No more people needed to get hurt.
Davie’s biggest concern right now was that Frankie would try and finish what he’d started by going after Andrew and his family again. He’d already made suggestions that he needed to deal with any loose ends.
The first place Davie tried was Andrew’s home–it was a possibility that Frankie would return there to resume his beef with the man–but as he rounded the corner, Davie saw that the house’s lights were out and that–even more tellingly–Andrew’s Mercedes was gone from its space at the side of the road. No one was home. Davie started thinking about Plan B.
If Frankie were still looking for trouble, he’d be headed wherever Andrew was. So where was Andrew?
There was, of course, only one place Andrew would be. Davie had seen how much the man loved his family, and there was no doubt that he would be at his daughter’s bedside.
Which meant Frankie was probably at the hospital.
Davie jingled with the change in his pocket. There was a bus stop nearby that went not too far from the hospital. If a bus came soon, then Davie could be there within the next half an hour. He just hoped it would be soon enough.
He reached the bus stop at the end of the road and waited. The act of doing nothing was frustrating. Every part of his body urged for action, but with no other way of getting to the hospital, Davie had no choice but to wait. He concentrated on the noise of the heavy rain hitting the curved tin roof of the shelter before sliding off in sheets. Somehow, the sound managed to calm him slightly–enough that when the bus finally arrived, Davie didn’t notice at first.
“You getting in or what?” asked the bus driver, snapping Davie out of his daze.
Davie looked up, startled, and then nodded. “Sorry. Had my mind on other things.”
“Nothing bad I hope.”
Davie stepped onto the bus and gave the driver his change. “I would settle for bad right now. Things are way beyond that.”
The driver frowned at him. “Well, keep your chin up lad. Got your whole life ahead of you.”
Davie moved to take a seat as the hydraulic doors pumped closed behind him. He sat down and waited. He would be at the hospital soon.
He just hoped it would be in time.
29
Andrew parked his car at the rear of the hospital. It meant it would take longer to reach Bex, but he couldn’t risk running into any police that might be at the entrance. Wardsley and Dalton may have been on his side, but they were not the only officers likely to be at the hospital, and as a man wanted for murder, he was certain that a description of both him and his car would have been issued to the entire local force.
Andrew moved between cars, glancing forward, left and right for any law enforcement. Sure enough, there was a plain-clothes officer at the entrance to A and E. Andrew could tell the man was with the police by the stiff way he was standing and by the regular tilts of his head. The man was speaking into a microphone on his collar.
Andrew stayed to the edge of the car park and headed around the side of the hospital to look for a less conspicuous entrance. There was a fire exit near the rear of the building, and it was open–a member of staff standing in front of it with a cigarette. Andrew approached with his head down, not wanting to draw attention.
“Hey, man, you can’t come through here. Use the front.”
Andrew looked up and smiled. The man was wearing chef’s whites and obviously worked in the hospital’s canteen. Bex’s room wasn’t far from the canteen.
“You mind if I just sneak through? I won’t tell anybody.”
The man shook his head. “You need to use the front entrance. What you doing around here anyway? And what the hell is with your face?”
Andrew had to think fast. He’d totally forgotten that half his face was ripped to pieces. He must look like an extra from a zombie-movie. “Trying to avoid my mother-in-law,” he said out of nowhere. “My wife and I have been in a car accident. Her mother just turned up to see her. I was out the front having a fag when I saw her heading my way. I dashed around the back because I don’t want to have to deal with her right now. She’s a total bitch, and I know she’ll blame me for the crash. In fact, I blame myself.”
The chef stared Andrew in the face, trying to work him out. Andrew stared right back, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Okay,” the man said eventually. “I hear you. My mother-in-law is a dragon too.”
Andrew thanked the man and went to walk past, but didn’t make it through without being stopped first. “There a problem?” he asked.
The chef shook his head. “Just wondered if you had a spare cigarette. This is my last one.”
Of course Andrew didn’t. He didn’t really smoke… but that’s what he had told the chef he was doing there.
Andrew shook his head. “Sorry, mate. I just smoked my last as well. Need to go the gift shop soon as the old witch leaves.”
The chef nodded and laughed. “No worries, man. Hope your wife recovers.”
Andrew patted the man on the back. “Thanks. Guess I’ll go get my face stitched up while she’s with her mum.”
Andrew made it through into a hallway. As he’d expected, he was near the hospital canteen. If he remembered correctly, Bex was a couple of wards down. Without interference, he would be there in minutes.
But there was going to be police. What would he do then?
Andrew decided he was happy to be arrested if it meant seeing that Bex was okay and that Frankie was not nearby. He could tell the police that Bex was in danger, and they would protect her. At the start of the night he’d been set on murder–on ending Frankie’s life–but right now all that mattered was his daughter’s safety. Revenge was something that would have to take a backseat. Whether he liked it or not, he had no choice but to leave Frankie’s fate in the hands of the courts. At least he’d made the rest of them pay.
He kept his back close to the wall as he progressed down the corridors. He may have been willing to get caught by the police, but not until he saw that Bex was okay. He followed the signs for Ward 7–he was sure that was the right one.
The hallways up ahead were busier, and doctors milled about casually while nurses rushed around them. They weren’t quite the hectic, overly-stressed members of staff from A and E, but seemed agitated all the same. A sign hanging from the ceiling read: RECOVERY WARDS.
Andrew reached the end of the corridor and looked around the corner. His heart skipped three beats when he saw the police officers standing there. They were gathered around a single room.
It must have been Bex’s room.
So close. So goddamn close.
Andrew leant back against the wall and beat his head against the cement. The pounding actually helped him think, dulling the pain that seemed to emanate from a dozen different places on his body. He had to find a way to get the officers away. Andrew couldn’t risk Frankie sneaking in and hurting his daughter while the police were busy arresting him.
Looking around, Andrew noticed something that could offer a solution. On the wall, only a few feet away, was a small red panel with a film of glass at its centre. Written in ominous white font were the words: PRESS IN CASE OF FIRE.
There was no fire, but Andrew wasted no time in pressing his thumb against the glass panel. It compressed within its red metal surroundings, and a shrill alarm pierced the air. Andrew glanced back around the corner and watched the confusion percolate amongst the staff and members of the public. Even better, Andrew watched while a nurse walked up to the police officers and insisted that they left the ward along with everyone else. It didn’t look like they were very willing, but thankfully, the nurse was persistent. Then something that did not occur to Andrew started to happen. Orderlies started to appear in great numbers and went about wheeling away the patients from their wards. Andrew felt stupid that it hadn’t occurred to him that the whole hospital would be evacuated, patients and all–not just the staff.
Andrew watched while a young male orderly entered Bex�
�s room to bring her out. Andrew made his move. He dashed across the nurse’s area, dodging between preoccupied men and women that were unaware that the fire was only fictitious. He hopped out of the way of an oncoming gurney, shoes skidding on the polished floor, and then managed to barrel his body over to Bex’s room. He was just about to open the door when someone grabbed him from the side.
“Andrew.”
Andrew spun around with his fist raised, but lowered it when he saw it was Officer Dalton.
“You need to come with me,” she told him. “I take it the fire alarm was your doing?”
“I just need to see my daughter and then I’ll come with you.”
Dalton shook her head. “I can’t allow it. There’s police looking everywhere for you. I can’t risk anyone witnessing me doing anything other than taking you in. I already gave you the chance to do what you needed to do. Now you need to keep your promise and come with me, Andrew.”
“Please,” he pleaded. “Just let me say goodbye to my daughter. You can wait right outside the door.”
Once again Andrew managed to get the female officer to relent. Her face softened, and she actually seemed annoyed at herself for being so soft. “Just don’t make me regret this, Andrew. I’ve already put my life in jeopardy for you.”
Andrew put his hand on the door to enter, but Dalton put a hand on his chest and stopped him.
“Frankie?”
Andrew looked her in the eye and shook his head solemnly. “I couldn’t find him.”
He turned away and pushed open the door, before stepping inside. The first thing he saw was Bex lying in her bed. The second was the orderly lying unconscious on the floor. The third thing Andrew saw was Frankie pointing a gun at his face.
“Glad you could finally join us,” Frankie snarled. “It’s time to wrap this shit up.”
30
Andrew stared down the barrel of the gun–something he never thought he’d ever find himself doing. Guns were completely outlawed in the United Kingdom, and he’d never seen one for real, but here he was now, close enough to smell the oil on the metal.
“Daddy?”
Bex was terrified, and Andrew didn’t want her to see that he was too. “It’s okay, sweetie,” he told her. “We’ll get this all worked out.”
“I hear you had a little run in with Dom?” said Frankie. “Right after you killed his bro. That was cold, man.” His face twitched manically as he spoke.
Andrew put both hands up. It felt like the appropriate thing to do. “There’s a police officer right outside the door. Just give yourself up and there’s a chance you might not spend your entire life in jail.”
Frankie laughed. “Not going to happen. Got business to deal with first–but hey, why leave your little police officer friend waiting outside? Bring her in to join the fun.”
Andrew lowered his hands and raised his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
Frankie motioned at the door with his revolver. “Tell her to get in here, but don’t make it obvious what’s going on.”
“No,” said Andrew in a firm voice. He would not bring anybody else into his mess. Dalton had already done enough for him.
Frankie pointed the gun at Bex. “I ain’t asking, Andrew. Unless you want me to make an entrance in your daughter’s forehead, I’d do as you’re told.”
Andrew sighed. “Officer Dalton. I’m ready to go with you. Would you come in here?”
There was a moment of silence before the officer replied from outside. “No. I think you should come out here.”
Frankie shook the gun barrel at him. “Think fast, hero. Get her in here or your daughter’s head becomes a wind tunnel.”
Andrew swallowed a lump in his throat and considered his words carefully. “Officer Dalton, my daughter would like to speak to you before you arrest me. She wants you to promise you’ll get Frankie for what he’s done and that you will keep me safe.”
Frankie laughed. “Nice.”
The door opened and Dalton stepped through. “Sweetheart, I promise we’ll send the little bastard down…” Her words trailed off as her eyes caught Frankie standing in the corner of the room.
Frankie grinned at her. “Well, hello there, honey. Why don’t you sit your fine ass down over there.” He motioned with the gun towards a seat. “Do it now, before I start making holes in people.”
Dalton let the door close behind her and took a step towards Frankie. “Drop the weapon, Frankie. Drop it right now, and no one has to get hurt.”
“Don’t think you understand who has the power here, luv. I have a gun, and you don’t.”
Dalton continued to stare Frankie down, and Andrew noticed her gradually move a hand to her hip, resting it on the belt that ringed her waist. “I won’t ask you again,” she told Frankie. “Put. The. Weapon. Down.”
Frankie’s self-assured grin grew wider. “Sit the fuck down, you stupid bitch. You ain’t telling no one to do nothing.”
Suddenly Dalton reached for something at her belt, clawing at one of the many poaches that lined her waist, but she wasn’t quick enough. Frankie pulled the trigger before Andrew could even see what it was she’d been reaching for.
The whole room seemed to explode with sound. Andrew’s ears rang, and his vision tilted. When it finally returned to normal, Dalton was sprawled out across the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. She was alive, but the gunshot wound in her guts had made a mess and was obviously causing her an unimaginable amount of pain. Bex began screaming from her bed.
Andrew scurried to help Dalton, but Frankie stood in his way, cocking the revolver ready for the next shot. “Stay the-fuck still.”
“Let me help her,” demanded Andrew.
Frankie shook his head and sneered. “What’s to help? She’s done.”
Andrew looked down at Dalton and disagreed. She was certainly in bad shape, but she was still conscious and moving–dragging herself across the floor and propping herself up against the wall. With medical attention, she would make it through, he was sure, but if things went on much longer, her chances would not be so good. Another life hanging in the balance of Frankie’s vendetta. Andrew wished his actions had led him down a better path than this.
Frankie prodded Andrew in his injured ribs with the gun barrel making him wince. Frankie prodded him again for good measure. “Sit down on the floor,” he ordered. “No more playin’.”
Andrew glanced at his daughter who had tears in her eyes. Then he looked away because it hurt too much to see her in pain. He bent his knees and slid himself down onto the floor beside the door and looked over to the adjacent wall at Dalton. She looked right back at him. Her face was pasty, sweat-covered and pale. Blood spilled from her stomach in a steady stream and drenched her clothing.
“Why are you doing this?” Andrew asked Frankie from the floor. “I mean, really. You’re going to spend your whole life in jail, and for what? Cus you don’t like the look of my face?”
Frankie’s face twitched. “I ain’t ever going down again. I’ll die first.”
“So why then? If you never want to go to prison again, why cause trouble the moment you’re out?”
“What the fuck else I gunna do? Work at a bank?”
Andrew shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? You could have done a million different things–but instead you choose to murder my wife.”
“Mum?” Bex’s eyes went wide. “No, she’s not dead. She can’t be.”
Andrew hadn’t meant for his daughter to find out like that and cursed himself for not thinking. Now that she knew, he was unable to console her. Frankie had once again managed to prevent him from looking after his family.
“I’m sorry,” Andrew told her. “I didn’t find out until after I left you.”
Bex mewled like a wounded animal and buried her face in her hands. Andrew turned his stare back to Frankie. “Do you enjoy this? Causing all of this hurt to innocent people?”
“Who says you’re innocent?”
Andrew was r
eady to give up. There was no part of Frankie that had any remorse or understanding. There might have been something there deep beneath the surface that could be gotten at, but Andrew had no idea what it was.
“My daughter is innocent,” Andrew stated. “What has she ever done?”
“She belongs to you.”
“And what have I done, exactly? Is this all because I didn’t buy you a packet of fags?”
Frankie was breathing quickly, and his twitch was becoming more regular and erratic. “You needed to learn a lesson.”
“What lesson? You know nothing about me.”
“I needed to teach you some respect.”
“Why is it so important that some guy you never met respects you? Are you that insecure?”
Frankie thrust the gun forward at Andrew, and for a moment, it looked like he would pull the trigger again. Andrew didn’t flinch though–not for a scumbag like Frankie. When the gun didn’t go off, it became clear that Andrew was scratching at something–something beneath Frankie’s surface that was heavily guarded.
Andrew smirked, enjoying the sight of Frankie squirming. “But this was never about me, was it? This is about your own bullshit. So what was it, Frankie? Daddy abuse you?”
“Fuck you. I never even knew my Dad.”
Andrew was getting close. He could sense it. “Hardly surprising, having met your mother. Maybe it was the young offender’s home then? Did one of the bigger boy’s make you his bitch?”
Frankie pulled the trigger. Andrew’s vision went white like someone had lit a firework inside his skull. The pain came hot and heavy, accompanied by thick waves of nausea and mind-rattling dizziness.
I’ve been shot. Holy shit, I’ve been shot.
The pain was so gigantic and all consuming that Andrew couldn’t even tell where he’d been hit. It was only when his vision returned, and he saw the blood pouring from his knee, that he knew. The agony was so massive that he knew he’d never walk right again.
Gripping Thrillers Page 33
