by D. S. Butler
‘Please, Leo,’ she said, desperate to get through to him. She had to save Sophie, if nothing else.
Leo held the thin white rope out to Fry. ‘You do it.’
Fry studied the rope in horror but made no move to take it. ‘This is what you used to strangle them?’
‘Yes.’ Leo tossed the rope at Fry.
He caught it, stared down at the rope and then wrapped the end around his fist and looked at Sophie.
Karen imagined Morgan and Rick standing in the field beside their bodies, staring down at the crosses on their foreheads. She thought of Josh and Tilly. Of how this all started. It seemed such a long time ago. She pictured Mike sitting by the phone, wondering where she was and why she wasn’t answering.
Then she turned and shouted, ‘Sophie, run!’
But Fry’s legs were longer, and he reached Sophie in a few strides, wrapping his arms around her so hers were pinned to her sides.
‘Enough of this,’ he growled as he tried to stop Sophie kicking his legs. ‘Just shoot them. We’ll just say The Cleanser changed his MO because we attacked him, but he managed to escape.’
Leo lifted his gun, and Karen shut her eyes.
The gunshot was so loud. The sound echoed in her ears, and she waited for the bloom of pain but felt nothing. Had he shot Sophie? She opened her eyes, but Sophie was standing beside her. Then she saw ACC Fry lying on the floor, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, his blood seeping into the snow.
‘Leo, you’ve done the right thing,’ Karen said. Her voice trembled. ‘You can put the gun down now. Let’s go back to the station, all right?’
But Leo laughed. ‘Sorry, but that’s not how this ends. Come on.’ He gestured for them to walk back to the road.
They slipped and slid up the snowy slope. Karen’s hands and feet were numb. Pale and trembling, Sophie climbed the hill in front of them.
Karen had to get Leo talking. She needed to make a connection. Now that Fry was out of the picture, perhaps she and Sophie could work together to get the gun. But what if it went off during a struggle? How would she live with herself if Sophie was shot?
‘What are you g . . . going to do?’ Sophie asked when they got back to Leo’s car.
‘I’m going to handcuff you to the doors,’ he said, opening the boot and pulling out handcuffs. He ordered them both to sit in the back of the car and attached Karen’s left hand to one of the rear passenger doors. Then did the same with Sophie on the other side.
He slammed the doors on them and then got in the front and began to drive. Sophie looked over her shoulder, back at the quiet road behind them. She leaned across, rested her head on Karen’s shoulder and whispered, ‘I called Morgan.’
‘Stop talking,’ Leo barked as he indicated right and turned on to a larger road. The snow had been cleared, and he accelerated away from the murder scene.
‘What are you doing, Leo? What’s your plan?’
‘My plans have never mattered. I was sick and tired of being a tool for Fry, but there’s no way back for me now.’
‘It doesn’t have to end this way.’
‘No?’ He smiled. ‘Maybe I’ll drive to the coast and get a boat. I could go to Spain and see my daughter,’ he said.
He was dreaming if he thought he’d be able to get out of the country. ‘They’re going to be looking for you, Leo. Just put the gun down, take us back to the station. We’ll find a way through this together.’
‘You don’t mean that. I killed your boss, Karen. That was me. Yes, I might have been pressured into it. I might have been blackmailed, but I did it.’
‘Are you going to kill us?’ Sophie’s voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.
‘I didn’t plan for this,’ Leo muttered. ‘I never wanted any of it.’ He glanced in the rear-view mirror, looking at Karen. ‘You should know that I wasn’t going to kill you in the woods. I was heading to an old barn on the other side of the copse. I was going to use the rope to tie you up, so I’d have enough time to get away, then I was going to call it in, let them know where you were. I wouldn’t have hurt you.’
Karen turned to look out of the window. Pain was radiating around her ribcage. He had hurt her. And as for his victims . . . He may have been coerced, but he was still a killer.
His face crumpled. ‘I don’t know what to do. I’m out of options.’
‘What was your original plan, Leo?’ Karen asked. ‘You wanted to get caught?’
‘I couldn’t see any other way. I’ve been living with Fry’s threats for years, doing his dirty work. Handling his bribes, disposing of people who got in his way.’ He met Karen’s gaze in the rear-view mirror again. ‘Alice Price was wrong about Churchill. It was me she heard. I was in Churchill’s office, putting pressure on some poor sod to cough up the money he owed Fry.’
Karen thought of Alice. Her accusations of corruption in the force had been ignored. She’d been broken by the fallout, her career ruined.
Fry had hit upon the truth when he’d said Leo took on the role of serial killer because he wanted to get caught, though the assistant chief constable hadn’t been perceptive enough to realise it. The scheme had been Leo’s way of ending his involvement with Fry. He couldn’t hand himself in and come clean, because that would have put his family at risk. Instead, he wanted to be put away for murder. As long as he stayed quiet while he served his time, his wife and daughter would be safe. Though, as a cop, Leo’s time in prison wouldn’t be easy.
Leo was a desperate man, looking for a way out.
He had been ordered to kill Anthony, Laurel and Lloyd. If he’d refused, his wife and daughter would have been in danger. But he hadn’t just killed them. He’d mutilated their corpses, carved crosses into their flesh. Could a sane person do that? Perhaps if they’d been used as a contract killer for years, if they were desensitised to the act enough to—
Karen’s thoughts were interrupted by Sophie asking, ‘How many deaths were there?’
Leo shook his head. His hands tightened on the wheel. ‘I didn’t want to kill anyone.’
‘Can’t you just stop the car and let us go?’ Sophie asked, her voice shaking.
‘Quiet,’ Leo snapped. ‘I’m trying to think.’
After five minutes, he indicated as they approached a service station. ‘We need petrol,’ he said.
But as he rounded the corner, flashing blue lights appeared in the rear-view mirror. Sirens blared.
Leo pressed the brakes hard, twisting around to look at the approaching vehicles.
Within seconds, they were surrounded by police cars. Leo sat still, one hand on the steering wheel, his other hand on the gun.
‘Let us go, Leo,’ Karen pleaded. ‘You won’t be hurt if you do.’
‘I’ll go to prison.’
Yes, Karen wanted to say, and you’ll deserve it for what you’ve done.
She needed to de-escalate the situation, fast.
He lifted the gun, and Karen held her breath. But instead of angling it at them, he placed it against his temple.
Shouts came from outside the vehicle, ordering them all to get out of the car with their hands raised.
‘I know you don’t owe me anything,’ he said, turning to face Karen as the blue lights lit up the interior of the car, ‘but if you could tell my daughter that, despite all this, I loved her, I’d appreciate it. I’m sorry how things worked out.’
‘Leo—’ Karen started to say, but it was too late. He squeezed the trigger.
The sound of the gun going off in the small, enclosed space was deafening. Karen and Sophie both recoiled at the shock.
Blood splattered the windows, and Karen felt some hit her cheek. She fumbled with the door handle, desperate to get it open. She couldn’t raise her arms, so instead screamed out, ‘Police!’
The lights and the swarming officers made a confusing sight. Marksmen approached the vehicle, weapons trained on the car and its occupants.
Within seconds, they were surrounded by armed police, who soo
n realised Leo was no longer a threat. A senior officer began to bark orders, telling them to release the handcuffs.
After her arm was free, Karen managed to stand, but her legs were trembling. She looked behind her to make sure Sophie was okay and saw Rick beside her.
He wrapped his arms around Sophie and squeezed. ‘That was the worst hour of my life.’
‘It wouldn’t make my top-ten best moments either,’ Sophie said, her teeth chattering.
Karen jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Morgan. Her chest tightened. ‘It’s over.’
‘Yes,’ he said, looking more stressed than she’d ever seen him. ‘It’s over now.’
‘Sophie managed to call you?’
‘Yes, we found Fry’s body. We had an all-units alert on Leo Clinton’s car. Got word it was on the A46.’
Karen looked around at the vast number of officers and vehicles. ‘Nice to know we were missed.’
‘You’ll be pleased to know the superintendent threw everything we had at tracking you down. The budget went out of the window.’ He pointed at an ambulance that had just come to a stop behind the police vehicles. ‘Come on, you’d better get checked out.’
‘I’m fine,’ Karen said, though the pain in her ribs forced her to take shallow breaths.
‘You say that a lot. You know that it’s okay to admit you’re not fine?’
‘Now you sound like my mum.’ She pulled a face.
He grinned. ‘You’re still getting checked out by the paramedics.’
As they walked towards the ambulance, Morgan said quietly, ‘I had no idea.’
Karen shook her head. ‘Me neither. He had all of us fooled.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
It had taken two weeks for the bruises on Karen’s ribs to turn from purple to a faded yellow. She looked in the mirror and lifted her shirt. The damage had almost healed.
She pulled down her shirt and reached for her hairbrush. All in all, bruised ribs had not been a bad outcome. Sophie had come off worse. She’d had to stay in the hospital for two nights, suffering from a concussion.
Now they were both back at work, as the aftermath of what had happened sent shockwaves around the station. The press had delighted in the scoop, describing Fry as the rogue assistant chief constable. One of the local rags had taken to calling Fry a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Karen thought that was apt.
She had spoken briefly to Chief Constable Grayson after the incident. Then there had been endless rounds of questions, as DS Grace, the superintendent and Internal Affairs tried to figure out if the corruption ended with Fry. In Karen’s opinion, it did. He’d been a narcissistic bully and the mastermind behind it all.
The full story hadn’t been revealed to the media. Karen and Sophie hadn’t been named in the details that had been released, but that hadn’t stopped journalists identifying them. A crowd of reporters had hung around Karen’s house for the past ten days, hoping to get a quote when she left for work in the morning and returned in the evening.
When she went downstairs, Mike was standing at the living room window, holding a mug of coffee and glaring at the group standing at the entrance to the drive.
‘One of the photographers is taking photos of the house,’ he said. ‘Shall I have a word?’
‘No, leave them. They’ll get bored eventually.’
The snow had gone, but the weather had turned even colder. The early-morning sky was still dark, and frost covered the trees and bushes in the front garden. Christmas was just a few days away.
After she said goodbye to Mike, Karen left the house, head down, ignoring the questions shouted by the journalists and the flashes from the cameras. She gently edged the car out of the drive, worried she’d be on the receiving end of a lawsuit if any of the pests had their feet crushed by her tyres.
When she finally got to Nettleham, she stopped by Sophie’s desk. ‘You doing all right?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I’ve got another counselling session at lunchtime.’
‘Is it helping?’
‘A bit, I think. I’m still jumping at the slightest noise, though.’
‘That’s understandable,’ Karen said. ‘I think we’re both going to do that for a while.’
‘It’s hard. I never for a moment thought . . .’ Sophie trailed off.
‘No, neither did I,’ Karen said, and then slid something on to Sophie’s desk.
Sophie looked up, surprised, then opened the white envelope. Her jaw dropped, and then her face broke into a wide grin. ‘I thought it was sold out. How did you manage to get these?’
‘I pulled a few strings,’ Karen said. ‘It’s still a month away. It’s at the end of his UK tour, but it’s in Norfolk, so not too far to travel.’
Sophie stood up and hugged Karen. ‘Thank you. I’ve wanted to see him for so long.’ She looked down at the tickets to Dr Michaels’s talk. ‘Two?’ she said, holding them up. ‘You’re coming with me?’
‘If you want me to,’ Karen said. ‘But if you want to take Harinder instead—’
‘I’d like you to come, Sarge. If you don’t mind?’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ Karen said. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
‘It’s DCI Shaw’s funeral tomorrow, isn’t it?’
Karen nodded.
Sophie sat down again. ‘It’s infuriating Fry can’t be held to account for killing Sam Pickett.’
Morgan and Rick had been working relentlessly, trying to find physical evidence to prove Fry had killed the young boy. The burnt-out car had been useless so far, and the traffic cameras, though they indicated he’d been near the scene at the time of the accident, didn’t prove Fry had knocked Sam Pickett from his bike. They had a statement from a waitress that confirmed Fry had consumed a bottle of wine before leaving the restaurant and driving home. The friend he’d been dining with conveniently couldn’t remember how much alcohol they’d consumed with their meal.
Arnie and Churchill had been pretty quiet since Leo’s involvement in the corruption had been revealed. They’d worked side by side with him for eight years and had never suspected he was capable of murder.
Karen left Sophie and went to sit at her desk, then opened up her email and checked her messages. There was one that made her hold her breath. Not because of the subject, which just said Information, but the email address of the sender.
LeoClinton98765.
Karen’s hand hovered over the mouse. How could it be from Leo Clinton when he’d been dead for two weeks? Karen had seen him die.
She clicked on the email.
Karen, if you’re receiving this message, it’s likely I didn’t make it. I’m not going to pretend to be a good guy. There’s no point. You probably know everything I’ve done by now.
If I’m dead, then I think it’s very likely that ACC Fry killed me. He’s been blackmailing, extorting and killing anyone who stands in his way for a long time. He’s the one you’ve been looking for, the head of the corruption ring.
I’ve scheduled this email to send in fourteen days, unless I cancel it.
I’m giving you the evidence you need to put Fry away for a very long time.
Watch and listen to the attached files. I think you’ll find them very interesting.
Leo.
At the bottom of the email were multiple attachments: a text document, a video and two audio files.
She opened the document first. It was all there. Names, dates, locations and payment records. Fry was top dog, and seven police officers were named as Fry’s henchmen. Leo’s written confession listed nineteen previously unsolved murders. Leo believed Fry had first associated with the Cook family back in 2004. But it didn’t stop with the Cooks. Fry had been taking bribes from councillors and local business owners to bury cases for years. It was all there in black and white. Freeman’s involvement was listed too. There was no way those responsible could escape justice with this evidence against them.
Karen reached for her mobile and typed out a text messag
e to DS Grace: We’ve got them. Leo’s left us all the evidence we need.
Then she double-clicked the file.
The video appeared on the screen. It was a recording of someone travelling on a dark road. The camera jumped as the vehicle hit potholes and dips in the road.
At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at, and stared at the screen in confusion.
Karen put her hand over her mouth. It was a dashcam video, and the car the footage had been recorded from was travelling along Hill Top, going far too fast for the winding route. There was no lighting except the bouncing headlights. Before Leo had torched Fry’s car, he must have made a copy of the dashcam footage for insurance.
She knew what was going to happen next. She spotted him long before the driver.
Twelve-year-old Sam Pickett, in his red jacket, was cycling on the left side of the road. The driver didn’t react until it was too late. The car was travelling too fast to stop.
There was a horrifying split second when Sam looked over his shoulder, saw the car coming, and his face contorted with fear. Karen would never forget the expression on the child’s face.
The car hit Sam and sent the boy on to the bonnet. The bike spun away. Sam’s head crashed against the windscreen, and then, as the vehicle slowed, he tumbled to the side of the road.
The vehicle slowly reversed.
Another car was coming up behind. Karen could see the headlights. The vehicle pulled up alongside. The driver got out and stared at the scene in front of them. It was Laurel Monroe.
More headlights from the opposite direction. Another car stopped. A Volvo. Karen recognised the number plate. Lloyd Nelson.
He stopped the car and got out.
She saw them both inspect the body. They looked down at Sam sprawled at the side of the road, but they didn’t touch him. Not once did they even check he was breathing. They didn’t reach for their phones to call for help.
Karen leaned forward. She knew how this ended, but that didn’t stop her screaming internally for them to do something, to help him.
