Cold Kill (36 page)

Laura closed her eyes for a moment, and then nodded, trying to stay in control of the situation.

‘I’m going to leave it there,’ Laura said. ‘Are you okay with that? Or do you want me to get it out?’

Rachel shook her head violently and began to sob again, before her head slipped forward onto Laura’s chest.

Laura put her arms around her again and pulled her in close, let Rachel sob into her chest, one hand stroking Rachel’s hair, trying to make it better. Except that she knew she couldn’t do that. Rachel would never be better again, and it would take more than just hugs and comfort to make her a lot less broken.

As the sound of sirens drew close, Laura pulled away to take her jacket off, and then she put it around Rachel’s shoulders, trailing it over her thighs to allow her a shred of dignity before their colleagues burst into the building.

Laura felt cold. It wasn’t the lack of a jacket though. It was the shiver of anger that she was feeling, and as she pulled Rachel close once more, she wondered whether anything would ever be the same again, because of what had happened to Rachel. Because of what had almost happened to her.

Chapter Sixty

Jack was outside the bar that had once been called Manero’s when he got the call. He had been waiting for the doormen to open the doors, to try and get some quotes on Don Roberts, in the hope that someone may have remembered stories from the old days. There was the germ of a good story there, and Jack wanted to make it stronger, for Emma’s sake, to bring some justice for her.

He looked at his phone and saw that it was Laura, but when he answered, there was no one on the other end.

‘Laura? Are you there?’

There were some deep breaths, and then she said, ‘I need to see you, Jack.’ Her voice sounded strained.

‘Are you okay?’

There was a pause, and then, ‘No, I’m not.’

Jack felt a stab of panic, his stomach lurching. ‘Where are you?’

‘The hospital.’

‘I’ll be right there,’ he said, and ran for his car.

The journey didn’t take long, because it seemed like he skidded around every corner in his rush to get there, chancing red lights and speed cameras. He dumped the car in the nearest parking space and ran towards the casualty department, passing rows of seats filled by people feeling sorry for themselves, faced by a counter and a receptionist who didn’t look like she cared either way.

He found out that Laura had been taken through just after her call. He heard her voice, and as he pulled the curtain back, Jack saw her wince as the casualty doctor inserted the last of seven stitches into a small patch shaved into the back of her head.

‘There you go,’ the doctor said, his Indian accent strong. ‘Should keep the sawdust from falling out.’ His voice was too cheery, and Laura faked a smile.

‘Could I have a moment?’ Laura asked, and gestured towards Jack.

The doctor looked doubtful for a moment, but eventually he nodded and left them alone. Laura wrapped her arms tight around Jack and he pulled her close, whispering in her ear, ‘What happened?’

Laura pulled away. ‘Rachel was attacked. She was his next victim, but I got in the way.’

Jack was surprised. ‘Tell me.’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll give you the full story later, but I’m sure you can imagine it,’ she said, looking vulnerable again. ‘Danger is part of the job, I know that, but this was different. It’s sexual violation. It’s too personal, too invasive. I’ve just been stitched, but what will Rachel be going through? Probed and examined, checked for injuries, for evidence, those small traces that get left behind, violated for the second time today. And why? So they can build a case and lock someone away for what, twenty years?’

Jack didn’t respond, because he knew what she meant. The judge will say life, but when does it ever mean that? There will always be some rosy-eyed do-gooder ready to fight his corner, to campaign for his release, to say that it is wrong to cage someone up for ever. Even the Yorkshire Ripper found someone to speak up on his behalf, as if a portion of regret could somehow make up for thirteen dead. Jack believed that some people should never get out, because they’d foregone their right to a decent life, but sometimes it only took for the memories to fade, for the press to forget, and killers walked the streets again. What would happen in this case, if he was ever caught? What about Deborah and Jane? And now Rachel. She would bear those scars for the rest of her life, long after the physical wounds had healed. Why didn’t that ever seem to matter?

They both looked around when they heard a voice, and then the privacy curtain parted and a familiar face came into view. Joe Kinsella. He looked confused, his face filled with pain.

Laura took a deep breath and pulled away from Jack. Joe came over to her, and Jack saw tears in his eyes. Joe clenched his jaw as he tried to control his emotions.

Jack stepped out of the cubicle, not wanting to intrude on Joe’s distress. The curtain didn’t close though, so he watched as Joe took a deep breath and tried a smile, but it was forced. Joe wasn’t ready to crumble yet, not in public.

As Joe got close, Laura put her arms around him, and as he pulled himself closer, Jack heard her whisper, ‘I’m sorry, Joe. I should have got there quicker.’ Joe stepped back and took hold of her hands. ‘No, you saved her,’ he said quietly, his voice breaking as he pumped her hands. ‘I don’t know what will be left of her, but whatever there is, it will be thanks to you.’

Laura gave him a watery smile. ‘So what now?’

At that, Joe’s gaze hardened and he dropped her hands. ‘We catch him, that’s what.’

‘But we’re too involved,’ she said. ‘We might make mistakes, and it will haunt us, because he’s dragged us closer.’

‘No, that isn’t how it is,’ Joe said, his voice sterner than before. ‘It will haunt us if we don’t go after him. You saw him, Laura. You can take us nearer. You can describe him. Have you got a voice recorder on your phone?’

Laura nodded.

‘Good. Go to a dark room, or somewhere quiet where you can close your eyes. Like you said to Angel, think of him. His age. His size. His smell. How he held himself. All of those things will take us closer. Do that, and then let Carson know.’

Laura agreed, though the thought made her stomach roll. ‘I will. And what about you?’

Joe stroked his stubble and then looked up at Laura. ‘I’m going to wait for Rachel, to make sure she can cope.’ Some more tears came into his eyes, and he looked down and chewed his lip until they’d gone. ‘I’m not sure I’m the right person for her just now.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We weren’t serious, you know that,’ Joe said. ‘She would stay over, and we would be there for each other, you know, fulfilling a need, but we both knew it wasn’t going to last. And now this. It makes it serious, but she needs someone she can rely on, someone who really loves her. But then it makes me feel like a coward, because I’m running at the first sign of bad times. I thought I was better than that.’

‘Maybe she won’t want you that close,’ Laura said. ‘Be there, as a friend. Forget about how you were. That’s probably all she wants.’

Joe nodded. ‘I’ve called her parents, but they’re on holiday, so it’s just me until they get a flight. She needs them though. It’s time she stopped being a cop for a while and went back to being someone’s daughter.’

Laura hugged Joe again, but he pulled away sooner this time. He seemed more determined than before. ‘What about you?’ he said.

Laura looked through the gap in the curtain and looked at Jack. ‘I want to go home,’ she said.

He was in his chair in the living room, his hands gripping the arms. His clothes were covered in dust and he was sweating, the exertion of his dash from the factory. He had left the van behind and escaped on foot, running through alleys. Now he was back, the house was silent but he was wincing from the noise. Laughs. Shouts. Screams.

He closed his eyes. He thought of Doctor Barker again, but the memory he had wasn’t from the day before, but more than twenty years earlier. It was the doctor’s voice, friendly, caring, but it hadn’t changed anything. Then there were faces through the years. First girls, then women. He hadn’t hurt all of them. Some he had just followed and then fantasised about, and those were the special ones, the ones that hadn’t disappointed.

He was still aroused, unfulfilled from the attack before. He’d heard the sirens and known that he had to get away. But he also knew he’d only delayed the inevitable. They would come for him.

His fingers dug into the fabric. He thought of his mother. He had heard her, had sat on the landing, listened as she argued with his adoptive parents. He’d always felt that there was something missing from his life, and as he listened, he had wanted to go down, to see her, to let her see him. But he had been scared, not wanting to meet her in case she didn’t like what she saw. He had stood up, ready to go down, when he heard the final shout from her, and then the back door slammed.

That’s when he’d first heard them, the noises. It was just whispers then, so quiet that he could hardly hear them, and so he had to concentrate hard to work out what they were saying.

He heard footsteps. At first he thought they were rumbles in his head, but as he looked to the window he saw that it was a real noise, not the ones he heard most of the time. They were marching up the garden path.

He stared ahead. He had been expecting them ever since he had failed. He wouldn’t do anything to stop them. The door was unlocked. They could get him. He was ready.

The door banged against the wall as they burst in. He could hear mocking laughter, but as he looked up, their faces were full of menace. No one was laughing.

He didn’t say anything as they grabbed his arms and pulled him towards the door. It was his time.

Chapter Sixty-One

Jack went for a drive.

Laura was at home trying to revive herself after the horrors of the day’s events. Jack felt an intense need to protect her, to be with her, but he didn’t want to suffocate her. She said she needed her space to process what had happened, and had told Jack to go out and keep up with the investigation. She was even more determined to catch the killer now.

He didn’t know where to go at first. Joe was still at the hospital with Rachel, and so he just drove the country roads, enjoying the echo of the engine as he went along hedgerow lanes and the cool night breeze. But all the roads around Turners Fold seemed to head towards Blackley, the countryside spoiled eventually by the orange strips of street lighting that rolled down the seven hills of the town. The Whitcroft estate was on the fringes of Blackley, and Jack found himself driving towards it.

The estate seemed quiet, although the aroma of barbecues drifted in the warm night air, the laughs and chatter loud in the darkness. He thought he heard a bottle smash somewhere, and then there was a shout. A balmy Saturday night would bring the drinkers onto the streets, provide Dolby with the kind of story he wanted, even if it was only a few shots of teenagers sharing alcopops.

A couple of circuits didn’t reveal much, and so he cut onto the side streets, hoping to catch people looking like they were up to no good. Even the side streets were quiet though, and it didn’t look like Dolby was going to get much to write about. He was about to head away from the estate when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

‘Hello?’

‘Jack? Is that Jack?’

He recognised the voice straight away. It was Emma. She was slurring more than before, but there was something else there too. Her voice was higher, more frantic.

‘Emma, it’s me. Are you okay?’

‘They’ve taken him,’ she said, and then she started to sob.

‘Who have they taken?’

‘Simon. They’ve taken Simon.’

Jack gave a sigh of relief and then smiled to himself. They had him. It was over.

‘It’s okay, Emma, everything will be all right. Let the police do their job.’

‘It wasn’t the police,’ she said. ‘It was Don. I saw him.’ Her words came out thick with tears.

He pulled up to the kerb. ‘Calm down. Talk to me. What do you mean?’

Jack listened as Emma poured out the story between deep breaths.

‘I went to Simon’s house,’ she said. ‘I know where he lives. He doesn’t know that, but I saw his van one day, just at the side of his house. I waited outside and I saw him. So after you’d gone, I thought some more about what had happened, and I just needed someone to talk to. I went to his house, and I saw them, Don and two of his men, pulling him to a car.’

She started to cry again.

‘Why are they taking him, Jack? Did you tell Don what I said? Is that why?’

His mind raced with the implications. If they had taken PC Abbott, what if he wasn’t the killer? ‘Wait there,’ he said. ‘I’m on my way.’

He tried calling Laura, but there was no reply.

‘Shit!’ he said, his tyres screeching as he set off.

Laura sat on the side of the bath as the water filled the tub behind her, wincing as she took off her clothes, the stretching and moving aggravating her aches and bruises. She just needed to get herself clean, to somehow wash off the events of the day. She heard her phone ring but left it. She wanted to empty her mind so that she could recall her attacker.

She caught herself in the mirror as her clothes slipped to the floor, and she stepped forward to examine her bruises. There was a large one on her shoulder, and her elbow was grazed.

As she slid into the water, some of her tension slipped away. The bubbles gathered around her neck as she sank deeper into the water, the lavender scents relaxing her, and she closed her eyes. Suddenly the light and calmness of the bathroom was replaced by the darkness of the factory. The warmth of the water and the scent of the bubbles made her feel like she was floating, and she was able to take herself back to the deserted building, to the echoes and the dust.

Laura tried to recall her first impression of him, her glimpse through the gloom as he rose up. He was tall. That had been her first thought. And slim. No, it was more than slim. Skinny, so that he seemed to stoop, uncomfortable with his size. He wasn’t a big man. Just a tall one.