Daffodils in March (15 page)

“
Who are you, caller
?”

“DS Painter.” He hung up and looked at the woman, handing back the phone. It was the croupier from the bar. At least she got out safely. “Do you have a car I can borrow?”

“Yes, but you need to wait for help. They'll be here soon.”

“I'm a police officer. You'll get the car back. There's a woman in danger and I have to go to her.”

“You can't drive it like that.”

“Forget it.” David forced himself to his feet. He'd have to track down a local patrol car, or call a taxi or…

He gasped, clutching his side, as he took two faltering steps.

“Wait. I'll take you.” Another woman spoke. “My car's here.”

“Thanks.” David staggered over to it, dropping into the front seat in relief.

“Where to?”

“The Brown Bear. It's a pub on—”

“I know it.” The woman started the car. “I'm Mary, by the way.”

“DS Painter.” He pressed his hand against his side, blood oozing through his fingers.

“Wouldn't a hospital be better?”

“The pub, please. And can I use your phone?”

Mary handed it over and started driving.

“Thanks.” David looked at it. He couldn't ring his partner. The deal was she'd be contacted by someone else. He'd have to call Nate and give him the code red signal. He dialed quickly.

“Holmes.”

“Nate, its Detective Sgt. David Painter. I need your help—code words are
November Charlie
. They've taken Eden.”

“Detective Sergeant David Painter?” Nate queried.

“Nate, I don't have time to explain. Just write this down. I'm undercover. Have been for over a year. They've got Eden and Marc and probably Adam, too.” He caught his breath, hissing in pain as the car jolted over a speed bump.

“Sorry,” Mary apologized.

“Who's taken Eden?” Nate asked, his tone professional and urgent.

“Not over the phone. I need you to call DS Sara Raines from the Fleet Street nick. Her mobile number is 07762 256092. When she answers the phone, give her my name, and the same code red I gave you. She'll explain. Have her meet you at the Brown Bear pub, but bring back up, and the fire brigade.”

David cut off the call and groaned as the car hit a pot hole. He was going to bleed out if he didn't do something. He dropped the phone onto the dashboard. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“In the glove box. Do you want me to stop?”

“No time. Just drive.” David leaned forwards and grabbed the first aid kit. He pulled out a dressing and covered the wound. He sucked in several deep breaths, praying hard. Not for him, he didn't matter, but for Eden and Marc.

The car halted outside the pub.

David looked at the building in despair.

It was in flames.

13

Eden stood at the window, tugging at the bars. Part of her knew it was a futile gesture, but she had to try. Smoke filtered through the gap at the bottom of the door, despite the fact she'd put her jacket there. She could see people below her on the pavement. She pounded on the glass, trying to get their attention, but no one could hear her over the roaring and exploding beneath her.

Her pounding grew more desperate, the smoke making her eyes sting and water. The smoke made her cough, irritating her lungs which still hadn't recovered. “Please, help me!”

Sirens wailed on the street below her. Her knees buckled and she slid to the floor, gasping for breath. The wooden floorboards were hot and starting to buckle. Smoke rose between the cracks.

The door burst open, smoke flooding in. Was there someone there?

“Eden?”

She pushed to her knees, coughing hard. Was that David? Had he come back for her? “Here…” she managed.

David moved to her side, helping her to her feet. “We need to get out of here.” His arm went around her, taking her weight, even as he hissed in pain.

“You're hurt.” She coughed hard, retching as the smoke thickened.

“It's nothing. Let's go.” He started walking, helping her move.

Smoke filled the stairs, the roaring of the flames increasing in volume. An orange glow illuminated the darkness. They rounded the bannisters, to find the passageway to the bar blocked by flames.

“No…” she gasped. “Now where?”

David looked around. Pain filled his face and she could tell that even breathing hurt him. “This way, come on.” He led her down the hallway and into a back room. “There's an exit through here.”

“Not so fast.” A tall man stood there, gun trained on them.

“Granger,” David said. “Let us go.”

“You just can't follow orders, can you, David?”

“On the contrary,” David said bluntly. “I follow orders just fine. They're simply not yours.”

Eden coughed hard, gasping for breath. She was light-headed and wanted to sit down. An explosion rocked the building.

“We need to get out of here,” David said.

Granger moved fast, tearing Eden from David's grip and putting an arm around her throat, he held the gun to her head. “After you then, but you put your hands up where I can see them.”

David raised his hands, the look of pain in his eyes increasing.

“Move.” Granger shoved Eden forwards.

She moved towards the flame-filled doorway, following David, terror filling her.

David turned and moved rapidly towards her.

Eden closed her eyes, convinced she was going to die. She wished she'd done a better job of protecting Marc. She'd failed him. The grip on her throat loosened and she staggered forwards, coughing hard. She opened her eyes to see David punch Granger hard, sending him flying to the floor.

“Get out of here, Eden.”

She took a step towards him, ceiling tiles beginning to fall around her.

David grabbed her and pulled her to the doorway. He pushed her outside into the fresh air. “Stay there.” He turned to go back in.

“David…”

“I can't leave Granger there.”

Someone grabbed her, pulling her away from the blazing building. Despair filled her as David headed back inside. “No…David!”

Firemen swarmed forwards with hoses. One carried her over to an ambulance, and placed a blanket around her shoulders.

She coughed hard, fighting the mask a paramedic placed over her face. “Let me go…”

A crashing sound propelled her gaze forward to the pub. Sparks shot high into the sky as part of the wall collapsed inwards.

****

Ceiling tiles fell around him, the burning debris brushing him as David tugged Granger's body to the doorway. He'd never make it. The cellar door loomed out of the smoke, and thinking fast, David tugged it open. He threw Granger inside, not caring if he got more bruises from the fall down the stairs. He was about to follow, when he heard a baby crying.

Marc was here?

David turned and followed the crying into the bar itself. What was left was an inferno, but tucked under the bar, the only part of the room not aflame, was Marc, still in his car seat. David grabbed the handle, and pulling the blanket over the baby's face to offer some protection against the firestorm, he headed towards the cellar.

Whompf!

All the air was sucked out of the hallway, replaced with bright light and heat, the crackling of flames, and thick choking smoke. He didn't want to burn, dying didn't bother him, but death by fire was his worst nightmare.

He could feel the back of his shirt prickle, the hairs on his neck standing up. Tears streamed down his face. He coughed, and then gasped as the air was no longer there. He took another step, the distance he needed to go seeming a million miles.

Then a rush of wind flung him down the cellar steps, closing the door behind him.

****

Eden stood just behind the police cordon, looking at the remains of the burned out pub, as the pale light of dawn lit the night sky. They'd wanted to take her to the hospital hours ago, but she'd refused. Sgt. Holmes had arrived with back up, but it was too late by that point. Not even the firefighters could go inside the burning building, as it just wasn't safe. All she and the police could do was watch water being poured onto the inferno.

She'd told DS Holmes and his partner what she knew. That David was an undercover cop, but she didn't know at which nick he was based. And he'd gone back inside to rescue the man who'd kidnapped her.

Now David was missing.

Missing presumed dead.

She knew it; they all knew it.

There was no way anyone could have survived that.

Not once the side of the building fell. The fire had burned hot enough to melt glass and even scorch the surrounding pavement. Why had David done it?

Lord, why did you take him before we'd had chance to sort things out properly? Am I destined to be alone? You've taken everyone now—Eric, Han and now David and Marc.

She stood still, as the firefighters moved around, working the area. The stench of petrol and burning hung in the air. Not even the birds sang. Strong winds whipped her hair back, sending another piece of wall tumbling inwards. Tears stung her eyes.

David was dead, and part of her had died with him. She let out a choking sob, wrapping her arms around her middle. She loved him. She knew that. She always had and they could have worked this out. But now she'd never get the chance to tell him she loved him and forgave him. That she understood, finally understood why he'd acted the way he had.

“Miss Jameson?”

Eden looked up at the tall, dark haired man in front of her. “Yes?”

He held up a warrant card. “Detective Inspector Simon Watson, David's commanding officer. I need to ask you some questions, but you really should be checked over at the hospital.”

“I don't want to leave.”

“I must insist.” DI Watson took hold of her arm. “If they find anything, they'll call me.”

“OK,” she whispered, reluctantly. She coughed, wheezing and gasping for breath.

“See,” DI Watson said gently. “Let's get you seen to. David wouldn't want you getting sick on his account.”

That was the clincher. She'd do it for him, no one else.

****

David opened his eyes slowly. He lay face down on a concrete floor and for a moment thought he was dead. Then decided he hurt far too much to be dead. Disjointed images ran through his mind. Eden with a gun to her head, his hand holding a knife to her side, and a knife piercing his own side; then fire and smoke and pain. He sucked in a deep breath. It hurt, but not too much he couldn't function.

He rolled onto his side, grunting with effort as he pushed up onto his hands and knees. He gripped his side as pain soared through him and an involuntary cry ripped from him.

From somewhere to his left, a baby cried. Marc! He pushed to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. Another man lay on the floor next to him. Granger. David checked for a pulse and was relieved to find one. Good. Now he could face justice of an earthly kind and still have the chance of redemption. No matter what he'd done, he didn't deserve hell. No one did.

The smell of stale burning hung heavily in the air. He moved slowly, shifting wood and debris until he found the car seat. Amazingly it was upright and sheltered by a beer barrel. “Hey, Marc,” he said. He touched the baby's face gently. “Let's get out of here and find Auntie Eden.”

David moved over to the roof doors and tried to open them. Something must be on top of them because they wouldn't budge. He looked around. His gaze fell on a long metal pole. He grabbed it and banged on the wooden doors above him. He had to make someone hear him. “Hey, we're down here.”

Pain shot through his side and dampness assailed him. Touching his side, he realized it was bleeding again.

Marc began crying. He was probably hungry and desperate for a clean nappy.

“I know how you feel, kid.” David banged harder. “We're down here.”

There was a shout from above. “Anyone there?”

Relief flooded him. “Yes, three of us. In the beer cellar.”

“Hold tight. We'll get you out.”

David sank back to the floor beside the car seat, clutching his side. “Few more minutes.” He reached for the dummy attached to the car seat and gave it to Marc. “Then I'll feed you, I promise.”

****

David carried Marc's car seat into the ED, determined not to let him out of his sight again. He'd acquiesced to a wheelchair for himself, but only because his legs wouldn't support him for the moment.

“This is Detective Sgt. David Painter,” the paramedic said. “He has a severe stab wound to his left side, superficial burns, cuts, bruises, smoke inhalation. The baby is his nephew, Marc Jameson. Smoke inhalation, other than that he needs feeding and changing.”

“We need to check the baby over,” one of the nurses said.

David gripped the car seat tightly. “I know, but I'm not leaving him. And I need to know if there's an Eden Jameson here.”

“What you need, Sergeant, is to let me treat the baby, while someone treats you for your injuries.”

“There's plenty of time for that,” David said, grunting as they lifted him onto a gurney. “Is Eden here?”

“I'll find out. But the baby needs seeing to.”

“Check him here, please.”

“OK.”

The doctor came in and put a mask over David's face. He pulled back David's shirt and examined the knife wound. “Nasty, but I don't think it got anything vital. I want x-rays to make sure.”

David hissed in pain, watching the nurse like a hawk as she worked on Marc.

The curtains opened.

The doctor turned. “And you are?”

The blonde standing there grinned at David. She held up her ID. “DS Sara Raines. I just need a quick word with your patient.”

“Two minutes.”

Sara moved to David's side and hugged him. “Long time no see, partner. But you're a fool.”