Death Do Us Part (DI Damen Brook 6) Read online

  ‘Come on, come on.’ A warning noise from the phone. The battery was flat. Reardon hurled the device at a wall, screaming then immediately putting a hand over her mouth when she realised she might be heard.

  Trying to think, she remembered the Range Rover sitting on the drive and sifted through the detritus on the table for the keys. They weren’t there. Looking round, she moved across to the French windows, peering out over the rear of the farm, at the mature lawn, the brick outhouses and beyond, the rolling fields across to Findern and safety. She tried the handle but the doors were locked and the keys weren’t there. Worse, Sargent wasn’t stomping around on the lawn or pawing at the glass for a walk or a ball to chase. She closed her eyes. Please God, let Sargent be okay.

  Turning back, her eye alighted on the unblinking scrutiny of the wall-mounted camera. ‘Where are you, Ray?’ she pleaded at the lens as though it could answer. ‘Help me!’ She retraced her steps to the hall, gaze averted from the savagery, and dashing out towards the front door ran straight into the burly figure of Luke Coulson.

  She screamed and pushed herself away, raising her arms in a defensive stance, eyes widening in fear.

  Luke was short and a little dumpy, but powerful through the shoulders. His nose was studded with blackheads and his hair was greasy and pushed back from his pockmarked face. Reardon tried not to stare at the bloodied butcher’s knife in his reddened hand.

  His clothes, strangely, were free of blood, and she realised he was wearing some of her father’s – corduroys and a checked shirt – which were a little baggy on him. Simultaneously she registered the plastic bag in his other hand, bulging with the bloody clothing he’d been wearing as he’d pulled the knife across JJ’s throat. The bag handles were tied in a tight knot but blood had accumulated in one corner and was dripping on to the floor through the plastic.

  ‘Hello, Reardon,’ Luke said shyly, his eyes running up and down her long, slim legs, smiling at first before a look of dismay distorted his features when he saw her swollen face. He held out a hand, but she shrank back. ‘You’re hurt,’ he said, the speech impediment that had limited his verbal contributions at school pronounced in the deathly quiet of the farm.

  ‘Yes, I’m fucking hurt,’ she spat, finding some useful anger. She was shocked at her thick voice, as though she’d had gas at the dentist, and blood and saliva sprayed from her damaged mouth. ‘Where’s Sargent?’

  ‘Your dog? JJ gave him some meat. I don’t know what was in it. I think he’s all right.’ Reardon inched to her left for a clear sight of the door, but Luke was alert. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I have to leave,’ she said warily, not taking her eyes from him. Freedom was just yards away.

  Luke dropped his gaze to the bloodied Crocs on her feet. ‘You’ve seen them.’ Reardon gulped and dipped her head, unable to speak. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, smiling to reassure her. ‘They were nice.’ He glanced up at the security camera then back at Reardon. ‘But your dad shouldn’t have shouted. He shouldn’t have chased me.’

  ‘What?’ said Reardon, dumbfounded.

  ‘He didn’t give me much choice,’ said Luke. Dismayed at her shocked expression, he smiled again, trying to affect levity. ‘I had to borrow some of his clothes. I hope you don’t mind.’

  Baffled, she shook her head. ‘What have you done with Ray?’ she said, sounding out the words as though teaching a language.

  ‘Your brother? Nuffin’.’

  ‘He was here,’ said Reardon. ‘But now his car’s gone.’

  Luke grinned. ‘Then it’s just you and me.’

  ‘What have you done with him?’ she said more forcefully.

  Luke’s face contorted in anger. ‘I just told you.’

  Reardon swallowed, glancing gimlet-eyed at the knife. She held out her hands to pacify. ‘Please put the knife down.’

  ‘Knife?’ Luke looked enquiringly at her then in surprise at the weapon in his bloodstained hand. His expression darkened. ‘I didn’t want to. I had no choice. You shouldn’t have let JJ do that. He doesn’t love you.’

  Reardon trembled at Luke’s sudden animation, realising she wouldn’t have the strength to outrun him. Thinking weakness might rile him further, she tried to rustle up some aggression. ‘Look at my face, Luke. I didn’t let him. He made me.’

  Luke stared, and a smile of understanding slowly creased his features. ‘He made you. He hit you.’

  ‘Yes, he hit me.’

  ‘Then you don’t love him.’

  ‘Of course I don’t fucking love him,’ she snapped, holding back the tears.

  ‘But he was your boyfriend,’ insisted Luke.

  ‘A lifetime ago. But I don’t love him now. Why do you think he hit me?’

  ‘I didn’t realise …’

  ‘Tell me where my brother is.’

  ‘I haven’t seen him,’ insisted Luke, irritation catching in his voice. ‘Why do you keep asking?’

  ‘Because I’m worried about him.’ She glanced at the front door, but her path was still blocked, then back towards the kitchen, where her parents lay butchered. She was trapped. She had to get past Luke and on to the drive. ‘His car’s gone.’

  ‘Car?’

  ‘The silver Porsche.’

  ‘Sweet ride,’ nodded Luke. He pulled a cotton bag from his belt and rummaged around. She saw her father and mother’s watches and rings and a wad of cash. A second later, he held out the Range Rover’s key fob. ‘These were in your mum’s handbag.’

  ‘They’re for the Ranger Rover,’ said Reardon softly.

  ‘I would’ve preferred the Porsche,’ said Luke sulkily.

  ‘Can I have those then?’ asked Reardon, nodding at the key fob.

  Luke shook his head. ‘Think I’m gonna need ’em.’ His lip wobbled and he seemed suddenly close to tears. ‘I’m in trouble, ain’t I?’

  Reardon tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t end up with Luke stabbing her.

  ‘Ain’t I?’ he screamed.

  She jumped out of her skin and nodded, her speech ragged and breathless. ‘Yes, Luke. You’re in trouble.’

  She braced herself for the consequences of her admission, but suddenly Luke’s anger dissipated and his eyes sparkled. ‘You remember my name.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You remember me,’ grinned Luke. ‘From school.’

  Reardon hesitated. ‘Of course I remember you. You’re JJ’s friend. You were in Ray’s year.’

  ‘I was in your year,’ he snarled, tightening his grip on the knife.

  ‘Yes. I remember now,’ panted Reardon, holding out her hands in self-defence. She scrambled to get her wits back. ‘It’s just you seemed so much older.’

  Luke’s grin reappeared. ‘Older?’

  ‘Much older,’ said Reardon, breathless at the deceit. ‘I’m surprised.’

  ‘You noticed me at school, then.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Luke’s expression hardened. ‘That’s funny, because whenever I was near you, you acted like I weren’t there.’

  ‘I … it wasn’t deliberate, Luke.’ She cast around for a palliative. ‘But you were very quiet. You never spoke to me either.’

  Luke looked at the floor, nodding. ‘I couldn’t. I daren’t.’ He gestured at his mouth. ‘Not with this.’ He looked sheepishly at his feet. ‘I love you, Reardon. From the first minute I saw you. You were beautiful.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You still are!’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ said Reardon, trying to load sympathy into her voice.

  ‘You must of.’

  ‘I didn’t, I swear. You … you should have told me.’

  ‘Yeah?’ scoffed Luke. ‘And have people laughing their arses off at me like JJ done. He wet himself. Said you was popular. Reardon’s clever and fit, he said. A girl like her wouldn’t never look at a freak like you, he said. Not without pissing herself.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have laughed.’

  ‘You did laugh,’ said Luke, his eyes burning into
her. ‘JJ told Ray I loved you. He said Ray laughed. And next day Ray told JJ he told you and that you laughed so hard you were almost sick …’

  ‘It’s not true.’

  ‘He told JJ to tell me you said I was a fucking loser.’ Luke raised the knife and Reardon took a sidestep that moved her closer to the front door, her hands held in front, palms open.

  ‘Ray never said anything, Luke. You have to believe me. Is that why you’re here now? To pay me back for something that didn’t happen?’

  ‘I … it was JJ’s idea. You did the same to him.’

  ‘It’s not true.’

  ‘Said you treated him like shit and he wanted to talk to you, tell you how he felt.’

  ‘He was lying, Luke. He didn’t want to tell me anything. He wanted to hurt me. Look!’ she exclaimed, gesturing at her face.

  Luke looked shamefaced at the floor. ‘When he was hurting you, I felt bad.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I couldn’t just stand there,’ he continued, encouraged. ‘I had to stop him.’

  ‘You did a good thing, Luke,’ she said, slow and clear. With a sudden inspiration, she added, ‘You saved me.’

  A shy smile invaded Luke’s features. ‘I did, didn’t I? That’s because I love you.’

  ‘I know that. Now.’ She paused, trying to smile. ‘But if you really love me, Luke, you’ll let me go.’

  ‘You didn’t laugh at me?’

  ‘Never. You and Ray were just kids. He never said a word about you. He was taking the piss. That’s what teenage boys do. Now please put the knife down.’

  Luke dropped the knife and the tension in Reardon’s shoulders eased a notch. ‘I wouldn’t have hurt you, Reardon. Promise.’

  ‘I know.’ Breathing easier, Reardon moved slowly to the door. ‘I’m leaving now.’

  Luke’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You’re afraid of me.’

  ‘No. It’s just …’

  ‘You are! And that’s not what I wanted. Is it because of what I done to JJ?’

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘I had to. I’m not like him. You have to believe that.’

  Reardon swallowed hard as he opened his arms and advanced on her. She couldn’t bring herself to move closer, but it didn’t matter as he stepped in to her and pushed his face into her neck, sighing like a well-fed puppy. He stank of fear and sweat and blood. She felt his hot breath on her neck as his hands pressed on her shoulder blades, pulling her body to him. She eyed the knife, but it was out of reach. Instead she laid a hand on his broad back, tilting her head away. He moved his mouth over her ear to speak.

  She pulled away and stared at him, her eyes fixed on his beseeching expression. Finally, she nodded. ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘No sign of life,’ mumbled DC Kevin Drinkwater, lowering binoculars as he crouched on the drive in front of the farm.

  ‘The Thorogood girl said it was a massacre.’ Detective Sergeant Rachel Caskey narrowed her eyes, hand subconsciously held to the pendant under her shirt. ‘She mentioned a dog.’

  Drinkwater flicked at his radio and put the question out there. A voice crackled on the radio.

  ‘They’ve found the dog,’ relayed Drinkwater. ‘Seems to be breathing. Looks like it’s been drugged.’

  ‘That’s bad,’ said Caskey.

  ‘Sarge?’

  ‘Drugs smack of planning, and planning is bad. A random is one thing …’ Caskey turned to the heavily padded uniformed sergeant in a baseball cap on his haunches a few feet away. ‘What do you reckon, Tink?’

  ‘Looks quiet,’ said Authorised Firearms Officer Ellis Tinkerman. ‘And no vehicles. The bird may have flown.’

  ‘The victim said there was a Range Rover and maybe a Porsche,’ said Drinkwater. ‘We put them out on the wire. No hits yet.’

  ‘Then my team had better saddle up,’ murmured Tinkerman. He thumbed the radio on his epaulette. ‘This is Bronze Commander …’

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for the chopper?’ said Caskey.

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘About ten minutes out of Bradford.’

  Tinkerman considered. ‘That’s too long.’ He thumbed at his radio again, giving the signal. ‘Be quick and small,’ he added, raising his large frame into a crouching position – harder than it looked in his uncomfortable-looking garb of black combat trousers, heavy-duty black boots and black flak jacket – then broke into a trot, the carbine nestled easily under his right arm. Similarly dressed firearms officers stood in unison around the farmhouse and advanced from all directions on the property, each making haste without quite running but all hunched to present the smallest target.

  Three officers arrived at the front door while others disappeared behind the building. At the front, one of the AFOs waited with the enforcer ram, while another had his hand poised on the handle. When the door opened, he pushed it back and the second AFO put down the ram and disappeared into the murk beyond, looking first left, then right, gun held high against his cheek. Tinkerman and the other officer fell in behind, their weapons poised, glancing all about as they entered the building.

  Caskey and Drinkwater crouched to wait, ears cocked for gunfire, but all they heard was the word Clear shouted at short intervals, so they moved slowly towards the farmhouse.

  ‘Sounds like he’s in the wind, guv,’ said Drinkwater.

  ‘Then let’s hope he has a plan,’ said Caskey.

  ‘Guv?’

  ‘A spree killer with nowhere to run is a dangerous animal.’

  ‘He’s had a few hours’ start. Could be anywhere.’

  Caskey nodded faintly and flicked at her mobile, then held it to her ear. ‘Still no answer from DI Ford,’ she cursed.

  ‘Maybe he’s …’ Drinkwater hesitated before tailing off, wishing he hadn’t started the sentence.

  Caskey gave him an admonishing glare before coming to a decision. ‘Get someone round to his house, Kev. Pick him up.’

  ‘Guv,’ he acknowledged, turning to comply.

  Caskey’s radio crackled. We’re all clear. Three down, all dead. She fired off an acknowledgement before setting off towards the farmhouse.

  ‘That’s an awful lot of claret,’ said Tinkerman, staring at the intertwined bodies of Monty and Patricia Thorogood from the edge of the blood pool. Caskey was equally saucer-eyed, unable to reply.

  ‘Just a bit,’ replied Drinkwater, eyes also glued to the carnage.

  ‘Tap an artery like that and there’s no way back,’ said Tinkerman, indicating Reardon’s mother. ‘Looks like the husband was trying to protect her from the perp.’

  ‘True love,’ quipped Drinkwater.

  ‘Sorry, did I make a joke?’ retorted Tinkerman. Drinkwater reddened.

  ‘Go check if there’s any news on the Range Rover, Kev,’ said Caskey. Drinkwater shuffled past the pool of blood, heading for the front door.

  ‘You okay, Rachel?’

  Caskey blinked and turned to face Tinkerman. ‘Whatever he did, it wasn’t enough to save her.’

  ‘At least he tried.’

  Caskey nodded. ‘That’s something. Anything in the grounds?’

  Tinkerman answered his radio, on the move. ‘We’ve checked the perimeter.’ He turned at the door with a further glance down at the entwined bodies. ‘The site’s secure. The other deceased is in one of the bedrooms. Blood trail all the way from here. Looks like one of the perps did the parents first, then went for the daughter only to find she was already taken.’

  ‘And a difference of opinion ensued,’ observed Caskey.

  ‘Boyfriend?’

  ‘Not according to the Thorogood girl. Both were perps.’

  ‘So one perp killed the other perp over her,’ nodded Tinkerman. ‘No honour amongst rapists. I don’t envy you clearing this lot up, Rachel. You should ditch CID and get back to shooting bad guys. Life’s a lot simpler in Armed Response.’

  ‘Life is never simple,’ said Caskey, trying to force out a smile.

  ‘Copy that,’ said Tinkerman. �
��Outside if you need us.’

  ‘Guv!’ said DC Drinkwater, hurrying in. ‘Traffic pulled over the Range Rover on the M25. Provisional ID on our suspect. They’ve got him.’

  Caskey looked at her watch. ‘M25 – he didn’t hang about. Any trouble?’

  Drinkwater shook his head. ‘Meek as a mouse.’

  ‘Chalk one up to the Black Rats. What happened?’

  ‘A patrol spotted the car parked at South Mimms and staked it out. Seemed the guy was off buying fizzy drinks and Mars bars and walked straight into their arms.’

  ‘Outstanding.’

  ‘It gets better,’ said Drinkwater. ‘He had clothes in a bag in the boot to dump but hadn’t got round to it. Blood caked all over them. Plus he had inscribed watches, gold coins and cash. It’s a slam dunk.’

  Caskey’s smile was slight but enduring. ‘Good enough. This’ll be a nice win for the guv’nor. Get the tape up, Kev, and scramble a SOCO team, stat.’

  Two

  Thirteen months later

  ‘Don’t be afraid, Edith!’

  Edith Gibson stirred from her slumber, grateful for the brief nap. Ever since her husband’s health had started to deteriorate, she’d been short of rest. Taking forty winks when she could grab them was the only way to get through the day. Bert’s heart disease caused problems with blood circulation in the legs, so at night she had to lie awake listening to his constant fidgeting as he looked for a position to ease his discomfort. On occasion, he was able to ignore the pain that came to him in bed, and when his jabbering and moaning stopped, Edith could steal a few hours’ sleep, but those nights were rare.

  When she did sleep, she dreamed of her grandchildren, Michael and Jessie – now teenagers – growing tall in the sunshine of Western Australia.

  Bert, the lightest of sleepers, said he sometimes heard her call out their names in the night. He even said he once saw her cupping her arms as though holding one of the twins as a baby, the way she’d held them at the airport that last time, before she and Bert bade a tearful farewell to their son and daughter-in-law and the two oblivious infants.

  They’d received photographs, of course. Pete and Jeanie had been scrupulous in the first few years, sending snaps of Michael and Jessie enjoying their new life thousands of miles from their heartbroken grandparents – eating huge shrimps from the barbecue or playing in the small backyard pool of their new home in Perth.