Dead Man Walking (33 page)

Gemma nodded again. ‘From this point on, DS Heckenburg, so are we.’

PC Mick McGurk was sitting in the main office at Cragwood Keld nick as if it was any ordinary night shift. In fact he was dozing, slumped in the chair alongside the radio, his brawny arms folded. But he jumped to his feet when two people entered noisily through the personnel door. It was Heck and Gemma, Mary-Ellen having accompanied Hazel back to The Witch’s Kettle.

‘Nothing tae report,’ he said with a shrug. Any normal copper would have had the good grace to look sheepish, but PC McGurk didn’t seem to do emotions.

He listened in stoic, stony silence as Heck explained what had happened on the fell. Even the news about PC Heggarty made little immediate impact on McGurk, as he hadn’t known the guy that well. However, his expression sagged when he learned about Bessie Longhorn.

‘That wee daftie who used to come down to Bowness to see her ma?’

‘It wasn’t an easy death for her,’ Heck said, able to give a fuller description of the crime scene now that Hazel was no longer with them.

‘Christ preserve us,’ McGurk said slowly.

‘Christ preserve us indeed.’ Gemma banged the telephone receiver back on its cradle. ‘This landline’s dead.’

Heck glanced at McGurk, who suddenly seemed to remember something. ‘Internet went down some time back. I presumed it was the network. Was gonna give it half an hour …’

‘And then you fell asleep,’ Heck interrupted.

‘Hey, sarge,’ McGurk replied in a flat tone. ‘I’ve been on all day and it’s now after three in the morning, okay? And you lot were gone God knows how long. I had nae idea there was any kind of emergency. I didna know the phone was dead because I had nae call to use it.’

They tried to reboot the internet but got no change from it, which was no surprise if the phone line was at fault.

Mary-Ellen now entered the nick. ‘All the villagers are still down at the pub,’ she said. ‘Most of them are asleep, or dozing …’ Her words tailed off as she saw their faces. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘He’s been here,’ Heck said. ‘First he did the phone lines in the Ho. Now he’s done them in the Keld.’

‘What … all of them?’

‘It would make sense. The easiest way would be that telephone mast at the top of the green, wouldn’t it?’

‘That’d be the only way,’ Mary-Ellen said.

‘You’ve got a couple of messages left from earlier,’ Gemma said, having checked the station answering-machine.

In fact there was only one they hadn’t already listened to. It was an update from DI Mabelthorpe, pointing out that the firearms team were only making slow progress from Penrith. It wasn’t just the fog apparently; it was constant hold-ups on the motorway due to a lengthy procession of accidents. At one point they’d veered off and tried to progress via the back-lanes, but that had been even worse. It didn’t require a crashed HGV to block a narrow mountain road – a three-wheeled milk float would do it – and in those isolated spots there’d likely be no response from the rescue services all night. So now they were back on the motorway, sitting again in gridlocked traffic.

‘
They’re on their way, Heck, but there’s nothing moving at present
,’ Mabelthorpe concluded. ‘
Could be another two … maybe three hours. Sorry about that
.’

That message had been left on the answering-machine at quarter-past midnight.

Heck turned to McGurk. ‘Why didn’t you take this call?’

‘I’ve nae just been sitting in here,’ McGurk explained. ‘You asked me to check around the village and the pub.’

‘Yeah, suppose I did … okay.’

‘The main thing is they’re en route,’ Mary-Ellen said brightly. ‘Even if it’s taken them three hours, they should be here anytime now.’

‘Well that’s the first good news we’ve heard all night,’ Heck said. ‘At least then we’ll have an armed response available right on the spot should the bastard decide to show his face. In the meantime, I want to find out what’s happened to the phone.’

Mary-Ellen had been in the process of opening her anorak, but now she zipped it back up. ‘I’ll come with you.’

She and Heck exited the station, crossed Hetherby Close and rounded the corner to the edge of the village green. The mast in question was located at its northwest tip. Telephone wires spanned out from it in every direction, servicing all the houses and businesses in the village – or at least, ordinarily they did. Though it was a tall mast, Mary-Ellen only needed to shine her torch up there to expose a distinct absence of cabling. Nearby, an extendable aluminium ladder lay in the leaf-littered grass.

‘The bastard just climbed up there and chopped them down?’ she said, amazed. ‘Tell me it’s not that easy to take an entire community off the grid.’

‘It looks like it was that easy tonight,’ Heck said, feeling visible again despite the fog. ‘Back to the nick, quickly.’

‘Shouldn’t we tape off the ladder …?’

‘If it was going anywhere, it would have gone. Which means it’ll probably be no use to us. Come on, quickly.’

Before re-entering the station, they quickly checked the Astra brought up by Heggarty and McGurk. It was the only police vehicle they now had at their disposal, but it was big and spacious, and, if necessary, would serve the purpose of transporting at least four of their charges back to safety. But the Astra was beyond use; the glistening pool of brake fluid underneath its belly was proof of that.

‘No mangling of the engine in this case, like we saw up at the Ho,’ Heck observed. ‘No banging, no hammering … too noisy with McGurk just inside the nick. So our boy did a bit of quiet surgery underneath instead – sliced the brake cables. What are the odds he’s done the same to every other vehicle in the village?’

‘He can’t have,’ Mary-Ellen said. ‘Can he?’

‘There’s only a handful, and all the owners are cooped up in the pub.’

‘Bloody glad those firearms lads are coming. At least all we have to do now is wait.’

‘Let’s get inside,’ Heck replied. ‘We can count our chickens when we’re behind locked doors.’

They hastened up the station path, and entered again through the personnel door. Heck explained what they’d found.

‘So wha’ is this, a siege?’ McGurk wondered, blank-faced.

None of them bothered to reply. They hadn’t thought about it in those terms, but now that McGurk mentioned it, a siege seemed to be exactly the predicament they faced.

‘We need to get over to the pub,’ Gemma decided. ‘We’re still police officers, even if we are deaf, dumb and blind. Protecting those civilians should be our priority.’

‘Plus it’ll be more easily defensible,’ Heck said. ‘It’s the sturdiest building in the village. It’s got smaller windows than the nick as well.’ He indicated the glass door opening into the police office porch and the front desk, and the large plate-glass window alongside it. ‘We can close the blinds, but let’s not pretend this guy isn’t armed. From what I saw, he had a Colt Python. That’s a .357 Magnum revolver, which explains why it sounds like a cannon. Dirty Harry eat your heart out, and all that. The main thing is he can easily shoot his way into here.’

‘Hang on,’ Mary-Ellen said. ‘If we all go down to the pub, the firearms team won’t know where we are.’

Heck gave this some thought. ‘Suppose we could leave a note …’

‘And have the killer remove it as soon as our backs are turned?’

Heck glanced at Gemma.

‘She’s right,’ Gemma said. ‘Someone should stay behind. This is a police station, after all. We shouldn’t just abandon it. Whoever it is, we can lock them in … they’ll be reasonably safe in the short time between now and the shots arriving.’

‘I’ll stay,’ McGurk offered. They all looked at him. He returned their gazes indifferently. ‘Sitting around in foxholes all night, waiting tae get sniped – won’t exactly be a new experience for me. Plus I’ve got body-armour on. You lot havena. Don’t worry, I’ll lie low with the lights out. He won’t see me.’

‘You’ll be on your own,’ Heck advised him. ‘Out of contact.’

McGurk shrugged; that blank, stony-faced visage of the war veteran again. ‘Wha’s a few minutes between friends?’

‘Okay,’ Heck said, ‘but just remember … this guy’s got a gun and he’s not afraid to use it. If he tries to come in through the front door, you go out the back. No heroics.’

McGurk gave a toothy half-smile; the first they’d seen from him, and a rather odd-looking thing it was. ‘Don’t worry, sarge … I’ll leave those tae you.’

Heck, Gemma and Mary-Ellen circled around from Hetherby Close to the top of the green, and there halted.

The grassy surface glistened with frost as it stretched away into dimness. At this deepest part of the night, there was no sound. The houses along either side were dark, vaguely definable shells, more like mausoleums than habitations. It was astounding how completely the grey shroud of fog had changed the look and feel of the place – it now stood silent and sepulchral, like some forgotten rural necropolis. And yet even by the standards of ever-scenic Lakeland, the Keld normally held ‘chocolate box’ appeal. Its permanent residents might number only a handful, but they were mostly retired, so they looked after it religiously. Its lawns were always mown, its verges trimmed, its fruit trees pruned. In summer, the cottage gardens were a riot of rainbow flowers.

It was all still here, of course. It was only a matter of months until spring. But just surviving the next half-hour or so, while they waited for the firearms team to arrive, felt like a task in itself. They started forward, stepping softly as they progressed down Truscott Drive.

‘Why is this always the worst time?’ Mary-Ellen wondered quietly. ‘When it’s only a few minutes ’til the cavalry shows up?’

‘Human nature,’ Heck replied. ‘If you always expect the worst, it prevents you ever being disappointed.’

‘I’ll be honest, I’ve no clue what I’m going to put in my report,’ Gemma said. ‘If this
is
the Stranger, I’ve no idea what script he’s working to.’

‘It’s a very different process from last time,’ Heck agreed.

‘Do you see
any
process here?’

‘These are opportunist killings. But there’s an element of organised planning too. This guy couldn’t control the actions of the people living in Cragwood Vale; he couldn’t pre-empt what they were going to do next. But he’s obviously been watching them and taking notes. He’s hung very close indeed, so he can make counter-moves at the drop of a hat. He’s hellishly organised, and he’s working to
some
kind of a plan.’

‘Still doesn’t sound like the Stranger to me.’

‘Not as you knew him in 2004 … but a lot may have changed since then.’

‘What’s his end-game, though?’ Mary-Ellen asked.

‘Isn’t that obvious?’ Heck replied ‘To kill us all?’

Ahead of them, The Witch’s Kettle materialised through the vapour.

‘In which case, is it really a good idea we all pile into the pub at the same time?’ Gemma said.

Heck considered this. ‘You mean is he waiting ’til he’s got us all in one place?’

‘Isn’t that what he did up at Annie Beckwith’s farm, hole us all up in one building, then herd us into a single room, before pouncing? It would make life easier for him when he’s got multiple targets.’

Heck mulled that over. Such a thought was unnerving, primarily because it made good sense. But ultimately, the potential disadvantages of using the pub as a base of ops had to be weighed against its very real advantages. They kept on walking. Warm firelight now glimmered from the pub’s curtained windows. ‘The way I see it, we’ve no choice,’ he said. ‘I mean, we surely can’t send everyone back to their individual houses. He could pop them all just as easily that way. Probably even more easily. There’s still got to be safety in numbers.’

‘Agreed,’ Gemma replied. ‘But we’ve got to turn this place into a fortress.’

Lucy answered the pub door when they knocked. She looked pale and sallow-faced. Inside, the fire had burned low, casting a dull reddish light which nevertheless filled the taproom and bar. The rest of the villagers, many of whom looked stiff and dazed as if they’d just been woken, were sitting where Heck had left them. One or two muttered together, but immediately on seeing the cops, sat up, alert again, watching and listening intently.

Hazel appeared behind the bar from the kitchen. She’d changed into a grey, slim-fit tracksuit and wore a cardigan over the top. She’d also brushed her straggly hair back and tied it into a pony tail. She didn’t exactly look fresher – faint hints of mascara still marked her cheeks – but she seemed calmer to be back on home turf.

‘All windows and doors secured?’ Heck asked her. ‘Back door, back gate?’

She nodded.

‘How many rooms upstairs?’ Gemma asked.

‘Eight in total,’ Hazel said.

Gemma gave that some thought. ‘The probability is we’re going to be okay. But we don’t want any last-minute disasters. So I suggest we lock all the rooms that have locks on them, and keep checking on the others for as long as we need to. This place is sturdy, but it isn’t invulnerable. Nowhere is.’

‘I can start that now,’ Lucy said, glancing uneasily at the darkened stairway. ‘Haven’t been up there for half an hour at least, so it’s about due.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Mary-Ellen said, drawing her baton.

Lucy looked relieved and they went up the stairs together.

‘Hazel, we need to damp that fire down,’ Heck said. ‘I know the room’s nice and warm, but if this guy’s outside and he sees our shadows moving past the windows, he could easily take a pot-shot at one of us.’

Hazel nodded and went to deal with it.

‘The rest of you!’ Heck said, turning to the taproom. The villagers listened attentively. ‘The best thing you can do is stay exactly where you are. We’re much safer in here together. And it’s probably not going to be for much longer. We’ve got armed reinforcements on the way, and they’ll be here anytime now.’

‘Have you been up to the Ho?’ Sally O’Grady asked in a querulous tone. Clearly no one had broken the bad news about the recent murders yet.

‘Yes, I have.’

‘And did you speak to them? Did you tell them they should come down here?’