Miss No One

by Mark Ayre

"Someone removed the bodies and all traces of the murders later that night. The reason for this is plain enough. The bodies were a link to Orion on the eve of his grand plan. Cleaning up the scene broke that link. But what's never been clear is who murdered Davesh and why."

  Tapping the side of his mug, Ndidi forced himself to look at Abbie.

  "You have a theory?"

  "I have a theory." Abbie finished her coffee and replaced the mug on the coaster. "Orion paid Hammond, via Lucky Draw, a hundred grand to arrange for a large chunk of the local police to be at the casino on the night Rachel was sprung from prison, ostensibly to stop a heist and capture the perpetrators. However, this plan was somewhat hampered by Hammond's untimely murder. With me so far?"

  Ndidi nodded.

  "This left Orion in a bind. He needed to replace Hammond with an officer who could achieve the same results and fast. None of Lucky Draw's corrupt officers was high ranking enough to achieve his aims, and he couldn't risk speculatively offering cash to another DCI in case that detective was incorruptible and put an end to Orion's plan. So, Orion needed another option."

  "Yes," said Ndidi, with some false patience. "He kidnapped Isabella and made me work for him."

  "Eventually," said Abbie. "But I believe this was plan B."

  Ndidi stared at Abbie. His face was blank, but his arms seemed stiff on his mug.

  "Christine believed Davesh and Hammond might have been best friends," said Abbie. "Therefore, it's possible Hammond told Davesh everything he was doing, including organising the police response to the fake heist and murdering the woman who was trying to uncover his criminal activities. Namely, Leilani."

  At the mention of his wife, Ndidi closed his eyes. Leaning forward, he placed his half-empty mug on the coaster before it could drop from his trembling hands and stain his carpet.

  "Leilani was investigating Hammond specifically, rather than Lucky Draw generally, so it makes sense Hammond would murder her," said Abbie. "He may well have believed she was acting alone, but you knew what she was doing, didn't you, Ndidi? That much we've already established."

  As though he'd forgotten why he'd put the mug down, Ndidi leaned forward to grab his coffee. Halfway to the cup, he remembered his trembling hands and pulled back.

  "Davesh was the only other person who knew what happened to Leilani," said Abbie. "When Hammond died, he would have been immediately suspicious of the home invasion story. The home invasion with no suspects and no leads. He would probably know no one covers their tracks following a crime better than a police officer. Especially one as experienced as you, Inspector."

  Abbie let this comment settle before going on.

  "Davesh would also know Orion was looking for a Hammond replacement and, being a reprehensible individual, he might have decided to phone the elder Becker and offer information that could be used to blackmail a DI. For a fee."

  Ndidi made as though to stand but stopped himself halfway through the motion. There were tears in his eyes, and he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Making the most of his indecision, Abbie continued.

  "Before I came here, I visited Gary. By this point I knew Orion had told him to lie about you working for Lucky Draw, but you did attack him. There had to be reason. Today, Gary told me you caught him breaking into your house and made him tell you who had paid him to commit the crime. That person being Davesh."

  Ndidi put a hand to his mouth.

  "Don't worry, none of this was in Gary's official police statement. Still, it suggests a theory that finally ties up any loose ends."

  Abbie paused to see if Ndidi would say anything, but the detective never took his hand from his mouth, which left Abbie to continue unabated.

  "You suspected Hammond of murdering your wife, so you went to confront him at his home. There was an argument during which you murdered the corrupt DCI. As an experienced detective, you were able to remove any evidence of your involvement and make it seem as though the crime had been committed during a home invasion. You thought that would be the end of it, but Davesh suspected the truth and wanted to prove it so he could sell the information to Orion, who could then blackmail you. However, you learned of Davesh's knowledge from Gary, and this time confronted the dealership owner. I told Christine when we found Davesh that killers were unimaginative.” Abbie touched her neck. “Both Hammond and Davesh had their throat cut.”

  Ndidi looked as though he was drowning. He touched his own throat and took deep breaths.

  Abbie wasn’t done.

  “You fled the dealership and found Gary. Only he knew you had a motive to kill Davesh and you wanted to ensure he wouldn’t blab.” Abbie paused. “Maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m about to give you the benefit of the doubt for the first time. I’ll assume you planned to attack Gary, to frighten him into keeping his mouth shut, but not to kill him. You probably would have targeted him again, but Orion was already pivoting to plan B. He kidnapped your daughter, and we know what happened next."

  Abbie finished her theory and folded her hands in her lap. Ndidi was crying now, and she saw no need to force him to confess. It was written all over his face.

  She stood, and the Detective jumped in shock.

  "Like I said, I hope you don’t go to prison. When I spoke to Gary, I suggested he keep everything he knows to himself. The Hammond murder case is closed, and I don't believe Davesh will be found."

  Ndidi was staring at the floor. With his sleeve, he dried his eyes and forced himself to look at Abbie.

  "What happens now?"

  "The loose ends are tied," said Abbie. “More or less. My work in this town is done, and I hope never to come back. The men you murdered were bad men. Hammond murdered your wife, but killing is a slippery slope. It only gets easier."

  Ndidi turned his eyes up in shock. "I'd never again... I could never..."

  Abbie raised a hand to silence him.

  "Use this as your clean slate, detective. Take care of your daughter, be better, remember your wife, and try to move on."

  He stared at her with unvoiceable gratitude and relief. Abbie gave him a slight nod and pointed to the mug.

  "Thanks for the coffee. I'll see myself out."

  “Wait.”

  She stopped at the door, turned back. Ndidi was standing, his hands by his sides, looking numb.

  “You said, about Gary, you were giving me the benefit of the doubt for the first time… that implies there’s a second?”

  “Yes, Idrissa. And on the second occasion I need to give you the benefit of the doubt or I might kill you. I daren’t ask any questions. I’m just taking what you told me at face value.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Sighing, Abbie opened the door.

  “Killers are unimaginative,” she repeated. “Hammond and Davesh both had their throats cut.”

  Abbie looked back to Ndidi who was speechless, but afraid.

  Walking out the door Abbie finished, “And so did Christine.”

  Forty-Four

  By the time Abbie reached the hospital, Bobby was gone. She was standing at his bedside, staring at the empty sheets, when she heard the door open and someone enter.

  "He left about an hour ago," said Taylor, the Doctor to whom Abbie had yesterday lied. "Against my advice, I must add."

  When Abbie had arrived, the bedside table had been bare, the draws also empty. Because she trusted Bobby, she wasn't surprised when she turned to see Taylor clutching her bag.

  "He gave me this," she said, holding up the bag when she saw Abbie's eyes drift to it. "Said I must hand it only to Abbie King. You wouldn't happen to know when she'd be making an appearance, would you?"

  Abbie sighed. "Given your tone, you obviously know I'm Abbie. Bobby must have shown you a picture."

  "He did. I don't like being lied to."

  "It's no one's favourite thing," said Abbie and outstretched a hand towards the bag. Taylor only hesitated a second, then passed it over. At once, Abbie reached inside and felt the book's comforting shape between
the folds of the pillowcase.

  "When I visited yesterday," said Abbie. "I was wanted by the police for assault and attempted murder."

  Taylor's eyes widened, and Abbie tried what she hoped was a disarming smile.

  "I've since been cleared of all charges, but you'll understand why, at the time, I wanted to keep my identity under wraps. Someone was framing me. I needed to stay free to prove I was innocent... like in The Fugitive."

  "I've not seen it."

  "Don't worry. I won't tell."

  Removing her hand from the bag, Abbie looked back to the bed. A few seconds passed before the Doctor cleared her throat.

  "Bobby gave me something else."

  Abbie turned to see a folded slip of paper between Taylor’s fingers. Abbie took the note, unfolded it, read the few words on the page, and scrunched the paper into a ball. While thinking she should locate a bin and chuck it away, she stuffed the ball into her pocket.

  "Waste of ink," she said. "Bobby could have asked you to deliver the message verbally."

  The Doctor said nothing to this. Abbie allowed her gaze to linger on the bed a few moments longer, then turned back towards the door and Taylor.

  "Is he going to be okay?"

  Taylor prevaricated, then nodded. "Like I said, we wanted him to stay under observation a little longer, but I have no worries about his long term condition. So long as he follows the steps we laid out and takes regular—"

  Abbie raised a hand.

  "He's going to be okay. That's all I need to know."

  "Great," said the Doctor. "Well, if you don't mind..."

  "Of course, back to work," said Abbie. "I've got everything I came for right here."

  She held the bag aloft and resisted the wave of misery inside. She forced a smile as the Doctor walked away, then clutched the bag tight to her chest. In the book, she had much of what she wanted. But not everything...

  Not by a long shot.

  Back in her car, Abbie removed the book from its pillowcase and placed it on one knee. Despite knowing what the note said and understanding she would derive no comfort from a reread, Abbie removed it from her pocket and smoothed the page.

  Her phone was on the dash. Local police had been trying to get hold of her, wanting to talk about the house fire. Abbie had no doubt they would declare it as arson and had no interest in discussing it. Not yet. She had insurance but doubted they'd pay. Influential people would ensure Abbie's claims were rejected.

  The phone began to ring as Abbie smoothed the note over her spare knee. For the second time, she read those few words. They were like daggers to the heart, and adding insult to injury, Abbie could hear the last words Bobby had spoken to her rattling through her mind.

  Stay safe. Come back to me.

  Well, she had tried, hadn't she? He hadn't upheld the implicit end of his bargain.

  The phone continued to ring. This time, it wasn't the police. Abbie collected the handset from the dash to hang up but found herself answering instead. Once she'd swiped to accept the call, there was really no question of her ending it.

  She placed the phone to her ear.

  "Ben. It's not the time."

  There was a pause, then Ben spoke in a more sombre tone than Abbie was used to.

  "I hear congratulations are in order. That poor child is back with her father, safe and sound. You saved the day and avoided prison to boot. You should be proud."

  Abbie was struggling to keep control of her breathing. Her hand was trembling, so the phone shook against her ear.

  "Please, Ben," she said. "Make that all you have to say. Please."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because," she took a breath. "There are some loose ends that shouldn't be tied. Sometimes, it's better to leave a mystery unsolved. So don't, okay? Please don't."

  There was a long pause. Long enough that Abbie started to believe maybe, just this once, Ben would listen. He would say goodbye and hang up.

  "That you would ask this of me suggests the loose end is already tied," said Ben. "You know the truth. You don't want me to talk because you're afraid my confirmation will prevent you denying it, but that's childish. Denial causes more harm than good. You must verbalise the truth before you can hope to accept it and move on."

  "Don't," said Abbie. "Please."

  "You could hang up," said Ben. "But you won't, will you?"

  Abbie said nothing. Nor did she take the phone from her ear. It appeared to be glued there because Ben was right. There was a mental block. There was no chance she would find the strength to end the call.

  "The truth is I care deeply about you," said Ben. "After our last call, I felt terribly guilty. I felt as though I'd let you down, and that wasn't a feeling I could stand. But everyone has someone to answer to, and in my case, I was facing the mighty board of directors that has for some years supported you in every way. They'd made their decision, and I couldn't change their mind. Not with words, anyway."

  Abbie closed her eyes. By feel, she found the book on her knee and clutched the spine, though it wasn't up to such manhandling. There was a risk she would destroy the binding, and all the pages would spill-free. That would be the end. That would destroy her.

  Clutching the book, Abbie prayed, not to any God but to her sister's memory.

  Please, give me the strength to make him stop.

  But as Ben continued, Abbie remained unable to hang up.

  "I chose to believe you. You told me your relationship with Bobby would never get in the way of your job, so I decided I would allow you to prove this claim. You would show your commitment to the board without even knowing it, and they would have to reinstate you."

  Abbie's eyes still closed; she could not help but imagine the black-clad team arriving at her house, setting her property ablaze. Inside, Bobby waking in the clutch of fear. He had risked his life to save Abbie's most precious possession. So easily, both he and Abbie's last remnant of Violet could have been lost.

  As though he knew what she was thinking, Ben said, "I had people watching the house. We expected Bobby to escape, but if he hadn't come out, we would have saved him. We didn't want to punish you, Abbie. We wanted you to prove yourself. I knew you'd know we'd pay to have the house rebuilt, so once the doctor told you Bobby was okay, there'd be no reason to jeopardise the mission to save Isabella. You could see it through, just a few more hours, and visit Bobby afterwards. After that, we could welcome you back into the fold with open arms."

  A tear ran down Abbie's cheek. She forced her hand away from The Stand and moved instead to the letter. She prised open her eyes.

  "I feel so let down, Abbie," said Ben. "Unnecessarily, you went to visit Bobby, and as a result, Isabella almost died. Christine did die. All because you lied when you told me your personal life would never get in the way of your duty."

  Ben gave a theatrical sigh. That he was putting the blame on Abbie for Christine's death and acting the injured party should have inspired such rage in Abbie that she could not help but scream. But something blocked the anger. Something kept Abbie still and silent.

  "I don't expect you to have the maturity to apologise," said Ben. "But we shall see how you get on without our backing. We shall see what the future holds for Abbie King. How long it is before the choices you've made in the last couple of days get you killed. Or worse, someone else. Another innocent. I dread to consider. I only wish I'd been right about you. I wish you could have been better."

  Another sigh and Ben was done. He had laid Abbie low and was ready to go. His lies made her sick. Setting her house alight with her boyfriend inside had never been about allowing Abbie to prove herself. Abbie had hurt Ben by refusing to bend to his will. He called her childish, but he was the one who lashed out in response to perceived slights. The arson attack was punishment, but for Ben, it would never have been enough. He had to call. To talk Abbie through his actions. The pain he knew his words would cause was his final and ultimate reprisal.

  "I wish you luck, Abbie. For what rem
ains of your future."

  "Ben—" she said before he could hang up.

  He paused but did not respond. Abbie took this as consent to continue.

  "If I ever see you again," she said. "I'll kill you for what you've done. You hear me? I will kill you."

  Ben made a derisive noise. If he was worried, he hid it well.

  "Goodbye, Abbie," he said. "I'm sorry for the way you let this end."

  The line went dead. At last, Abbie let her hand and the handset fall from her ear to her lap. There it lay between the book that had been so cherished by her little sister and the note left by Bobby. Three symbols of three key people in her life. Sister, father-figure, lover.

  Symbols of everything she had lost and could never reclaim.

  Forty-Five

  Abbie King was not who she once was.

  As a teenager, over the space of a couple of years, the viler components of humanity had ripped from Abbie everything that made her who she was. The group of older teenagers who had drugged and raped her had taken her sense of security, and safety, before, in quick succession, she lost her brother, her baby, and her sister. Her brother was still alive, but it wasn't the same. They had always been close. He had always protected her, and, of course, it was his attempts to protect her that had led to his imprisonment. Abbie hated her parents and had left home following Violet's murder. After that, the dreams began. At first, Abbie didn't understand them. They drove her into isolation, made a girl who had once been happy and sociable a miserable hermit.

  Ben had saved her. After giving her purpose and strength, Abbie was happy to agree to his demand that she live a life of solitude. That was existence for her anyway, but Ben's version of isolation came with financial security and a support network that allowed her to save lives.

  That lost young woman had shed the identity of her birth and taken the moniker of Abbie King. With this new identity, she had been happy.

  Only a couple of months ago, Abbie had entered yet another new town and met Bobby. A month after that, she had met Alice Rayner and her children. Everything had changed. Solitude was no longer enough. She never wanted to stop being Abbie King, to quit saving lives. But she did want to supplement her duty with a life of her own.