Cold Kill (39 page)

‘She’s also hurting,’ Laura said softly. ‘Let me speak to her, just to check.’

Joe looked like he was going to object, but Laura saw in his eyes an acceptance that what she had said made some sense. He gave the door a push and then stepped to one side.

The house was in darkness when Laura went in. The curtains were drawn, and whatever light there was came from the flicker of a small candle on a table in the corner of the room.

Rachel was sleeping on the sofa, or so it seemed. She was wrapped up in a blanket, her blonde hair fanning out over the edge of the cushion.

‘Rachel? Hi, it’s me. How are you?’

Rachel turned over so that she could see Laura, and then began to sit up.

‘No, please don’t get up,’ Laura said, her voice soft and low. As Rachel’s face caught the glow of the candle, Laura thought her eyes looked swollen and puffy from crying.

Rachel settled back down and then turned to look at Laura.

‘I’m not ill or anything,’ she said. ‘I’ve just taken a shock, that’s all.’

‘It’s not a sign of weakness,’ Laura said.

‘That’s how some will see it.’

‘Not the ones that matter,’ Laura said. ‘Take some time, make yourself right.’ When Rachel didn’t respond, Laura said, ‘We know who it is.’

Rachel stayed still for a moment, and then she looked at Laura. ‘Who is it?’

‘A police driver called Peter Williams,’ Laura replied, watching Rachel carefully. There was no look of surprise, and Laura thought she saw something else. Relief? ‘But you know that already, don’t you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We think Don Roberts has taken him. We don’t know where, but we need to find him before he kills him.’

Rachel took a deep breath, and then said, ‘I hope you fail.’

‘You told Don, didn’t you?’ Laura said.

Rachel stared at her, but Laura didn’t blink, didn’t waver, and then Rachel looked away, drawing the blanket around her shoulders.

Laura reached out and put her hand on Rachel, but it was shrugged off.

Joe appeared in the doorway, just a silhouette against the light shining in from outside. Laura nodded at him, by way of confirmation of what she had found out, before she headed for the car. Joe didn’t look at her as she went past.

Carson followed Laura outside, and when they were in the car, Laura nodded and then looked away.

Carson banged the steering wheel in anger and then simmered for a few seconds, before he snapped, ‘We need to find Roberts.’

Laura thought she saw Joe looking out of the window as Carson sped off.

Chapter Sixty-Five

It was dark, almost pitch black, as Jack approached the DR Security building. The street lights further along were broken, the glass pitted by holes, and the one right outside fizzed off and on, as if someone was trying to hotwire it. It was as if he was getting his impression of the building under a strobe light.

He could make out that it was squat and square, with a large roller shutter at the front, next to a more conventional office door and a small reinforced window. There was nothing preventing access to the front, but the flashes of light caught the gleam of barbed wire that topped high metal fencing. It ran down each side and along the back, so that access to the sides of the building was through two metal security gates.

He should call Laura to tell her, but he wanted to be sure. All he had was the word of a drunk and some guesswork.

His footsteps echoed as loud crunches as he walked slowly towards the roller shutter. He pressed his ear against the cold metal. He guessed that there was nothing behind it, just access into the building, like a garage entrance. There was no sound.

He moved slowly towards the office door, listening out for movement, expecting to be confronted. He didn’t breathe as he tried the handle, but the door was locked. He went to the small window, criss-crossed by wire, reinforced glass, and peered in, but he couldn’t see anything, the white office blind blocking his view. He stepped back to look for an outline of light, some sign that someone was inside, but there was nothing, just his own shadow against the glass.

He stepped back. The building looked empty. No noise. No lights. But there was another car there, not just Hoyle’s. As Jack peered into the patch of darkness behind the building, he saw the outline of a black car, an urban cruiser, barely visible, except for a glint from the windscreen. Jack’s mind flashed back to the cars outside Don’s house. It was the same type.

The security gates at each side of the building were six feet high, heavy metal, with sturdy struts going their length. He went to the one to his left and gave it a shake. It felt solid. He looked for a foothold to clamber over, but there was only a lock chamber. It would have to do.

He lifted his foot onto the lock and then gripped the struts, before hauling himself up. The gate clanged against its frame, the noise bouncing back from the brick wall at the end of the street. He paused to listen out for any doors opening, someone reacting to the noise. If he kept on going, he would be trapped. Still nothing. He let out a breath and his tongue flicked at his lips. His mouth was dry and his stomach was rolling with nerves. He decided to keep going. He knew he should call Laura, to tell her where he was, but he wanted to find out what was going on first.

He leaned back and threw his leg up, making more noise, the muscles in his thighs taut from the stretch. Then he forced his leg over and dropped to the ground on the other side. As he got his breath back, he became aware of the silence, and how much he had broken it.

Jack looked along the building. There was a window further along, to match the one on the other side, and his view was towards the cars parked behind. He tried to see through the darkness, to check for obstacles that might cause a noisy trip. The fence created some space for rubbish bins and so he knew he had to tread carefully. There were piles of cardboard, along with discarded pieces of metal that looked like broken car clamps.

His hands edged slowly along the wall, his feet feeling their way forward, trying to avoid a clang or a stumble. His clothes rustled against the bricks. The window crept into view, a faint glow of light getting closer. It wasn’t blocked out.

He dropped to his knees and shuffled to get under the window. He wanted to listen out for noise before he lifted himself up, to check that whoever was inside wasn’t right by the glass. There were voices, just bass rumbles. It was impossible to make out what was being said. He raised himself slowly. The glass came into view, and he wondered whether there was someone on the other side watching him.

The window was dirty, covered in dust and cobwebs, and so there was no clear view. He pressed his face to the glass and rubbed away a small circle in the dirt. The interior was visible, but if he could see in, then they could see him. His breath misted up the glass, but as it melted away, Jack saw a large open space, with two vans against the back wall. And there were people stood around, focussed on something in the middle of the room, cast in the light of a simple bulb. He rubbed some more dirt away from the window, used the mist from his breath to clean a neat circle.

And then Jack saw what they were standing around. Or rather who. It was a man on a small metal chair, his head pulled back.

Jack reached for his phone, about to call Laura, but he jumped when a scream came through the glass, a shriek of pure agony.

Shit. He stepped back and dropped his phone, stumbled against an old clamp bracket. He reached out with his hand but there was nothing there to stop him. He clattered against one of the large metal rubbish bins, the noise cutting through the night.

He cursed and went to his knees, scouring the ground for his phone, fingers scrambling around in the grit and debris. When his fingers bounced against it, he clicked it on to check that it was still working, and then eased himself back up to the window, to check whether anyone had heard him.

His heartbeat sounded loud as he peered into the glass. He dropped down again quickly, cursing, because everyone in there was looking towards the window.

Jack tried to stay still so that he could listen out, and then he heard the shouts. They were coming for him.

He ran for the locked gate, kicking rusted pieces of metal out of the way. He had to get back to his car, to phone for help. He took a jump at the gate, ready to go over the same way, his hands gripping the top, but then a large black shape appeared on the other side, his hands around the struts like a jailbird. Except that Jack was the one who was imprisoned.

‘You’ve made a big mistake,’ said a deep voice, and then there was the clink of the key as it went into the lock on the gate. As it swung slowly open with a creak, large hands went for him.

Chapter Sixty-Six

Carson banged on Don’s door.

‘If he’s got Williams, he’s not going to be here,’ Laura said.

‘I know that, but someone here must be able to talk,’ Carson snapped back, before banging again on the door.

There was a click as the door opened. It was Helen, Don’s wife.

‘Where is he?’ demanded Carson.

‘Who?’

‘Don’t piss me about. Your husband. Is he in?’

She stared at Laura, and then at Carson, and then shook her head. ‘He’s busy,’ she said and went to close the door.

Carson banged his hand on the door with such force that Helen was thrown back a few steps into the hall. He went inside, Laura right behind him.

They went into the living room. It was empty, but then Laura noticed the open bottle of vodka on the desk, next to a large bottle of cola.

‘It’s dangerous to drink on your own,’ Laura said, turning to Helen.

Before she could answer, there was a noise from the kitchen, and Angel, David Hoyle’s girlfriend, appeared.

‘She isn’t alone,’ Angel said.

Laura was surprised to see her, and she detected a slur to Angel’s voice. ‘What are you doing here?’ Laura said. ‘I didn’t know you were friends.’

Angel didn’t answer. She looked at Helen instead.

‘I get it,’ Laura said. ‘You’re here so that Helen can keep an eye on you, so that you don’t call me to tell me what David is doing, because you don’t look like the sort of person who hangs around with crooks and their families.’ When Helen folded her arms at that, Laura added, ‘And don’t you look so offended. We both know that more than hard work has given you all this.’

‘Cut the small talk,’ Carson said. ‘Sit down, both of you.’ Both women stayed on their feet, and so Carson pushed them, his fingers jabbing into their chests.

‘That’s assault,’ Angel shouted.

‘And I’m talking about murder, so leave your middle-class neurosis behind, and sit down,’ Carson snapped back.

Angel looked at Helen, and then went to sit next to her, her face set in a scowl.

‘What do you want?’ Helen said.

‘Your husband,’ Carson said.

‘I don’t know where he is.’

‘You’re lying,’ Carson said, before he looked towards Angel, stepping closer, making her cross her legs, protective, nervous. ‘You’d be popular in prison.’

‘Prison?’

‘Is there an echo in here?’ he said, tapping his knuckles on Angel’s head. ‘Yes, prison, and you’re a sweet middle-class girl, nice skin, nice figure. A step up from the usual druggies and angry dykes they get in there, so you’ll never get lonely, because it can be a killer in there, loneliness, when you’ve so much time to get through.’

‘Why would I go to prison?’

‘Assisting an offender,’ Carson said. ‘Maybe even conspiracy to murder, if we can sweet talk the prosecution into dragging everyone in. And you’re really fucked, because you promised to help us, but when it came down to it, you didn’t.’

‘You promised to help?’ Helen said.

‘Ignore her,’ Carson said. ‘Where is Don Roberts?’

Angel looked at Helen, and then back at Carson. ‘I can’t help you.’

‘Yes, you can, but this is your last chance,’ Laura said. ‘Call David. Tell him to call it off. Turn Williams in. David might even get a reward. But don’t kill Williams, or everyone’s life will be ruined. David’s. Don’s. Everyone.’

‘We don’t talk to the police,’ Helen said, her voice filled with a sneer.

‘You don’t, we know that,’ Carson replied. ‘But Angel isn’t like you. David dropped her here to make her stay quiet, and now David has gone with them to get revenge for Angel, but does she really want that?’ He looked at Angel. ‘Don’t side with Don. Let this end properly, and then David can go back to his life, doing what he does to make your life better. He’s crossed the line, but you don’t have to go with him.’

Angel’s chin was trembling, tears forming in her eyes. She looked at Helen.

‘Remember what we told you,’ Helen said, her eyes filled with menace.

Angel looked down and stayed silent. Helen folded her arms. They were going to get nothing else.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Strong hands gripped Jack’s shoulders and pushed him against the wall. His head banged hard against the brickwork. He had to focus to stop his knees from buckling, the night turning into colour-filled speckles of light. The smell of stale cigarettes filled Jack’s nostrils and spittle flecked his cheeks as his captor got up close, a forearm pushed against his throat.

Jack tried to see past the man, but it was too dark, the speckles fading. Shadows moved around him. There were noises, angry hisses, and a hand was in his pocket, searching. His phone was pulled out and Jack’s face was lit up by the screen as it was held in front of him. Jack could see a snarl and a shaved head, and the gleam of a silver ring that pierced an eyebrow. Then it went dark again as the phone was dropped to the floor, and the crunch of glass and plastic told Jack that it had been crushed under someone’s foot.

He was about to protest when he was pulled away from the wall, grabbed by his shirt, and pushed towards the open front door. His arms were pulled up behind him, and his head hit the door frame on the way in. His forehead went numb, and there was the warm trickle of blood in his eye.