Passion Killers (20 page)

The voice came through the police radios. “Target has turned left. The road leads to the docks.”

Alison slammed her brakes on. She reversed quickly, spun the car and headed in the opposite direction.

The blue lights on the other cars flashed silently.

She flicked a glance at Banham. He was staring out of the window, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. More than anything in the world she wanted to save Katie too. She had misjudged her. And Banham would blame himself forever. If they didn’t get there in time he might never recover.

She approached the junction and slowed down.

Banham spoke into the radio. “Any news on the Armed Response Vehicle?”

“Here, guvnor. Right behind you.”

“Next left,” Kevin said, his tone chillingly casual. He ran a finger along the edge of the knife, pulling it quickly away to remind Katie how sharp it was.

The cuts on her body were reminder enough. Mascara stung her eyes, and her mind was growing hazy. It took her a moment to work out which was right and which was left.

“Next left!” he shouted, raising the knife.

She indicated left and out of the corner of her eye saw his hand drop. He started cutting at the g-string with the edge of the knife, carving little snips off the leather ribbon. The soft sound terrified her.

She turned the car into the side road, and her heart hit her boots. The road led to the water.

Banham spoke quietly but with authority into his radio. “Keep your distance. No one, repeat no one, is to follow target vehicle. Armed Response van is directly behind us. We have a visual on the BMW, which has just pulled up by the edge of the river. Everyone else leave your cars, and very quietly, I repeat very quietly, move in on foot. Be very sure you are not seen. Crowther, take Finn with you, but stay out of sight. Armed Response officers are now moving in.”

Kevin placed the g-string on the end of the gun in his left hand. He opened the passenger door. “Stay in your seat. I’m coming round to get you,” he told Katie.

Hysteria was overtaking her. The pain she was in and the sight of the water were proving too much for her. She grabbed his arm before he set a foot on the ground.

“Kevin, please, I’m begging you, don’t do this. Your mother...” She stopped mid-sentence. He turned towards her, the knife in his right hand. “Oh God. No...” Her arm flew up defensively, but not fast enough. The knife scored the side of her head above her ear. Blood ran down the side of her neck.

“Now get out,” he ordered.

Everything faded and all she could see was grey. A small, still-aware part of her mind prayed for the end to come quickly, before the deep, dark water swallowed her up.

He was standing by the open driver’s side door when her vision returned. “Out,” he commanded.

She obeyed. As he pushed a hand into her armpit and started to march her towards the river, she made a last appeal, slurring like a drunk as she spoke. “Kevin, don’t hurt your mother. Promise me...” A ripping sound stopped her in her tracks. The knife cut through her leather jacket and continued into her back. All she felt was excruciating pain which took over her whole body. She gasped for air as the agony hit her lungs and shot up to her brain. Then her knees gave way, and she fell to the ground.

Banham saw it all. There was no time to wait for the Armed Response team. Ignoring Alison’s warning, he leapt from the car and ran down the middle of the road. He had no body armour, nothing at all for protection: just the overpowering urge to save Katie Faye.

“You’re surrounded, Kevin,” he shouted. “Drop your weapons, or we’ll shoot.”

Within seconds a dozen armed police officers moved in behind him, their guns pointed at Kevin.

An ambulance had been hovering out of sight on the corner of the neighbouring street. Two paramedics armed with oxygen jumped from the back.

Katie was face down on the ground.

Banham slowed to a walk. “Drop the gun and the knife, Kevin.”

Suddenly Alison was beside him. For a moment the world seemed to rock around him. “Get back!” he shouted. “Wait behind the AR vehicle.”

“I’m staying with you.”

“I’m giving you an order, sergeant. Not open to negotiation. Do as I say. Now.”

She hesitated and stopped. He kept walking.

“Drop the gun and the knife,” he said, his eyes on Katie.

She was struggling to her knees. Kevin pointed the gun at her head.

“Stand away from her,” Banham shouted. “A dozen guns are aimed at you.”

“Guv, please.” Alison was beside him again.

“I told you to go back,” he said without taking his eyes off Kevin.

Kevin placed a heavy boot on Katie’s back. Her body quickly gave way and she sank to the ground. “Go ahead,” he goaded. “Shoot.” He raised his hands high in the air, one holding a gun, the other a knife.

Banham lifted a hand to halt the police riflemen, who were awaiting the order to fire. “Alison, go back,” he said calmly.

“No,” she said, planting herself squarely beside him.

Kevin’s hand dropped. He opened his flies, pulled his penis free and urinated over Katie. “Sorry about that,” he shouted. “It’s the river. All that water. Couldn’t stop myself.”

A voice boomed out from a little way behind Banham. “Drop the gun, son.”

Brian Finn.

“Don’t shoot her, son. Give the gun up. Do it for me.”

Banham heard footsteps, and glanced back to see Finn hurrying down the road towards his son. DC Crowther followed closely behind and stopped beside Banham and Alison. Finn hurried on.

Ten yards from his son he stopped and put out a hand. “Give me the gun, son.”

“I’m going to count to ten,” Banham said.

“Shooting’s too good for her,” Kevin retorted.

“Kevin, please, for me, for your dad, stop this. Give yourself up.” Finn moved forward again; now he was only a few feet from Kevin. “Do it for me?” he asked again. “Give the knife and the gun to me.”

“Nine. Eight. Stand away from him, Finn.”

Finn ignored him.

“Seven. Six.”

Katie stirred slightly, murmuring in pain.

Banham took another step towards Katie. “Five. Four.”

Alison and Crowther moved in behind him.

“Step to the left, guvnor,” the head of the AR unit shouted as Banham raised his hand to give the signal.

“Paul, for Chrissake!” Alison screamed.

“Three. Two.” Banham’s hand rose a little higher.

“Give me the gun,” Finn said urgently to Kevin.

“No.”

“One.”

Everything happened in an instant. Kevin lifted the knife to stab Katie. Finn lunged at Kevin to grab the gun. Banham moved to shield Katie Faye from the knife. Alison put out an arm to push Banham clear as a shot rang out.

Brian and Kevin, struggling with the gun, knife and each other, fell to the ground. Kevin dropped the knife. Finn tried without success to wrestle the gun from him.

Banham kicked the knife out of reach and stood over Katie, watching desperately for the right moment to wade in and grab Kevin.

Kevin and Finn rolled on the ground with Finn. Kevin had firm hold of the gun, his finger treacherously near the trigger.

The paramedics moved as close as they dared, waiting anxiously with a stretcher and emergency oxygen at the ready. The armed police officers closed in around Brian and Kevin, rifles pointed.

Then another shot split the air.

Brian Finn fell on his back, blood pumping from his chest.

Kevin leapt up, waving the gun.

“Drop it!” Banham roared. “Drop it now, or you’re a dead man!”

Kevin obeyed. Crowther grabbed him and spun him round, clicking handcuffs on his wrists.

The paramedics came rushing past to the aid of Brian Finn and Katie Faye.

“You’ve killed him,” Kevin yelled at Banham. “You’ve killed my father.”

Banham walked swiftly up to him. “No.” He pushed his face into the lad’s. “No, Kevin.
You’ve
killed him. And you’ve killed three women. Maybe four.” He stood back and looked into the boy’s eyes. “Kevin Stone, I’m arresting you for the murders of Shaheen Hakhti, Susan Rogers and Theresa McGann, and for the attempted murder of Katie Faye. You do not have to say anything...”

After he had finished reciting the familiar formula, he remained motionless, his eyes still locked with Kevin’s. Crowther took his arm and pulled him away. But Banham was having none of it. He shook off Crowther’s restraining hand and squatted beside Katie Faye’s prone body. Alison was already there, alongside the young woman paramedic.

“How bad is it?” Banham asked quietly.

“Critical,” said the paramedic. “She’s haemorrhaging. We need to get her to hospital and into theatre as fast as we can.” She held a thick absorbent pad to the wound, applying pressure to try to stem the blood still pulsing out. “The head wound looks pretty bad too, and we’ve no way of knowing about internal damage.”

Banham stood up and stepped back as a uniformed policeman came to help lift her on to the stretcher.

“Take care of her,” Banham said, a note of desperation in his voice. He followed them to the ambulance, and gently supported the stretcher as the two men lifted it inside.

A hand slid into his and gave it a squeeze as the siren sounded and the ambulance sped off. He turned to find Alison beside him.

“Modern medicine can work wonders,” she said quietly. “Stay positive.”

He turned to face her. Those sludge-green eyes were swimming. He lifted her hand and gently kissed it.

Kevin’s final victim still lay on the ground a few yards away. Banham and Alison walked towards Brian Finn’s body in time to hear the other paramedic say, “I can’t help this one. He’s gone.” He removed the plastic resuscitation tube from Finn’s mouth.

“Was it the knife or the bullet wound?” Banham asked.

“You’ll need the FME for that,” the paramedic said. “But if you’re asking me to hazard a guess, the bullet has only grazed his shoulder.” He pointed at the wound oozing blood through Finn’s shirt. “That’s caused a bit of damage, but I wouldn’t say it’s enough to kill him. On the other hand...” He pointed at the stab wound in the middle of the man’s chest. “The knife penetrated here. You really shouldn’t take my word for it, but I think the post mortem will confirm that that’s what killed him.”

Banham stood up, his legs feeling suddenly weak. “Alison, will you drive me to the hospital?”

“Of course. I’ll bring the car down.”

Crowther was lighting a cigarette as Alison passed him. He offered the packet to her.

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ve given up.”

“Never give up,” he said, following his cocky grin with a Know-all Col wink. “If you really want something, you should never give up.”

By the time Banham and Alison reached the hospital Katie Faye was in theatre undergoing emergency surgery. A young, exhausted doctor came to meet them.

“It’ll be a long, uphill battle, I’m afraid,” he told them. “And I can’t promise you she’s going to pull through. She had lost nearly six pints of blood, and though we’ve put it back, there may already be brain damage.” He knuckled his eyes, which were rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep.

Alison flicked a glance at Banham. Guilt was surging off him in waves. She felt almost as bad herself, and it didn’t help that all the good his therapist had done would be totally in vain if they lost Katie Faye.

It was no use telling him it wasn’t his fault. A team of twenty-four had worked the case, round the clock in some cases. Three women had lost their lives before they found the killer. Banham would blame himself for the three deaths, and if Katie became the fourth the emotional cost would be unthinkable.

She gave his arm a small squeeze, as if he was a grieving husband. He was, of course, and that lay at the root of what she knew he was feeling. He had never come to terms with his wife’s murder, because her killer had never been found, and now the only way he could deal with it was to track down killers who preyed on women, and make himself responsible for every victim.

But this time there was more. Had he really fallen for Katie Faye?

To her surprise his hand covered hers and gripped it.

“When will we know more?” she asked the doctor.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that. The knife entered her back and ruptured a kidney, causing intensive bleeding. It’s too early to say for sure, but we may be looking at a transplant.”

Banham’s eyes were closed. Alison handed the doctor a card. “We’ll need to know the moment she comes round.” She flicked a glance at Banham and corrected herself. “If she comes round. We do need to interview her.”

Banham followed her down the corridor, but she had the impression he was on autopilot. They came to a coffee machine, and she stopped and felt in her pocket for coins. “Milk and sugar?” she said, feeding the silver into the slot.

He nodded, and seemed to come back into himself. “I’m surprised you aren’t frothing at the bit to get out,” he said. “We all know how you feel about hospitals.”

She waited for the muddy liquid to trickle down. “I thought you needed a pick-me-up before we go back. You liked her a lot.”

Banham stared into the cup she handed him. “I wanted to keep her safe,” he said quietly. “It was her eyes. They were so like Diane’s.”

So that was it.

She could see he was pretty close to breaking down. He must really care, she thought; that’s the first time in eight years he’s admitted to real feelings. He had fallen for Katie Faye. Well, that was life. Suddenly she felt her own emotions well up. She got a grip and started to walk on, leaving him to finish his coffee. Suddenly she felt his hand at her elbow. “Alison, please sit down,” he said, guiding her to a seat in the A & E waiting area. She did, and looked up to find those blue eyes staring intently at her.

“Alison...” He took a breath and looked down into his lap. “I know we agreed that we wouldn’t jeopardise our working relationship by becoming...” He looked up, blushing.

“What?” she said. “By becoming what?”

“Intimate.”

There was a pause, then she said, “I agree.” Then, before she could stop herself, she added, “And as you know, there is someone in my life.”

He stared at her, holding his breath. Then he let it go and sipped his coffee in silence.

“Who?” he asked after a long pause.

Why had she said that? Sometimes she wanted to kick herself. You’ve blown it now, said a small, insistent voice inside her head.

She threw her hardly touched black coffee in the bin. “No one you know,” she said.

Banham slowly got to his feet. “Katie has eyes like Diane’s,” he said. “But no one has eyes like yours.”

This time the silence seemed endless. Eventually she could take no more of it; she stood up and said briskly, “We’ve got work to do. Let’s interview Kevin Stone, before he has time to feign madness.”

As they made their way out they passed radio and TV crews and men in scruffy jackets who could only have been tabloid journalists. The hospital was fast filling up with media, all panting for news of Katie Faye. Alison wondered, not for the first time, how they had got wind of the story so soon.