Hurt (DS Lucy Black) (14 page)

‘Thank you, Tom. I might,’ Lucy said, quietly thinking that the last thing she felt like at Christmas was company.

‘Bear it in mind, Lucy,’ he added. ‘If you’re stuck.’

The car park at the Northern Bank was deserted, the area afforded some shade from the street lights lining the roadway by the overhanging branches of the fir trees bordering the garden to the rear of the building. Lucy and Fleming were parked off the eastern side of a crossroads, along any arm of which the car might approach. The cold had already begun to sharpen, the bonnet of the car sparkling with the first frost fall. Fleming turned up the heat, wrapped his coat around him and sat back in his seat.

‘I
am
sorry about this morning,’ Lucy said, finally.

‘Forget it. I’d have done the same,’ he admitted.

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the clock’s display flicker towards eight. Finally, Lucy clicked on the CD player but there was nothing in it, being an unmarked squad car and not her own.

Just then, the radio buzzed into life.

‘Movement at the estate,’ Burns said. ‘We’ve a red car passing. Looks like two people inside. Can someone pick up their tail?’

A click responded in the affirmative, then Lucy heard Tara’s voice. ‘They’re turning in towards the Waterside. We have them, sir,’ she said.

A moment later, Tara spoke again. ‘They’ve turned in at Next, sir. An elderly man and woman.’

‘Get their names,’ Burns said. ‘The guy at the park had grey hair apparently.’

‘This one has
no
hair, sir. He’s bald.’

Fleming snorted quietly.

‘Get the car details, at least. We’ll follow up on that.’

‘Another vehicle.’ Mickey’s voice crackled through the speaker. ‘Red Corsa. Old model. Approaching from Ardmore.’

This meant the car was coming up the southern approach to the crossroads, running just behind the bank where Lucy sat. Mickey’s team was placed in the car park of a pub halfway up that roadway.

‘He’s indicating to turn left.’ Towards Glenaden. ‘Should we follow?’

‘Hold your place,’ Burns said. ‘If he sees the girl’s not there, he may head back the way he came and you can pick him up then.’

Lucy found herself craning to try to see past the tree line, which was obscuring her view of the entrance to the industrial park a few hundred yards further along the western arm of the crossroads.

‘It’s slowing,’ Burns said. ‘He’s approaching the entrance. He’s moved off again, towards Gobnascale. Someone get ready to pick him up.’

‘He’s turning,’ another voice cut in. ‘I think he’s heading back for a second look.’

Lucy, unable to wait, opened the door of the car and stepped out, then moved across to the pavement, past the tree line, where she could better see what was happening. In the distance she could see the lights of the car as it completed a U-turn and came back towards the industrial estate. Towards her.

‘If he cuts back down towards Ardmore, pick him up Mickey. PPU, be ready to assist.’

Fleming leaned out of the door. ‘Get in. We’re to pick up with the Ardmore team.’

Lucy watched the car speeding up as it drove away from the estate. ‘He’s not turning in,’ she muttered, slipping as she turned to get back into the car. Sure enough, a second later, Mickey’s voice. ‘He’s passed our turn-off,’ he said. ‘He’s on his way towards the bank.’

‘PPU, pick up; Mickey assist.’

Lucy started the engine and pulled out to the entrance of the car park, just as the red car pulled up at the junction next to where they sat. The driver, an older man, jowly, looked both ways to see if the path was clear. For a second, he caught Lucy’s eye, held her stare, then he pulled out quickly into the traffic, without waiting for a gap, causing an ambulance, coming out of the entrance to the hospital on the other side of the junction, to have to swerve to avoid him.

‘He’s running,’ Lucy said, pulling out herself into the middle of the traffic in pursuit, the blur of wailing horns in her wake.

Fleming, meanwhile, lifted the radio. ‘Red Corsa. NHZ 4635. Can we get details on the owner?’

The car in question accelerated towards the roundabout at the hospital. A left turn would take him back towards where Tara’s team would be approaching. Straight ahead would take him into the Waterside. Turning right would take him onto the dual carriageway, which would lead, eventually, to the Foyle Bridge. Without indicating, it was this path that he chose.

Lucy floored the accelerator, pulling onto the oncoming lane to get past a car struggling towards the roundabout, the L driver inside gripping the wheel with both hands as she stared out at them.

‘He’s on the Crescent Link,’ Lucy reported. ‘In pursuit.’

The Corsa swerved in and out of the traffic, which was moving its way slowly towards the Tesco store a mile or so further along the carriageway. Lucy followed suit, trying to keep visual contact.

‘The car belongs to Peter Carlin,’ Burns said. ‘The address we have for him is 144 Foreglen Road. Where is he?’

Carlin was, at that moment, cutting across the two lanes of a roundabout at a shopping complex, shearing off the bumper of a car in front of him. For a moment, the drag of the impact seemed to slow him, then he accelerated again, the bumper bouncing in the roadway, effectively blocking one of the lanes, while the car to which it had been attached blocked the other.

‘Go the other way,’ Fleming shouted.

Lucy pulled onto the roundabout, cutting right, following the lane clockwise as the oncoming traffic pulled to a stop.

‘Police,’ Fleming shouted as he wound down the window. ‘Move.’ He leaned forward and flicked on the blue lights and siren. The cars slowly inched forward, allowing just enough room for Lucy to squeeze through and complete the circuit back onto the correct lane again. Carlin had made some distance on them now, though Lucy could see the blinking of his brake lights on the curve of the road in the distance as she slowed to avoid colliding with someone.

‘He’s heading towards the Foyle Bridge,’ Lucy shouted. Again, the roundabout here would offer him a number of choices: left towards the Waterside, straight through onto the bridge and into the city, or right, out towards Strathfoyle and Maydown, where the PPU was based.

As Lucy passed a car on the inside, beneath the overhang of trees bordering one side of the carriageway, she felt the car shift slightly on the roadway. Ahead of them, Carlin pulled across onto the outer lane.

‘He’s not going into the Waterside,’ Fleming said, pointing at the car. ‘City or Strathfoyle, then.’

Lucy slowed as they approached the roundabout, its centre island so heavily planted with trees they could not see which direction Carlin had taken. A few seconds later, they saw the red Corsa appear around the other side of the curve and cut down right, towards Maydown. Lucy glanced in the mirror, saw the flickering blue of the other police cars appear behind her, then she accelerated again, pulling onto the roundabout.

She took the curve at speed, the car again sliding a little in the angle, leaving her having to overcompensate as she straightened up again to continue on the carriageway the Corsa had taken. This road was quieter at least, so it was easier to spot the Corsa ahead.

‘We’ve teams coming up from Maydown,’ Burns said. ‘They’ll get him along the road.’

Sure enough, a moment later, Lucy could see the strobing blue lights ahead. So too could Carlin, for all of a sudden he swerved to the left off the carriageway, pulling down Judge’s Road, alongside the rugby club.

Fleming relayed this information through the radio.

‘Keep on him,’ Burns shouted.

‘Really? I was planning on letting him go now,’ Lucy muttered to herself.

Lucy followed Carlin, taking the turn sharply then having to correct her position quickly as the road curved again. To their left now, the dark mass of Enagh Lough, reflecting the clear sky above, was visible past the boughs of the massive trees lining the road’s edge. Ahead, the red tail lights of Carlin’s car disappeared around another bend.

Lucy slowed a little, taking the corner more gently than the last. As she did so, she and Fleming caught sight of the red Corsa, which was now careening along the straight stretch of road. Suddenly, the car swerved and mounted the narrow pavement bordering the roadway before breaking through the tree line at the edge of the road. It seemed to sit suspended for a second then fell forwards into the lough.

‘Jesus,’ Lucy screamed, slamming on her brakes, the car sliding towards the gap in the trees now.

As her car screeched to a halt, Lucy undid her seat belt and jumped out, Fleming following her.

Carlin’s car was already beginning to sink. She could see Carlin winding at the window, trying to open it in order to escape the vehicle.

Without thinking, Lucy peeled off her coat and launched herself into the water. The cold winded her, causing her muscles to spasm. She breathed through it, her teeth gritted. She’d swum every morning for years while she’d been working as a fitness instructor before joining the police.

She pounded against the water, aware as she neared the car that it was slipping deeper into the water. Carlin had the window down now, and was fumbling with his seat belt, the cold presumably making it hard for his numbed fingers to release the clasp.

She neared the vehicle, reaching in and gripping Carlin’s jumper, while she held on to the roof of the car. Too much of the vehicle was submerged now for her to try pulling open the door against the weight of water pressing against it. Dragging Carlin out through the window was the best option.

‘Get out,’ she shouted, as the front of the car dipped under completely, the boot rising slightly in the water.

‘Peter, get out,’ she repeated, pulling at his jumper.

The water was past his chest now, his chin breaking the surface as he tried to look down at the seat belt.

He looked at Lucy, his eyes wide, his mouth open. ‘I can’t free the belt.’

‘Keep trying,’ Lucy shouted. She let go of him and tried pulling at the door, but knew already that the water pressure would make it impossible to open.

Carlin was screaming now as he tried to pull at the seat belt The water filled his mouth, causing him to spit it out again, angling his head back to try to keep his mouth clear of the surface. But already the level was rising.

‘I’m sorry,’ he cried. ‘The girls. I’m sorry for them all. But I didn’t do the killing. I didn’t kill anybody. Jesus, forgive me.’

‘Any of who?’ Lucy shouted. ‘How many girls?’

Carlin had stopped fumbling with the seat belt now and had begun winding up the window as the car slipped further below the surface. He turned to look at Lucy as the glass slid up between them, catching her hand, trapping it between the glass and the rubber of the frame. His face was drawn with terror as he opened his mouth.

The car dipped further, the water lapping the roof now, as Lucy pulled to free her hand from the window.

Beside her, a figure appeared, his baton raised. Mickey beat at the glass until it shattered, freeing Lucy’s hand. Then he gripped her around the chest from behind as he pulled her away from the bubbles that surfaced as the car finally slipped below the water, even as she fought to get back to Carlin.

Burns, Fleming and the ACC were in discussion in the CID suite when Lucy arrived back in the incident room. She’d been brought straight back to the station, dismissing suggestions she attend A & E and instead opting for a hot shower in the station’s locker room and changing into a spare uniform someone had managed to find, her own clothes still soaked through from the lough. Tara, along with a few other members of the team, sat in the main incident room, sharing tea and sandwiches.

‘Are you all right?’ Tara asked when Lucy came in. ‘Do you want tea?’ she added, not waiting for a response to the first question.

‘Please,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m grand,’ she added.

‘You’re nuts jumping in after him,’ Tara said.

‘Nearly cost you and Mickey both your lives,’ someone commented.

Lucy glanced around; it was Mickey’s partner, the DC from Foyleside. She sensed from his tone that only one of those outcomes caused him concern. She was acutely aware all of a sudden that she was not one of them, not CID.

‘It was instinct,’ Lucy offered by way of explanation.

‘Your instinct should be to stay alive,’ he countered.

The door of Burns’s office opened and he peered out. ‘You’re back,’ he said, nodding at Lucy. ‘All OK?’

‘Fine,’ she said, taking the tea which Tara was offering her.

‘Bring it in here for a quick chat if you’re feeling up to it,’ Burns said.

Tara raised her eyebrows quickly at Lucy then moved away towards her seat again.

Burns held open the door for Lucy and, as she passed him, she caught the faint scent of his aftershave. When she entered his room, she saw her mother sitting behind his desk, while he and Fleming had clearly been sitting on the opposite side. There was only one spare seat.

‘You sit,’ Burns said. ‘I’m good standing.’

Lucy thanked him and sat down, sipping from her tea. Tara had added extra sugar to it, its sweetness too sharp.

‘DI Fleming has filled us in on what happened up to Carlin going in the water,’ her mother began without preamble. ‘Maybe you’d help fill in the rest of it for us.’

Lucy nodded, took a second mouthful of tea, then set the cup on the edge of the desk. She glanced at Fleming who smiled briefly.

‘After I saw the car going in, I went in after it. It all happened very quickly. At first Carlin was trying to get out. His seat belt must have been stuck or something, because he’d wound down the window, but seemed to be fumbling with the belt. I tried dragging him out, but the belt prevented it. When he realized he was going down, he said he was sorry.’

‘Sorry?’

Lucy nodded. ‘“I’m sorry for them all,” he said. “But I didn’t do the killing.”’

‘You’re sure of that?’ Wilson asked.

Lucy nodded, glancing at both Burns and Fleming, neither of whom had spoken. ‘He said “them all” and that he hadn’t killed them.’