Miss No One

by Mark Ayre

  "I don't have a door," said Abbie, blocking Christine again, "and if you expect to become a top-quality police detective, you'll have to get better at knowing people, at understanding how they might react to every possible situation."

  Christine flushed with anger. "You don't know what kind of detective I am. How dare you pass judgement on my quality when you've known me five minutes."

  "I know you're honourable, and you think that honour will translate to respect. You know people loved Hammond, and you accept they'll be upset, possibly angry when you reveal to them whatever evidence you've gathered about their recently deceased hero. Your mistake is believing they'll have the strength to put these emotions aside, thus enabling them to act rationally on the information. This’s stupid. I only hope stupidity hasn't morphed into a level of delusion that has allowed you to believe your colleagues will thank you for your candour and bravery. They won’t.”

  "I don't have to listen to this."

  Growing angrier by the minute, Christine barged past Abbie, shoving her aside and storming on down the street.

  Abbie followed, speeding up but this time falling in alongside the detective rather than trying to overtake her.

  "You were sent here under false pretences," Abbie said. "You think, when your colleagues learn the truth, they'll feel betrayed but will overcome that betrayal. But that's the thing. Most people can overcome and forgive betrayal. They have a much harder time forgiving people they believe have made them look a fool. That's how they'll view you. They'll feel stupid for believing you, and they'll lash out."

  "I never intended to make a fool of anyone."

  "And that won't matter. They’ll vilify you. It won't help that you're accusing their respected and recently deceased colleague of wrongdoing. They'll paint you as a bad cop. They'll make you look incompetent, and you know what that'll mean about what you show them, don't you?"

  Christine said nothing, but she faltered, slowed. They continued to grow closer to the station, but all of a sudden, Christine didn't seem to be in such a hurry to get there.

  "Kilman and the rest will disregard the evidence you've gathered," said Abbie. "They'll tell you Hammond was an exceptional officer. They'll say if it seemed he was breaking the law, it was only because he wanted you to believe he was breaking the law. They'll protect their hero and destroy the interloper. Which is you, by the way. Because that's what people do."

  Christine was shaking her head while further losing speed in her onward progression.

  "it doesn't matter," she said. She seemed to be forcing the words. "You don't understand. I knew there was something going on and you’re right, Isabella might be involved. I thought I could handle this alone, but I can’t. I need help.”

  “Then let me help you.”

  “No. Proper help. Professional help, and that means taking a risk. Kilman and the rest might hate me for the rest of their lives. I don’t care, so long as they act on what I tell them.”

  Abbie put a hand on Christine's arm. There was no pressure, but Christine came to a halt.

  Before Abbie could try again to persuade the younger woman to change her plan, Christine continued.

  “I could lose everything over this, but nothing matters more than saving that little girl."

  "Finally, something on which we agree," said Abbie, still holding Christine's arm. "Isabella has to come first, but I don’t think your plan is the best way to save her. And not only because they won't listen to you."

  "Then why?"

  "For a start, what if Hammond wasn't working alone?"

  Christine opened her mouth to respond, then stopped herself. She looked at the floor, but that was okay. Abbie had already seen it in her eyes. Hammond was the big fish in terms of corrupt officers, but Christine either knew or suspected there were other bad eggs in the basket.

  "It's not only your career you're putting on the line, then," Abbie said. "Two people are dead. A child has been kidnapped, and you want to put yourself in the firing line?”

  "I don't want to do anything," Christine snapped back. "This isn't about desire; it's about necessity. I became a police officer to help people, and that's damn sure what I'm going to do."

  She yanked her arm back, though Abbie was holding on only by the lightest of touches. Christine stumbled backwards as the two women parted. Steadied herself. Turned from Abbie to hide the tears in her eyes. Now she faced determinedly towards the station.

  Frozen on the pavement, she began building up the strength to move again.

  "I believe," said Abbie, her voice soft but carrying, "there's a way for us to work together to save Isabella without you walking into that police station and making yourself a target. If you'd just spend a little more time talking it over with me..."

  "No," said Christine. "My mind's made up."

  She took a breath. She was ready to walk. Abbie could see the younger woman slipping away and knew now there was nothing more she could do to persuade Christine to stick around.

  But she wanted to do something, and she had a little more to offer.

  "Last summer," she said, "I came across a group known as the Becker Gang. Run by a woman named Margaret Becker and her three children, the group was known to the police. They were responsible for numerous armed robberies across the country, plus multiple counts of assault and murder and other violent crimes. They were violent and vile people."

  Christine looked back. "Is this relevant?"

  "An associate of the Becker's betrayed them to the police," Abbie continued. "Following a raid, many Becker gang members were arrested and imprisoned, including Margaret's daughter, Rachel. During the same raid, Margaret's youngest child was shot and killed, and the woman herself died shortly thereafter. These actions seemed to put an end to the gang's activities. But Margaret’s eldest son survived and escaped incarceration. He’s been in hiding ever since."

  After a few seconds of mulling this over, Christine nodded.

  "Orion, I assume?"

  "It might be a coincidence," said Abbie. "If you're hell-bent on this course of action, I'd take a look at your evidence and see if someone like Orion Becker could be involved in this. If so, you must tell Kilman to tread extremely lightly. The Becker's were violent sociopaths to a man and woman. Alone, Orion is a wounded animal. It would be easy to underestimate him, but remember: often, there's no creature more dangerous than a wounded animal with a violent history. Something to think about."

  For a while, Christine did seem to think about this, then she nodded again.

  "Thank you."

  Abbie nodded.

  "Be ready," said Christine. "Kilman will want to speak with you. And soon."

  Having built up the courage needed to approach the place where she would put her career and life on the line, Christine started forward, walking away from Abbie, who didn't stop her going.

  As always, the clock was ticking.

  With Christine on her way to drop Abbie in it with Kilman, Abbie's chances to save Isabella seemed to be sliding away faster than ever.

  Turning from Christine, Abbie started walking.

  Every second she had, she would use to find and save Isabella.

  Whatever it took.

  Fourteen

  Abbie walked away from Christine with purpose but without inspiration. She knew what she was trying to achieve (save Isabella) but had no idea how best to approach that goal.

  Options were limited. The two standouts seemed to be to find and talk to DI Ndidi or find and talk to Gary. The problem was she didn't know where either lived or how she could locate them.

  By now, Christine would be walking into the police station. How long before Kilman was running out, hot on Abbie's tail? Abbie was convinced the detective would refuse to believe Hammond was involved in any wrongdoing. As Davesh was dead, Abbie would become his only active lead, which would become a problem for Abbie fast. She needed to move her own investigation forward, and fast.

  For lack of an idea, she made her way back
to the park where she had earlier that morning seen Ndidi assault Gary. She did not expect to stumble upon the same scene again, but who knew? She might get lucky.

  As she approached the park, she mused that Ben would have been able to acquire the addresses she needed. It had been many years since she had tried to do this life-saving thing alone. She had forgotten how difficult it was.

  As she crossed from pavement to grass, through a gate that opened onto the public park, Abbie's phone began to ring. She didn't need to glance at the number before answering to know who it would be.

  "Hello, Abagail, I hear you've managed to escape imprisonment, however temporarily."

  It was as though thinking of the vile, slippery creature had summoned him. Abbie shuddered at the thought.

  "Ben," she said. "Lovely to hear from you. Have you called to apologise?"

  "I've just left a meeting with the board," he said, disregarding her question and tone and keeping his own words emotionless and to the point.

  "This'll be the plank of wood you drew a face on and called Bartholomew, would it? You know most people grow out of the imaginary friend thing before they exit their childhood. I respect that you've kept hold of yours. It's a real link to your innocent youth."

  "You may believe I disregarded your comments out of hand when last we spoke," Ben continued. His ability to ignore her continued taunts was admirable. "I didn't. Everything was noted, and when I spoke with the company directors, I raised your points."

  When answering the phone and beginning this conversation, Abbie had continued walking along the grass towards the toilet block where yesterday she had spotted the hooded and lanky Gary. Though she wasn't sure when it had happened, she realised belatedly she had stopped moving. She was stuck in the mud.

  "I wish I could believe that," she told Ben.

  "As do I," he said. "We've had our problems over the years, but I want you to know I care for you. And the things you've done, the lives you've saved... your work has been astounding."

  "It doesn't have to end."

  "You're right," he said. "It doesn't."

  Abbie knew they were coming at this point from different angles and so refused to allow hope to bloom within her heart. She'd stopped while facing a small playground, and she watched children run back and forth and parents natter as she waited for Ben to continue.

  "Unfortunately," he said, "the board were unmoved by your arguments. We take the business of protecting the innocent incredibly seriously. You have a gift, Abbie, and we want to continue to support it. We want to help you build the kind of legacy that would, in more enlightened times, lead to you being canonised."

  "Saints have no dress sense," Abbie noted. Although, maybe she could be the exception?

  "We want to help you," Ben continued. "But we do, regrettably, require you to make sacrifices."

  Abbie squeezed her eyes shut and took a calming, emotion stabilising breath. She reopened her eyes to the sight of a father pushing his toddler on a swing. The little girl screamed higher, higher, higher.

  "You want me to sacrifice my life."

  "Don't be ridiculous," said Ben. "Your life is precious, and we will do all we can to protect it."

  Abbie shook her head, though Ben couldn't see her.

  "You do all you can to protect my existence," Abbie corrected. "But nothing to protect my life, something which you actively discourage me from having. To you, I'm no more than a toaster. I'm fit for a single purpose, and God forbid I should want to unplug myself from the wall, cross the kitchen and... find love with the washing machine.”

  Abbie was frustrated. She felt as though she was making a valuable, critical point, but that the point might have been lost within the bizarre and fast crumbling toaster/washing machine love story metaphor.

  "Don't be so dramatic," said Ben. He was trying to inject compassion into his voice. As though he cared. Not for the first time, Abbie wondered if Ben had children. Was there a wife at home, children somewhere out there in the world? If Ben had a daughter, how would he feel if she was in Abbie's position?

  Instead, she said, "I'm not the one threatening to let me serve jail time if I refuse to cut ties with my boyfriend. See how ridiculous you seem when I say that out loud."

  Unfazed and unshamed, Ben said, "You may remember it was not us who blessed you with this gift of foresight, this ability to see those who will soon die should you not intervene in their circumstances. Nor is it our fault you are cursed with nightmares of the final moments of those you fail. These dreams preclude you from having a job and ensure you regularly face mortal danger and the threat of arrest. You might try to remember all this would be true whether we backed you or not. Working with us, the only difference is that money and imprisonment need no longer trouble you. We protect you wherever we can, and we don't believe we're asking too much in return."

  "Just that I exist, rather than live."

  Ben sighed. "I fear we're in danger of going in circles. See yourself as cursed rather than blessed if you want. Either way, some higher power or quirk of fate has bestowed great purpose upon you. It's not a purpose you can escape. With us or without us, you'll always end up alone, a slave to the missions your dreams provide you. Let us help where we can, and understand we know what we're talking about. We know what's best for you."

  What's best for you.

  What an infuriating statement. That alone was almost enough to make Abbie hang up. But she didn't. There was Bobby's smile again, hanging around in her mind. The smile asked nothing of her because Bobby never asked anything of Abbie other than that she be honest with him and that she be herself around him. Unlike Ben, Bobby would never offer her an ultimatum.

  On the other hand, there was Isabella. Already in danger and Abbie's dream had given her a peek into what would happen to the child if Abbie didn't help. Or couldn't help.

  "I'm sure there are things with which we can help you in terms of your latest mission," Ben said when Abbie let the conversation lull. "You must have questions that need answering. What can I do? You need only give me your word and ask away. As ever, we will be at your beck and call."

  The toddler all but jumped from the swing into her father's arms. He spun her around. Both were laughing. Abbie realised she was on the verge of tears and decided this was not an ideal state in which to be.

  "A young girl is missing," she said.

  "We understand, and we want to help. Tell us how we can."

  Did Abbie have a choice? Bobby's smile wouldn't go away, but how much did her happiness matter next to the life of an innocent child? Christine was right now putting her neck on the block because she'd decided her career and happiness were less significant than Isabella. That was the kind of example Abbie had always tried to follow and to set.

  "You said you take saving lives seriously," she said, still unable to let go. "So do that. Help me now and stop using a little girl as a bargaining chip. That's all I ask."

  "We've been through this," said Ben. "We're not only thinking about the now but the future. We can't only consider this one child, but everyone you will be called upon to save. We must ensure you'll be ready to act time and again. We must be firm on this. You must agree to end your relationship with Bobby."

  Bobby.

  Be safe. Come back to me.

  "He's only one man," said Ben. "This is your destiny."

  Be safe.

  Destiny. The word entered Abbie's mind and rattled around, bouncing off the proverbial walls. Yes... destiny.

  Come back to me.

  It was that word—destiny—that made up her mind.

  "Thank you," she said to Ben. "You're right. This is my destiny. For years, this has been my destiny."

  "I'm glad you're coming around to our way of thinking."

  "When I dream of someone in danger," Abbie went on, "I get in my car and drive. I never know where I'm going, but always I end up in the right place. In a new town, I wander into the night with no plan or clue of who I’ll run into. I don't eve
n know the name of the person I've come to save."

  "For years, we've been working together," said Ben. "I do know how your blessing works."

  But he sounded nervous, and why shouldn't he? Abbie was on a roll.

  "Despite this lack of knowledge and inability to plan, I always, without fail, run into the people I need to run into, get involved in the skirmishes I need to get involved in, and piss off the baddies I need to piss off. So far, my random wandering has never failed to yield results."

  There was a pause, then Ben let out a long sigh.

  "Would I be an old fool to imagine you're coming to some sort of point?"

  "You call it destiny," said Abbie. "A blessing bequeathed to me by a higher power or quirk of fate. Whatever it is, it wants me to succeed. It intends for me to succeed."

  She left a long pause for effect. She loved the long pause for effect.

  "With or without you," she finished.

  Another long pause, this time driven from Ben's end. Maybe he, too, intended this for effect. If so, he didn't hit the mark.

  "Please don't be naive," he said at last. "You can't honestly fool yourself into thinking you don't need us? Do you know how many bodies we've cleaned up for you over the years?"

  "And I've been ever so grateful."

  Another pause. Abbie felt as though she'd said everything she needed to say.

  "This is your last chance," said Ben. "I won't call again."

  And Abbie felt something throb in her heart. There was the sense she was a selfish, evil bitch. She was putting a young girl's life on the line for personal gain.

  A little voice told Abbie she must give in to Ben. Bobby's voice was louder.

  Be safe. Come back to me.

  That voice swept away the doubts.

  "I want to thank you," she said. "Later on, when I remember how you threw our partnership away because I wouldn't remain a slave to loneliness and misery, there's every chance I'll whip myself into a frenzy of hatred. For now, I'll bring the positives to the forefront. You're absolutely right to say the company you represent has helped me save lives by removing the fear of poverty and imprisonment. I'll be forever grateful for that and even more grateful to you personally. When I was lost and desperate; when I didn't know what was wrong with me; when I was ready to end it all, there you were. You appeared as if from nowhere, like the shopkeeper in Mr Benn. You saved my life, and for that, I'll always be thankful.”