Fatal Act (35 page)

‘I’ve come to join my colleague.’

She succeeded in keeping her voice level, her tone relaxed, although her heart was beating so fast she could scarcely breathe. She could feel the muscles in her shoulders and back stiffen with tension.

Darius frowned. ‘Your colleague?’ he repeated. He shook his head and looked perplexed. Then his refined features softened again. ‘You’re not talking about the sergeant who was here, are you? I’ve answered all her questions.’

A
s he made a move to close the door Geraldine stepped smartly across the threshold, preventing him from shutting her out. He raised his fine eyebrows but shuffled aside to make room for her in the narrow hall.

‘Where is she?’

He shook his head, still smiling at her.

‘I’m not sure who you’re supposed to be looking for, but whoever it is you won’t find her in my flat. I live here all alone.’

‘I’m here to join my colleague,’ she repeated quietly. ‘Where is she?’

He shrugged. ‘I told you, she’s not here. No one’s here but me – and now you.’

She wasn’t sure why his words sounded like a threat.

H
e folded his arms, considering.

‘She was here, but then she left.’

‘When?’

‘I’m afraid I didn’t make a note of the time. I can’t be expected to keep track of your sergeant. Now, if that’s all, I’d like you to leave.’

Geraldine hesitated, momentarily nonplussed. No one had left the building since the police had arrived in the street, and Darius himself had admitted Sam had been there. The likelihood was that she was still in the building, and Darius was lying. Geraldine knew she could summon the team waiting outside, but first she wanted to get Darius out of the way. If he realised what was happening, he might easily dart through the door to his flat and slam it shut. They would waste valuable time gaining access, by which time he could have made his escape. Not only would they risk losing him, but if a serious crime
had
been committed, the scene would be hopelessly contaminated if they were forced to break in before scene of crime officers arrived. Somehow Geraldine had to get him away from the flat without arousing his suspicion. With a shudder, she realised she was approaching the place as a crime scene. It might already be too late to save Sam.

D
arius stood perfectly still, his expression bland. If anything, he looked bored. Yet his eyes never left her face. He seemed to be watching her, catlike, waiting for her next move, calculating his response. She felt as though she had been standing in that narrow hallway for hours, although in reality it was just a few minutes. Too long, if Sam was lying flat on her back injured, unconscious, or possibly dying. Every second counted. Geraldine contemplated abandoning caution and hitting the button on her phone as a signal to Nick that she was in need of urgent assistance. One tap of her finger and a small crowd of bulky constables would come crashing through the door. But she hesitated, wanting to make sure she hadn’t got this completely wrong.

‘T
here are a few more questions I’d like to ask you before I go,’ she said gently, doing her best to adopt a conversational tone. ‘It’s just routine. I’m sure you’d like to help us find whoever killed your nephew, wouldn’t you?’

Her instincts told her not to trust him; Sam was upstairs. But she had no proof. She couldn’t be certain until the flat had been searched. If her suspicions proved unfounded, Darius need never know the street outside his home had been crawling with police, watching every possible means of exit from his flat.

‘W
e’re investigating your former brother-in-law,’ she announced firmly.

‘I know. Your sergeant told me. You seem very keen to tell me about your suspicions. First her, now you.’

‘Zak was your nephew. You have a right to know what’s going on. And, to be honest, we’re hoping you can help us establish his guilt.’

‘What can I do?’

This was her chance.

‘It would be best if you came with me so we can talk about this somewhere more suitable.’

It seemed a fair enough request, on the face of it, but he looked uneasy. She waited, trying to hide her impatience.

‘So,’ he replied, moving nearer to her as he spoke, ‘you’re looking for your colleague and you thought she might be here?’

H
e was so close he was almost touching her. The front door was shut. She had already considered the possibility that Darius had succeeded in overpowering Sam. The sergeant was a tough, strong woman, trained in self defence and a martial arts expert. For the first time it occurred to Geraldine that in her eagerness to protect Sam, she might have put herself at risk. She had been so wrapped up in worrying about Sam’s safety, she hadn’t paused to consider her own. Meanwhile, the minutes were ticking by and she had to acknowledge that she couldn’t manage the situation by herself.

A
s she reached for her phone Darius lunged forward to seize both her wrists in a grip like a vice.

‘What have you got in your pocket?’

‘I was going to blow my nose.’

He tightened his hold. She couldn’t move. She squirmed in pain but she couldn’t break free of his powerful grip. Suddenly he yanked one of her arms across her chest so he could clutch both her wrists in one hand. At the same time, he thrust his other hand into her pocket. His action was so swift, he had tossed her phone away before she could react. Watching it slide across the floor, she struggled to control her fear.

S
he had been a fool to go in alone. She had allowed her judgement to be clouded by guilt at having sent Sam to speak to Darius alone, and by her own pride in the face of Nick’s patronising tone.

‘You said you wanted to join your colleague, didn’t you?’ Darius hissed, leaning forward until she felt his warm breath on her ear. ‘So let’s go and see her.’

‘The longer this goes on, the worse you’re making it for yourself. I suggest you start co-operating, because she will have called for help by now –’

In the poorly lit hall she saw Darius grin.

‘She’ll be exactly where I left her.’

N
ICK
PACED
UP
AND
down watching Geraldine as she strode away. After a moment she disappeared from view and he returned to the car. It was too cold to stand around outside for long.

‘Freezing my bollocks off out there,’ he muttered to the sergeant who had driven him there. ‘Might as well be stuck behind a desk as stuck in here.’

The sergeant grunted. Nick was in a foul mood. It was nearly twenty-four hours since the fight. His face had settled into a steady ache that sent a stabbing pain through his head every time he moved or spoke. All he had planned to do that day was sit quietly at his desk, not talking to anyone, because that only made it hurt more. But he had been dragged away on this crazy chase after a possible suspect.

N
ormally he would have been pleased to help at a stake out. He hadn’t joined the force to sit at a desk all day, like a bloody civil servant. He wanted to be out on the streets, preferably in a speeding car. The rush of adrenaline was what made the job worthwhile. He loved racing through the streets while other vehicles pulled over to let him pass. Nothing matched the exhilaration of a chase on blues and twos, sirens screaming above the roar of the engine, voices barking out orders and tyres squealing. Sitting in a car waiting for a signal from a colleague was less thrilling. The chances were she would reappear and they would return to the station, and that would be the end of it. Another bloody waste of time. If he hadn’t been keen to curry favour with Geraldine, he might not have responded to her request in person.

H
e checked his phone. It was switched on, battery full, with a good signal. He placed it on the dashboard where he could see as well as hear if it rang. There was nothing else he could do but wait. After fifteen minutes, he snatched up his phone and called her. If she didn’t need him any more, the least she could do was tell him. He realised she must be busy, questioning Cooper, but he was put out when she didn’t answer. He waited a few moments then phoned her again. Still there was no answer.

‘Do you think they’re all right in there?’ his sergeant asked.

‘How the hell should I know?’ he snapped, irritably.

The situation was out of control, his head ached, and sitting kicking his heels in a cold car wasn’t helping anyone.

‘Turn the heating up for Christ’s sake.’

A
fter ten minutes, he tried her phone again. The fact that she still didn’t answer wasn’t merely annoying; he was beginning to worry about her. He decided to go in and take a look. If she didn’t appreciate him barging in before she’d requested back up, it was her own stupid fault for not communicating with him. She had been in there long enough. His sergeant at his heels, he marched up to the front door. Two uniformed officers accompanied them. The back door was covered, as were the side windows, and more officers were watching the roof. There was no way Cooper could leave unseen. If he really was the invisible killer Geraldine had been looking for, he wasn’t going to get past Nick. With a grim smile, he rang the bell.

A
dark-haired man came to the door.

‘Darius Cooper?’

‘Yes.’

The two men sized each other up. Cooper was thin, but he looked strong. His black eyes flicked from Nick to the sergeant at his side, and beyond to the two constables in uniform standing behind him. Nick had his foot over the doorstep but before he could move closer to the suspect, Cooper turned and dashed back along the corridor to disappear up the stairs. He moved like a panther. A second later they heard a door slam upstairs. The four police officers sprinted after him. Nick turned to the constables.

‘One of you stay here and watch the street door,’ he said. ‘There might be another way down. Radio through to the others to watch all the windows. He’s on the first floor. He’s probably going to try and make a run for it.’

He turned and raced up the stairs after the sergeant and the second constable, his aching head forgotten in the rush of the chase.

‘W
hich door?’ the sergeant panted.

There were two doors off the first floor landing. Nick jerked his head, indicating one of them to the sergeant. He ran to the other door himself and began thumping noisily.

‘Open up! Police! We’ve got the building surrounded.’

The door the sergeant was knocking at opened and a wizened face peered up at him.

‘Is anyone else in there with you?’ the sergeant asked.

‘What? Who are you? What do you want?’

‘Don’t be alarmed. We’re the police. We’re looking for Darius Cooper. Have you seen him?’

As the sergeant displayed his warrant card, the uniformed constable went over to stand at his side. The elderly man in the flat shook his head.

‘Check inside,’ Nick instructed the sergeant. ‘You –’ he nodded at the other constable, ‘come with me.’

N
ick banged on the door to the next flat but no one answered. He stood back with a nod at the constable.

‘Open it.’

Inside it was eerily quiet. Flicking on his torch he found the light switch and looked around at a small square hallway. They split up to search. A quick glance in the first room revealed a sparsely furnished dining room. There was nowhere anyone could be hiding. Torch in hand he went into the bedroom and put the light on. With a swift lunge he dragged the duvet off the bed. It was empty. He approached the wardrobe and flung it open to reveal several pairs of jeans, shirts and a shelf of T-shirts, but no sign of a demented killer and no cowering women. The only other place where someone could be concealed was behind the curtains. They hung a couple of feet off the floor and he could see there was no one there. All the same he checked, just in case. The bedroom was empty. He met the constable in the hall. The kitchen and bathroom were also empty. This time the suspected killer hadn’t vanished alone. He had taken two detectives with him.

A
BRIGHT
LIGHT
PENETRATED
her consciousness. Groggily, she forced her eyes open. Before she had a chance to look around, the bright light disappeared, leaving her in darkness. She hadn’t the faintest idea where she was, or how she had arrived in this cold dusty place. She blinked repeatedly. It didn’t make much difference. She still couldn’t see anything. When she closed her eyes, dazzling neon arrows darted across her field of vision making her feel sick. All she knew for certain was that she was lying on a hard surface, in complete darkness. Her head was pounding, her throat burned, and her arms ached from shoulder to wrist as though they had been twisted fiercely after almost being pulled out of their sockets. She thought she must have been the victim of an attack. Gingerly she turned her head. Raising it from the floor, she was relieved to find she could move normally without any stabbing pains.

T
aking a deep breath she sat up. The movement made her feel dizzy. Afraid she might not regain consciousness again, she resisted the temptation to lie down and go back to sleep. Instead she forced herself to sit upright while she tried to collect her thoughts. Everything was hazy. She spoke out loud, encouraging herself, hoping the sound of her own voice would jog her memory. It didn’t. Her voice sounded dry and unfamiliar. Ignorant of where she was, or even who she was, it was hard not to panic. Not being able to see anything didn’t help her efforts to stay calm. In an attempt to ease the stiffness in her back she shifted her weight, leaning on one elbow, so that she was half sitting up. The floor boards beneath her creaked quietly. Somewhere nearby pipes gurgled softly. As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she could see a faint square glow above her head which she thought must be a skylight, and guessed she was in an attic.

F
eeling around in the darkness, she worked out that she was lying on bare wooden floorboards. There was nothing in reach of her groping fingers, no phone, no purse, no bag. A slight indentation on her wrist suggested she had recently been wearing a watch. It was unsettling, not knowing what time it was. She hadn’t a clue how long she had been lying there when all of a sudden she was bathed in a cold light. The moon was shining through a skylight overhead. Quickly she looked around, eager to learn as much as possible before the darkness returned. A very low sloping ceiling confirmed that she was in a loft, empty apart from a large irregularly shaped bundle of sacking lying on the far side of the room. She wondered what was beneath it. She almost wept when darkness engulfed her once more, before she had time to discover a means of escape. If she was in a loft, there had to be trap door somewhere.