by LJ Ross
How had he failed to see the truth before? Ryan wondered. It was written there, in the man’s eyes. They stood facing each other, icy grey clashing with darkest brown.
“Chief Inspector.” Edwards studied Ryan’s face closely. “Did you forget something?”
Ryan managed to produce an easy, social smile.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I wondered if you had time to give me your expert opinion,” he lied.
Something flickered in Edwards’ eyes; something like suspicion.
“I understood Mr Draycott had already provided you with his expert view,” he replied, and Ryan could see it now. The anger, the jealousy, the festering realm of hate that simmered so close to the surface. It was there for all to see, if they only knew how to look.
“Yes but…” Ryan made a show of checking they would not be overheard, then put a light hand on Edwards’ arm to lead him to one side.
And away from the child.
“I don’t like to admit when we make mistakes,” Ryan said, conspiratorially. “But—and this is highly confidential—we’re very close to charging Mr Draycott with the murders of four women.”
“Four?”
Oh, he was clever, Ryan thought. He would not reveal himself a second time.
“Ah, yes. Unfortunately, we found another body earlier today, but it hasn’t been made public yet.” Ryan affected a sigh. “To tell you the truth, I’m as shocked as you are. Draycott put on a good show, didn’t he? He had us all fooled.”
Edwards smirked.
“I would have thought his, ah, superior surgical skill would have ruled him out of those murders. If the press is to be believed, the killer was little more than a hacker, was he not?”
Careful, Ryan thought. Softly, softly.
“You know how the press like to sensationalise these things,” Ryan said. “But we understand that the person who killed those women was unmatched in his field. Draycott naturally fits the bill.”
Edwards said nothing but stepped slightly further away, closer to the girl who still lay recovering on a hospital bed. They could hear her mother murmuring to her, telling her she would be better soon.
“I must be getting back to my patient,” Edwards said. “If you’d like to discuss anything, I’m sure I can make myself available later in my shift.”
Ryan’s eyes caught a small movement over Edwards’ shoulder and the other man caught it too, turning to see Phillips hurrying down the corridor. When his sergeant spotted them, he came to an awkward stop and, in doing so, gave himself away.
When Edwards looked back at Ryan, the monster had been unleashed.
“Like I said, I must check my patient,” he snarled. “It’s amazing how quickly they can deteriorate, if left for too long. Children are so fragile.”
To Ryan’s horror, he stepped back into the recovery area.
“How are we doing, here?” he purred.
“Oh, fine, Doctor. Daisy’s doing just fine,” her mother said. It was nauseating, just to hear the gratitude in her voice, to see it etched into the worried lines of her face.
“Let’s just have another check, shall we? I hope you don’t mind if these two gentlemen observe? They’re visiting consultants, from one of our sister hospitals,” he lied.
“Oh, no, no. Not at all. Doctor Edwards has been marvellous,” she told them. “Really marvellous.”
“Long may it continue,” Ryan said, holding the man’s eyes across the table. He watched as Edwards reached into a locked cupboard and retrieved a fresh syringe, which he held in his hand like a weapon. “You’re due a little holiday, aren’t you, Edwards? You’ve been a busy man, lately.”
“Exceptionally busy,” Edwards agreed, flicking the little girl’s nose as they watched in disgust. “But then, I’ve always kept myself busy.”
Ryan’s jaw hardened as he interpreted the message and knew that his suspicions had just been confirmed. The man had been operating quietly for years.
“You’ve really outdone yourself recently, it has to be said.”
“Oh, you must be exhausted,” the woman said. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it.”
“If I had a penny for all the times I’ve heard that,” Edwards said, and grinned at his own joke. “I consider my work to be…a kind of vocation.”
“We need more doctors like you,” she said.
Edwards looked across at Ryan and Phillips, and they could see the mania in his eyes as they heard the gentle tear of the syringe packet.
“Well, I think we’ve seen all we need to,” Ryan said, feeling his blood race as he watched Edwards lift the girl’s hand and check the IV link, every movement a greater threat than the last. “What do you say we move on, Edwards?”
“Oh, but I haven’t finished checking little Daisy,” he said. “I’m concerned about her breathing and I wonder if she might need a little more help.”
Her mother’s face instantly fell as she looked at her daughter, then at the man she thought had saved her.
“Your shift is ending soon,” Ryan said, firmly. “We can take over here.”
“That’s very good of you,” Edwards said, tapping the syringe as if giving the matter thought. “Unfortunately, I left my car at home this morning. I wonder if any of our mutual friends will be along to give me a lift?”
Phillips bunched his fists, thinking of the response teams that were on their way.
“Aye, they’ll be along soon.”
“Well, in that case, I might just take your advice.”
A second later, Edwards disappeared behind the screen and they heard his running footsteps retreating down the corridor, leaving the woman and her daughter looking on in shock.
“Main entrance!” Ryan shouted to Phillips, and raced after him.
CHAPTER 33
The red telephone began to shrill again as Ryan sprinted down the corridor after Keir Edwards. He saw the upturned trolleys and shocked faces of the doctors and nurses Edwards left in his wake and almost barrelled into them as they milled in the corridors to witness the uproar.
“Move!” Ryan shouted, only narrowly avoiding a collision with Joan Stephenson as she threw herself back against the wall.
He heard shouts behind him as the ward fell into pandemonium, heard his shoes scraping against the linoleum floor as his legs pumped faster to keep up with his quarry.
He almost fell over a wheelchair user as he rounded the corner into the waiting area and stumbled past, ignoring the calls from the receptionist who demanded to know what was happening.
“What’s happening? What’s going on?”
They’d find out, soon enough.
He caught a flash of Edwards’ scrubs as he shoved people aside and hurtled through the main entrance. Ryan burst out of the doors soon after and almost fell into the path of the blue-light ambulance pulling up nearby, stopping himself just in time.
He used his hands to push against the side of the van and then he was off again, sprinting full pelt across the tarmac in pursuit of the man who was less than thirty paces ahead of him. He saw Edwards pause at the pillared gates leading into the hospital car park, unsure which way to turn, then he ran straight ahead into the busy road.
As Ryan approached the gates, he understood what had spooked him. Patrol officers were approaching from both directions at a run, and the traffic was parting for squad cars whose screaming sirens and flashing lights told him their earlier orders to approach quietly had been overridden.
Everything had changed.
Edwards had made it across the street and was heading into the centre of town via a cut through some of the old, red-brick university buildings. The patrol officers acted swiftly and held back the cars so they parted like the Red Sea, allowing Ryan to pass across the street and continue the chase on foot.
* * *
Back at CID Headquarters, MacKenzie was kneading a low-grade tension headache and wondering whether she should have another coffee when the alert came through from the Control Room, via Phillips
.
“Sweet Baby Jesus,” she muttered, and contacted the Air Support Team, whose helicopter had a heat-tracking device and a sophisticated, long-range camera that might allow them to stay on Edwards’ tail.
“Jack!”
Lowerson’s head popped around the side of his computer.
“We’ve found him! It’s Keir Edwards. He’s making off on foot. Ryan’s going after him.”
Lowerson nearly fell off the chair he’d been swinging on.
“Right. Right,” he repeated. “What now?”
MacKenzie told herself to be patient; he was still very new to all this and it wasn’t as if they uncovered a serial killer every day of the week, let alone chased him through the streets.
“I need you to contact the railways and the airport and put them on notice. We’re setting up a command centre here—”
Gregson burst into the Incident Room.
“Denise, tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Jack, get on with it,” she said, before turning back to the Superintendent.
“Sir, Control have just informed me that Ryan is pursuing a suspect on foot heading east from the Royal Victoria Infirmary. I’ve requested immediate Air Support—”
“It’ll take too long,” he cut across her. “I’ll ring the local news channel and ask them to send out their press helicopter. It’ll cost us, but it’ll save some time. I’ll tell them to patch us into the live feed.”
MacKenzie nodded.
“Phillips already has squad cars and foot support coming in from all directions. It seems they were already on the way by the time Edwards left the hospital grounds.”
Gregson smiled slightly. Ryan had delivered a suspect just in time for his three o’clock deadline, after all.
“Keep me posted,” he ordered, and headed back out to brief the Chief Constable.
* * *
Ryan’s feet slid against wet flagstones as he ran through the university quad connecting the hospital compound and the city centre. Ordinarily, it was a peaceful corner of the city with a mixture of old and new architecture, housing budding architects and fine artists of the future.
Today, it provided the pathway for a killer as he fled beneath its hallowed arches and emerged into a wide, open pedestrian zone outside the Student Union building and the Northern Stage theatre. Further ahead, Edwards could see the city’s spires and rooftops and a chance to lose himself among the crowds.
He also saw the police cars coming to a screaming halt before he could get there, blocking his pathway to the east. Behind him, Ryan was still coming on foot and off in the distance he could see more police following.
Edwards took it all in at a glance and then jerked to the left, hurrying down a single flight of stairs until he re-connected with Claremont Road and started to double back towards the hospital, having run in a wide circle.
Ryan’s hand barely touched the metal rail as he flew down the stairs after him, along the pathway that would lead them back to Claremont Road. Nicola Cassidy had lived at the opposite end, but he had no idea where Edwards planned to go. He was surrounded by approaching police, either on foot or in cars. Over the sound of the traffic, he thought he heard the distant chug of a helicopter.
There was nowhere for Edwards to run.
But when Ryan’s feet touched the pavement and he burst back onto the road, the man was nowhere to be found.
Panting from the exertion, Ryan spun in either direction, searching the street. To his right, the road into the city centre was quiet, with just a couple of pensioners walking along slowly, oblivious to the drama playing out nearby. To his left, he saw the flashing blue lights of approaching squad cars, but no sign of their suspect.
“Where the—”
One of the cars pulled up beside him and Phillips jumped out of the passenger side, having done the decent thing and hitched a ride to save himself a heart attack.
“Where is he? Which way did he go?”
Ryan made an angry sound and continued to search the street, jogging further along to crane his neck this way and that.
A bus moved ahead as the traffic lights turned green, revealing the entrance to the Hancock Museum of Natural History. It was a classical building built upon raised ground overlooking the city centre and accessed via a footpath ramp from the road.
At the bottom of the ramp, a man dressed in work gear was swaying against the railing, clutching a wound to his head.
“There!” Ryan shouted. “Get a medic out here!”
With a quick glance both ways, he took his chance and sprinted across the road to where the man had now collapsed to the ground.
Phillips wasn’t far behind and produced one of his all-purpose handkerchiefs, which he pressed to the side of the man’s head.
“Which way did he go?” Ryan asked. “Which way? The museum?”
With every passing second, they were losing ground.
“Down there,” the man gasped, feeling sick. “The tunnel. Down there.”
Ryan looked around and saw something he had never noticed before. Cut into the side of the small hill where the museum rested was a circular wooden doorway standing open to reveal a pitch-black tunnel beyond. Yellow cones and red triangular signs had been arranged around it, warning, ‘DANGER—MAINTENANCE WORK IN PROGRESS’.
“Let’s get after him!” Phillips shouted, jogging towards the entrance to the tunnel.
“No,” Ryan replied. “I need you to stay above ground. Find out where this tunnel leads and make sure we’ve got every exit covered. I’m not losing him again. I’ll try to catch up with him and flush him out.”
“Here! Take this with you!” Phillips said, chucking his radio across to Ryan, who caught it one-handed.
Ryan shoved the radio into his back pocket, took a deep breath and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 34
Ryan stepped carefully over the threshold and into the Victoria Tunnel, a subterranean wagonway running beneath the city of Newcastle for nearly four kilometres from the old Spital Tongues Colliery in the west of the city all the way to the River Tyne in the east. It lay sixty-five feet beneath the ground with a series of partially hidden entranceways, such as the one Ryan had just found. Large sections of the tunnel had already been renovated and were open to guided tours for the public; the remaining sections had either been left to dilapidate or were still being reconstructed.
But Ryan knew none of that.
He entered slowly and was grateful to find the first section of tunnel had been illuminated by makeshift lighting left by the unsuspecting workman who was injured outside. Scaffolding had been erected to support the crumbling inner walls and Ryan walked carefully beneath it, wary of the long shadows further ahead and of who might lurk within.
He was right to be wary.
Edwards stood at the far end of the scaffolding, his eyes trained on the entrance until he judged the time was right. When Ryan passed beneath the main scaffolding, he began to kick it away, grunting with the effort until the metal leg collapsed, bringing the rest of the structure down with it.
Ryan turned to run back but it was too late. He heard the creak of metal as it buckled overhead, and a fine sheen of dust rained down from the ceiling.
At the tunnel entrance, Phillips heard the thud of Edwards’ boot against the scaffolding and hurried inside, only to be forced back again as the scaffolding tumbled down in a heap of solid metal.
“Ryan!” He gave an involuntary shout.
Inside, Ryan heard the ceiling splinter and threw himself to safety, looking back to watch the last light of the tunnel entrance disappear, taking his means of escape with it.
Trapped.
He was covered in a billowing cloud of dust which coated his skin and clogged his airway. He crawled away from the fresh pile of rubble, coughing the grit from his lungs until he could breathe freely again.
When the dust settled, only darkness remained.
* * *
Ryan heard muffled sounds coming from t
he tunnel entrance and knew it must be Phillips, but couldn’t make out any words. He still had the radio in his pocket but, if he turned it on, it would alert Edwards to his location.
He kept it off and felt his way through the darkness, trailing his fingertips against the damp wall until he came to a fork in the main part of the tunnel. Each direction was pitch-black and completely silent except for the echo of his own breathing and the quiet drip of leaking moisture against the thick stone walls. As he descended deeper into the tunnel, the comforting thrum of civilisation disappeared and, in that moment, Ryan felt completely alone.
But he was not alone.
To his right, he heard something scrape against the edge of the tunnel, sending a faint echo down the length of it.
Ryan searched the darkness, fiddling with his mobile phone to bring up the torch setting and shine a light into the shadows. Its meagre light was swallowed by the all-encompassing darkness so that it barely illuminated more than a couple of feet ahead of him.
His fingers slipped and the torch switched off, plunging the tunnel into total darkness again. Ryan did not immediately switch it back on but held his breath, waiting for another sound. He stood completely still, shivering slightly as his body reacted to a sudden drop in temperature, listening for the sound he knew would come.
There.
It was almost impossible to judge distances, especially as it was unfamiliar territory and Ryan felt a momentary doubt.
He should turn back, wait for them to dig him out.
But as Phillips had known from the off, he would never be able to live with himself if his inaction led to more death, more waste and destruction.
He took a step forward, his feet sounding impossibly loud as they crunched against the floor, and he stopped dead again.
There was a taut silence, and then he heard soft laughter echoing down the tunnel, circling around his head.
* * *
“We were too late getting the helicopter in,” MacKenzie told the superintendent, as they stood around a map of the city Ryan had pinned to the wall.
“Where is he now?”
