The Edge of Sanity (29 page)

Daniel closed his eyes, visibly bracing himself as Charlie loomed over him.

Charlie looked down at Daniel.

Would prefer the stubborn sod looked up at him, but he just wasn’t going to, was he? He glanced coolly back at Jo. She’d a fair point, he supposed, and an attitude that needed altering.

‘I won’t break anymore ribs, darlin’.’ He smiled, walking casually around Daniel. ‘Not yet.’ He brought the gun down heavily across Daniel’s shoulders, and again across the back of his neck, because Daniel just refused to go down until he did.

Kayla screamed as Charlie straightened up, satisfied when the second blow sent Daniel sprawling. Still not down though. On all fours, panting for air, but not down. It would have to do.

‘You see, it’s his spirit I want to break,’ Charlie snarled. ‘Now, if you’d rather
not
see
Daddy
begging,’ he glared at Kayla, ‘I suggest you go to the other end of the boat and keep it zipped.’ He dismissed her with a disdainful glance.

‘And
you
,’ he clutched the back of Daniel’s shirt, ‘get the fuck up.’

****

Nobody could call him heartless, Charlie decided. He’d allowed Danny Boy the luxury of sitting on the floor rather than kneeling, which couldn’t be anything but considerate. He waited patiently while Daniel got his breath back and tried to straighten his stubborn shoulders.

Oh, man, Charlie’s eyes boggled as Daniel coughed and clutched his side. He
was
spitting blood. Have to heed wifey’s warning, he realised. Go easy with the old body blows. Didn’t want him to croak it before he’d popped to the bank.

He’d give him a few more minutes, Charlie thought generously.

Time enough, he thought two minutes later. If Daniel was with it enough to look at his wife and straighten up for her benefit, he was with it enough to be listening.

‘Now, Danny Boy,’ Charlie paced slowly in front of him, ‘you have to learn to be better behaved, don’t you? Make phone calls when I tell you. Do everything I tell you.’ He stopped to finish rolling his spliff—and to give Daniel time to answer.

‘Didn’t quite catch that?’ Charlie said when Daniel didn’t.

Daniel nodded.

‘Good.’ Charlie smiled. ‘And you realise it’s for your own good?’ He paused to light up. ‘And hers.’ He exhaled in Jo’s direction and tried to ignore her snivelling, which was getting on his nerves. ‘Don’t you?’

Daniel didn’t move.

‘Didn’t hear you, Daniel.’ Charlie squatted to lift Daniel’s chin.

‘Yes,’ Daniel said quietly, his voice hoarse, his eyes devoid of emotion.

Unbelievable, thought Charlie. Still he looks at me like shit. ‘Inject him.’ He stood abruptly.

‘What?’ Steve asked, astonished.

‘Oh, man, will you stop saying what? I said tie him up and
inject
him, and
you
,’ he turned to Jo, ‘shut up, or it’ll be the worse for your hubby? Got it?’

Steve appeared to be struggling with his decision. ‘Bloody ‘ell, we can’t do that, Charlie. You don’t go around forcing people to shoot up if they don’t want to.’

‘No?’ Charlie eyeballed him. ‘Well, we’ll keep him awake then, and subdue him some other way. Fetch the gear, Steve, and stop giving me grief, okay?’

Steve looked at Jo.

Jo looked at him, horrified.

‘It’ll be better for him.’ Steve looked away, shrugged uselessly and went to do as instructed.

****

Charlie stood a fair way back from Daniel, who sat quietly. ‘Now, while Steve’s warming your medicine, and just to show you how stupid I’m
not
, Danny, I’ll fill you in, shall I?’

Charlie waited.

‘You’re not answering me, Daniel.’

Daniel shrugged, then, rapidly realising that that might be deemed a wrong answer, nodded. Provoking the bastard wasn’t a good idea when he was about to be pumped full of drugs, leaving Jo and Kayla … to what?

Jesus, how had he let it come to this? Daniel swallowed hard, rested his head in his hands, and waited, more scared than he’d ever been in his life, and totally powerless.

‘That’s better,’ Charlie said, seemingly content. ‘I’ll continue then, shall I? You see, my intention wasn’t to have your daughter …’

He waited for Daniel to respond.

Daniel didn’t.

‘ … not just yet.’ Charlie examined his nails.

Daniel wiped a hand across his mouth.

Charlie took a long draw on his spliff, and then went on. ‘She’s going to keep me warm tonight, you see, Daniel, while you’re flying so high you won’t give a toss.’

‘Oh, man, if looks could kill …’ Charlie laughed. ‘Danny Boy, you should see your face.’

Charlie took another slow draw on his spliff. ‘In fact,’ he exhaled, ‘I quite fancy a threesome.’

Daniel locked smouldering eyes on his. ‘Bastard,’ he grated, attempting to lever himself to his feet.

‘Tut, tut.’ Charlie turned the gun rapidly toward Jo. ‘Sticks and stones, Daniel. Names can’t hurt me.’ He smiled. ‘But I’ll hurt her.’

Daniel sank back to the floor, and slammed his head back, hard. ‘Bastard!’

‘We’ve established that, Daniel.’ Charlie smirked coldly. ‘And you’ve just demonstrated my point admirably, haven’t you? You just won’t do as you’re told. So you have to learn a little humility, to be a bit more submissive, Daniel. Get my drift?’

Charlie waited.

‘You’re not answering me, Danny Boy.’

‘Christ!’ Daniel raked his hand through his hair. How much more? How much more was he supposed to take?

‘Obviously, you don’t.’ Charlie tossed his joint aside. ‘So I’ll spell it out for you, shall I? I’m going to soothe you to sleep, Danny Boy. Just like daddy did.’

Charlie smiled nastily. ‘Now, have you got it?’

‘Hope that’s good stuff, Steve.’ He motioned Steve who stood, apparently dumbstruck, with a syringe and a rope. ‘He is paying for it after all.’

Charlie winked at Daniel. ‘Sweet dreams, sunshine.’

Chapter Nineteen

DI Short sized up the front door, impatiently. At this rate, the night would be over and they’d still be no nearer to finding Daniel Connor. ‘Force it,’ he instructed an officer.

Might as well go in, he’d decided. See if there was anything he could dig up on the inside. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ He rolled his eyes and nudged the officer aside, who, obviously having left his ingenuity at the station, was trying to break down the door. Must teach it in training school.

‘Use brains, lad,’ DI Short jabbed himself in the temple, ‘not brawn. Oh, never mind,’ he wriggled out of his jacket. ‘If you need a job doing …’

‘Why don’t you use the key?’ Hannah suggested, behind him, as DI Short was poised to punch out a low pane of glass.

‘Bloody hell!
’ DI Short clamped a hand over his palpitating heart. Who the
hell
let her slip by? He glowered across the yard, then back at Hannah. What was it with this girl? Did she not realise that this was a police investigation?

Sighing, he turned to face her. ‘What key would that be, Hannah?’

‘This key,’ Hannah replied matter-of-factly, shoving a ceramic tub to one side. From under which she retrieved the key and plopped it into a disbelieving DI Short’s hand.

Diligent detective work Inspector, DI Short congratulated himself. ‘Thank you.’ He smiled sweetly at Hannah. ‘Now, go home!’

‘Oh, no, not again.’ He sighed, as Hannah looked close to tears. ‘Hannah, this is a dangerous place to be.
Very
dangerous. If your parents knew you were here,’ he arched an eyebrow, ‘you’d be in big trouble, wouldn’t you?’

‘
Parent.
’ Hannah corrected him. ‘My dad doesn’t much care what I do.’

Hell
… Talk about policeman-flipping-plod. DI Short tried another tactic. ‘Hannah, if you don’t go home,
I’ll
be in big trouble. Please give me a break and—’

‘Go,’ Hannah finished.

‘Yes,’ DI Short said, serious-faced. ‘Please.’

Hannah shrugged and turned to slope off. DI Short watched her trail towards the gate, a pretty, chippy, young woman on the outside, but just an insecure child on the inside. He shook his head. What was it with some fathers? He could never be disinterested in his daughter’s activities, much to his daughter’s chagrin.

He was barely through the front door into the house, before several officers bustled past to check out the place. Well, they were keen, he had to admit. He’d try to tone down his temper, DI Short decided, aware that he was being a bit snappy. Not surprisingly, with the lives of three people at stake, and him utterly clueless.

Too much to hope that there’d be anything useful in the post, he supposed, bending to retrieve a wad of envelopes from the doormat, and …

Bingo! He muttered thanks to the ceiling. A bank envelope, if he wasn’t mistaken. A statement by any small miracle? He tore the envelope open, not letting
private and personal
stand in the way of police work.

‘Yesss!’ DI Short stopped short of punching the air as an officer descended the stairs.

‘Still there, Sir,’ the officer reported.

‘Hmm?’ DI Short furrowed his brow, looking over the mortgage statement, which showed the mortgage redeemed, ergo not quite a million quid available. Did Charlie Roberts know that? There was still a fair whack left over though—in account at the same bank.

However much it was, Roberts would be aiming to get his hands on it. Presumably, Daniel would have to give notice, so the scumbag was lying low somewhere between Worcester and Birmingham, toying with the psyche of his hostages to amuse himself while he waited. That narrowed it down a bit.

‘The suitcases, sir,’ the officer repeated. ‘They’re still there, where the girl …’ he nodded past DI Short ‘ … said they’d be.’

‘Yes, right,’ DI Short said distractedly. ‘Thank you,’ he added, and turned, straight into a sheepish, but determined, Hannah.

‘Good God, girl!’ DI Short barked, no attempt this time to hide his annoyance. ‘What do I have to do? Have you escorted off the premises? Will you please—’

‘I’m going. I’m going.’ Hannah raised submissive hands. ‘It’s just,’ she hesitated, ‘I had a hunch.’

‘A hunch,’ DI Short repeated, with dry amusement. He shook his head despairingly.

‘There’s a boat out,’ Hannah ploughed on. ‘It wasn’t out before, because Kayla and I got ready on it, but it’s out now.’

‘It’s a boatyard, Hannah,’ DI Short pointed out. ‘Boats generally go out of boatyards. Unless …’ He stopped, frowning as he followed Hannah’s gaze across the yard and noted the
Closed
sign.

‘ … the boatyard’s closed,’ Hannah finished triumphantly.

DI Short dispensed with decorum, cupped Hannah’s face in his hands and planted a kiss firmly on top of her head. ‘Thank you.’ He sighed gratefully. ‘Now
go home
. Your mother will be frantic.’

He chivvied her out of the door and headed towards the towpath. ‘No wait.’ He turned back. ‘Which way to Birmingham?’

‘That way.’ Hannah pointed. ‘But it’ll take you an awful long time on foot.’

Dammit, she was right. They’d be a fair way along the route by now. So what was he going to do? Drive along the towpath? He looked around helplessly.

‘Kayla and her mum have bikes,’ Hannah suggested.

‘Where?’ DI Short asked, tucking his trouser leg in his sock.

‘In the garage. Where else?’ Hannah looked at him askew. ‘The keys are hanging in the kitchen,’ she added, as DI Short headed swiftly for the garage.

He did an about turn. ‘Thank you, Hannah.’ He smiled back at her. ‘You’ll make some lucky policeperson a wonderful partner one day. Now—’

‘Go home.’ Hannah nodded and turned reluctantly for home.

DI Short found the keys, hanging in the kitchen as Hannah had said. She really had been invaluable. She was a nice kid, he decided. He owed it to her to keep her informed. He’d check up on her afterwards, too, especially if the news was bad. It wouldn’t be. It better damn well not be. ‘You, lad, come with me,’ he instructed one of the officers.

The officer eyed the mode of transport dubiously. ‘Er, it’s getting a bit dark, sir,’ he pointed out.

DI Short rolled his eyes. ‘And you’re afraid of the dark, are you sonny?’

‘No, sir. I—’

‘Do you think the dark is going to make any difference to Charlie Roberts?’ DI Short glared at him. ‘Do you think he’s going to say, Oh, dear, it’s getting a bit dark and postpone persecuting those poor bastards until morning!?’

Probably what the despicable little shit would do, he thought with a shudder. Anything for kicks.

‘No, sir.’ The officer looked suitably reprimanded.

‘On yer bike,’ DI Short instructed him.

‘And you,’ he glanced at another officer, as he mounted a second bike, ‘get that air surveillance here, now!’

****

‘No choice, mate,’ Steve told Daniel as he tightened the tourniquet. ‘If I don’t do it, he will.’

Daniel flinched as he pushed the syringe home.

‘Hold still,’ Steve said, keeping eye contact with him. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

Daniel looked hard at him, daring to hope that Steve might be his only last hope. He kept looking at him. Then cocked his head to one side as the drugs he’d pumped into him coursed through his veins, red hot. Flowing. White hot. Lava, inside his mind.

Christ, he couldn’t cope with this. Couldn’t …

Daniel tried to draw breath. It hurt. Nausea swept through him. His stomach churned. His heart slammed against his chest.

Oh, Jesus. He reeled forwards. He was going to throw up. How? How could he throw up, if he couldn’t breathe?

He moaned, dropped his head to his knees, and the floor tilted and slipped to one side. It’s folding up, Daniel thought blearily, as a wall leaned to meet it. The room was shutting up shop and going home. He couldn’t think straight.

No. Daniel breathed deep, and a pain seared through his side.

He started counting.

Tried to stop shaking, as a stair creaked beside him.

But … Daniel shook his head, blinking against the light, the naked bulb swinging on the landing. He blinked again, hard.

Tried to focus, but swayed to one side.