Given what he’d heard of what Michael Davis
had done prior to his arrest that morning, Murphy was more than happy to leave
it to the response team to arrest the teen murderer. “Yes, sir, I’ll call the
chief inspector immediately,” he said.
“Good; keep me up to date on the situation.
I’ll be there as quickly as I can. I’m already at the prison so I’ll get what
information I can here and then join you,” Anderson told his subordinate. “And
for heaven’s sake, make sure you stay out of sight while you wait for the
response team to arrive and deal with the situation.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll call as soon as I have any
information.” Murphy hurriedly ended the call so he could arrange for the armed
response team, he just hoped they would get there before Michael Davis realised
the police had found him, assuming, that was, he was at the house. “Come on,
Constable, back to the car,” he told the WPC at his side, striding from the
drive so he could get out of sight of the house.
A clattering from behind him made Murphy stop
in his tracks and turn back; he was astonished to see Constable Vine on the
ground, the wheelie bin on its side next to her. “What happened to you?” he
wanted to know, reaching down to help her to her feet.
“A bloody cat,” the constable said in a voice
filled with disgust. “The damned thing ran between my feet and tripped me up; I
went flying into the bloody bin.”
Movement from the upstairs of the house
attracted Murphy’s attention and, looking up quickly, he saw Michael Davis
staring down at him. The sight of the teen startled the detective and for
several long moments all he could do was stare up at the murderer.
TWELVE
‘CRASH!’
Michael woke with a start, leaping to his
feet as the noise reached him in the back bedroom of the house. Before he was
even aware of what he was doing, he was out of the bedroom and flying along the
passage to the front of the house.
He threw open the door of the main bedroom,
ignoring the bang as it struck the wall and bounced back, and darted over to
the window. He drew aside the net curtain and looked out for the source of the
noise that had woken him. It took no time for him to discover what had brought
him to the front of the house in such a hurry.
Down in the drive he saw a female police
constable getting to her feet, aided by a man whose suit suggested to Michael
he was a detective. A short distance away, a wheelie bin lay on its side.
Though it was unclear what had caused the constable to fall, Michael had no
problem working out that she had fallen into the bin, knocking it over, and
that was what had disturbed his sleep.
He barely had time to take everything in, and
realise what had happened, when the detective looked up, locking eyes with him.
For several long moments Michael found himself frozen where he was, unable to
take his eyes from the detective, while his mind raced.
What were the detective and the constable
doing there? Were they there because of him? If so, how had they known he was
there? As troubling as the questions were, and as keen as he was to have the
answers to them, Michael shoved them aside and forced himself to move.
Tearing his gaze from the detective he turned
away from the window and hurried from the room. His pace rapidly increased as
he descended the stairs, two, three and four at a time, finally jumping the
last half dozen. He landed at the foot of the stairs and immediately turned to
run down the passage to the kitchen.
He shoved open the door when he got there and
darted to the back door. Jumping over the body on the floor he threw the door
wide. He ignored the crash that shook the door when it slammed into the counter
behind it, a crash that seemed far louder than it should have been, as he ran
out into the rear garden of the house.
*****
The moment he saw Michael Davis turn away
from the window DS Murphy recovered from the surprise that had turned him into
a statue. With a yank he hauled Constable Vine to her feet, not caring if he
hurt her. “Call for backup, right now!” he ordered, his voice harsh with
urgency. “Suspect at this address, possibly armed, definitely dangerous.
There’s an armed response team on alert, they’re to get here immediately.”
With his order given, Murphy left the
constable and darted to the front door. He hesitated for only a moment before
putting his shoulder to the door. It came as no surprise to him that it didn’t
budge with his first effort and he tried again. When his second attempt to
force the door open with his shoulder didn’t work he took a step back and
lifted his boot.
His first kick shook the door, and his second
burst it open. He was through the door before it hit the wall of the passage
but the moment he was inside he stopped to look around, unsure where Michael
Davis was.
Almost immediately he spotted the body on the
floor in the kitchen, and beyond it, through the window, he saw a flash of
movement. He was off straight away, sprinting down the passage and into the
kitchen. From the red mess on the girl’s stomach he was sure she was dead, he
didn’t spare the time to stop and check, however. It was more important, in his
opinion, that he catch her attacker.
Murphy reached the back garden just in time
to see Michael Davis climb over the fence. He dropped into the garden of the
neighbouring house and disappeared from sight.
*****
After scrambling to the top of the fence
Michael swung his leg over and dropped into the garden of the house next door
to Simon Glenn’s. He landed heavily in the flowered border that surrounded the
lawn, and had to put his hands out to avoid burying his nose in the ground.
With barely a pause, he pushed himself up and
darted across the garden to the fence on the other side. He jumped up to grab
the top of it and pull himself over the moment he reached it.
Where he was going, he didn’t have the first
clue. The only thought in his mind was to get as far from the two police
officers who had somehow found him as he could.
He landed a little more gracefully on the
other side of the second fence, and immediately made for the next fence so he
could climb it.
*****
Murphy gave chase the moment he saw where
Davis had gone, clambering over the fence as quickly as he could to land in the
garden next door. He was in shape - at least as in shape as a detective in his
late thirties, who drank too much coffee and ate too many snacks, could be -
but by the time he reached the fifth garden, the one belonging to the last
house in the street, his prey was nowhere to be seen.
There was no fence on the other side of the
garden, in its place was a hedge, a hedge that stood about eight feet tall.
Murphy was certain the teen hadn’t gotten over it, and if he had, he would have
seen him do so.
*****
Landing in the last garden in the street,
Michael looked around. The hedge that separated the garden from the street was
too high for him to get over, so he hurried down the side of the house. The
gate was locked but he had no trouble climbing it, and once he had, he darted
across the front garden and out into the street.
The keys for Simon Glenn’s car were still in
his pocket, after a glance down the street he abandoned the thought of going
back for the Audi though. He was sure the two officers he’d seen had followed
him into the garden, but he wasn’t about to take a chance on there being no
other officers around.
Even if there wasn’t a horde of officers
waiting at the house to arrest him, it was clear that the police knew he had
been driving the businessman’s car. He needed another vehicle, and he needed to
put as much distance between himself and his present location as he could, as
quickly as he could.
The sound of the gate rattling on its hinges,
the same sound it had made when he climbed over it, reminded him that he was
being chased. Immediately he darted across the road and down the street.
*****
Murphy reached the front garden of the house
in time to see Michael Davis running across the road. He set off in pursuit. He
had no idea if Constable Vine was behind him, or if she had radioed for backup
as he had told her to. His only thought was to keep the teen murderer in sight.
As he ran across the road and down the street
he fumbled to get his radio out of his pocket. “DS Murphy to control, over,” he
gasped as he trailed after his target.
“Control to DS Murphy, go ahead, over.” The
response came back almost immediately.
“In pursuit of murder suspect, Michael Davis;
on foot on…” Murphy had to look around for a sign to find out where he was.
“Farber Street, backup needed. There’s an armed response team on alert, get
them moving, and report my location to Constable Vine, over.” He couldn’t say
anything more then, it was too difficult to talk and run.
*****
Risking a look over his shoulder Michael saw
that the detective was still chasing him. He was about twenty yards behind,
which was much too close for comfort, even if he was pulling away from the
older man. In an effort to increase his lead, he darted between two parked cars
and ran across the road.
Angry beeping sounded from the car that had
to stop suddenly to avoid running him down. He ignored it though as he started
down the pavement on the other side. Turning the corner when he got to it he
saw that the car that had almost run him down had slowed, and then stopped as
the traffic lights up ahead changed to red.
A fresh burst of adrenaline gave him the
energy to increase his pace. He made it to the car before the lights changed
and, running out into the road, he yanked open the driver’s door and reached
into the car.
Before the startled driver could recover from
her surprise, he had her seatbelt undone and was hauling her out of the car.
Unceremoniously, he spun her away, leaving her to stumble and fall into the
other lane, not caring if she was hit or not.
The moment she was out of the way he slid
behind the wheel of the car and shifted into gear. Spinning the wheel he mashed
his foot down on the accelerator, making the car leap out of the line of
traffic and into the right hand lane.
*****
Murphy rounded the corner in time to see
Michael Davis throw the woman from the car and then steal it. His chest heaving
he reluctantly slowed and gave up the chase. It was clear he wasn’t going to
catch Davis when he pulled the car out of the line of traffic and raced up the
wrong lane. How the car missed both the owner of the car and the man who had
gotten out of the car in front to help her Murphy didn’t know, but somehow it
did.
At a reduced pace Murphy made his way to
where the woman lay. When he got there he dropped to his knees alongside her.
“Are you alright?” he asked, running his eyes over her, looking for any sign
that she had been injured.
“I-I think so,” the woman stammered, clearly
stunned by what had just happened. Her face, already pale, went white then. “Oh
my god!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “He’s got my baby!”
“Your baby? What do you mean?” Murphy asked
hurriedly, his fingers twitching on the radio in his hand. He needed to report
the situation, but he wanted as much information as he could get before he did
so.
“My baby, he’s in the back of the car.”
The woman’s face was panic stricken, which
didn’t surprise Murphy, as a father he could imagine at least some of the
terror that must be filling her.
“How old is he?”
“Twenty months.”
Standing, Murphy stepped away from the woman
and lifted his radio to his mouth. “DS Murphy to control, over.”
THIRTEEN
“Good afternoon, Mr Davis,” Anderson greeted
the prisoner when the guard guided him into the small room where he waited.
“Who are you?” Will Davis demanded. “Are you
my solicitor?”
“No, Mr Davis, I’m not your solicitor, I’m
Detective Inspector Anderson.” He held out his warrant card. “I have some
questions for you,” he said, gesturing for the older man to take a seat across
the table from him.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Will
declared. “Not unless you’re here to tell me that that sick bastard has been
arrested for what he did to my baby, her and those other girls. Or better yet,
you’re here to tell me someone succeeded where I failed and that bastard is
dead.”
Anderson regarded the man before him for a
few moments. He knew almost nothing about him, other than that he had been
arrested after confessing to the attempted murder of the man he believed to be
responsible for the abduction and attempted murder of his daughter. That lack
of information troubled him, since it meant he had no clue to how he was likely
to react to the news he had for him, or the likelihood of him helping to find
his son.
“The person responsible for the murders in
Greenville, and the attempted murder of your daughter, was arrested this
morning.” He saw the look of relief and satisfaction that crossed the farmer’s
face, and wished he didn’t have to rob him of what he was feeling. “I’m sorry
to say it wasn’t Jason Denton.”
“What do you mean?” The look on Will Davis’
face changed to one of stunned incomprehension. “Of course it was Denton, who
else could it have been?”
The DI was silent while he considered the
best way to tell the farmer. He finally decided that the best thing he could do
was not beat about the bush. It was better for him to simply come straight out
with it.
“I’m very sorry to have to be the one to tell
you this, but it was your son, Michael, who was arrested this morning.”
“What kind of joke is this?” Will’s face went
red with suffused anger as he surged to his feet to look down on the still
seated DI.
In response to the aggressive move the prison
officer, who had assumed a position to one side of the door, moved forward. He
relaxed, a little, however when the DI waved him away. He returned to his
former position, but remained warily alert.
“There’s no way Michael killed those girls,
and no way he attacked his own sister. I don’t know who told you that but
they’re wrong, dead wrong,” Will declared vehemently.
“I’m afraid there’s more, Mr Davis,” Anderson
told him regretfully. “This is not simply a case of someone making an
accusation against your son; there is a significant amount of evidence against
him. When Detective Inspector Yew, with officers from Greenville attempted to
arrest him this morning, Michael opened fire on them with a shotgun.
“He killed two officers, and wounded two
others, before being disarmed and arrested. Unfortunately, he managed to escape
from the hospital where he was taken to be checked over. I realise this is all
very disturbing for you to hear, and I wish there was some way I could soften
the news, but I’m afraid there isn’t,” Anderson said, projecting as much regret
as he could manage. “Right now, I need to know everything you can tell me about
your son.”
“Why?” With his head in his hands Will Davis
looked over at the DI. “You said there’s evidence against him, what do you need
anything from me for?”
“I need your help to catch your son again. My
partner believes he has found your son, and is hoping to apprehend him as we
speak. There’s a chance that he will escape, or that my partner is wrong,
however. If that’s the case, I’ll need to know everything you can tell me about
your son. It might help us to know where to find him.”
Will Davis didn’t respond, he simply looked
blankly at the DI.
“I don’t think you appreciate the situation,
Mr Davis,” Anderson said sharply. “So far your son is responsible for the
murders of three young girls, two police officers and a businessman, whose car
he stole after escaping custody. In addition to that he has injured three other
officers, a hospital technician and a young man. That is just the people I know
of at this time.
“Given you tried to kill Jason Denton,
because you believed him responsible for what happened to your daughter, I
would have thought you would want to do everything possible to ensure no other
father has to suffer what you have.”
Silently, Will considered what had been said.