DS Jessica Daniel series: Locked In/Vigilante/The Woman in Black - Books 1-3 (37 page)

Jessica let go of the door handle with her other hand and hammered the base of her palm upwards as hard as she could into the base of his nose. It was just as Harry had taught her and the same
thing she had threatened to do to Wayne Lapham. Blood exploded over her arm and Randall’s face. She saw his eyes blink and close and quickly turned back to pull the door open, thinking she
was free until she felt a hand grabbing her hair. Jessica’s face was slammed hard into the frame once, then twice as she felt consciousness slipping. She tried hard to focus, feeling her head
yanked backwards.

She couldn’t open her eyes because of the pain but could hear Randall’s furious voice shouting behind her. Jessica couldn’t make out anything he was saying, his nose was most
likely broken and his throat would certainly hurt from her two blows. She could hear him wheezing but couldn’t stop herself being dragged away from the door into her own bedroom and onto the
bed. She was aware of what was going on but helpless to do anything about it, her head dazed and her limbs unresponsive. Jessica opened her eyes and could see him on top of her, tears running down
his heavily bloodied face.

She thought she heard him say ‘I’m sorry’ and then felt his hands on her throat, squeezing. She could feel the pressure and was struggling for breath, not even able to kick her
legs any longer.

And then she heard the front door open.

Jessica felt as if she was dreaming, her head hazy, like waking from a vivid dream and not being sure which reality is the correct one.

‘Rands? Jess?’

It was Caroline’s voice. Jessica was groggy but the pressure was instantly released from her throat. She could see a fuzzy grey colour but felt the weight lifted from her and get up from
the bed. She tried to sit up but everything was in slow motion. There were voices from the hallway. She could hear shouting and thought she heard Caroline say something like, ‘What’s
going on?’

Jessica managed to sit up and eventually stand. There were still voices coming from the hallway. She stumbled towards the door and into the hall, her vision still grey but she heard Caroline
scream clearly. ‘Jess!’

As she looked across from her bedroom door towards the living room, Jessica’s vision began to clear, although her throat was on fire and breathing painful. Randall was standing behind
Caroline with his front to her back but his left arm across her, hugging her into him. His face was a mashed-up mess. The red of the blood smeared across his features seeped into the grey that was
affecting her vision and helped clear it. Jessica could feel blood on her face too. She must also look a mess.

Caroline had a terrified expression on her face. Her eyes were wide, her bag dropped by her feet and the contents spilled across the floor.

‘What’s going on?’ Jessica clearly heard Caroline say this time. Her voice was faltering and then Jess saw why.

Randall didn’t just have his left arm around his girlfriend, he had the scissors in his right hand placed next to her neck.

‘Stay calm,’ Jessica said. She couldn’t speak clearly and her thoughts were scrambled. She was speaking to Randall as much as Caroline. ‘Just stay calm.’

Randall had more tears running down his face, blending in with the blood and causing vertical streaks to form down his skin. ‘Why couldn’t you just leave it?’ he said.

Caroline clearly didn’t have a clue what was going on. She kept staring across the hallway at her friend. ‘Jess?’

‘It’s him,’ Jess said softly. ‘He’s Houdini. He’s Nigel Collins. He killed those four people.’ Jessica saw Caroline’s body slump.

‘What . . . ?’

Jessica didn’t know what else to add. Caroline was wearing a grey work suit and Randall’s blood had begun to run onto her shoulder. She was shaking her head despite still being
gripped by her boyfriend and having the scissors held to her neck.

Randall coughed loudly, spluttering more blood. He moved his body around so his back was to their front door. ‘You’re going to let me go,’ he said but his words weren’t
coming easily. He coughed loudly again and Jessica saw his head twitch once, twice. Caroline had clearly felt his grip slacken as she must have moved before being snatched back hard into her
boyfriend’s body.

‘Where are you going to go, Randall?’ Jessica said. Her own throat still felt sore but her vision had more or less cleared. She knew she was pushing her luck.

Randall shook his head and blinked rapidly. ‘I . . . it doesn’t matter. I’ll start again.’

Caroline was whimpering, clearly not able to process everything that was happening.

‘Let her go,’ Jessica said, taking a step forwards. Her eyes were on the scissors in Randall’s hand. She saw his fingers tense on the grip but not move any closer to her
friend’s neck.

‘Stop there,’ Randall said.

‘Just let her go. You told me you loved her, remember?’

Randall peered up and coughed again, before another furious blinking fit. Jessica took a few more small steps towards them as he struggled. She was around eight feet away from them.

The man’s grip on the scissors was still tight but, if anything, his grip on Caroline had slackened. ‘No closer,’ Randall said but his eyes were not backing up his words.

‘What’s wrong, Randall?’ Jessica said. She could see the confusion on Caroline’s face and shuffled a little closer as Randall tried to control his blinking. He snatched
his left hand away from Caroline but moved the one with the scissors in so they were touching the front of her neck. Using his left hand, he first rubbed his eyes, then hit his own left ear a
couple of times before putting his hand back across Caroline and holding her close to him while again moving the scissors a little further away from her.

Jessica simply watched, before taking another small step forwards.

Six feet now.

‘You need to let her go,’ Jessica said, carefully watching Randall, trying to catch his eye. He looked at her, still blinking.

‘What have you done?’ he asked.

‘There was an aspirin in your water,’ Jessica said, edging forwards. ‘The pain you thought was from me hitting you in the throat is actually your windpipe swelling. You need to
let her go then let me call you an ambulance.’

Randall stuttered something but Jessica could see his eyes had widened. He dropped the scissors but put his right hand tighter around Caroline’s throat, using his left to fumble with the
front door handle.

‘Randall . . .’ Jessica said. He launched into a coughing fit and Jessica flung herself at him, carefully targeting the left side of his body with Caroline held to his right. She
caught him with her shoulder and his head cannoned back into the door. Caroline fell to the floor but was free, while Jessica used her feet to kick the scissors away. Randall was on his knees,
spluttering and struggling to breathe.

The funeral had been far more emotional than Jessica had expected. She sat next to Caroline, with her arm around her for large parts of the ceremony. So many more people had
turned out than Jessica would have expected. The marks around Jessica’s throat had already begun to fade and the cuts on her face would heal in time. The mental scars her friend must be
feeling would be something that took a lot longer to fix.

Jessica had never discovered if it was in fact Harry who had provided the method for Nigel Collins to change his identity; she didn’t want to know. If it were true, part of her personality
as a detective, the parts she had learned from Harry, would be destroyed. She had not phoned him, nor visited, and never would.

Gradually the police had filled in the gaps between Nigel Collins leaving hospital nearly six years ago and the first body turning up. He had tried to reinvent himself but, with his memory for
faces, had recognised the parents of his tormentors. At first it had been something of a coincidence that two of Wayne Lapham’s victims had gone to him but he had seen it as a sign and
followed things through to a conclusion.

‘Thank you for coming.’

Jessica was standing with Caroline in the church’s hall after the body had been put to rest. Paul Keegan was in front of them, offering his hand for them to shake.

‘Mary would have liked it, I think,’ he added.

‘It was lovely,’ Jessica said. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

‘I think so. Thank you, you know . . . for catching him.’

Randall Anderson, or Nigel Collins as he had previously been called, was currently in isolation and on suicide watch while on remand at Manchester Prison, formerly known as Strangeways. As he
had crouched struggling for breath on the floor in their flat, Jessica called 999 and an ambulance as well as what seemed like most of the Greater Manchester Police force had been sent to her flat.
The paramedics had arrived in time to save him but he was in no state to fight or escape.

Since then, he hadn’t said a word to anyone. Jessica had been offered leave, given her injuries and the severity of the case. She wouldn’t have wanted any part of his police
interview anyway, even if it had been offered to her. Not that he had spoken about anything. He hadn’t confessed and offered no details of how things had been conceived. Some of the plan
would never be known.

The police had raided both his old flat and his new one. It had been awkward because he didn’t seem to own much and what little he had was in boxes at the new place, while the old one had
been cleaned out. They had found a small coil of thick metal wire in the wheelie bin at the back of the block where he lived. Tests had shown it was very similar to the implement used to kill the
four people, with the assumption he had cut pieces off to use for each victim. The owner of the stall where he worked said it was the exact kind of wire they would use to help bind together shoes
they were fixing. Two days later and the bins would have been emptied and the evidence lost. On first thought it seemed careless to ditch something like that in a bin so close to his flat but from
Randall’s point of view, it must have seemed as if he was in the clear. Not only that but he was moving anyway.

Building a case would be hard given the lack of DNA but the trail from the locks to his stall, plus the wire and her evidence – and his refusal to speak – should be enough in
court.

In terms of Jessica herself, everyone had been so concerned about her that no one had brought up anything about her following up a case that wasn’t hers. She didn’t know if there
would be some sort of disciplinary action down the line but didn’t care either.

Caroline hadn’t coped well. Jessica didn’t really know how to deal with things but eventually her friend had gone to stay with Jessica’s parents for a couple of weeks. They
said they saw her as a daughter anyway.

And now, a few weeks later, the two of them were at the wake following Mary Keegan’s funeral, along with many members of the investigating force. Cole had left not long after the ceremony
had finished but Aylesbury had now come over to speak to the dead woman’s husband. Jessica guided Caroline away towards some plastic seats to leave the two of them to it. Jessica felt guilty
for her early attitude to her boss. She could now see what an asset he was. He had been terrific looking after her following the arrest. The first instinct would have been to interview her and find
out everything she knew but he had shielded her.

Garry Ashford meanwhile had written a string of stories about her bravery. She didn’t know where the details had come from and felt largely embarrassed about it. He had been at the funeral
too, a few rows across from Jessica. She had seen his solemn face during the readings, thinking he was someone else she had misjudged.

Caroline sat down and Jessica went to take the seat next to her. Her friend waved her away. ‘It’s okay. You go mix. I could do with a few minutes on my own.’

The woman gave a thin smile and Jessica kissed her forehead. She turned around and walked over to Garry Ashford, who was standing on his own drinking from a plastic cup near the door.
‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

‘You can take the piss out of my looks now if you want,’ Jessica said, pointing at one of the cuts on her face. ‘It looks like I’ve gone a few rounds with a heavyweight
boxer, doesn’t it?’

Garry smiled. ‘Maybe a middleweight. Your nose is only horrifically deformed off to one side, not fully smashed up.’

Jessica grinned, fuller than she had done in weeks. ‘Oi.’

Rowlands came over to join them. ‘Garry, this is Detective Constable Rowlands. Detective Constable, this is Garry Ashford,’ Jessica said. The two shook hands.

‘How are you doing?’ Rowlands asked her.

‘Not too bad. Why? Are you concerned about me?’ she asked sarcastically. ‘That’s lovely . . .’

‘If you’re not back fit and healthy soon, I’m going to have to find someone else to take the piss out of.’

Jessica laughed. ‘Cheers. You’re all heart. I’m surprised you’re not over there trying to cop off with one of the nieces or something.’ She pointed towards the
buffet table where two pretty twenty-something girls were chatting to each other.

‘I’m not that low,’ Rowlands said, glancing towards them. ‘Still, they are next to the food and I’m feeling a bit peckish.’ He rubbed his belly and grinned,
before giving her a wink.

‘See ya, Dave,’ Garry said.

Jessica shook her head, smiling. ‘One day he’ll get his comeuppance,’ she said.

Garry shrugged. ‘So are you okay then?’

‘Yeah. It’ll all be fine.’

Garry took a deep breath. ‘How about a drink one night then?’

Jessica looked back at him. ‘Are you using a wake as an opportunity to ask me on a date?’

‘Maybe.’

Jessica looked away and gave a very audible ‘Umm’ intended for his benefit. ‘If I say “yes”, are you going to explain to me how you know Detective Constable
Rowlands’s first name?’