Different (14 page)

He took another drink and savoured the fiery taste of the alcohol. He wasn't pissed though, not even drunk. He was too angry for that. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost eleven. The slag would probably be in bed asleep by now, because there weren't any lights on. He was going to have to wait until tomorrow to sort her out.

Alex was about to turn on the ignition when a light came on in one of the bedroom windows and a few seconds later so did another one. Alex paused in the act of turning the key and the front door shot open. Mary and her father hurried out the front door and climbing into their car, they drove off.

Alex started the car and followed knowing he couldn't lose them, because the first turn off was over a mile away. He stayed behind them all the way into Colwyn Bay and when they turned into the grounds of the hospital he followed, while trying to work out what was going on.

Russell chose a parking bay from which he could escape in a hurry. It was close to the entrance of the accident and emergency ward, and anyone coming out of the doors would be an easy target. Settling back in his seat, he rolled down the window of the driver's door, placed the Beretta on the passenger seat, and covered it with a newspaper.

He'd been waiting about half an hour when an attractive young woman came out of the hospital and began pacing up and down outside. She was smoking a cigarette and kept glancing at her watch. A stocky older man joined her and they talked animatedly together, while occasionally gesticulating towards the drive as though they were waiting for someone. As though in confirmation of Russell's assumption, he heard a vehicle approaching and a car pulled up beside the couple. A girl climbed out and Russell snatched up his pistol and slipped off the safety catch, but then he flicked it back on again. It was the wrong girl. She was about the right age but, this girl had dark hair and a man, who was obviously her father, got out of the driver's side.

Replacing the pistol underneath the newspaper, he made himself comfortable again, he didn't mind waiting, it increased his anticipation of making the kill.

The girl's father got back into his car and after parking it, a few yards away from where Russell sat, he rejoined his daughter and the other couple.

Jay Williams and an elderly man came out of the hospital and joined the group. She and the girl, who'd just arrived, embraced. Russell took hold of his pistol once again, flicking off the safety, he put his arm through the open window and sighted on Williams's chest. A short burst would kill her instantly.

Russell waited until he had a clear shot and gently squeezed the trigger.

At the instant he applied the final pressure something bumped into the rear of his car, jerking it. He heard the silenced tattoo of the bullets firing and registered people in the group being hurled back a millisecond before his chest hit the steering wheel.

Somehow he managed to retain his grip on the pistol. He lurched back in his seat and glimpsed in his rear-view mirror the bewildered face of the driver of the car that had rammed him. There were screams and shouts coming from the direction of William's group, he cursed when he saw Jay kneeling beside the body of the old man. People came running out of the hospital and he knew his chance to kill the girl now had gone.

With a snarl of rage, he climbed out of his car, hurried around to the driver's side of the car to the vehicle driven that'd rammed him. Tearing open the driver's door, he saw a half empty bottle of Scotch wedged between the guy's thighs.

"I'm really sorry, Mister,” the idiot said, “My foot slipped.” His face took on a look of disbelief when Russell pressed the muzzle of the silenced Beretta between the young man's eyes.

"No kidding?” Russell said and shot him.

It had been less than fifteen seconds since he'd fired the burst into the people outside the entrance and then killed the moron who'd rammed him. He was getting back into his own car when he heard a deep throaty growl. A huge black dog launched itself at him and Russell barely managed to slam his door shut before the animal's heavy body hit it.

Russell started his car and sped out of the car park. A few minutes later, he pulled into a lay-by and quickly removed the false number plates from the car. He'd copied the registration number from an identical vehicle and had a new set made up in a car accessory shop with no questions asked. He'd missed the girl again,
goddamn it, thanks to that drunken idiot. Well, he wouldn't be rear-ending anyone else, and as for the freak, I'll get her next time, third time lucky,
he thought.

Russell shoved the false plates beneath a thick hedge. His wig, cheek-pads, gloves and gun; he hid inside a specially adapted toolbox in the trunk. He smiled when he pictured the registered owner of the car, whose number he'd copied, being raided by armed police. Then, of course, there were those camera speed traps he'd raced through. Russell drove sedately back toward his motel, perhaps he ought to stop off and get something to eat, and maybe he'd pick himself up a woman for the night.

Rebecca Carlyle was preparing to climb wearily into bed when her phone rang. “Shit!” she swore aloud and picked up the receiver.

"Sorry, Guv,” her sergeant, Shaun Thompson boomed cheerily into her ear making her wince, but then he lowered his voice. “I thought you ought to know there's been a firearms incident at the Colwyn Bay, General Hospital..."

"So?”
Why is he telling me? Colwyn Bay isn't on our patch.

"Jay Williams was involved."

"What? She's actually shot someone?"

"No. Didn't you hear about her Grandmother?"

Of course, the girl's grandmother had suffered a heart attack; it had been on the news
. “Yes, I remember now. Ok. How was the girl involved?"

"The gunman or woman used an automatic and killed her grandfather, her best friend's dad, and a BBC TV reporter is having an emergency operation right now."

"Can you pick me up?”
My patch or not, Jay Williams intrigues me
.

"I'm parked outside your flat,” Shaun said. “I'd rather like to meet the girl myself."

"Give me five minutes, and Shaun, you'd better let Colwyn Bay know that we're attending because of Williams, but assure them we understand the investigation's down to them. We don't want them complaining that we're treading on their toes."

The local DI, Spencer Bicken, who she knew quite well, greeted Rebecca warmly.

"So, you're interest is in the Williams girl,” he said. “Well, the poor kid's healing powers didn't do her much good tonight. She's lost her grandparents, her best friend's dad and Cassie Harper; the BBC Reporter's took a bullet in the head. They're operating on her but I'm prepared for the worst-case scenario. Oh and by the way the Chief Constable's on his way so try to keep out of his way."

"Thanks, Spencer, I'll do that. Do you know what happened?"

He shrugged and pointed towards the car park and the police officers searching the area. “Someone fired a burst from an automatic, a small calibre weapon judging by the entrance wounds, probably a .22 is my guess, but we'll know for sure soon."

"Why would anyone want to kill her?"

"Oh, I don't think Williams was the target. Nesbitt and Harper have just finished an investigation into drug smuggling, and according to CI there were rumours that a contract had been taken out on them. It looks as though Williams and her family were in the wrong place, that's..."

He broke off as an excited cry came from one of the searchers. “There's a dead man in this car! He's been shot."

Spencer didn't object when Rebecca followed him over to the car that the uniformed officer was standing next to. The man, slumped over the steering wheel had a neat, black-ringed hole punched between his eyes but the exit wound in the back of his head was the size of her fist.

"Excuse me, Guv,” Shaun was comparing the car's number plate with on written in his notebook. “We had a report at 22:30 hours that this car was parked suspiciously, but when we sent a car to investigate it had gone. It was later reported as being stolen."

Spencer nodded in agreement and then pointed to a black Daimler that was pulling up. “The Chief's here,” he said. “Why don't you and Thompson do me a favour, go and talk to the girls? They were still in shock when I spoke to them earlier. See if either of them are up to making a statement. It would be a help and besides, I don't want anyone making a balls up of it, especially while the Chief's here."

"Ok. I'll see what I can do,” Rebecca said.

Jay Williams and another girl were in a small side room that was guarded by an armed police officer. He impressed Rebecca by thoroughly scrutinising both her and Shaun's warrant cards before returning them.

"There's a WPC with them, Ma'am, and a doctor's given them both a mild sedative. We didn't want them out of it until we'd taken their statements."

"DI Bicken has asked me to help him out on that score,” she said. “Shaun, do you want to wait here while I talk to them?” A thought occurred to her. “Where's Ben Nesbitt, the BBC reporter?"

"He's in another waiting room outside the operating theatre,” the armed officer said. “He'll be all right; one of our men is keeping an eye on him."

"I'll wait out here, if you like,” Shaun said. “The girl's are more likely to open up to you if I'm not there."

Rebecca opened the door and walked into the room.

Jay Williams, despite her red-rimmed eyes, was much prettier in the flesh than in the photograph of her that had been shown on the TV Screen. She had her arms wrapped around a girl with long black hair who was quietly weeping. The WPC looked relieved to see Rebecca and only gave the proffered warrant card a cursory glance, but then to be fair to the woman, she would have known that the ID had withstood a thorough examination.

"I'm DI Rebecca Carlyle, Jay. Do you feel up to telling us what happened?"

The WPC pulled out her pocketbook ready to take notes.

Jay nodded and then, making an obvious effort to keep her voice under control, she said, “My grandmother died this evening and my grandfather said he was going to stay with her until the funeral directors arrived. I rang my best friend Mary and asked if I could stay the night at her house. She arrived with her dad and they were talking to Ben and Cassie when Granddad and I came outside. Suddenly Cassie, Mary's dad and Granddad fell over and I saw they were bleeding. I didn't even realise they'd been shot. My dog tried to attack a man on the car park but the man managed to get in his car and drive off."

"He killed my dad,” the other girl sobbed. “The bastard's killed my dad!"

Jay rocked the girl back and forth while making soothing noises. When she looked up at Rebecca her eyes were filmed with tears. “It was me he was trying to kill, wasn't it? It was me he was after."

"Good God no!” Rebecca stared at Jay in surprise. “What on earth made you think that? It was Ben and Cassie, who were the targets. Some drug barons had apparently put out a contract on them. Mary is there anything that you can add?"

Mary shook her head. “It all happened so fast. I don't know what I'm going to do,” she sobbed. “I haven't got anyone now that Dad's...” She obviously couldn't bring her to say the word, dead, and started crying again.

"You still have me Mary, and I have you,” Jay said, brushing her own tears from her eyes. “We've always been best friends and as close as sisters, well from now on that's what we'll be ... sisters. Neither of us is ever going to be alone."

Rebecca found herself admiring Jay's inner strength. Even on what surely must be the most dreadful and traumatic day of her life, she was determined to be there for her friend.

"I'm afraid there will have to be an inquest,” Rebecca said. “It might be a few weeks before the funeral's can take place. I suggest you both search through your parent's or as in your case, Jay, Grandparent's documents, to see if you can find out the name of their solicitor, or even perhaps their will. You'll also need to contact the bank because they'll be freezing your guardians’ accounts until after the inquest. They should however appoint an executor of the estates who will allow you a small allowance until their wills have been read."

"I have an Uncle in America,” Jay said, her voice faltered. “I'll have to ring him and let him know what's happened. Grandfather was hit in the throat and there was nothing I could do. What's the use of being able to heal people if you can't help your own family?"

Rebecca couldn't think of a suitable reply, so she said. “I'll get both of your statements typed up and get someone to bring them to you to sign.” She took out one of her business cards and put it into Jay's hand. “If you need advice, or even just to talk to someone, my number's on here.” As she left the room Rebecca wondered about the unexpected impulse to give Jay her card. One of the unwritten rules of policing was to never get personally involved.

The girl stood shivering in the doorway of a shop and wearing the usual jeans and anorak. She had a bag slung over her right shoulder and was watching the prostitutes who were strutting along the pavement plying their trade.
She was
, Russell thought,
about eighteen, another runaway who'd suddenly found out for herself the harsh reality of life on the streets
. Cold, hungry and he guessed, desperate now, she was obviously trying to pluck up enough courage to sell her body for sex.

He eased the car into the kerb alongside her and she looked at the expensive car first, before looking nervously at him.

Pressing the button, he lowered the window and smiled at her, “I pay a hundred pounds, they,” he indicated the girls she'd been watching, some of them were leaning into car windows discussing their prices, “earn twenty pounds if they're lucky.” He gave her his best smile, “Well, what do you think?"

Slowly, timidly, she edged towards the car and hesitated for a moment, but then after taking a deep breath, she opened the passenger door and got in. He could smell the rank dampness of her clothes.