[DC Laura McGanity 05 ]Cold Kill Page 28

  Laura set off in the direction of the van, wanting to get behind it but not wanting to spook the driver. She tried to see along the towpath, to check that Rachel was still there, but the canal curved away, so that she couldn’t see much more than twenty yards ahead. She looked along the road. Laura thought that it returned to the canalside around half a mile further along, just before the houses started.

  She followed the road round, past the shells of old mills, the roofs crumbled to just trestles, the windows sealed shut with metal plates to keep people away. But people still found a way in, and so the metal shutters hung a bit loose, and Laura guessed that the inside would be littered with discarded needles and old beer cans.

  As the road curved back round to the canal, Laura felt a jolt. She couldn’t see the van. She should have caught it up by now. And where was Rachel? She should have appeared by now too. What if she had stopped for a rest? Or would she be further along and almost home?

  As the road got closer to the canal, Laura saw that there was a place to park in front of some old wooden bollards, now almost covered by trailing blackberry bushes. Laura climbed out of the car and looked around. The streets were deserted, the evening rush hour gone, and so all she had were shadows as she tried to get her bearings. She was nervous, aware of how deserted it was. She stopped by the bank and looked along both ways, her feet making soft crunches in the gravel as she turned, but it seemed loud as the sound bounced off the water and the high wall on the other side. What would she say if Rachel appeared around the bend? Except that Rachel didn’t appear. There was no other sound, apart from the soft brush of trailing branches along the canal surface, the only ripple in the dark ribbon of water that curved round to the heavy black lock-gates Laura could see in the distance. Rachel could not have got that far ahead, not in the time she had.

  Laura turned around, unsure what to do, waiting for the wail of sirens.

  Then she heard a noise, like a scream and a bang.

  Laura tracked the noise, her senses heightened. It had come from further back, from the direction she had come from. Laura moved slowly along the towpath, looking for shadows moving in the bushes that grew over it, waiting for an attack. She wished that she had brought a pepper spray with her. The towpath ran alongside a patch of open ground and an old factory further along, with holes in the roof and the windows like all the rest, made tight by metal plates.

  Her ears were keen as she went, listening out. There were some bushes ahead, and long branches that trailed forward, but she knew that the noise had come from further away. She kept on walking, swatting away the midges that were enjoying the final strains of daylight. The old factory was a hundred yards further along, but all she could hear was the slow crunch of her feet and the nervous rasps of her breaths. She could feel her heartbeat, like someone tapping on her chest.

  Then she saw it, the van, the back corner just visible behind the factory.

  Laura ran, every cell in her body telling her that something wasn’t right. Her breaths came faster, adrenaline coursing through her, as she strained to get to the factory.

  She threw herself against the factory wall, all in shadow, and looked along the brickwork. She was closer to the van now and so she knew that it was the same one. She wiped her forehead with her hand, slick with sweat from the exertion. Laura crept along, her back pressed against the wall, trying to keep her breaths quiet, her phone in her hand, ready to dial as soon as she saw something to report. The bricks were cold through her shirt, her back clammy, and the ground was uneven and littered with old cigarette ends and beer cans. There was a bag on the ground nearby that looked like it might have once had glue inside. She tried to be as quiet as possible, her footsteps just light squeaks on damp grass, and when she got to the end of the wall, she put her head round slowly. The van was there, the engine off, the doors closed.

  Laura looked at the floor for a second, deciding what to do. She was on her own, but she knew that time was important. Then she looked along the wall again and saw something. It was an old door, propped against a window opening, just along from the van, but the window didn’t have the usual metal plate over it. It looked like there might be a way into the building.

  Laura walked slowly towards it, checking behind her as she went, her back still against the wall.

  The door was old and splintered. When Laura moved it back, she was able to look behind it and into the gloom of the factory. She had to let her eyes adjust, some light crept in from behind her, but it was still mostly dark, starting to match the evening outside, but she could tell that the building was huge and empty. Her efforts with the door seemed to echo inside. There were rectangular outlines of light along the walls, the remnants of the day trying to creep in around the metal plates opposite, and the holes in the roof let in straight beams of light that caught the dust thrown up by the movement of the door.

  Then she heard something again. It was the sound of movement, scuffling on the floor, then a muffled shout. No, not a shout. A muffled scream.

  Laura scrambled over the wide stone sill to get inside and looked along the walls to make sure that no one was waiting for her.

  ‘Hey, who’s there?’ she shouted. It echoed back. She took her phone out of her pocket.

  The muffled screams started up again, the sounds of a struggle, feet kicking on the floor. Then there was movement further into the building, towards the wall at the other end. Someone was crouching down, and there was motion, a flurry.

  ‘Stop it!’ Laura shouted, and began to run in the direction of the movement. The floor was covered in debris and loose cables, with metal brackets sticking up, but Laura knew that she couldn’t afford to tiptoe her way through. She jabbed 999 on her phone and shouted out where she was when the phone was answered.

  It got darker as she got further in, but when she got within twenty yards of the shape, she saw that whoever was on the floor was struggling, the legs kicking up.

  Laura shouted again, and then she saw a shadow get bigger and turn towards her.

  It was a man, she could tell that from the height, and as Laura’s eyes shot back to the floor, she saw that there was still someone there. The remnants of light that streamed in through a hole in the roof shone back off bare skin. There were more muffled shouts, and as Laura processed what she could see, she knew that it was Rachel on the floor.

  ‘It’s over!’ Laura shouted, stepping closer. ‘Move away from her.’

  The shadow didn’t move. It looked like he was all in black, not much visible in the poor light, although Laura could tell that he was coming towards her.

  ‘Stop now!’ Laura shouted, her arms out, making herself look big. ‘You’re under arrest. You’re done.’

  Laura shivered and felt the hairs on her neck stand up as she heard a chuckle, deep and mean. Her ears went keen, and she heard the noise of sirens. There was no flicker of blue lights though, and so it was still just her and the shadow, now around fifteen feet from her.

  Laura stepped forward. ‘They’re on their way now,’ she said, a tremble in her voice. ‘It’s over.’

  The shadow moved towards her. It was fight or flight, Laura knew that now, and she was choosing fight. All the self-defence moves she knew raced through her head, but they scrambled for attention, and all she could do was follow her instincts. She took one more step forward. Then she saw it. The raised arm. He was holding something. No, not holding. Aiming. She stopped, her breathing halted. Then there was that chuckle again.

  There was a noise, like a whistle in the air, and then it seemed like everything stopped working. Her arms went down, her legs straight, there was a sharp pain in her chest, and then she was falling backwards, the holes in the roof swirling, her muscles not working. Nothing was working. She hit the floor hard and went into spasms, her feet thrashing on the floor, her teeth clenched. She couldn’t do anything as he came towards her, his steps heavy. Her brain registered that he was standing over her, looking down, his head cocked to one side.

&
nbsp; Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Laura lifted her head off the floor and tried to roll onto her front. The spasms had ended now, but she felt drained and sweaty, her shirt sticking to her chest. Her head had hit the floor, so she reached behind gingerly, and then winced when her hand came into contact with damp hair. She knew that the stickiness on her fingers was blood.

  The attacker had gone now, or at least it seemed that way. The sirens were getting louder. He must have made his escape before the cars arrived.

  She rubbed her chest. She knew what she had been hit with. It hadn’t been a gun, or at least not one with bullets. It had been a Taser, a stun gun, two electrically charged wires with a fine needle on the end of each one. It had dug into her chest and paralysed her muscles, sent her into spasms on the floor. He had stood over her to take the needles out and then he had gone.

  She creaked to her knees, panting hard, her hair hanging down in sweaty trails, sticking to her forehead. Then she crawled over to the form on the floor. Rachel was lying in a foetal position, choking noises coming from her.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Laura said, tears streaming down her face now. She reached into Rachel’s mouth and started to scoop out the grit and small stones, throwing them onto the floor, Laura’s fingers caked in saliva and vomit. She got enough out so that Rachel could start to spit out the rest, and Laura put her arms round Rachel’s shoulder as she gagged and spat onto the floor.

  Once her mouth was empty, Rachel began to wail, but it came in short bursts as the air tried to force its way back into her lungs. Laura held her close, tried to be a comfort, but tears were running down her own face. Rachel’s hands were still cuffed, and so all she could do was submit to Laura’s hold. The horror of what had happened struck Laura hard. ‘I should have got here sooner, I’m sorry. It’s all over now.’

  Rachel’s head dipped onto Laura’s shoulder, and she felt her neck go damp.

  Where were the police vans? She pulled out her phone and dialled Joe’s number, but when it started to ring, she felt sick, knew that she didn’t want to pass on the news. She couldn’t call him with Rachel crying and retching next to her, and she couldn’t let Rachel go, not here, alone, in a dark and derelict factory. She clicked off the phone.

  Laura thought of the police cars that should be on their way, Rachel’s colleagues heading for them. She used her phone to cast some light, and as she ran it up Rachel’s body, she saw that she was still wearing her vest although it was torn, but there was nothing below her waist apart from her running shoes. There were red scratches on the inside of her thighs, her skin like a pale glow in the light of the screen.

  ‘Are there stones anywhere else?’ Laura asked, quietly.

  Rachel looked at her, her mouth trembling, her eyes rimmed red and wide with fear. Then she nodded slowly and looked down.

  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.’