by Tara Lyons
People are screaming. It’s not like I’ve got a gun pointed at them, calm the fuck down. This is about me now, and how I’m going to get out of here. I still haven’t found the answers I’m looking for, and there’s no way I’m going down before I have. In the distance, sirens collide with the shrieking noise of those now filming us.
This is not how I’d planned it. This is not how things were supposed to work out.
‘Holly, drop your weapon. We can talk about this.’
The mixed-race detective is at it again. Encroaching on my space. Pretending to be my friend so I’ll come quietly.
The saliva drains from my mouth, yet my head is full of work-out sweat. I feel grounded, rooted in this indecisive spot for hours, rather than minutes.
It’s now or never.
‘Keep him down,’ I mutter in Calvin’s ear, and launch him from his crouching position on top of the copper.
My mate comes through and squashes the fucker to the ground. More screams erupt from the crowd. I’ve never been watched like this. A tingling sensation erupts in my stomach, shooting lightning bolts of pleasure down between my legs.
She steps forward, the gorgeous brunette, and I see the look in her eye. The hunger. She won’t let me pass without a fight, but the movement behind tells me the other copper will be on my heels in minutes. Slipping the knife into my left hand, I wait for her to gain momentum, charging at me like a thunderous deity. Throwing a right hook, hard and fast, she falls back and smacks her head on the cold, concrete steps.
The pathetic onlookers, adding their own drama with squeals and gasps, step away. But, you know there’s always one have-a-go-hero, who thinks he can take someone like me on. Not today, fuckers. I lift the knife, wield it around, and slice it through the air like a crazy samurai warrior. They run away, scared for their lives. As if I have time for them.
I climb the stairs to freedom and listen to him calling the name Dixon repeatedly. He won’t stick around; no one is that loyal to the people they work with. The thrill of the chase will entice him. I think I’d like to play a game with him, but not today. They must have found Todd in my shed. That bitch Claire will have spilled her guts, and so, they have all they need on me. I’m used to hiding, it’s what I do best. I’m well equipped to conceal myself in plain sight to save my own skin. Once the dust settles, I’ll come back for Donna.
I carefully slip the knife back up the arm of my jacket and leg it, doubling back on myself, away from Victoria Embankment. Even here, away from the picturesque river I have to swerve through crowds of tossers stopping to take selfies. As I run along Northumberland Avenue and Trafalgar Square, panting and out of breath, the doors of a red, double decker bus close in my face. I bang, just the once, and the Asian driver reopens them. I jump on, without thinking of where I could end up.
‘That was very kind of you. Most drivers leave me standing there like an idiot.’
I reach for the contactless bank card in my back pocket and let it beep on the terminal. The doors slam shut as the driver pulls away. I take the first seat, next to old woman who smiles sweetly at me. I return the gesture. After all, wouldn’t you be laughing if you’d just escaped for the second time in one evening.
‘This is the 453, to Deptford Bridge Station.’ The automated female voice announces over the speaker.
Fuck knows what I’ll do in Deptford, if I even go that far, but I’ve got some breathing space. Some time to plan my next move.
29
Hamilton raced back to the train station, the scene looking completely different in the short time he’d been gone. Dixon, who forced him to chase Holly the second she opened her eyes, now sat in the back of an ambulance, being treated by two young paramedics. Clarke and Rocky, who were returning to the station, were given the update by Fraser and diverted to Victoria Embankment. Calvin Robinson sat in the back of a stationary patrol car, his face contorted and nostrils flaring.
Commuters moaned and demanded answers about when the station would reopen. Hamilton could understand their frustrations and realised their restraints only caused more problems. The area was no longer a crime scene, their suspect had given them the slip, and SOCO were rendered unnecessary. He rushed forward, recognising time was against them.
‘We’re wasting our resources here. Pull down the barriers and let these people continue with their evening,’ he urged, and turned to face his team. ‘I couldn’t catch Walker, but I sure as hell caught up with her. She didn’t notice me following her.’
Hamilton explained the escape route Holly had taken, and wondered if she’d have the audacity to only journey one or two stops before jumping off the bus.
‘We need to get ahead of her.’
‘Let me have a quick think.’ Clarke paused. ‘From here, the 453 will run along the Horse Guards Palace … onto Westminster and Parliament Square, before heading past St Thomas’s Hospital …’
‘Right, let’s head over to the hospital. We can get there in about six minutes,’ Hamilton shouted, and ran towards Clarke’s car, delighted someone knew the inner workings of the London bus routes. To him, the large, red vehicles all merged into one as they criss-crossed over lanes and swam around roundabouts in their droves. ‘I want all patrols in the vicinity with us, but keep your sirens off. If she twigs any sign of us, we risk losing her, again.’
Clarke started the engine and sped off along the River Thames. He switched the lights on, but kept them silenced. They just had to get over the bridge, Hamilton thought, hoping their close proximity to the hospital would beat the bus’s longer route around the city.
‘What if Walker’s already off the bus?’ Clarke asked, as he expertly whizzed through the evening traffic.
‘Then we’re up shit creek, partner. She could be anywhere in this city right now.’
Big Ben filled their view as Clarke sped along Westminster Pier, before taking a left onto Westminster Bridge Road. As always, the footpath and roads brimmed with pedestrians and traffic. The silent siren had its advantages, however, and slowly cars pulled aside to let them pass, without drawing too much attention to their chase. An array of police cars joined the bridge from different directions. As they advanced on St Thomas’s Hospital, Hamilton saw some were already in place, dotted around the side streets of Belvedere and York Road. Confident they had beaten the 453 to this destination, he instructed Clarke to switch off the lights and park directly at the bus stop.
Hamilton opened the door before Clarke came to a screeching halt, and jogged back on himself, wanting a better view of the bridge. In the distance, like a beacon of everything British, a red double decker drew closer towards them. Although he couldn’t make out the numbers on the front, hope won over. It was all he had.
‘Get everyone in position,’ he instructed Clarke, who joined him near the bridge. ‘Tell Rocky to stay in the patrol car, and cover the rear of the bus after it stops. Tell everyone to keep back, but be prepared.’
Clarke darted back to the teams, as Hamilton’s impatience grew. He thought about approaching the bus as it crawled along the bridge in the traffic, but he didn’t want to put anyone on the vehicle in harm’s way. If they played it discreetly, he had a chance of getting on the bus before Holly realised he was there. His focus narrowed in and read the numbers 453 in bold, white lettering, and he thumped his fist in jubilation while running back to the bus stop.
It pulled to a halt, and the mechanical doors swung open. The driver’s face grew aghast as Hamilton jumped on-board, flashed his ID card, and placed his index finger over his lips. Clarke and two uniformed officers approached the middle doors, scanned the passengers alighting, while Hamilton climbed the stairs two at a time. Examining every bewildered and puzzled face, he soon realised Holly was not on the top deck.
‘Gov, down here,’ his partner called up to him.
Hamilton almost tripped down the narrow stairs as he bombed his way back down. He sighed a breath of relief when he found Clarke standing on the street alone, the officers mus
t have placed their suspect in a near-by patrol car.
‘Wrong flaming bus,’ Clarke said and pointed to the second red double decker a few yards behind; Hamilton hadn’t even noticed it on the bridge. ‘Walker saw all the commotion and legged it down Belvedere Road, a no-through-way for cars. Rocky and a couple of officers are in pursuit now.’
Hamilton swung round and punched the bus behind him, livid the woman had evaded their clutches one more.
Rocky lost sight of the two uniformed policemen who’d followed Holly Walker with him. It wasn’t that he’d describe them as overweight, but thinking back to his last chase with Hamilton, he wondered if it would be beneficial to reopen the old gym at the station. He’d passed by the shell of a basement last week, disappointed the machines and weights had been abandoned to collect dust. He appreciated that many people now paid hefty monthly gym memberships, which could become a nightmare to get out of. But why neglect a perk of the job situated in the very building you worked in every day, he thought. Running along the tall, white buildings of Belvedere Road, he decided he’d proposition Hamilton about his idea.
As the road in front began to open up, a line of black taxis came into view. Worried Holly would jump in the nearest vehicle and become lost in a convoy of beetles, Rocky ran from the pavement and into the middle of the road to keep an eye on her. His speed increased, muscular legs taking the strain as he bolted past, yelling at innocent bystanders to move out of his way.
Holly constantly peered over her shoulder as she slowed down, fingers reaching out to grab the handle of the nearest black taxi. The door remained locked, and Rocky watched her yank harder and harder, knocking the window while checking the progress he made on her.
‘Police! Holly Walker, stop!’ he yelled, and pedestrians instantly backed away from him.
She leaned into the taxi window, demanding the driver open the door, and the woman’s hesitation became Rocky’s victory. His strides transformed into huge leaps from the ground. He extended his arm and grasped her shoulder, tackling her to the ground.
‘Holly Walker, you are under arrest,’ Rocky said and continued with the apprehension as he handcuffed her wrists behind her back.
Adjusting his position to notify the team, Rocky inhaled sharply when he noticed the iconic grandness of The London Eye. Since moving to the city, he’d promised himself to visit the popular sites – not just from a distance. He wanted to get up, close and personal with each and every one. Take a dozen photos of the same scene, just so he didn’t miss anything about the wonderful sites. Now, he gazed in awe, feeling like a dwarf under the giant, white metal wheel towering over the buildings and trees. It’s numerous pods, each holding dozens of people, soared so high he thought they might just pass through the few clouds surrounding them. He strained his neck to follow the circular attraction as Holly wriggled beneath him.
‘Get off me. I’ll sue,’ she screamed, venom spitting from her lips. ‘Look at all these people recording you. You’ll be done for this, mark my words, you piece of filth.’
Rocky sighed, the beauty of the city tarnished by the criminals inhabiting it. He ignored the woman’s continued outbursts and reached for his phone. The two uniformed officers joined him, and promptly guided back the crowd of people who had come to watch with interest, their mobiles held high to capture every second of the excitement unfolding before them.
‘Put those phones away, and step back now!’ the older of the two policemen demanded.
Rocky followed the direction of the man’s voice and spotted Hamilton tearing down the street towards him. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, placed his hands under Holly’s armpits and scooped her up from the ground.
‘Careful where you’re putting those bloody things,’ she roared.
He ignored her comment once again and gestured his head towards his boss. Hamilton’s feet slowed slightly, but the pearls of brimming sweat and deep frown lines on his forehead told Rocky the intensity remained.
‘Well done. Bloody well done,’ Hamilton said and slapped him on the back. ‘You’re getting some reputation for a successful chase, I’ll give you that.’
‘Thanks, boss. I work out.’
Hamilton laughed heartily. ‘No need to rub it in, mate, we can all see that.’
‘What’s this all about?’ Holly interrupted, but she no longer screamed, rather her tone sounded steady, and the vein in her temple pulsated. ‘You’ve got nothing on me.’
‘We have witnesses,’ Hamilton replied.
‘Ha! Fucking witnesses. You lot would believe the first person who walked in off the street if they told you what you wanted to hear.’
‘Let’s see about that down the station, shall we. Rocky, the patrol cars can’t drive up here so, rather than waiting for them to drive around, let’s get her back down Belvedere Road.’
Together, they took an arm each and guided Holly in the direction they wanted, not that she struggled or fought against them. Rocky felt as if he was walking on air, strutting down the street while Hamilton’s words played repeatedly in his mind. He couldn’t remember the last time someone in a senior position called him “mate,” and it tickled him. More and more, he believed the move to London had been a positive change in his life, and the team he worked with were not just colleagues, they were friends.
30
Hamilton shuddered. A chill snaked down his back, and the small hairs on his neck stood to attention. Unsure if the coldness came from the damp room or the monster sat in front of him, he pulled his suit jacket closer together and fastened the buttons. Dixon accompanied him in the interview, purely because he’d liked the technique and unsympathetic nature she’d adopted while questioning Todd Bell. He wanted answers from Holly Walker, and wasn’t prepared to pussyfoot around the suspect. In their absence, Fraser had been tasked with discovering everything she could from Inspector Bennett about the girl in the Ambleside attic. If information could be sourced during this initial interview with Holly, Hamilton believed a full confession would come easy.
He watched her for a few moments; the way her eyes, dark as the midnight sky, scrutinised the room and her pale cheek twitched, as if she was biting the inside of her mouth. Now Holly had shed her jacket, Hamilton could see the bulging muscles in the woman’s large arms. Within the space of three minutes, she’d run a hand through her cropped, red hair, flicking it over and covering one side of her forehead, at least ten times. Yet, despite her tense actions, he could feel a calmness radiating from her body. She relaxed back into the plastic chair, leaning on the arm rests, and her feet placed firmly on the floor, legs uncrossed. Without a care in the world, Holly showed no remorseful or anxious emotion, Hamilton thought.
After Dixon had stated all the necessary information for the recording, Hamilton revealed all his cards, explaining all the details they’d gathered on Holly. The woman chuckled at the mention of Claire Newcomb’s name, and confessed how much she regretted not silencing the snitch when she had the chance.
‘It’s a real shame about Jason though,’ Holly continued. ‘He wasn’t a bad guy, just wanted someone to love him. Don’t we all, hey?’ She laughed again and chucked a wink in Dixon’s direction.
‘But you didn’t love him, did you? Rather, you manipulated a self-conscious man and forced him to commit suicide,’ Hamilton retorted.
‘Ah, yes, I Googled you while on that damned bus, detective. Read all about your daughter and how she was forced to do something she didn’t want to do. Or did she? See, I believe we make our own chances in this world, and some people are just weaker than others.’
Hamilton stared into the heartless woman’s black eyes and drew on something from deep inside. A serenity he had recently granted himself, knowing he couldn’t have stopped Maggie’s decision to take her own life. But he could rid this city of evil, one criminal at a time.
‘And you enjoy using weak people, don’t you, Holly? There’s no way you would have been able to steal all the vials of Botox you needed to poison
both Warren Speed and Felicity Ireland. Is that correct?’
She shrugged and rolled her head, the bones clicking in her neck audible to everyone. ‘I did what I had to do, Detective. Sometimes, not only the weak are forced to do things. I know how it feels to be used, and it can bring heart-aching pain. But karma is a bitch, as they say.’
He rubbed his forefinger and thumb along his goatee and glared at the round, plump face of pure evil. The ugliness of the woman’s soul most certainly mirrored the unpleasantness of her external features.
‘We also know about Donna Moran,’ he said, deciding to prod the beast.
Holly’s mouth opened and closed before she stuttered, ‘Really? What have you found?’
‘Give it up. We’ve found her body. You can drop the act.’
‘I just … I can’t believe you’ve finally found her. I’ve been …’ she trailed off.
Hamilton’s eyes squinted together. ‘Did you really think we’d never find her? Your adoptive mother’s house was about to be sold. It was only a matter of time.’
Holly raised her head, a smirk danced across her face. ‘I hate to burst your bubble, Detective, but I’m afraid you haven’t found Donna.’
She ran a hand through her short hair and looked away. Hamilton watched the change happen right in front of his eyes; as though she’d previously been possessed with the ghost of sadness, only now to be replaced by a demon of evil. Holly placed her elbows on the table, cupped her hands together and rested her chin on top, looking like the master in a business meeting. Her eyes no longer brimmed with expectant tears, but were mere slits, her focus returned to Hamilton. He wouldn’t allow her brazen façade to confuse him, and he mirrored her actions, sitting forward and looking directly at her.
