He waved his hand in the air directing them through, his other hand behind his back gripping the shotgun. He had no intention of making an escape and being chased across the country like quarry, constantly looking over his shoulder, it was no life. He had been revealed for what he was and there was no escaping it, but he refused to go quietly. At the bottom of the road he could see press vans lined up, journalists armed with microphones and cameras waiting for the moment they were allowed in. It seemed their sleepy little village had attracted the country’s attention because - judging by the names on the sides of the vans - they had come from far and wide. They were about to get the exclusive of their lives. His finger twitched on the trigger and his smile broadened. Not far now. The police were about fifty yards away but the shotgun was much more effective up close and personal and he intended to get very close.
The convoy splashed through the water, streaking the sides of the vehicles with muck and filth. Twenty five yards now. They were in effective range but he wanted to allow them to get a little nearer. He waved his hand up and down, encouraging them to slow and the car holding DI Armstrong did indeed start brake, the vehicles behind altering their speed in response. Martin’s welcoming smile broadened, his grip on the cold metal tightening. He walked towards the window of the Mondeo, DI Armstrong’s eyes fixed on him, her thin lips pressed into a grim line. She wound down the window.
“Who are you?” she called.
“Martin Lynch, the local GP.” He was so excited it was almost painful and he was salivating again. He hoped it didn’t trickle down his chin like it had earlier with Freya.
“Where’s Sergeant Donaldson? He’s supposed to be here to meet us.”
“He’s holding the killer at the pub. You need to go there.”
“He said he’d be here to meet us,” she insisted.
Martin tried not to look annoyed. Stupid hard faced cow. “Something cropped up in the meantime, quite a lot actually. Follow me and I’ll take you.” DI Armstrong seemed very put-out. Martin thought she wasn’t a woman used to being disobeyed.
“Right, fine,” she sighed.
“Before you enter the village there’s something I have to give you.”
“And what’s that?” Her upper lip curled with disgust when a trail of saliva dribbled from his lips. “Are you alright?”
Before he had a chance to raise the shotgun there was a shout to his left and he saw PC Steve whatever-his-name-was barrelling towards him. Martin cursed himself for selecting a big cumbersome weapon, the butt of the gun getting caught up in the back of his jacket. But it wasn’t from the front that the attack came, but the back. Something big and heavy slammed into him and he pitched forward. Through sheer determination he kept hold of the gun. As he fell he rolled and sprang back to his feet, surprising Craig with his agility. Once again he tried to raise the gun in a wide arc but the movement was slow and Steve kicked it from his hand.
“No,” wailed Martin when he saw his big moment being snatched from him. Police officers were climbing out of the stopped vehicles, moving in on him, so he drew the kitchen knife tucked into his belt and lashed out at Steve, slashing his left upper thigh. Steve looked down at the wound with surprise before falling to the ground, blood bubbling through his fingers as he tried to staunch the flow.
Using the element of surprise to his advantage, Martin snatched up the shotgun and raised it, aiming it straight at Craig’s head. He fired but Craig ducked behind the back of the Mondeo, shielding himself from the spray of shot, which slammed into the metal instead. This caused the rest of the advancing officers to run for cover.
“Shit,” said Martin, going into a crouch and cracking the weapon to eject the cartridges. Before he could reload Craig ran at him again and the weapon fell from his hands as the pair of them tumbled about in the mud and icy water. Martin managed to get on top of Craig but when he tried to punch him Craig kicked him in the side of the head, knocking him off and he jumped to his feet.
“Martin stop…,” began Craig, but his friend was gone, replaced by a madman who released a bellow and charged at him, knocking him against the seawall, jarring his back. The drop was only short but the water was freezing cold and volatile. If he went in he’d quickly drown. As they wrestled Craig could see police leaping out from behind vehicles and rushing over to assist. He punched Martin in the face, sending him stumbling backwards.
When Martin looked back and saw what appeared to be every police officer in the Strathclyde area advancing on him he grinned, more drool seeping from his mouth then leapt over the wall and into the churning water.
“No,” cried Craig, grabbing his sleeve as he went over. “Hold on Martin,” he called, straining to hold his weight, trying to find some vestige of his friend in the insane eyes staring up at him. The water lapped at Martin’s legs, wanting to claim him.
“Do you love her Craig? Would you sacrifice yourself for her?” he called before his hand clamped down on Craig’s shoulder and pulled.
The last thing Craig saw as he went over the edge was DI Armstrong’s astonished face.
The assembled group of police, fire-fighters and paramedics stared at the spot where the two men had been a second ago before recovering themselves and racing to the edge.
“Donaldson,” breathed Armstrong with relief when she saw him clinging onto the other side of the sea wall with both hands. “Get him up,” she bellowed at the firemen. “Where’s the mad doctor?”
“He fell,” said Craig, grabbing onto the proffered arms of two burly firemen.
Armstrong looked down into the water and spied a head bobbing about. It looked up and gave a maniacal smile before a wave crashed over it, the elements claiming The Elemental as their own.
Craig fell back onto the cold ground breathing hard and gazed up at the sky, watching the sunlight slowly creeping through, the wind down to a gentle breeze.
It was over.
Freya.
He pushed himself upright to find a throng of reporters - who’d taken the opportunity to sneak through while everyone’s attention was diverted - taking pictures of him sprawled on the ground.
“Get that lot back,” shouted Armstrong, every available uniform jumping to her command and pushing them back.
Craig dragged himself to his feet and tried to head back into the village.
“Woah, slow down,” said his Superintendent. “I want you checked over by the paramedics then I want your statement before you go anywhere.”
“Sir, there are injured people back at my mum’s cottage.”
“Let us worry about them. Now sit, that’s an order,” he said, pointing to the open back of the ambulance. Steve was already inside, being tended to.
“You okay Mate?” Craig called over his shoulder.
“I’ll live,” called back Steve, grimacing as his wound was dressed. “No offence Sarge but I’m never coming back to this village again.”
Craig raised a weary smile. “Can’t say I blame you.”
Once the paramedics pronounced Craig was fine the Superintendent steered him into the back of Armstrong’s Mondeo, the rear of which resembled a piece of swiss cheese and, to Craig’s frustration, demanded a full and frank explanation. All he wanted to do was see Freya but he was left with no choice. Armstrong and their Superintendent listened as he recited his tale while clutching a polystyrene cup of tea, shivering with cold and adrenaline.
“Well, I think it’s safe to say there’s a commendation in this for you,” smiled the Superintendent, clapping him on the back, making him wince. “You’re already being proclaimed the hero of the hour. The press caught your fight with Lynch on camera, it’s already being broadcast around the country.”
“Oh God.”
“I don’t think you realise how in the spotlight this village has been. The whole country has been watching events play out here.”
“How have they been able to watch? We’ve been cut off.”
“Never underestimate the determination of our press.
They camped out at the end of the road. If I saw one more image of that flooded road on the telly I thought I’d go mad,” he smiled. “Everyone’s been speculating as to who the killer could be, their theories fuelled entirely by your telephone conversations with DI Armstrong.”
Craig thought it sounded insane, like a twisted version of Big Brother. They’d all gone through hell, one of his closest friends from childhood had turned out to be a multiple murderer and they all thought it was entertainment.
“Two serial killers under your belt. It would be a shame if we lost you back to the Northern Constabulary,” continued the Superintendent. “Would you consider staying on with Strathclyde Police?”
Craig thought of Freya. “Yes Sir, I will.”
“Good. Now get some rest, I’ve not seen anyone look so tired in my entire life. We’ll take it from here.”
“How’s Gary Sir?”
For a moment the Superintendent looked puzzled.
“He means PC Reid,” said Armstrong dryly.
“Oh yes. The Paramedics are optimistic. Nothing life threatening.”
“That’s good news. He and Steve have gone above and beyond these past few days.”
“We realise that and they’ll be commended for their actions too. Now for God’s sake, go and get some sleep.”
“Yes Sir,” he said, slowly climbing out of the car, every part of him aching. But he had no intention of going home.
It was dark, the village lit up by the lights of emergency vehicles. A team of divers stood about talking and joking, sipping steaming cups of tea brought out to them by the village women. The water was far too choppy for them to search for Martin and it seemed it would be for a while to come. They were hoping he’d be washed up at some point by the tide.
He scanned the area for Freya but he couldn’t see her anywhere. The ambulance that had been brought in for her had taken Adam away instead, so she’d had to wait. The reporters surrounded him, shoving microphones in his face but he refused to speak and barrelled his way through them.
“Have you seen Freya?” he said, grabbing the arm of a passing PC.
“Who?”
“Never mind,” he sighed. It was then he spied the ambulance parked off to one side. It had come back for her. Before he could get to it a voice drew his attention.
“Craig, Darling.”
He turned and the next thing he knew a tall skinny woman with a mass of red hair had wrapped herself around him and pressed her lips to his. There was the frenzied click and flash of cameras around them. Eventually he managed to wrench himself away.
“Mandy, what are you doing here?”
Freya watched from her stretcher, hurt lancing through her when she saw Craig kiss the tall gorgeous redhead. That must be Mandy, the ex, although she didn’t look very ex to her. He’d obviously lied to her about their relationship so he could get his leg over. She just let the hot tears go, turning her face away so the hovering press wouldn’t see her cry.
“Freya.”
“James?”
He emerged from the mess of lights and strangers like her guardian angel and took her hand.
“I’m here,” he said.
“I’m glad.”
He smiled down at her and wiped away a tear with the tip of his thumb.
“Are you going with her?” said one of the paramedics.
“Yes.”
As he climbed into the ambulance with her, Freya got one last glimpse of Craig and Mandy, her arms wrapped around him as she posed for the cameras. He didn’t look in her direction. Then the doors closed and with it her hopes for the future.
Glancing around Craig glimpsed the ambulance doors closing and ran towards them.
“Craig, come back,” screeched Mandy.
But he ignored her. “Freya,” he called, chasing after the ambulance as it headed for the road leading out of the village. A grim black-clad figure stepped out before him and he was forced to skid to a halt.
“Sergeant Donaldson, you saved a lot of lives today,” said DI Armstrong.
“Uh huh,” he replied, not really paying attention as he watched the ambulance merge into the darkness, only its taillights visible.
“You seem most concerned with Miss Macalister’s wellbeing.”
“She’s been through a lot.”
Armstrong’s hard face hardened even more and she took a step closer, so her next words wouldn’t be overheard. “If it was to come out that you’ve been indulging in inappropriate relations with a woman who was a possible suspect during the course of this investigation it could be very damaging to your career.”
It took her aback when his own gaze hardened in response. “I held Freya in my arms after pulling her out of the oubliette not sure whether she was dead or alive and I would have done anything to make sure she lived. So I couldn’t really give a fuck what you think and if you want to sack me for it then you can explain why to that lot out there who right now are hailing me hero of the hour while you were the detective who couldn’t even get here in time before the storm hit. Yes I’ve been sleeping with Freya and she means a hell of a lot to me. Any shit you want to give me about that you can keep because I couldn’t care less. Now I’m going to the hospital to see her and if you try to stop me I might just let it slip how you weren’t in West Kilbride about work but to see your secret shag-piece.”
Her mouth fell open in amazement before she recovered herself. “You made a mistake talking to me like that.”
“You know what? I don’t care.”
A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind and he rolled his eyes.
“There you are. Come on Baby, I’ve booked into a lovely little hotel in Largs. It’s got a beautiful big bath that it would be fun to share.”
He untangled himself from her and turned to face her. “What are you doing here Mandy? We broke up months ago.”
“It was on the news about what was going on here, I was so worried I had to make sure you were alright.”
“Bollocks.”
“Craig,” she frowned.
After finally putting DI Armstrong in her place he was on a roll. “You couldn’t care less about what happened to me. You saw a chance to get your mug in the papers and you took it. That’s all I am to you, a photo opportunity.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is. Now bugger off back to Inverness because I’m not interested. I’ve finally met a woman who likes me for me, not for what she can get out of me and drop the posh accent, you were born and bred in the arse end of Govan.”
He said the last part so loudly the reporters could hear, some of whom tittered and Mandy’s face flared as red as her hair. For a moment he feared she was going to have one of her legendary tantrums then she recalled the press were present and tossed her head back indignantly. “Take that back or I’m walking away forever.”
He flashed a triumphant smile. “Go on then.”
She stamped her high heeled foot and stormed off, rudely pushing her way through the crowd. He looked back at Armstrong, who sighed.
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” he replied, knowing somehow or other she’d make him pay but he was on too much of a high to care. He just wanted to see Freya.
Freya stared miserably at her hands thinking about Craig kissing that giraffe when there was a gentle knock at the door. She looked up and smiled when James entered carrying two white polystyrene cups.
“Alright if I come in?”
“Yes, more than alright,” she smiled back.
He pushed the door closed with his foot, walking carefully so as not to spill any of the hot liquid on his hands.
“That will help your throat,” he said, handing her a tea.
“Thanks,” she replied accepting it, enjoying the warmth it created in her good hand. Her broken wrist had been redressed and was cradled in a sling.
“What did the doctor say?”
“They took bloods to test my alcohol level. It should be okay if I swallowed a
little bit, I think I brought most of it back up. If I didn’t then I guess I’ll find out soon enough. Other than that I’m okay.”
“I’ll stick around for a bit in case I’m needed.”
“Is Veronica okay with that?”
“She knows I have to do this.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble between the two of you, the wedding’s only a few weeks off.”
“It’s fine, honestly. I saw you watching Craig kiss that woman. I also saw how much it hurt you.”
“We had a thing.”
“A thing?”
“We slept together a couple of times. He told me she was his ex, that it was over with her and that he wanted to see me again. Obviously he was lying.”
James looked furious. “The bastard, I told him to look after you.”
“What exactly did you tell him because he knew about Docherty?”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that but I thought he already knew.”
“He tricked you?”
“Actually it was my fault, I just assumed. I thought he sounded okay. Shows just how wrong you can be.” He opened his mouth then closed it. Then opened it again and changed his mind once more.
“Come on James, spit it out.”
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“I did until I found out he was a pig.”
“He doesn’t deserve you. Why can’t you love me like I love you?”
“I do James, I always will, but we’d be terrible together. We drag each other down, you know that.”
He nodded and raked his hands through his hair. “I heard how the killer selected his victims.”
“Abortions. Apparently his lover aborting his child pushed him over the edge.”
“I often think about what our baby would have been like.”
The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) Page 25
