Shaun clicked the seat belt into place and dropped the rucksack at his feet as the car pulled back into the early evening traffic.
'What are you doing all the way out here?' The driver asked.
'I was just out for a walk.'
'In this weather, you must be mad!'
Shaun ran a hand across his wet hair. 'Yeah well you know what it's like one minute it's dry and then the heavens open.'
'I wouldn't know I can't remember the last time I walked anywhere.'
Shaun looked out of the side window; he could see the glare of passing cars as they flashed by, the surface of the road shimmered with water. He tried to get his head around what he'd found on the boat. Whoever was responsible for killing the doctor must have left minutes before he arrived.
Shaun knew that once the police discovered his identity they would be able to link him to Fleming and then they'd work on the theory that he was responsible for the old man's death. Shaun grimaced, he needed to get back, and then he could question Flynn further about the death of his mother and more importantly, he needed to find out who else could have wanted Doctor Nathanial Fleming dead.
Twenty minutes later, he climbed from the cab and handed over a twenty-pound note telling the grinning driver to keep the change. He watched as the car drove away, the tail lights flickering before vanishing into the darkness. Hauling the bag onto his shoulder, Shaun turned and began to make his way towards the fields that would lead him back to the unfortunate Mr Flynn.
130
The voice said it was a risk worth taking, Robert swallowed down his doubt as he walked into the all-night Tesco store. Ten minutes later, he was back outside with forty cigarettes, a bottle of whisky and a Stanley knife tucked into his pocket. One or two people stared at him as he walked across the car park, but there were no shouts of recognition, nobody stopped to question him, so he kept on walking, growing in confidence as he reached the main road.
'We take the back roads and you do exactly as I say.'
'You'll look after me?'
'All I ask is that you listen, you have to pay attention.'
'I will, I promise.'
'I'll hold you to that, Robert.'
Flynn frowned, he had no idea what the voice meant, but he didn't like the sound of it.
'Now come on, you need to up the pace.'
'Can I take a tablet?'
'Just the one.'
Robert smiled, and rummaged in his pocket. This was going to be fantastic, all he had to do was follow the orders, and he could live forever.
Robert Flynn broke into a run, the pain in his head forgotten the image of Erin Nash imprinted on his brain drove him on, playtime!
131
Lasser had never been in whirlpool bath before; the jets of hot water pummelled his aching muscles into submission as steam filled the room. When the door opened, he snapped his head around, for a couple of seconds he thought it was Suzanne coming into the room, then Medea emerged through the mist and Lasser heaved a sigh of relief.
'You look as if you're having a good time in there?'
'You wanna join me?'
Sitting on the edge of the huge tub, she smiled down at him. 'I'd love to, but I came to tell you the food's ready.'
'I hope he's not made it too hot, I don't fancy having the trots during the night.'
'Well it smells delicious.'
Medea trailed her fingers through the water and Lasser reached out and entwined his fingers with hers. 'I still feel as if we should be out there trying to find Flynn.'
'I know you do, but Alan's right…'
'Alan?'
'Come on, I can't call him Bannister or sir can I?'
Lasser pushed himself up in the tub. 'You could always call him the bastard like everyone else does.'
Medea ruffled his hair. 'Come on, he's been slaving away in the kitchen and I don't think he'll be happy if it goes cold.'
Reaching up he slid a hand through her glorious hair before brushing his lips across hers.
'I love you,' he whispered.
'I know you do.'
He flicked a handful of bubbles towards her before standing upright.
Medea raised an eyebrow. 'I can see just how much, now get dressed.'
Lasser grabbed a towel and watched as she walked from the room.
132
Shaun looked at the length of rope in disbelief. Rain dropped from the branches above, the air felt rarefied.
'Shit!' he snarled, how was this possible, how had Flynn managed to worm his way free? Shaun shook his head in amazement then turned and began to plough his way through the undergrowth, his head buzzing with adrenalin.
Vines snatched at his legs, branches whipped into his face and he ignored them, he had a sudden image of Flynn rampaging through Sarah Palmer's home. He'd promised he would take care of it, promised her she'd be safe. As he ran, he thought of Gemma, he'd told her the same thing on the day of their wedding, promising to love and protect her, and now she was dead.
Shaun leapt over a fallen tree, his feet hit the ground and skidded from under him; he hit the ground hard and immediately rolled back to his feet and set off again.
Dipping a hand into his pocket he slid the knife free and pressed the small button on the side, the black blade snapped open.
133
Robert heard the static crackle of the radio and stopped, he could feel the sweat oozing from his pores, the blood thundered through his jittering brain. The voice had told him to take four of the tablets and now the drug was slamming through his system washing away all the fear and doubt.
'Yeah, Steve, it's all clear around the back.'
As soon as he heard the woman's voice, his cock began to twitch; dragging a hand across his eyes, Robert moved forward in a crouch. She was standing on the other side of the gate, he could smell her perfume, smell her sex.
'Listen to me, Robert.'
He opened his mouth to reply and suddenly clamped his lips together; he'd been a sliver away from voicing a response and from giving the game away.
'You have to be quick, you have to be quiet, she won't be the only one, so kill her and move on.'
This time Robert nodded and took a shuddering breath, his right hand drew the Stanley knife from his pocket, the left reached for the handle on the gate.
'I'll call back in ten,' the bitch said, the radio crackled a reply and then fell silent.
Robert twisted the handle and slammed his shoulder into the timber, the gate lashed open and barged Cathy to the side. She staggered into the shed, her right hand desperately grasping at the nightstick and then she felt a burning sensation along her right arm and suddenly her fingers refused to move. She tried to push herself upright, the fear screaming through her paralysed mind, but her feet slithered on the wet grass, her right hand buried in the black earth of the flowerbed. Cathy snapped her head around just as Robert lashed out, the thin blade sliced across her temple, narrowly missing her right eye before gliding across her cheek. She felt the steel glance off her teeth before it broke free in a shower of blood. Cathy yawned in agony, the scream building, though suddenly the breath seemed to shrink back on itself, like a terrified child running away from some monstrous nightmare, desperately searching for a corner to hide in. Her legs gave way and she slumped to the ground, leaning against the shed Cathy tried to look up, but the pain was too much and suddenly she thought of Lasser. He was looking down at her corpse, his eyes brimming with despair, hands locked together as he tried to hold onto his sanity.
'Got you now, bitch.'
The voice was no more than a whisper; she could smell the sickly breath in her face, the stench of madness wafted around her like a poisonous cloud.
'Fuck you,' she managed to hiss before the blade sliced across her throat.
134
Lasser had to admit that Bannister could cook a mean curry.
'That's better than your usual boil in the bag, hey, Sergeant?' Bannister beamed at him from across the table.
The smile was replaced by a sour frown. 'What the hell do you mean ''not bad''?'
Suzanne patted his hand, 'Calm down, Alan, he's winding you up.'
Lasser grinned. 'I was kidding,' he paused, 'in fact, I'd say it's almost as good as the ones I make.'
'You!'
Lasser looked at Medea. 'What do you reckon, Medea, I mean, you've tasted them both so why don't you be the judge?'
Medea shook her head, before raising her hands. 'Oh no you don't, I'm not getting involved in this.'
'Very wise, Medea,' Suzanne replied with a smile.
When Bannister's phone began to chime, Suzanne sighed before picking up her glass of wine. 'If they want you to go out again tell them to forget it.'
Bannister frowned as he checked the number. 'Wilson.'
Lasser eased back in his chair and yawned, he'd taken a sneaky peek into one of the spare bedrooms and the bed had looked so inviting, the pillows plumped, the thick duvet turned back.
'What!'
When he looked up, Lasser could see the shock spring to life in Bannister's eyes.
'Jesus Christ, tell me this isn't happening.'
Medea dropped the napkin onto the plate; she could see the frown on Lasser's face deepening.
Thrusting the chair backwards, Bannister shot to his feet, he caught the glass in front of him, and it toppled to the side, the blood-coloured wine spilling onto the white tablecloth like a bad omen.
'What's happened?' Lasser asked and Bannister swiped a hand through the air to cut him off.
'What do you mean she's dead?'
Medea closed her eyes in shock.
'How the fuck did it happen?' Bannister backed away from the table; his knuckles bone white as he grasped the phone, 'So what happened to Scott and Sharma?'
Lasser suddenly felt his gut wrench, the room seemed to shrink around him. 'What…'
Bannister glanced at him and then looked away, though not before Lasser caught a glimpse of something that resembled pity in his eyes. 'What do you mean you pulled them out?' Bannister's voice dropped until it was little more than a whisper. 'I…' Then he was looking at the phone in disbelief. 'The bastard hung up on me.'
'What's happened?' Medea asked, her face ashen, her voice quivering.
Lasser glanced at her and tried to smile but his lips suddenly felt numb.
Bannister snatched his coat from the back of the chair. 'Come on, Lasser, we're going.'
'But…'
'Don't argue with me, Sergeant, it seems as if the man you let escape hadn't killed Flynn after all.'
'Oh shit.'
'Precisely, apparently Flynn turned up at Palmer's house an hour ago…'
'Are they all right?' Suzanne asked.
Bannister placed his hands on the table as if he were suddenly finding it hard to remain upright. 'They are, but one of our officers is dead.'
Lasser stood up slowly, his head felt clotted, his brain fried. 'Who is it?'
Bannister looked up and they locked eyes. 'Cathy Harper.'
Lasser swayed as the words landed like a sledgehammer. 'But…'
'Wilson pulled Scott and Sharma from the house, he left Harper and Black at the scene on their own. I mean, can you believe it – because I can't?'
Lasser closed his eyes and suddenly he was back in the car with Cathy, her scent filled his head, her dark eyes shining in the gloom.
'Sergeant!'
Lasser blinked.
'Come on, man, we need to get over there.'
He nodded and looked around the room and then Medea was standing in front of him with his jacket in her hand. Sliding a hand into the sleeve, he turned as she held the other one up for him as if he were a ten-year-old child learning how to dress.
'Thanks,' he mumbled.
Medea stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips across his cheek, he caught a blast of her orange perfume. 'You be careful out there.'
'I will,' he replied automatically before following Bannister to the door. By the time he climbed into the Audi, his shock had been replaced by seething rage.
135
Shaun peered out from the cover of the trees, the field was awash with torchlight, blue lights splashed across the houses, the sound of sirens split the sodden air. Sliding the phone from his pocket, he pressed the call button and waited, his eyes locked on the rear of the house as the phone trilled in his ear. Somewhere close by he heard a dog bark and then the lights seemed to sweep towards the trees. Shaun backed off as the lights surged forward, the dog howled and the beams jittered and bounced as though their owners were suddenly running.
'Come on, come on,' he hissed.
Then miraculously Sarah was on the other end.
'Are you all right?' he snapped.
'Oh God, he's killed her…'
'Your friend?' Shaun asked, as he watched the lights growing ever nearer.
'No, Erin's fine, but there was a woman police officer in the back garden and he's stabbed her to death.'
Shaun could hear the disbelief in her voice, the anguish, the despair.
'I'll find him…'
'But where are you?'
'I've got to go.'
'But you promised, you said everything would be all right!' she sounded childlike as if she were listening to an absent father who had promised to take her out for the day only to let her down at the last minute.
Shaun looked up at a night sky devoid of stars. 'I made a mistake, but believe me, it won't be happening again.'
'I…'
He ended the call, the dog bellowed; the lights reached the trees and began to probe into the darkness. Shaun hesitated for a moment then he turned and ran.
136
As they entered the garden Lasser hesitated, he could see Doc Shannon standing by the shed, his hands thrust into his jacket pockets.
Bannister stopped mid stride and turned. 'Come on, Sergeant, get a move on.'
Lasser watched as Bannister stormed across the sodden ground, he tried to move, but his feet remained rooted to the patio flags. He felt petrified; the rain hammered from a sky the colour of fresh-laid tar. He could see Cathy's legs stretched out on the grass, the sight of it made him want to turn and run until his legs gave way.
'Lasser, get over here right now!' Bannister bellowed.
Lasser blinked into the rain and took a step forward.
'Come on, man, what the hell's wrong with you?'
Another rigid step and then he was walking across the grass, his anger growing with every step. Doc Shannon watched him with a frown on his face; his unruly beard glistened with raindrops. Lasser came to a halt but he couldn't look down, the woman he had shared his bed with, the woman he had once loved was now a lifeless corpse, and he couldn't bring himself to confront the reality.
'So what happened?' he heard Bannister ask.
Shannon shuffled his loafers. 'Her throat's been cut.'
Lasser swallowed and moved to the side until he was standing behind Bannister, the DCI glanced over his shoulder and frowned before turning away.
'What about the weapon?'
'The blade was short and narrow…'
'Scalpel?'
'It could be,' Shannon mused. 'Though to be honest I'd say something like a Stanley knife…'
'Jesus,' Bannister hissed.
Lasser tried to block out the image, but his brain insisted on parading the tableau through his cracked mind.
'She would have been dead within seconds,' Shannon used the words as if this were somehow a blessing.
Lasser thought back to the end of their relationship, after being attacked by a local, scumbag, drug dealer, Cathy had retreated to her parents in Southport to lick her wounds and consider her future.
Suddenly he remembered talking to her about the incident, she'd wanted to leave the force thinking that she wasn't cut out to be a front-line officer and she'd been persuaded to stay on by Bannister. Lasser sucked in a lungful of air before dragging out his cigarettes and spar
king up.
At the smell of smoke, Bannister spun around, his eyes wide with shock. 'What do you think you're doing?'
Lasser peered at him through the smoke.
'Show some bloody respect, man, a fellow officer's dead here and you're smoking a bloody cigarette!'
Lasser turned away just as DCI Wilson appeared around the side of the house, wearing full dress uniform, the buttons gleaming as he strode towards them. When he spotted Lasser with the cigarette dangling from the corner his mouth his eyes narrowed.
'For God's sake put it out,' Bannister hissed.
Lasser ignored the command and took another long pull.
As Wilson opened his mouth, Lasser took a step towards him. 'Why did you pull Scott and Sharma from the house?'
Wilson took a step back as if Lasser had thrown a punch. 'What did you say?'
'You heard me.'
'Put that cigarette out this instant.' Wilson snapped.
Bannister reached out and grabbed Lasser's sleeve. 'Lasser…'
When Lasser spun around, Bannister let his hand fall away, tears were sliding down Lasser's cheeks, his eyes burning with black fury.
Bannister licked his lips. 'What's the matter with you, man?'
'I want to know why this cunt would pull two men from a house that was meant to be under our protection?'
Bannister blinked as if he'd misheard the words.
'What did you just say?' Wilson's face erupted with colour.
Lasser flicked the cigarette; it bounced off Wilson's chest and fell to the floor in a shower of sparks that died as soon as they hit the wet grass.
'Jesus,' Bannister groaned.
'There's a mad man out there and you left two people to protect our principle witness…'
'Don't you dare question me!' Wilson ballooned towards him, his chest thrown out, teeth bared.
Bannister stepped forward throwing an arm across Lasser's chest. 'All right, everyone's upset, but we need to keep calm here…'
Wilson jabbed a finger at his counterpart. 'I'll thank you to keep out of this, Bannister. I'm here to clean up your mess, and how I go about it is none of your concern.'
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