “Yeah,” Jon said. “We think Jake getting out of prison a few weeks ago is what triggered Darryl. He was let out early, and re
cords at the prison show that they did call to let Emily know. But it wasn’t Emily who took the call, it was Darryl. He kept that to himself, but Emily found out later when Jake met her in the street. So we think was the start of all this.”

  “We also think there may be other cases, other deaths or assaults or something he did during those years,” Kate said, from where she was sitting beside him in the DSupt’s office. “It’s hard to believe he went cold turkey between those dates. We’ll keep on looking and build the case ready for court.”

  “Great,” Johnston replied. “And what about that blogger that had his throat cut?”

  “He’s in hospital,” Jon replied. “He’ll survive. He was in a bad way and lost a lot of blood, but these journalists are nothing if not tenacious.”

  “Okay,” the chief answered.

  “Yeah, I know, right? Difficult to know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, isn’t it?”

  “Jon!” Kate exclaimed.

  “Careful, Jon,” Johnston replied.

  “I’m joking. I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, not even on a monster like Scott,” Jon replied.

  “Well, that’s something, at least,” Johnston replied, shaking his head.

  “I’m all heart,” Jon said with a wry smile.

  “Aren’t you just. So how on earth did he end up on that bloody bridge?”

  “That, I don’t know,” Jon said. But that wasn’t strictly true. However, it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with the Super. “I’ll see what I can find out.” He glanced at Kate, who wore a troubled expression on her face. She probably had the same concerns he did.

  “Right you are. Now go on, get out of here. You’ll have a mountain of paperwork to fill in over this.”

  “Sir,” Jon said, and led the way out and wandered back around to his own office, where he slumped into the sofa.

  Kate joined him.

  “How you feeling?” Jon said, and placed his hand on her thigh.

  “Sore, bruised, but I’m fine.”

  “So you’re saying I have to be gentle with you?”

  “Always. I’m a delicate China doll.”

  “I bet,” Jon said.

  “What about you?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” he answered and sighed. But as he cleared his head, a nagging thought occurred to him. “There was one thing, though.”