by Jay Gill
I had a million questions but merely asked, “How is she?”
“She’s going to be fine. She’s a fighter. She has mild hypothermia, which we’re treating. And she needs plenty of rest.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “You said earlier, doctor, that she is suffering from exhaustion and shock. I sensed something else, something you weren’t telling me.”
The doctor looked uneasy. “Yes. I didn’t want to say anything because we can’t be certain. We ran some tests, and it seems your daughter was drugged.”
The words hit me like a train. I looked at Alice and back at the doctor and said, “Drugged? With what?”
“The tests were inconclusive, but it’s possible she was given something like Valium or Rohypnol. Rohypnol is also known as the date-rape drug…”
“I know,” I snapped. “I know what Rohypnol is.” I was angry and didn’t mean to snap at the doctor.
Neither of us said anything for a moment.
“I’m sorry. Thank you, doctor,” I said. “Will there be any side effects?”
“Alice may have limited or no memory of what happened to her. There should be no long-term side effects. My advice is to keep an eye on her, and if you think she’s behaving in any way out of the ordinary then speak to your GP. We’ll monitor her progress, and when you leave you should schedule a follow-up with her GP.”
Voices behind me caught my attention, and I turned to see Mum leading Faith and Monica towards me. “This way. I can see them,” said Mum.
Everyone crowded around the bed and looked at Alice. Seeing the shock on their faces brought home to me how frail she looked and how the outcome could have been so tragically different. We all took turns kissing and comforting each other and talking to Alice as she slept.
“She’s going to be fine,” said Monica. Whether she was talking to us or trying to convince herself, I couldn’t tell.
“She is,” said Mum. “She’s a Hardy. She’s as tough as they come. She’ll be out playing with her friends again before you know it.”
Over Mum’s shoulder, outside the ward, I could see Emma hovering. I excused myself and joined her. She looked as tired as I felt. Her usually bright complexion was pale, and she had dark shadows under her eyes. Her clothes looked creased, and I felt sure she hadn’t slept for at least forty-eight hours. I wasn’t sure how I would ever be able to repay her efforts in getting Alice back safely.
“How is she?”
“She’s going to be okay, thanks to you,” I said.
“That’s wonderful news. Give her my love. It was a team effort. You know how it is,” she said modestly.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Hardy, I didn’t want to bring this to you now, but I also know you’d want to know.”
I could see from her face she had news but was unsure whether to break it to me.
“We know where Lyle’s been living,” she said. “She’s been living right under our noses. I discovered it because the place was purchased by the same business that owns the chain of care homes her mother is in. It’s a property on the Sandbanks peninsula. I’m on my way there now to take a look.”
“Give me a minute. I’m coming with you. I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I said.
As I turned to go inform Monica I was leaving for a while, I thought I caught the slightest glimpse of a smile on Emma’s face. She had known I’d want to be there and knew she’d made the right call.
I looked at Emma as we drove at speed across town. We both had a feeling of determination that this was it, that Lyle wouldn’t slip through our fingers again.
I couldn’t wait to see the surprise on Lyle’s arrogant face when I once again had her in cuffs. This time there would be no deal on the table.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Emma parked the unmarked Ford Focus across the street. Nodding towards the house, she said, “It’s that one. The second floor is pretty much all glass. The back of the property backs out onto the beach. All the properties do on this side of the street.”
I reached for the door handle.
Emma said, “Do you want to call for backup?”
I wasn’t about to wait. Lyle could be long gone by the time backup arrived.
“I’m going to take a closer look. You’re welcome to stay here.”
“Not a chance,” she said. “You go, we both go. Just hold on one second.” She passed me a black leather wallet. I flipped it open to reveal my warrant card. I looked at her and smiled.
“I know the timing isn’t great, but welcome to the Dorset Major Crime Investigation Team, MCIT. You’d better carry a badge in case we enter the property.”
Holding a warrant card in my hand again felt better than it ever had, somehow. I tucked it into my jacket. “Thank you, Emma. Come on, let’s go get her.”
Staying together, we checked the front before continuing around to the back of the property. The ground-floor sliding doors at the back of the house were open. Looking up, I could see the upstairs windows were tilted open. I led the way as we stepped into the house.
Downstairs, the property was open-plan with white leather sofas, a large dining area and a modern-looking kitchen. To our left and right, stainless-steel-and-glass staircases with thick glass steps led to a landing area where I could see two Mulberry suitcases. Silently, I motioned for Emma to take the right staircase while I went left.
We took a closer look at the suitcases as we reached the top. Tags on both bags indicated Lyle intended a trip to Vienna. I couldn’t let her leave the country. She had to be stopped.
Working together and watching each other’s blind side, Emma and I moved from room to room in silence. Before we entered the last room, I already knew we’d find it empty. Lyle wasn’t here. The house was empty, and once again she’d slipped away.
Emma went back downstairs while I read the tags on the suitcases again before checking the upstairs room one more time.
From downstairs, Emma called out, “Hardy, I’ve got something.”
I ran down to where she stood in the kitchen. She handed me two ticket printouts that showed Lyle and another passenger by the name of Sienna Lasota were booked on a flight to Vienna out of Heathrow Airport. “They were among the cookbooks,” she said. “There are also other printouts, including pre-booked tickets for the Vienna Opera House next week.”
I read the tickets. “We must have disturbed Lyle as she was preparing to leave. Maybe she saw us as we arrived and went out the back way. The suitcases suggest we couldn’t have missed her by long.”
“We could set up surveillance. There’s a chance she’ll come back,” said Emma.
“It’s possible and worth a shot. My guess is Lyle left in a hurry.”
“There is a chance we could catch her at the airport. The tickets are printouts. With her passport and another copy of the tickets, she can still get out of the country. I’ll get onto the airports; we might still get lucky.”
Disappointed, I wandered around the house while Emma made phone calls. I wondered how Lyle was always able to stay one step ahead. It was as though she had telepathic abilities. In reality, I knew her enormous wealth enabled her to buy any information she required. Frustrated, I realised how close we had come to finally catching her.
I thought about the suitcase tags and wondered who her companion was. Sienna Lasota. Did Sienna have any idea who Lyle was? Once Lyle was bored with her, would she be disposed of like so many others had been? Would Sienna become yet another victim I would have on my conscience?
I thought about how Lyle had planned every step of her game. I considered the suitcases, the tickets and the unlocked house.
Emma was about to make another call when I said, “It’s all too easy. What do you notice about this scene?”
She looked at me, puzzled. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“It’s been staged.”
“Staged in what way?” She looked at the ticket printouts, which were now on the kitchen worktop.
“We’re being spoon-fed what Lyle wants us to believe. The open house, the cases neatly placed at the top of the stairs with tags on. The tickets that were almost hidden. She’s not catching a flight to Vienna – I’d bet my life on it.”
“Where is she? What do you mean?”
“Lyle knows we’ll be monitoring the airports. That’s exactly what she wants us to do.”
Emma and I started thinking out loud.
“If she’s not taking a flight out of Heathrow, do you think she’s hoping to disappear within the UK? That’s pretty much impossible. In the past, she’s always fled the country,” said Emma.
I said, “If she is not catching a commercial flight, there are plenty of other ways out of the country by road or by sea or private jet.”
Emma added, “She could catch a ferry. The port is no more than fifteen minutes from here. It goes directly to France.”
We looked at each other knowingly. That was Lyle’s style; she wanted us to waste our time covering airports while she remained right under our noses before slipping away.
Emma said, “I’ll find out when the next ferry leaves.” While we both ran to the car, she got back on the phone. As I drove, she pointed directions and spoke to security at the ferry terminal.
A minute later she came off the phone and smiled. “We’ve got time. The next ferry leaves tomorrow morning. We’ll work with the port’s own security to monitor the ferries. I’ve also arranged round-the-clock surveillance of Lyle’s house in case she comes back. All local and main airports will also be asked to pay special attention and be on the lookout for her.”
“Excellent. Let’s go and get set up. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
Chapter Eighty
The sound of Emma getting back in the car woke me. She placed two cups of tea in the car’s cupholders and took the last bite of her bacon sandwich.
“I couldn’t wait; I ate mine on the way back to the car. Yours is down there,” she said, pointing beside my tea. “I wasn’t sure whether you were a red-sauce or a brown-sauce man. I guessed and went brown.”
I looked at the sandwich bag resting next to the tea. “Thank you. I might eat it later.” I took a sip of tea and looked at my watch. It was 7.46 a.m. The ferry to France would leave in less than forty-five minutes.
We had been watching and waiting all night. If Lyle was leaving the country this way, my hunch was she’d arrive and board at the last minute.
Emma said, “It’s getting busy.”
“We’d better make a move,” I said. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up. You know what to do if you spot Lyle?”
“Neither of us should approach her alone.” She switched on her radio. “I’ll call you if I see her. And you do the same.”
As we approached the terminal building, she said, “I’ll check inside in case we missed her going in. You wait out here.”
Keeping my distance so as not to be spotted, I checked each car and taxi as it arrived. A concern I had was that Lyle would use a disguise. She was well known for using disguises in the past; we’d have a tough time spotting her if she did the same this time.
A large group of schoolchildren who were late for check-in got off a coach and swarmed past me. At the same time, a taxi pulled up right behind the school coach. I caught sight of a pair of long, slender legs exiting its rear passenger door. As the woman stepped out and straightened up, my eyes moved up her body until they reached her eyes. Eyes I recognised. I stopped dead in my tracks. There, not two hundred yards away, was Kelly Lyle. I looked around for Emma, but she was still inside the building. I tried to reach her on the radio but got nothing but static.
Lyle hadn’t seen me. Swinging a small hand-luggage bag onto her shoulder, she turned and paid the taxi driver. She was alone. Without thinking, I stepped off the pavement into the road. A car horn blared, and the driver raised his hands in exasperation. I looked down at the seriously annoyed driver, then back up at Lyle. Our eyes met, and she froze. She looked left and right for an escape.
“Lyle, stop,” I shouted. “It’s over. Stay right where you are.”
Not a chance. Lyle dropped her bag, kicked off her high heels and began to run.
I looked back to see Emma approaching at a run. She was already on her radio to port security requesting backup. She waved at me to go after Lyle. Not that I needed encouragement.
Lyle began running towards the ferry, pushing over anyone in her way. She was fast on her feet, and our paces were evenly matched.
A security guard saw the chase and in a moment of confusion tried to grab hold of me. I sidestepped him, which made me stumble, and shouted back at him that I was the police. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him on his radio.
Lyle had gained some distance. She crossed the car park, and, as she did, a small white delivery van pulled up in front of her. The driver got out, and Lyle jumped in. The driver threw his arms up in despair as he watched his van being driven away. I gained on the van just as Lyle got it moving. Running up alongside it, I began banging on the window and calling for Lyle to stop. She looked at me and smiled. Putting her foot to the floor, she accelerated away.
Another party of schoolchildren streamed off a coach and began crossing the road. Two of the children start playing and chasing one another. One child pushed the other and started running away to avoid being pushed back. Lyle’s van swerved violently to avoid them. To everyone’s relief, she didn’t mow them down.
A mother with two children stopped to attend to one of them. As she knelt in front of the younger child’s pushchair, her older child broke free from her hand. She watched in horror as he ran out into the road.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, and, like the mother, I could only watch helplessly as the speeding van approached the little boy. His mother screamed and managed only two steps, her arms outstretched, before the van was inches away from the child. At the last second it swerved, missing the boy but causing Lyle to lose control of the van. It heeled over to one side, two of the wheels lifting off the ground.
Dropping back onto all four wheels, the van veered violently from left to right before rounding the side of a red brick office building and disappearing from sight. Dammit, Lyle was getting away again. I took off after the van as fast as I could.
It seemed to take forever to reach the corner of the office building. As I did, I heard an almighty screech and grinding of metal. As I rounded the corner, I saw the van on its roof. Smoke was coming from the engine. It had evidently hit a row of low bollards and tipped over. I had her. Lyle wouldn’t be getting away this time.
The smoke was thick and black now. As I took a step to get closer, I felt the hand of a security guard pull me back. “It’s going to blow,” he said. “I’ve seen this sort of thing before. There’s nothing you can do.”
I tried to step away, but he held onto me firmly. And just as well he did.
My body rocked as the van exploded and burst into flames. I didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen; this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Many people, myself included, needed Lyle to stand trial for her crimes and account for what she’d done.
I tried to get close, but the flames were too fierce and intense. Like everyone else, I could only watch as Lyle perished in the ball of fire.
Chapter Eighty-One
The port was sealed off, and within a couple of hours the whole area had become a media circus. Local and national news teams were vying for snippets of information. The police pursuit and spectacular death of one of Britain’s most notorious serial killers was big news. I had seen it all before and wanted no part of it.
I stayed out of the way as fire crews finished dousing the van. It would be a while before Lyle’s charred remains could be examined and taken away.
“It’s over,” said Emma, coming up behind me and passing me a fresh cup of tea. “Between you and me, I hope she died in agony.”
I looked at Emma, who continued sipping her tea.
>
“What will you do now?” she asked. “Will you go back to your writing and lecturing?”
“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “Right now, my family need me. After that, well, I haven’t given much thought to what I’ll do next.” I handed her my warrant card.
“You keep it. It’s still okay for a few more months.”
As Lyle’s body was driven away, Emma and I started walking back to the car.
“What about you?” I asked her. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Once I’ve had some sleep, a shower and some hot food.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I’ll miss working with a partner. Just as I got used to having a partner around, he rides off into the sunset.”
“You make it sound like I’m disappearing forever. We’re friends. You helped me get my daughter back. If there’s ever anything you need, you only have to ask. I mean that.”
She smiled.
“Within reason, of course. I don’t want you knocking on my door every other week asking for help on your next big case. I’m retired from all this, remember.”
We both laughed, and, tongue in cheek, Emma said, “Oh, yes, I see that. Retired is what I thought as I watched you sprinting across a car park in pursuit of a speeding white van.”
“Old habits die hard,” I said. “And anyway, where were you? It should have been you chasing that bloody van.” I gave her a friendly nudge.
“Me? I was right behind you, ready to take over if you ran out of puff.”
“That’s enough of your lip. Are you going to take me home or have I got to catch a taxi?”
“Get in. I’ll drive you,” she said.
“You know you said ‘You only have to ask.’” Emma said. “Well, there’s an investigation that’s been sitting on my desk for a while now and…”
“Nope.”
“Just take a look.” She was splitting her sides with laughter.
