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Authors: Karl Jones

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BOOK: The Reckoning
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TWENTY-SIX

 

The moment he reached the bridge Anderson
pulled over and got out of his car. He hurried over to where his partner was
waiting for him. “Okay, Dean, fill me in,” he instructed. “I only got the
highlights on the way here.”

Murphy turned away from the river to look at
his superior. “He got away, sir,” he reported regretfully. “Details are sketchy
at the moment but he appears to have crashed into the back of a van up the
street,” he pointed to where the car Michael Davis had stolen was, “and then
used the boy who was in the back to keep the officers who cornered him on the
bridge at bay. After a brief stand-off, he threw the boy into the river.”

“FUCK!” Anderson swore, not happy to hear
about that development. “Was he rescued?”

“Yes, sir.” Murphy nodded. “Two of the
constables on the bridge dived in after him; they were successful both in
rescuing and in reviving him. He’s just been taken away in an ambulance from
the spot downriver where they pulled him out.”

“Is he alright?”

“Impossible to say at this time, sir; he was
apparently breathing when he was loaded into the ambulance, at least according
to the report I received, but whether he’s suffered any long-term injury or
damage, I have no idea.” Murphy wished he knew the answer.

The possibility that the boy might have
suffered long-term injury or damage as a result of Michael Davis’ actions
troubled Anderson, but he realised there was nothing he could do about it.
There were other things for him to worry about, like capturing the teen.

“What happened after Davis threw the boy in
the river?”

“He ran for this end of the bridge with the
third constable, and a civilian, in pursuit. According to the reports from
eyewitnesses, the constable tackled Davis but he got free and made his way down
those steps.” Murphy indicated the steps that led down to the riverbank. “When
he reached the river he jumped onto a boat, fought with the owner briefly, and
then threw him overboard before stealing the boat. The constable made a jump
for the boat as it was pulling away from the bank.

“The witness reports says he managed to get
on board, where he fought with Davis. The boat almost crashed into another boat
that was coming downriver, and just after the near-collision the constable was
thrown overboard. After that, Davis disappeared round the bend.”

“Dammit! He’s a teen for God’s sake, how the
hell does he keep managing to get away?” Anderson asked of no-one in
particular. “Beating up girls is one thing; how in hell does he keep getting
away from men who should be able to kick his ass? He’s not a martial arts
expert or anything like that, is he?”

“Not as far as I’m aware, sir,” Murphy
answered.

Anderson sighed irritably. “And now he’s
disappeared again, I take it.”

“I’ve requested aerial surveillance from the
chopper; we’ve been given top priority by the chief superintendent and were
given immediate use of it,” Murphy said. “With any luck it will spot the boat
soon.” His voice was more hopeful than the expression on his face. “It headed
upriver a few minutes before you got here. If Davis is still on the river, it
shouldn’t take long to find him.”

“Good thinking,” Anderson said approvingly.
“What’s the situation with the owner of the boat Davis stole and the constable
he dumped in the river? Have they been rescued?”

“Yes, sir. They were both pulled out, with
civilian assistance, before I got here. The boat’s owner, Malcolm Ridpath, is
going to be fine; he’s been roughed up, he’s got bumps and bruises, and he
swallowed more water than is good for him, but other than that, he’ll be okay.”

“And the constable?”

Murphy grimaced. “Well, he’s still alive,” he
said, projecting as much positivity as he could. “Beyond that, I can’t say. He
was unconscious when he was pulled from the river. To be honest, I don’t know
anything more about him,” he admitted with a shrug. “Like the boy, he was on
his way to the hospital before I got there.”

Anderson was silent for several long moments.
“There’s no point worrying about him now,” he said finally. “There’s nothing we
can do for him, he’s in the hands of the professionals, they’ll take care of
him. We have more important things to worry about; get patrol cars to every
bridge and lock, with orders to keep an eye out for Davis, and get officers to
every location with good access to the river. There has to be places they can
watch from.”

“Yes, sir.” Murphy immediately took out his
radio and began issuing orders, thankful that they had been given priority
access to all personnel.

TWENTY-SEVEN

 

Donna was more than a little relieved when her
phone rang, giving her an excuse to get away from the reporter. “Constable
Harp,” she answered the phone.

“Donna, it’s Jason.”

“Hi, Jason, good timing on the call,” she
said, not able to keep the relief she was feeling from her voice. “I was
cornered by one of the reporters and couldn’t seem to get away.”

“I would I could say that saving you from
reporters is why I called,” Jason remarked as he set about making coffee for
himself, Lily and Justin Over. “Unfortunately, that isn’t the case. I have
someone here who needs to talk to you, well not you specifically, but they need
to speak to a police officer; can you spare the time to come up here?”

“Sure, but who needs to speak to me?” Donna
asked curiously. As she spoke, she made her way up the road to Jason’s house.

She was surprised when Jason told her who
wanted to speak to her, and she quickened her pace. She was keen to find out
why Justin Over wanted to talk to a police officer, and not for an interview,
it didn’t make sense to her.

Just over five minutes after leaving the pub
car park, Donna reached Jason’s front door. She knocked the moment she got
there and stepped back to wait; she was only on the doorsteps for a few seconds
before the door swung open.

“Come in,” Jason invited, moving aside.

“Mr Over?” Donna asked as she entered the
living room, there was only one stranger in the room so she had no problem
identifying the reporter. “You want to speak to me,” she said when he nodded.

“Yes, Constable,” Justin said, with a second
nod. “I was hoping for a more senior officer,” he remarked, “but that doesn’t
matter. I’ve found something I think you need to see; evidence that’s connected
to the Michael Davis case.”

That surprised Donna. “What have you found?”
Unless there was another victim she couldn’t imagine what the journalist might
have discovered, and she didn’t imagine there were any more victims, not in
Greenville anyway. There was no-one else missing from the village.

“I believe I’ve found where Michael Davis
took the girls before he killed them,” Justin said, sipping at his coffee,
which he had been nursing for the past ten minutes. It was practically cold,
but he had no problem drinking cold coffee.

“We already know where Michael took the
girls,” Donna said.

“I know, the farmhouse over there.” Justin pointed
in the general direction of the ruined building. “But I don’t think the barn at
the back of the yard was checked; I found a rope hanging from a beam and a pile
of girls’ clothes. I don’t know exactly what happened in there, I’m not sure I
want to know – he did and he didn’t want to know, he suspected it would be
pretty horrific, but at the same time it would enhance his story – but I’m sure
you need to record the evidence.

Donna realised that he was right; even if the
evidence was unnecessary for proving that Michael Davis was guilty of the rapes
and murders, it might help to clear up some details.

“You’d better show me what you’ve found,” she
said. “Jason, would you mind coming with us?” she asked, thinking it would be
helpful if she had someone with her who knew about proper procedure, to stop
her making any mistakes that would render the evidence useless.

 

*****

 

Donna stood in the middle of the ruined barn,
unable to take her eyes from the length of rope that hung from the beam in the
middle of the antique property. Try though she did, she couldn’t stop thinking
about what Emma Water must have gone through. It had been one thing to sit in a
comfortable office and listen while the pathologist described what the young
girl had endured, it was another entirely for her to stand in the place where
Emma had suffered so terribly at the hands of Michael Davis.

“Donna.” Jason took her arm and gently turned
her away from the rope. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“What, oh, yes,” Donna said with a nod as she
came out of her reverie. “I’m fine, it’s just…I’ve never been anywhere where
something so horrible was done to someone. I can’t help thinking about what the
pathologist said; she was strung up, and left to hang by her arms for hours
before he murdered her.” She swallowed uncomfortably against the thoughts and
images that ran through her mind, and fought the urge that made her eyes want
to return to the rope. “It must have been terrible for her, being left hanging
in here all afternoon, not knowing what was going to happen to her. Then, when
she’s finally cut down, it’s so she can suffer worse.” She shook her head
sadly.

Jason smiled as sadly as the constable. “It
doesn’t matter how many times you find yourself in a place where something evil
has been done,” he said, “you never get used to it, at least I never have. It
always sends shivers up and down my spine.” It was a bit of an exaggeration,
after more than fifteen years, he had become inured to the sensations inspired
by such places, for the most part at least. He didn’t want Donna to know that,
though, he didn’t want to discourage her from her chosen career. “I don’t think
we need to stay here any longer,” he remarked, “unless there’s anything you
think we need to do.”

Donna shook her head. “I can’t think of
anything; no surprise there, though. You’ve got Emma’s clothes bagged up,” she
observed, her eyes moving to the clear plastic bag in Jason’s hand. “I guess
I’d better call DI Anderson and fill him in on the latest, not that I imagine
he’s going to care all that much.” She looked over at Justin after saying that,
realising that it wasn’t a great idea for her to say anything that might be
construed as negative in front of the journalist.

TWENTY-EIGHT

 

While the Force’s chopper circled overhead, Anderson
stood on the riverbank next to the boat that Michael Davis had stolen, and then
abandoned. From his position he watched as the officers under his command
searched the bank for any clue to where the teen murderer had gone.

The ringing of his phone distracted him from
his men. The distraction irritated him, though at the same time it filled him
with the hope that there was good news with regard to Michael Davis.
“Anderson.” The number on the screen wasn’t one he recognised, but he realised
that that didn’t mean much.

“Sir, it’s Constable Harp.”

“What can I do for you, Constable?” Anderson
asked, though in truth he had no interest in what she might have to say; he was
sure that, whatever her reason for calling, it wasn’t something he needed to be
bothered with.

“There’s been a development, Sir,” Donna
reported. She was glad to be out of the barn, which had left her feeling as
though she needed a shower to wash herself clean.

Anderson didn’t respond straight away, he was
too busy uttering a silent hope that he was not going to have to deal with
another problem. “What sort of development?” he asked finally.

“The location where Michael murdered Emma
Water has been discovered,” Donna answered, “and I’ve found the clothes that
Emma was wearing when she was grabbed, they’ve been bagged up for evidence.”

Anderson fought the urge to swear.
“Congratulations, Constable,” he said through gritted teeth. “That information
isn’t of any use to me at this time, though. Right now, I’m more interested in
trying to find Michael Davis than I am in worrying about where he might have
committed his crimes. Unless you have some clue to where he is or where he
might be going, I suggest you don’t disturb me again.” With that, he ended the
call, jabbing at the disconnect button in his frustration. “Anything?” he
called out to his partner.

“No, Sir,” Murphy replied with a shake of his
head. “Nothing so far, we’ll find something soon, though,” he said confidently.
“It’s just a matter of time before we catch him.”

Anderson grunted at that; he didn’t feel half
as confident as his partner, and nowhere near as confident as he had a few
hours before. Somehow, Michael Davis, despite being a teen of only average
intelligence, and not possessed of any special skills, had succeeded in evading
capture, repeatedly. In doing so he had made them all look like fools.

“What do you think the chances are that he’ll
go to a friend for help?” he asked of Murphy, he didn’t think it very likely,
but he was interested in hearing what his partner thought, and why.

“Well, I don’t think he’s going to be
returning to that village anytime soon,” Murphy said after thinking about the
question for a few moments. “Everyone there knows what he did, so he’s not
likely to get any help from them, no matter how good friends they are; not only
that but he’d be risking his life. If the parents of any of the girls he killed
caught him, there’d be a lynching on the village green.”

Anderson nodded at that. Michael Davis wasn’t
the smartest person around, at least not according to the information he had on
the teen, but Anderson couldn’t imagine that Davis was stupid enough to put
himself in such a dangerous position, no matter how desperate he was.

“If he has friends outside the village,
though,” Murphy continued, “it’s possible he’ll go to them. I know what he did,
and the fact that he’s escaped, has been all over the news, but any friends he
has are likely to be around the same age as him, in which case they probably
don’t pay much attention to the news. They probably won’t know what he’s done,
or that he’s wanted by us.

“I wouldn’t like to bet on it, but I wouldn’t
like to bet against it, either.”

“That’s what I thought,” Anderson said, glad
his partner was as uncertain as he was. “Will you be okay if I leave you to
handle the search here?” he asked.

“Sure, where are you going to be?”

“Worth should have made it back from
Greenville with the list Constable Harp found by now; if Davis has any friends
in town, or nearby, they’ll most likely be on that list,” Anderson said. “I
think it’s important to track down the names on that list and determine the
likelihood of him going to any of them.”

BOOK: The Reckoning
12.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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