Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (21 page)

Bridger could
only guess at what the conversation would have been between Jane
and the investigator before he had arrived, and he did not really
care. He took the cup from her hands in an effort to get her to
move away, but her arm remained firmly in place. Jane was playing
more of her silly games and he was actually frightened now of what
she was trying to achieve. He felt the hair rise up on the back of
his neck. He was in charge of what happens here, not her, she had
no right. Shrugging Jane’s arm from his waist, trying to ignore the
musky odour of her breath, he distanced himself from her clutch. “I
don’t think your presence here is required Jane, I have nothing to
hide” Jane’s eyes showed nothing but amusement, which angered him.
“Please leave…” he could almost hear himself begging. “I can handle
this on my own…”

Jane just
smiled her sultry smile and picked up the other cup, which was
still on the table. “Bottoms up Mike, the caffeine is probably just
what you need.”

Bridger’s
resolve was beginning to crumble. Drink the bloody coffee and then
leave, she could not control his life. He put the cup to his mouth
and sipped at the steaming liquid. The bitter nutty taste of the
black coffee was evident but there was something else sitting just
below it, almost acidic in taste. Crap water probably, he took
another larger sip. All he got was coffee, but it must have been
strong as he started to feel a little light headed. He looked at
Jane whose smile had turned into a look of almost
curiosity.

Light flashed
across the room, casting quick pointed shadows on the floor. A deep
rumble came vibrating through a second later, followed by the angry
spattering of wind driven rain against the glass. The storm outside
seemed to be right on top of them. Bridger was about to say
something, but another flash of light illuminated the room,
followed by an eardrum-splitting crack.

The lights in
the room fizzed and died, surrounding them in darkness.

Steve ‘The
Muscle’ Kirkland was sitting behind the reinforced service desk in
the custody area at the Dunedin Police station. All concrete and
steel, the only clue as to the weather outside was the sight of Jo
Williamson’s shapely calves visible below her tight bicycle shorts,
which were practically glistening with drops of water. He did not
want to stare but she certainly kept herself fit.

“
Raining outside is it Jo?” Even before he had said it, he
knew it sounded dumb, but he had asked anyway, like a nervous
child. Jo always made him nervous, all blonde hair and legs. Hell,
most girls made him nervous if he really thought about it. Jo did
not seem to notice, which gave him some relief. “What are you doing
here Jo? Haven’t you knocked off already?”

“
It’s raining… I need to see Maria… it’s… the case… it’s about
the case…”

Steve looked
at Jo as she spoke, she seemed distracted, not the same Jo he had
known when she had worked in uniform with him. She had been so
excited when Sergeant Bridger had asked her to move up to the
second floor. For a while, she looked like she had flourished. She
certainly wore better clothes these days, clothes that showed her
off better than the uniform ever did, but he knew what had happened
to her since though, and it looked like it was taking its toll. Who
would be a Detective these days? Give him a baton, a can of pepper
spray, and a good scuffle any day. Those three things, in any
order, and he was a happy man.

“
Okay Jo,” he tried giving her a winning smile as he handed
her the cell keys “Maria is in female three, but I’m not sure what
you will get out of her, she was pretty unresponsive when I asked
her if she wanted any food earlier.” Jo did not respond to his
smile, and took the proffered keys without replying. She turned and
walked away.

Steve,
reduced to watching her backside move inside her bicycle shorts as
she walked into the concrete corridor towards the female cells, did
not feel the need to avert his eyes. He was the only other person
here that could see; everyone else was behind steel doors. Jo
disappeared from sight, leaving only his overactive mind creating
images that were not there. He went back to the magazine he had
been reading, Men’s Health, what women really wanted from a
man…

So engrossed
in the details, he did not notice the slight chill blowing in from
the corridor, bringing with it the salty smell of wet sea air, but
the deep rumble that came next took him from his reading. The sound
seemed to bounce around inside the concrete and steel, getting
louder as it fought for an exit from its confines. He looked up,
eyes scanning nervously, trying to find the origin of the noise.
His eyes came to rest on a chilling painted smile, inches from his
face.

He did not
have time to react before the light sucked out of the cellblock
along with the receding rumble. The cold concrete room was plunged
into darkness, taking with it the image of a Clown he was sure he
could not have actually seen.

Chapter
Twenty

“
The backup generator should have kicked in by now” Bridger
was talking aloud more to convince himself, than offer any
explanation as to why they were still in darkness. It was pitch
black and he could not see anyone in the room, but he could feel a
stray hand clamped tightly around his wrist as if letting go would
result in being lost forever in the darkness. He tried to dislodge
it, but instead it tightened a little more.

The dark
stillness was slightly eerie; inside the room, it was absolute,
with no ambient light shining in from outside either, as if the
whole city had just shut down. The only evidence of something
actually happening outside their cocoon was the almost silent
beating of the rain against the double glazed glass. He felt a
slight pressure building in his sinuses and his light-headedness
got a little worse.

“
How long does it normally take?” Jane’s breath was hot in his
ear and there was a slight tremor in her voice. He would not have
picked her to be scared of the dark. At least he knew who the hand
clamped around his wrist belonged to.

“
I’m not sure Jane, I don’t think we have ever had to use it
for real, but it gets tested every other week so it should work”
Bridger saw the small luminous glow of a wrist watch where he had
last seen the Keith Joyce.

“
It’s been more than three minutes Sergeant Bridger; I think
it should have kicked in by now if it was going to.” The voice
sounded indignant, almost accusing “We don’t really have time for
this.”

“
You’re right Mr Joyce; we don’t have time for this.” He had
no idea why the power had not come back on, but it worked to his
advantage. “We are going to have to reschedule Mr Joyce. I’m sure
you will understand the reasons.” The hand clamped to his wrist
turned into an arm around the waist. He needed to
move.

Bridger began
inching his way towards where he guessed the door would be. The arm
around his waist got as little tighter and he felt its owner
shuffling beside him.

“
Don’t leave me here with him.” A voice whispered in his ear.
He did not have time for her games either. Pushing Jane’s arm from
his waist he reached out in the darkness and found the door handle,
giving it a twist he opened the door and a rush of cold salty air
flowed into the room, clearing his sinuses a little. Stepping out
into the corridor, he could not hear or see anyone else, but at
this time of night all the bosses would be indoors with their
families doing whatever it was that bosses did to unwind. The only
presence he felt was the over-sexed Keith Joyce and his present
sexual tension in the form of a flirty Jane Little. Well they could
keep each other company in whatever way Jane had led Mr Joyce to
believe for all he cared. He let the door go, not caring if it
closed and shut the other two in. Making his way down the corridor
in the darkness he could not tell if he was dizzy or blind but he
had to keep one hand on the wall to balance himself. He needed to
retrieve his keys before he could set the ball in motion regarding
Reece Coster and leave, and then with any luck, catch up with
Laura. The thought of her stirred a memory. She hated power cuts.
There was always a stack of candles and a lighter on the kitchen
bench, and a torch stashed in every room, but she still insisted
she was not afraid of the dark. He pulled his cellphone from his
pocket to give her a call, just then remembering he could use it to
provide some light. He would call her when he got down to the
office. Feeling his mood lifting, he almost started whistling. His
body was getting a warm fuzzy feeling, similar to the whisky rush
he used to crave so much.

He was
halfway down the stairwell when the lights flickered and came on
again, followed by a screaming alarm that drilled into his head.
That was the custody alarm, most probably triggered by the power
cut, but you never knew. Squinting against the light, Bridger tried
to shake off the dizziness in his head before he started to jog
unsteadily down the remaining stairs to the basement
cellblock.

Jo just stood
there in front of him, mouth slightly open, not saying anything.
Behind her, a cell door was wide open. Steve Kirkland could not
figure out what had just happened. He had heard the blood chilling
noise emanating from the direction of the female cellblock just
before the lights had switched back on. He had banged the panic
alarm and come straight down. His first thought was Jo, she was
with a prisoner and that was always a risky time, they could be
unpredictable. He looked her over. Apart from being unresponsive,
she looked fine. He tried to match the noise to Jo’s face and could
not do it. It had sounded more like an animal in pain, than
anything a human could make. The Clowns image flashed in his mind
and he shuddered involuntarily. Maria… where was Maria?
Shit.

“
Jo…” Steve shook her on the shoulders. “What’s happened to
Maria? Where are the keys I gave you?”

Jo held her
empty hands out, but did not respond.

He raised his
voice to compete with the screaming alarm. “Jo, what’s the matter
with you, where is Maria?” Steve could see the fearful look in her
eyes, and he was beginning to panic himself. The last thing he
needed was a missing prisoner on his watch. He shoved past her into
the cell, the tangy scent of salt invading his nostrils. Coldness
seeped out of the bare walls making him shudder, there was a
presence tickling his forehead, but the room was empty. Shit. Shit.
Shit…

Jo had
slumped down against the concrete wall outside in the corridor; her
face buried in her hands. Steve ignored her and started jogging
back towards the charge room; he needed a phone to tell someone of
the escape. He just hoped she was still somewhere in the
cellblock.

Bridger
almost collided with Steve Kirkland as he entered the charge room,
the look on his face telling him something was happening, but not
what. His mind was spinning and his reactions felt dulled slightly.
He could see Steve’s mouth moving. “Mike, Maria’s escaped… Jo’s
down there.” Steve was pointing in the direction of the female
cellblock but he could not make out much of what he said over the
noise. What he did hear caught in his addled mind. Jo was in
trouble. Again.

“
Kill that alarm, Steve.” Not caring if Steve had actually
heard his instructions or not he started moving in the direction
Steve had been pointing. The screaming alarm silenced, replaced by
a loud rushing in his ears. The fluorescent strip lighting started
streaming in his periphery vision, giving him the feeling he was
moving fast. The light-headedness left him replaced by a feeling of
intense clarity. Despite the circumstances, he felt better than he
had in a long time.

Jo’s pitiful
figure came into view, slumped against the wall. As he approached,
she looked up and her eyes met with his. He did not need to see the
open cell door to realise Maria was gone; Jo’s eyes told him that.
He did not feel the need to ask her anything, an understanding
passed between them that unfolded the events for him. Maria had
taken the keys from Jo and then she had left. How that was possible
was not even registering in his thoughts as he carried on past Jo
and towards the rear of the cellblock. The air got colder and
damper as he rounded the corner to see the steel door hanging open.
Beyond the door, the vehicle-port used for transferring aggravated
prisoners from patrol car to the cellblock, was also empty, the
large steel roller door open to the outside. Beyond that was a wall
of angry water falling from the sky whipped up by and even angrier
wind. He could almost hear the laughter in the roar as he stared
out into the storm. Maria was in the wind.

Chapter
Twenty One

Bridger was
standing in the alleyway outside the rear gate of the central
Police Station. The rain had already soaked through the thin layer
of his shirt, driven against his skin like needles. That Clown had
been right there earlier, just standing and watching. Maybe he had
known and waited for Maria to emerge and led her to safety. That
did not make sense, there was no way the Clown could have know she
would escape. The wind was mocking him, he could hear it, and
blowing in different directions all at once, it was trying to lead
him from his quarry. Which way had Maria run? He needed to make a
decision.