Authors: Hazel Cotton
To Snatch a Thief (15 page)
‘Good. Thanks,’ she called, and waved again.
The patrol car rounded the corner and disappeared into the night.
.
From the shadows he watched the cruiser disappear, considering his next move. The girl was becoming a problem. So far she’d shown a remarkable ability to survive. Mostly luck, he acknowledged, but nevertheless… He fingered the phial in his pocket and toyed with the idea of using it now. He had to admit, he enjoyed it: the hunt, the thrill of selection, the kill. That precise moment, of his choosing, when life left the body was a powerful, almost godlike experience. But no, he decided, killing her by that means would create too much attention from The Force. For the time being, at least, he’d keep her alive. Tilting his head, he studied her. She was so young and quite lovely – it would be a waste not to enjoy her before she died. She seemed nervous, he thought, as if she sensed him there: the edgy flick of a hand over that glorious hair; the quick adjustment to her clothes. He wondered in passing, while contemplating her death, what she would be like naked. Soon, he promised himself, he would find out.
However, he mused, in the meantime she must be dissuaded from meddling further. His eye fell on the young boy running ahead as they mounted the front steps. She opened the door and they both passed out of sight. His lips turned up in a slow smile. The child was her weakness; she was vulnerable there. Satisfied, he returned to the warmth of his car. Yes, he thought, the boy would do nicely.
It was precisely twenty seven minutes to two. Skye logged that fact on the report she’d been copying and, sitting back, skimmed her eyes around the room. Everyone seemed engrossed in whatever they were doing. Hunter’s office was empty - had been all day. She might treat herself to a chocolate bar from the dispenser, she thought, and get one for Lexie for later; the one with the gooey stuff inside that he liked. She smiled as she searched through the junk in her bag for loose coins. He was so much happier these days and doing better at school… Eeww, how long had
that
been in there? In disgust, she fished an old soy dog wrapper from the murky depths, and lobbed it in the bin. Ah, there you are. Spotting a handful of dollars amongst the crud at the bottom, she gathered them up, stood. Yes, she admitted, things had got better for both of them since they’d moved out of the flat. Despite his macho attitude, Hunter had really helped out there.
She hadn’t gone two paces when the plink from her klip warned of an incoming message. The caller had disengaged audio but, she noted, the call was live. She stared at the small, silent screen, blinking as her slow brain registered what she was seeing. “
Act normally. Say nothing. Do not alert your colleagues. Watch and be very afraid.”
Behind the scrolling words, the scene moved, jerking slightly as the operator walked towards the iron railings of a school playground. She froze. Children, dressed in woolly hats, scarves, gloves, were out playing: chasing, skipping, kicking balls. In the background two teachers stood chatting, their hands cupped around steaming mugs. The jerking stopped. A child turned as if he’d been called. The camera zoomed in, and Lexie’s solemn face filled the screen.
“You were warned. You should have listened.”
‘You bastard!
’
The words screamed out of her mouth before she could stop them. A couple of snatchers looked up, but she had already hit the door. ‘Don’t hurt him.’ She raced for the lift.
‘
I’ll do anything. Anything you say. Just leave him alone.’
Rainbow-coloured children’s paintings lined the corridor where the young headmaster hurried to meet her. His speed caused the paintings to flutter like flags. ‘I can’t understand it,’ he called out, while still some distance away. ‘We’ve never had this happen before; our school security’s tight. Sorry, I’m Dennis Pincher, we haven’t met formally, although I’ve seen you with Alexie of course.’ He held out his hand. ‘We got all the children in as soon as you called.’ Deep lines of worry were carved on his pale, freckled face. ‘I keep hoping there’s been some mistake. None of the staff on playground duty noticed anyone hanging around. We’re all quite rattled, actually.’ As he raked a hand through his ginger hair, he slanted her a hopeful look. ‘Are you sure your tip-off was genuine? I mean you police get hoax calls all the time, right? I don’t want the parents unduly alarmed.’
She could breathe now. Think clearer. Talk easier now. She’d seen Lexie, spoken to him, clutched him till he’d wriggled away in disgust. She’d called the school on the run. Staff had scrambled; all children rushed inside. Once she knew Lexie was amongst them, she’d got her story straight in her head: an anonymous tip-off, a known flasher reported hanging around outside the gates - she’d been assigned to check it out.
And she had checked. Whoever had called was clever. Before she went in, Skye found the exact route they’d taken to film the playground. They wouldn’t be on the CCTV. They’d used the one blind spot, as she would have, if she’d been casing the joint.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘We think it’s genuine.’ They’d stopped outside a glass panelled door through which Skye glimpsed an empty classroom. School attendance had been low on her priorities and something about the familiar pattern of tables and chairs, the banks of monitors, the teacher’s command screen on the wall at the front, not to mention the smell of the whole place - somewhere between disinfectant and old shoes - gave her the itchy, trapped feeling she’d always associated with school. The sooner she got out of here the better. Taking an e-pad out of her cadet uniform top pocket, she attempted to look official. If Lexie was to be guarded in the future, Dennis needed to be rattled some more. ‘There’s been a few cases of kids being flashed at lately,’ she lied. ‘So you need to be extra on the lookout for the next few weeks; I mean, really keep an eye open. Actually, keep them all inside. Report any suspicious characters you see hanging around and check everyone and anyone who comes to collect a kid.’ Skye paused, as Dennis paled further. ‘As I’m here, I’m taking Lexie home early.’
As it turned out, Beatrice joined them. Upset by all the excitement, she’d chucked her lunch up in the classroom. ‘I’ve called her parents,’ Dennis said. ‘They’re unavailable, but her grandmother’s given the okay for you to take her straight there. In the circumstances, and as you don’t appear to have a police vehicle, I’ll give you a lift.’
Grateful, Skye smiled. ‘Budget cuts. What can you do?’
The little pigtailed-girl dressed in dark purple jeans, pink jumper and kickers that sparked when she walked, was led into the room by the school’s nurse. Beatrice’s bottom lip quivered as she sucked in a string of ragged breaths. Her baby blue eyes swam. The moment she saw Skye she burst into tears.
‘Yes, dear, I’ve got that. You don’t have to say it again.’ Maxine’s teacup hit her saucer with a sharp ting, stopping Skye in mid flow. ‘I understand the need for vigilance perfectly. But I don’t think we need to discuss this in front of these two anymore.’ She rolled her eyes to the floor where Beatrice and Lexie were sprawled at their feet drawing pictures with coloured pens. Beatrice’s huge eyes, as she looked up, were filling again.
‘Yes, sorry. I’ll shut up.’ Sitting in Maxine’s comfortable living room with the false logs of her fire crackling, Skye told herself to relax. Her first instinct on getting the call had been to run. Grab Lexie and bolt for the hills. But where would they go that Hunter wouldn’t find them? And then there would be awkward questions she was too scared now to answer. No, she decided. Willow and Jonathan were dead. She and Lex weren’t. She intended to keep it that way. She’d obviously got close and somebody didn’t like it. But then again… Skye sighed inwardly. If she dropped the cases now she’d add guilt that she was letting the person responsible for their deaths get away with it to her overload of worries. God, she felt middle-aged.
The doorbell rang. Maxine stood, glancing at the window as she went out to the hall. ‘Oh, how lovely, Stephen’s here.’
Skye closed her eyes.
Of course he was
.
To her astonishment, he didn’t mention her fast exit from HQ, and she began to wonder if he actually knew. Stranger than that, when he’d followed Maxine into the living room and first seen her, there’d been a split second jolt in his eyes – then it was gone.
‘Well, isn’t this lovely. Let me take your coat. There, now.’ Fussing, Maxine patted the empty space on the two-seater sofa, saying, ‘Budge over, dear, make room for Stephen to sit,’ then took her chair by the fire. ‘Stop hovering, lad, you’re making the place look untidy.’ After an awkward pause, Hunter dutifully eased into the small space next to Skye. He wasn’t in uniform. His crisp white shirt was open at the neck, showing off the tan of his skin, charcoal grey slacks fit snug over his long legs. As he stretched them out, Skye noticed the same soft leather shoes she’d seen him wear before.
‘So, Stephen. What have you been up to? You look very smart.’
Squashed together as they were, Skye heard his quiet sigh. ‘Lunch with my mother.’
‘Oh, dear. How was it?’
‘Blessedly brief.’ He propped an ankle on his knee, holding it there with his hand. ‘She took me to Harrods, but found what the Chinese have done to it since they took over, not to her liking. She voiced her opinion of inferior imports loudly and in great detail all through the Peking duck. Thankfully she was called back to work before the dessert. I came here for a bit of sanity.’
Maxine threw back her head and laughed. ‘You always did. We’ve had a bit of excitement ourselves this afternoon, but Skye can tell you about it later, when you’re alone. Busy with her teacup, she didn’t seem to notice Hunter’s arched eyebrow as he turned to look at Skye, or the colour she could feel spreading up her neck.
It was her cue to leave. ‘Um, we’ll go.’ She started to get up, but Maxine waved her back down. ‘No need to rush off. The children are happy, and I enjoy a party. Stephen will take you home later.’ While Skye’s mouth flapped, she gave a brisk nod. ‘There, that’s all settled.’
‘I can walk. You don’t have to.’ Skye muttered under her breath.
‘Actually,’ Hunter murmured back. ‘I think I do.’
A giggle bubbled in her throat at the ridiculousness of the situation: this powerful man, an SIO on major crimes used to barking out orders and having them obeyed without question, being told what to do by a tiny Scottish woman with an endless supply of tea. The giggle turned into a snort. Hunter smothered a grin with his hand. Inside Skye something warmed. A small portion of her heart thawed, and she felt a sliver of ice break away.
It felt comfortable, nice, sitting with Hunter, the children at their feet. She tuned out as he and Maxine talked about people and places she didn’t know, letting their conversation drift over her. Dusk fell, street lights came on and across the road a dog barked as a car door slammed. Outside, the temperature would be dropping, but inside, Maxine’s house was warm and cosy. She watched the simulated flames, trying to find pictures in the ashes, and listened to the slip and glide of gel pens over paper. Sleepy, her eyes drifted shut.
‘I caught the end of the news the other night; saw you and Narelle at that charity bash at the Dorchester. You always did make a lovely couple. Of course, the media were full of speculation.’ Instantly, the question behind Maxine’s words snapped Skye awake. The unfamiliar squeeze in her heart both confused and surprised her.
Hunter fingered the thin leather tie hanging loose around his neck; his eyes flicked to the school picture on the wall. ‘I hate those ghastly affairs, but they’re a necessary evil. We raised enough to fund a second wing at the new rehab hospital, and I was able to bring Dr Cahill on board to get a ground roots opinion on these unexplained deaths in the suburbs. He’s in the front line in the areas where it’s prevalent.’
Maxine frowned at his evasive answer but, much to Skye’s frustration, didn’t push it any further. ‘So, are you any closer to finding what’s happening?’ Maxine asked.
‘Cahill’s as baffled as we are, but he’s keen to work with our medical team. To state the official line, we’re following several lines of enquiry,’ he said. ‘But privately, I have to say we haven’t got much. If Forensic finally gets the new equipment they’ve been screaming for, we might unearth something. Until then, we’re scrambling around in the dark.’
‘I see. And what about you, Skye? Are you helping Stephen with these enquiries?’
‘No,’ she stated, trying not to resent it. ‘I’m not trusted enough yet.’
‘Oh? That can’t be right.’
‘Skye’s a trainee cadet. Until she’s more experienced, she’s only been allocated cold cases, although she did go out on one door to door.’ Hunter arched both brows and pinned Skye with a look. ‘I believe she will eventually make a valuable contribution to The Force, but occasionally her enthusiasm needs to be curbed in certain areas.’
‘Stephen,’ Maxine scolded, clicking her tongue. ‘You talk like a politician.’ She gave a half laugh and passed Beatrice another sheet of paper from a store on her chair-side table. ‘Why don’t you just say you’re pleased with her and, so far, she’s doing a good job?’
‘Messing up more like,’ Skye murmured, the shock of the threatening call rushing back in a flash. Closing her eyes she willed herself to relax. It was over. She wasn’t going back there.
‘Excuse me?’
Her eyes flew open to find Hunter staring at her, the reflection of the flames flickering in his eyes. She swallowed hard, rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms, unsure what caused them. ‘I meant you and Dawson were right, sir,’ she managed. ‘About the floaters. I’m still digging but I’m not getting very far. So,’ she added, because Maxine was there to back her up. ‘I could put in time now, help you with the Abbott case like Maxine suggests.’
‘Excellent idea.’ Hunter shook his head as his old teacher leant forward and patted his knee. ‘Good boy. That all settled, then.’
.
‘
The curtain finally comes down for good tonight on Agatha Christie’s Mousetrap, now in its 138
th
year, with a gala performance at St. Martin’s Theatre, London. The occasion will be marked by the return appearance of Xavier Pitt who has taken the lead role in no less than four hundred and thirty two performances of the record breaking show, making the role of Detective Sergeant Trotter his own. A sparkling celebrity guest list, including stars of stage and screen and prominent public figures, will be attending the show plus after-performance party ensuring the night will be one to remember. Ah, I believe that’s the President’s car arriving now. Yes, it is, and as they step out onto the red carpet, we see the president’s wife looking charming in an emerald Avoca Gamone ensemble…’