‘Why don’t you just do it?’ she said hoarsely.
‘Shut up. SHUT UP!’ he cried. He gripped the shotgun on his shoulder, and stared at her down the barrel. His finger twitched on the trigger. The rain hammered down on the roof with a roar.
He had his back to the open door, and behind him, Beth saw Erika and Peterson appear. The rain masking the sound of their entrance. They were both soaked and covered in mud. Beth’s eyes widened, and she forced herself not to react.
Erika saw the situation and looked at Peterson. They glanced around inside, then Erika put her finger to her lips and indicated that Beth should keep Darryl talking.
‘What do you, um, what is this place used for?’ asked Beth, saying the first thing which came into her head.
‘What?’ said Darryl, momentarily thrown.
Beth’s eyes involuntarily flickered to where Peterson was about to move back through the door.
Darryl followed her gaze and turned with the gun. ‘What the hell?’ he shouted, and he fired the shotgun.
Peterson went down onto the straw clutching a rapidly growing red stain in his stomach.
‘No!’ cried Erika with horror, rushing over to him. Darryl kept the shotgun trained on her.
‘Get away from him!’ he shouted, and then he started to panic, turning it to Beth and then back to Erika. ‘You stay there and you, do you hear me, get away from him!’
Erika kneeled over Peterson, who lay in the straw in shock. She looked down and saw the red stain on his white shirt was spreading
‘Oh my god, the, the pain,’ said Peterson, grimacing. He put his hands up to his stomach.
‘No! This is not going to happen,’ said Erika. Darryl was now moving towards her with his shotgun, but she didn’t care. ‘Here, press hard, down on here, you need to put pressure on the bleeding,’ she said, taking his hand and pressing it against the wound.
He screamed in agony.
‘You get away from him,’ shouted Darryl, advancing on her and aiming the gun at her head.
Beth suddenly ran at him from behind, and managed to knock him off his feet.
Erika had tears in her eyes as she pressed down onto the top of Peterson’s hand. Blood oozed between their fingers. She took out her radio. ‘This is Erika Foster. I have an officer down; I repeat, I have an officer down. He’s been shot and he’s losing blood fast…’
Darryl was now back on his feet, and he had the gun aimed at Beth. ‘Get over there, with them,’ he said.
Beth moved towards Erika and Peterson.
Erika suddenly got a grip of the situation. ‘Beth, I know you’ve been through so much, but please can you help?’ she said.
Darryl trained the gun on them, as Beth, despite being hungry, cold and terrified, nodded and moved to Peterson and pressed her hands onto his wound.
‘Pressure, it needs pressure, even if it hurts him,’ she said.
Peterson was now in shock, lying back with wide eyes.
‘Why are you all ignoring me!?’ screamed Darryl. ‘I have a gun!’
‘Let them go,’ said Erika, turning to him. ‘Let them both go. I’ll stay here with you.’
Darryl shook his head and trained the gun at them, unsure who to concentrate on. Peterson was moaning as Beth pressed her hands, slick with blood, onto his stomach. An incredible calm came over Erika, and she stood.
‘It’s over, Darryl,’ she said, moving toward him with an outstretched hand. ‘We know about them all: Janelle, Lacey, Ella, your mother…’
Darryl shook his head. ‘My mother? No.’
‘Yes, your own mother… Darryl, where is there left to go?’
Erika heard the far-off sound of helicopter blades. Backup was almost there. She looked over at Peterson, who was fading fast.
‘Beth, I need you to keep pressure on his stomach,’ she said, trying to keep her voice even. ‘Keep on the pressure.’ Beth nodded and pressed her hands into his stomach, but he had gone quiet and still. She turned back to Darryl still holding the gun, ‘You need to let us go. If you let us all go, I can make sure you’re treated well…’
‘You shut up! SHUT UP you stupid BITCH!’ cried Darryl, and he advanced on Erika with the gun, pushing its barrel close to her face.
She stood her ground and stared at him.
‘Darryl. It’s over. What kind of future have you got? Turn yourself in; if you come quietly we can cut you a deal. You’ll be treated fairly,’ she said.
Darryl shook his head, and pushed his finger against the trigger.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
Back in the incident room at West End Central, John, Crane and Moss were listening with horror at the audio coming in from control at Maidstone Police Station. They heard that two helicopters were now approaching the Oast House: the Air Ambulance and an Armed Police Response Team. Melanie joined them, having heard what was happening.
‘Erika and Peterson entered the Oast House without authorisation,’ said John with tears in his eyes. ‘They found Beth Rose, but the suspect, Darryl Bradley, shot Peterson… We don’t know if he’s alive or…’ His voice tailed off.
‘Then he’s still alive,’ said Moss, struggling to stay composed. ‘Until we hear otherwise, he’s alive. Do you hear?’
John nodded. Melanie reached out and took Moss’s hand. A voice came over the radio, saying that the Air Ambulance would try to land but the ground was soft. The Armed Response Team said it would be standing by.
‘Suspect is armed and dangerous,’ said a voice. ‘I repeat, suspect is still armed and dangerous.’
‘Come on,’ said Moss under her breath. ‘Please, don’t let this end badly.’
CHAPTER NINETY
The hum of the helicopter grew close, but Erika couldn’t see anything out of the small high windows of the Oast House. Darryl still had the gun trained on her. A red rash now covered half of his face.
Erika glanced at Beth, who was now crying, her arms covered in blood. Peterson was still. The sound of the helicopter grew louder.
‘Darryl. Please. It’s over,’ she said.
‘No, no, no, NO, NO, NO!’ he said, shaking his head. He suddenly flipped the gun around and stuffed the double barrel into his mouth. His lips stretched wide, and he closed his eyes tight.
‘Darryl! NO!’ shouted Erika.
There was a deafening bang; the glass on one of the windows imploded, and Darryl hit the floor. Erika rushed over to him and saw a gunshot wound in his left shoulder. She looked up and out through the window, and saw the helicopter hovering – the silhouette of an officer holding a rifle. She grabbed the shotgun and cracked it open, taking out the remaining cartridge. Darryl lay dazed and covered in blood, but still very much alive. Erika grabbed her radio.
‘Suspect is down; I have his gun. We are clear. I repeat, we are clear.’
Suddenly there was a crash and a team of three Specialist Firearms officers rushed in. They were followed by four paramedics, who fanned out between Peterson, Beth and Darryl.
‘He’s still alive, but only just,’ one of the paramedics shouted, kneeling down on the ground beside Peterson. ‘James, James, can you hear me?’
He started to work on him, putting in an IV line.
Erika turned back to Darryl and stood over him as a paramedic placed a pressure bandage over his injured shoulder. His face was wet with sweat and drops of blood, and he looked bewildered.
‘Darryl Bradley,’ said Erika, as the paramedic quickly unwrapped an IV line and pushed it into a vein in his arm. ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Janelle Robinson, Lacey Greene, Ella Wilkinson, Bryony Wilson, and the abduction and attempted murder of Beth Rose, and the assault of your mother, Mary Bradley. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
He stared up at her as the paramedics got him on to a stretcher and lifted it up.
‘I got you,’ she sai
d.
For the rest of her life, Erika would remember the look Darryl Bradley gave her as he was stretchered away. It was as if she had come face to face with pure evil.
Erika stood outside the Oast House, wrapped in a blanket, and holding on to Beth as Peterson and Darryl were stretchered over the grass, still covered in patches of melting snow, and loaded into the Air Ambulance helicopter. They watched in silence as it lifted off and slowly moved away in the sky until it was a tiny speck and then vanished.
‘Oh my God, thank you, thank you,’ said Beth, finally breaking down.
Erika looked down at the girl who was pale and filthy and took her gently in her arms and they hugged. Moments later, a group of police cars came ploughing over the brow of the hill towards them, lights flashing and sirens blaring.
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
It was late in the evening by the time Erika arrived back at West End Central. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror of the lift as she rode up to the top floor, and the woman staring back frightened her. It reminded her of how she’d looked when Mark had died, her face devoid of colour and emotion. She was muddy and sleep-deprived, wearing days-old clothes, and without realising it, she was in shock. When she came out of the lift she hesitated at the door marked MURDER INVESTIGATION TEAM and then went inside.
The floor was empty, and the lights were out, all the officers having gone home hours before. There was one light still on, down the far end of the office; a door was ajar, and Erika walked towards it. She knocked and went inside. Melanie looked up at her, and for a moment they were silent.
‘Come in, take a seat,’ she said. ‘Drink?’
Erika nodded. Melanie pulled out a bottle of whisky from her desk drawer and found a couple of mugs.
Erika sat down in the chair opposite the desk as Melanie poured them each a large measure and then passed her one of the mugs. They took a long drink.
‘He came through surgery,’ said Melanie.
‘Darryl?’
‘Darryl did, it was only a wound to the shoulder. I’m talking about Peterson. He came through the surgery. I just heard.’
Erika froze with the mug at her lips.
‘I thought… I thought…’
‘He lost a lot of blood, and they had to remove a large piece of his stomach and, of course, there’s a risk of infection… but saying all of that, the doctors are hopeful. He has a high chance of pulling through,’ said Melanie with a weak smile.
‘Oh, oh my god,’ said Erika. She dropped the mug down on the desk with a clatter and put a hand to her mouth and started to cry.
Melanie came over and put an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder hard.
‘It was amazing what you did today, Erika.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ she said, wiping her face and trying to regain her composure. ‘I should never have gone in there without backup. Peterson…’
‘You shouldn’t have gone in. But you’ll be judged more on the outcome. I’ll make sure I emphasise this when I submit my report.’ Erika nodded. Melanie went back to her side of the desk and sat down. ‘They’ve retrieved two computers from Darryl Bradley’s bedroom, maps and plans he’d downloaded of the CCTV network in London. We have the cars: the red Citroën and the blue Ford which was parked at the rear of the house, and forensics have been working on the Oast House…’ Melanie paused and took another sip of her whisky. ‘They found human teeth, skin, and hair samples in the furnace where he kept the women.’
Erika shook her head. ‘What about his mother?’
‘She’s still in Maidstone General with a concussion, but she’ll be released in the next twenty-four hours. We’ll want to question both her and the father.’
‘I don’t think the father knew,’ said Erika.
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I don’t know. There was something so innocent about him when he saw his wife lying there. Maybe innocent isn’t the right word. He seemed sheltered from life. In his own world… Maybe the mother knew. We’ll have to see what she says when questioned… Darryl Bradley. He’s not on the same hospital ward as Peterson, is he?’
Melanie shook her head. ‘When Darryl Bradley recovers, which should be soon, he’ll be transferred into custody.’
‘Where?’
‘He’ll need to be evaluated.’
Erika shook her head. ‘I’m sure as we speak there’s an expensive lawyer and doctor hovering around. He’ll plead insanity… He’ll end up in some cushy fucking psychiatric institution.’
Melanie put her hand on Erika’s arm.
‘You got him, Erika. You caught him. He would have kept on doing it, I’m sure. You saved lives. Take that home with you tonight. The rest we can worry about later.’
Erika downed the dregs of her whisky.
‘Thanks.’ She went to get up and go, then stopped. ‘Look. I’m sorry if I gave you a hard time when you took on acting superintendent.’
‘I won’t be for much longer. I’m not going to take the job when it’s made official.’
‘No?’ said Erika, surprised.
‘No. I’ve got two kids, a husband. Life’s too short, and I found myself forced to pick. I chose my family.’
‘I didn’t know you had a family.’
Melanie nodded. ‘Twin boys.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I’ve recommended that you get it, the promotion to superintendent,’ said Melanie. ‘I don’t know how much my word will sway things, but in light of what has happened, and if they don’t drag you over the coals for going in without backup, you could be in with a chance.’ She picked up her coat. ‘I’m going to head off. Why don’t you stay for a moment, have another drink? Or get a feel for the office.’
She nodded, and Melanie left.
Erika got up and went to the window, looking out over the rooftops, and then back at the office. The neat shelves stuffed with paperwork. A large dry marker board with cases written up in small grids. She went around the desk and sat in the chair, and her eye fell on the patch of carpet where Sparks had collapsed. She’d always had a dream, to get ahead, to succeed in the force. Was it all worth it?
EPILOGUE
A week later, Peterson was well enough to be transferred from intensive care to a regular ward, and Erika went to visit. She’d already been to see him a couple of times, but he had been unconscious.
She was nervous about seeing him, and had spent a long time choosing what to wear, and trying to work out what best to take him as a gift. She’d settled on a book.
When she arrived at his room, on the top floor of the UCL Hospital in Central London, Moss was sitting beside his bed. He looked thin, but bright, and he was sitting up in bed.
‘Hey, boss,’ said Moss, getting up and moving over to give her a hug. ‘We were just wondering where you were.’
‘I got held up… I got held up trying to work out what to wear,’ she said sheepishly, deciding to be honest. They looked at her jeans and cream jumper, and she followed their gaze. ‘I know; it doesn’t exactly look like I’ve chosen anything exciting.’
‘I like it,’ said Moss. There was silence. ‘Peterson was just telling me his exciting news. His catheter was taken out.’
He rolled his eyes.
‘Not something I would like to experience again,’ he said.
‘How are you doing?’ asked Erika, moving around to him and gently taking his hand. She looked down and saw the ID bracelet on his wrist, and that there were two IV lines in the back of his hand.
‘It’s going to be slow,’ he said, ‘but they’re saying I’ll make a full recovery. Who’d have thought that you can live without forty per cent of your stomach?’ He shifted awkwardly in the bed and grimaced.
‘I would kill to have forty per cent of my stomach removed. Have you seen the size of my arse!’ said Moss. There was another awkward silence. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘But you’re my best friend, and I’m just relieved you’re going to be okay, and I make jokes cos I don’t know wh
at else to say.’ She pulled out a tissue and wiped her eyes.
Erika reached over and took Moss’s hand. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. Moss grinned.
‘Stop it, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Now, what did you bring him? I was told no grapes, now he has less room for stomach acid.’
‘I brought my favourite book,’ she said, taking the copy of Wuthering Heights from her handbag and giving it to Peterson.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘I know it might seem an odd choice, but it was the first proper book I read when I learned to speak English, and it blew me away. The love story, the atmosphere. I thought you could do with a little escapism. I know I could. I was thinking of rereading it.’
‘Then I don’t want to take your copy,’ he said, going to hand it back.
‘No, that’s new. I bought it for you.’
‘Maybe we should read it together, at the same time,’ he said. ‘Sort of like a convalescent book club.’
‘Sounds good.’ She smiled.
* * *
When Peterson grew tired, Erika and Moss said goodbye, promising to visit him the following day. When they emerged from the hospital into Goodge Street it was busy with traffic, and they decided to walk down to Charing Cross.
‘I’ve been formally offered superintendent,’ said Erika, as they passed a coffee shop where several women sat shivering outside at tables smoking cigarettes.
‘Bloody hell! That’s great,’ said Moss.
‘Is it? I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know!? You quit in protest the last time you were overlooked for promotion, and now you don’t know?’
‘Of course I want it, but what about life?’
‘What about life? Life is what happens when you’re making other plans. Take the promotion. You’ll be the first non-arsehole that gets to that rank for a long time.’
Erika laughed. ‘What if I turn into an arsehole?’
‘Then I’ll tell you.’
‘Okay. Deal,’ said Erika.
‘Right, now we’ve got that sorted, let’s have a drink. A big fat bloody drink. We’ve certainly earned it.’ Moss took Erika by the arm and led her into the first pub, adding: ‘And as my new superintendent, you’re buying the first round.’
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