ROAD TO NOWHERE : DCI MILLER 3: Another Manchester Crime Thriller With A Killer Twist

by Steven Suttie

  The journey continued for several miles, through Clifton, into Kearsley, then on to Farnworth. Eventually, after about quarter of an hour, the two cars were sat in heavy traffic in Bolton town centre. After a stop, start journey around the outskirts of town, the blue Focus finally drove into a private car park around the back of Bolton Police Station, and that was where Pete’s trail went cold. For that day at least.

  Pete continued to track Sergeant Jason Knight’s activities for eight days. He managed to discover almost everything that there was to know about the man. He sat next to the man’s wife as she had lunch with her friend. He played with his own kids in the park beside Jason, with his children. He found out everything that he needed to know about Jason Knight, and the more he discovered, the more that he learnt, the more he needed to know why this man had trashed Pete’s life. On the surface, this man had everything, a great job, good pay, a lovely house and a beautiful, loving wife. Pete just wanted to know why Knight had to go and ruin his life, when he had all that.

  On the ninth day, Pete drove his van into the back of the policeman’s bicycle on a remote, lonely road in the idyllic Trough of Bowland. He wanted to fuck this guy’s life up just as badly as his own life had been trashed, and even worse, if it was at all possible.

  It was pay-back time.

  PART THREE

  “Rebecca, I need you to listen to me carefully, okay?” PC Gary Robson was knelt before Sergeant Jason Knight’s wife. He had a firm hold of her hand, and he was talking slowly. Rebecca had been out of her face, talking nonsense and making weird, random remarks since she’d woken up from whatever tranquiliser the police doctor had given her. But now, PC Robson needed her to snap out of it and focus. Urgently.

  “We have found Jason. But he’s in a very poorly condition. We want to take you along to the hospital, is that okay?”

  “Did Jason ask for me?” asked Rebecca. She looked more scared now than she had at any point in the entire day. It was clear that the magnitude of the moment was too much. She had a look of pure terror on her face, her eyes were begging for some comforting words. She was so desperate to hear comforting words.

  “No, he’s asleep at the moment. He’s on his way to the hospital, right now.”

  “But he’s going to wake up, isn’t he?” More pleading from the eyes. Begging.

  “Rebecca, we really need you to go and get some clothes on, Leanne will go upstairs with you. Give your face a wash and freshen up, a police car is coming to take us all up to the general.

  Rebecca stood, and walked slowly out of the lounge, towards the stairs. She knew in her heart that things weren’t going to have the fairytale ending that she’d been counting on. Just from the way that PC Robson had dodged the question, she knew that things weren’t looking very good. She walked slowly, dreading the hospital visit, dreading the long wait that she’d have to endure there. She stopped walking as she reached the bottom of the stairs and sat down.

  “Oh Jason. My Jason. Please be alright, love. Please Jason, you’re going to be okay aren’t you love?” Rebecca was sobbing in her hands. She had a horrible feeling about this, and although she was trying to, she couldn’t ignore it. The horrible feeling wouldn’t go away.

  *****

  “Okay, we’ve got a very weak output, but we need to move quickly, we need to get him straight up to ICU. We’re losing here…” Dr Khalid was on all fours, kneeling by the injured, unconscious police sergeant. The medical expert had a look of grave concern on his face.

  “But what about that leg?” asked one of the other doctors that was also crouching beside Jason Knight in the cold, dark, smelly old mill.

  “That leg is going to have to go. There will be no feeling in that now, it’s dead. Come on, this man is barely alive, lets get him up to the hospital, please.” Doctor Khalid was extremely worried about the patient’s condition and had no time for debate or discussion. Two waiting paramedics followed the surgeon’s orders and placed their stretcher on the floor beside the injured man, and within a couple of seconds, the large team of medics had gently transferred him onto the board, and then lifted it, before marrying it up to the trolley.

  The trip to the hospital was fast, it took less than five minutes to complete the journey. The ambulance had its blue flashing lights, plus the added visual presence of the ambulance car and several police cars escorting the critically injured police sergeant on his urgent journey to receive the expert care that the hospital staff were on standby to administer.

  Press and TV crews were hanging around outside the A&E department, on the off-chance that the incident that had been televised by the Sky News helicopter would end in this trip to the local hospital. Their instincts had paid off, and the viewers at home were kept involved with developments, as the cameras scrambled to get the very latest footage from the ambulance as it arrived. Nobody was really prepared for the shock of seeing the policeman once the ambulance doors were thrown open, and the medical teams swarmed the vehicle.

  *****

  “We are still waiting for some official word on the condition of Sergeant Jason Knight,” said Sky News’ late night newsreader, Edward Birch, with a very sympathetic edge to his voice. “But as these pictures show, the policeman is in a very, very poorly condition.” Sky News were replaying the images that their cameraman had filmed out of the back of the ambulance. The shot of the policeman was only one frame, and it only appeared for a second or so, but the shakey images, taken in between the rough and tumble of all of the medical staff in their high visibility workwear, and other media reporters darting around were of a very poor quality.

  But despite the quality of the footage, it was abundantly clear to everybody that saw the clip, the police man had arrived at the hospital in a very bad condition. His complexion on his face was hauntingly pale, and in no way did he resemble the healthy, happy looking man who’s photograph had been broadcast practically none-stop since the previous tea-time.

  “Our prayers, and our thoughts are with Sergeant Knight, and his family, at this very distressing time. And, as we spare a thought for Sergeant Knight, and pray for his recovery, let’s take another look at those pictures of him arriving at the hospital, within the past fifteen minutes.”

  *****

  The very best doctors, surgeons and consultants in the region had been on standby by the doors of Tameside General Hospital in Ashton-Under-Lyne. They’d been called into work, or had volunteered themselves back to their posts ever since the police alerted them to the possibility of Sergeant Knight being in the immediate area. The police were aware that his injuries were catastrophic, and had been for a painful amount of time. It was now some six or seven hours after Peter Meyer had sent that unforgettable photograph to his wife. Manchester police had since asked all local hospitals to put themselves on standby for a major incident. They wanted their colleague to get the very best chance of survival if they managed to locate him.

  The injured policeman really couldn’t have received a better reception in terms of clinical experts and professionals. The mood inside the building was frantic, and there was a great deal of shouting and jostling amongst the surgeons and medics as they tried their best to make sense of the situation. The priority of stabilising Mr Knight, and trying to sustain and safely increase that very weak pulse was being undermined by the extent of the man’s injuries and the catastrophic level of blood loss.

  They were all putting in their very best shift. Every last member of the thirty-strong team of medical professionals were trying their absolute damndest to help Sergeant Knight. They were working under the leadership of Doctor Khalid, who had been with the patient since the police stormed the mill. He had been with Sergeant Knight in the ambulance, and continued to battle with his colleagues inside the hospital. The team had been working on him for more than ninety exhausting minutes, and although the signs weren’t encouraging, not a single one of them showed any signs of giving up.

  *****

  The media presence around Tamesi
de General Hospital was considerable, and it was increasing by the minute. The entrance to the A&E department was becoming a health and safety nightmare as time went on. There were so many media crews in attendance that ambulances were struggling to enter or leave the location. It was ridiculous, and tempers were starting to flare up. The medical staff wanted to be able to go about their business unhindered, while the media staff were desperate to get a good position for their broadcasts. It was a strange, and difficult situation that the hospital had no idea how to cope with.

  Manchester City Police had to deploy a number of officers to manage the situation, and others were on their way as well. The site was desperate for some crowd management facilities, and a van full of barriers was being packed up at the

  Divisional Supplies warehouse.

  It was grotesque, and quite unruly, but this media presence was perfectly understandable. The disappearance of Sergeant Knight had been the nations leading news story for much of the day, and now, its conclusion was taking place in a live setting. As far as news broadcast and journalism went, this was about as big and as exciting as live reporting could get.

  But, even TV viewers who were getting caught up in the breath-taking excitement of the moment were also becoming guilt-ridden by their involvement, and now, they felt a little too-close to the action for comfort. It was easy to forget that this was for real. It certainly may have felt like it, but this wasn’t a film. It wasn’t a television drama series. It was a man, a normal, forty year old man who looked dead, being shoved into a hospital. The staff were fighting to get through the television cameras and photographers. It was perverse, and it didn’t make comfortable viewing in the slightest.

  Not many people watching at home understood why they felt compelled to watch these disturbing images, but the millions of viewers that were sat with their hands at their mouths, who were crying and becoming distressed by the images felt as though they had over-stepped the mark. The media had delivered images that under normal circumstances, would not be seen by the general public.

  The reaction online was instant, as always, and thousands of television viewers vented their disgust at the broadcasters via Twitter. One tweet, by @AndyPeters316 read “Just seen that @SkyNews have absolutely no respect for #FindSgtKnight – that was absolutely horrific, disgusting and unnecessary #Pray4SgtKnight #wordsfailme”

  But, regardless of the social media reaction, Sky News continued to broadcast the images. The main reason behind this controversial editorial decision was, the story was reaching its conclusion, one way or the other. Sky News could no longer broadcast the looped helicopter images above the mill, and the vox-pops about Pete Meyer had been played out too many times now. In simple terms, the news channels were

  out of “fresh content.” In order to keep their reporting current, and to feel as “breaking” and as “live” as possible, the producers and directors decided that the hospital footage should remain on air, at least until the next piece of relevant footage emerged.

  The next piece of content was only moments away, but surprisingly to those who were in charge of broadcasting the news, it would not be provided at the hospital. The man who was responsible for the distressing state of Sergeant Knight was about to put himself firmly in the spotlight.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Pete Meyer had never really been a big fan of social media. He’d signed up to the various apps and sites out of politeness, but he could still manage to get through his life without them. He had a Facebook page, and he’d signed up to a Twitter account too, but he’d never really got the hang of it. It just wasn’t a big deal to him, and he managed perfectly well without the desire to post photographs of his tea, or sharing his opinions on the latest celebrity death.

  However, in light of everything that had gone on over the past two days, Pete Meyer wanted to go online, and present his own, personal perspective on the disappearance of Sergeant Knight. With his hooded sweatshirt pulled over his head, standing in the shadows outside the all night McDonalds in Ashton, Pete Meyer switched on his phone and felt a rush of adrenaline. He knew that the moment that the phone was switched on, his whereabouts would be made visible to the police. He needed to be quick, but he also needed to enjoy this. He was determined to savour every second of this moment.

  Pete used the McDonalds wifi and logged into his Facebook page. The private section was absolutely filled with messages from his friends and family, asking the same question. “What the fuck is going on Pete?” “Where are you mate?” “Hope everything’s alright Pete!”

  There was no time to start replying to everyone individually. Pete posted a photograph on his Facebook page. He also wrote “What do you call a policeman with a dick on his head? Sergeant Knight lololol”

  Pete pressed the “post” button and within seconds the picture was published online. Underneath, in the comments box, he added, “this man thought it was funny to wreck my life. Not fucking laughing now though, are you dick head!”

  With that, Pete logged out of his Facebook. He opened up his Twitter app and posted the same photograph, and a similar message.

  Satisfied that his picture had published on the

  Twitter news feed, Pete Meyer turned his phone off, and stepped away from McDonalds, and out into the darkness of the night. He thought he could hear sirens, but couldn’t work out if they were new ones, and if they were heading towards him, or not. That adrenaline rushed through his body again, right up his spine into his head.

  “This is it,” he said as he began walking quickly through the town centre. “Show-time!”

  *****

  Within minutes of Pete Meyer’s Facebook post, the administrators of the social media giant had removed the offending photograph. But they had not been fast enough to stop a few of Pete Meyer’s friends from seeing the shocking photograph, and for one or two of them to “screenshot” save the post onto their phones.

  Twitter however were much less concerned with taste and decency, and as usual, “anything goes” on the global micro-blog site, including the sickeningly outrageous, disturbing photograph of Sergeant Knight, which had been re-tweeted over twenty five thousand times within its first ten minutes.

  There was absolutely no doubt left now. Peter Meyer really was the guy that had kidnapped that policeman. And from what Sky News had been saying for the past half an hour, it didn’t sound as though the policeman was going to survive. As the clock struck midnight, and a new day dawned, Twitter, and the account @PeteMelMey had provided the news channels with their newest piece of content, though by the very nature of the image, it could never be shown on television, now, or ever, under British broadcasting regulations.

  *****

  As the media and the public were following the very latest news on TV and indulging in the gossip and speculation online, Rebecca Knight was being escorted under the cover of darkness into Tameside Hospital’s loading bay entrance. In a bid to avoid the glare and the long lenses of the media, the police had arranged to bring her in through the Goods-In entrance.

  Passing huge trolleys crammed with fresh laundry and containers full of food and drink and medical supplies, Rebecca Knight remained completely silent as she walked. Head-down and stepping quickly, she looked as though she had been prepared for the very worst. Led by members of Manchester City Police’s Family Liaison unit, the injured man’s wife was quickly shown through the maze of corridors, through the ICT department and along to the operating theatre, where surgeons were working, trying their level best, still battling to save her husband.

  *****

  “Okay, well we are going to have to interrupt you there I’m afraid Dominic,” said the BBC News presenter, cutting off her colleague who was speaking live from outside Tameside hospital. The BBC presenter, Siobhan Clark, looked excited, and confused, and also a little weary as she spoke directly into the camera, straight into the eyes of the viewers at home.

  “We have just… this is information that we are just receiving right now, a
s we speak, and yes, okay,” Siobhan touched her earpiece, and scribbled a little note on her desk pad before continuing. “It has just been confirmed that the man police have been searching for in relation to the disappearance of Sergeant Jason Knight, Peter Meyer has, within the past few moments, communicated with the public, using his Twitter account. On his Twitter account, Peter Meyer has, well, it certainly seems that it was Peter Meyer, he has posted a photograph of the injured policeman. The photo…” Once again, Siobhan touched her earpiece as she concentrated on the information that was being spoken into her ear. This was unmistakably live, and unrehearsed, breaking news. “I’m hearing that the photograph is of such an upsetting nature that we cannot show it.”

  There was an uncomfortable, nervous silence. Eventually, Siobhan spoke again, “We can’t show the image, or even try and explain what it shows.”

  The BBC news overnight presenter was not used to such a massive story breaking during her shift, and she had to pause again to take a sip of water. The tension of the moment was clearly catching up with her, and her voice developed a nervous, almost scared edge.

  “The photograph was accompanied with a message, on Peter Meyer’s Twitter account, which read,” The television screen switched from the image of the young, overwhelmed newsreader, to an info-graphic where the words appeared on the screen in time with Siobhan’s narration. “Hello, hello, hello what have we here then? Messed with the wrong man, have we Sarge? LOL! This man thought it would be alright to wreck my life. But you’re not laughing now though, are you Sarge?”