Kill For Me (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series Book 5) Page 3
The street was turning grey as the light dimmed. It was early February and the overcast sky looked even more dull when the night crept in. She would do something nice with Faith when the days were brighter. She would help her forget all this. Even if she would never forget it.
Eventually the darkness rolled in and Lucy decided she was safe enough to go out.
She was about to head out the door and kill someone. Would she actually do this?
She picked up her phone from the kitchen counter and sent a text message.
Please, let me have Faith back. You can have everything I own. Please don’t make me do this.
She waited for a response. Her arms jangling by her sides.
The phone buzzed across the counter. She snatched it up.
Kill or don’t see her again.
She had no choice.
What if she went to the police? Was it too late? Would he know if she went? Did she have the balls to risk it? She ran her hands through her hair. It was Faith’s life she was risking. It was nothing to do with her having balls. Was she prepared to risk Faith’s life that way? It was a fifty-fifty chance he would or wouldn’t know. Fifty per cent was a large amount to bet against. She checked the time again. Six fifteen.
Lucy picked up her car keys from the bowl on the end of the kitchen counter. It was filled with loose change and her house key, car key and the key to the garden shed. The rattle from the bowl was loud in the silence of the house. The house without Faith.
Again her stomach was roiling. She told herself this was for Faith and most people would give their life to save that of a child. She would. But, being the one to make the decision to take a life, it was another matter altogether.
She grabbed her coat, buttoned it up and pulled on her woolly hat, pushing all her hair up into it to give herself some disguise, and stepped out of the house. The temperature had dropped considerably from earlier in the day when she had been happy with the world and oblivious to what Faith was going through. It was mild for February this morning but now there was the sharp bite of the winter month, brought in by the darkness. She hoped that wherever Faith was had warmth, heating. And again, that they had fed her, that Faith still didn’t realise she wasn’t allowed to come home to her mummy. It wasn’t too late yet but it had been several hours and it was a long time for a small child.
Lucy looked at the car, the vehicle that was about to turn into her killing machine. An innocuous looking thing, standing on the driveway without its engine running or anyone behind the wheel, but very capable of killing with a slip of concentration or alcohol in your system, and here she was about to get inside it and use it to hurt someone.
I’m coming, Faith, was the only thought she could allow herself. The street light spread its dim white glow across the car and Lucy noticed the number plate. She needed to do something to prevent people taking her details if they saw her. She needed to obscure her details in case anyone was quick enough to log her vehicle registration.
She ran back to the house, unlocked the door and went straight to the kitchen cupboard where she pulled out her boot polish. Locking up behind her again she rubbed the boot polish over the rear number plate, obscuring the registration. She climbed into the car, turned it on and cranked up the heat. She was freezing now she’d been stood outside for a good ten minutes.
She needed to drive out of her area so that no one recognised her or the car. Not that she knew loads of people here, but, being a mum at the school gates and a receptionist at the local doctors’ surgery, it did make her more recognisable. She would drive and find a quiet street then wait for someone to walk by.
The radio in the car burbled away but the DJ’s cheeriness made Lucy clench her jaw and created a pain behind her eye. She switched it off. Filled the small space with the loudest sound of all – silence. It was suffocating. Leaving her with her own thoughts and fears. She contemplated putting the radio back on but she couldn’t bear to hear the happy voices of the DJs or the tunes made for dancing or heartbreak. Whichever they played, they would grate on her. She was in a no man’s land where whatever she did was not the right thing.
She drove out of Arnold towards Carlton, up Carlton Hill and right onto one road. It was too busy, too many houses. She cursed, turned around in the road and went back onto Carlton Hill, tried another right turn and again the same thing. It was going to have to be a populated street so there would be a person to knock over, but there had to be some odds in her favour of not getting caught straight away.
Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, the knuckles white as she tightened her grip in frustration. Eventually she turned down Manor Crescent. It was a street with homes on, houses facing out, but it was a quieter than the others. They were detached homes, set wide apart, and if she was quick and didn’t make a lot of noise about it, then she could get it done and over before anyone looked out. After all, people tended to hibernate in the winter, didn’t they? Who could be bothered to drag themselves away from the television on a dark night to see what the noise outside was? It was the best she was going to be able to do without driving around all night. She didn’t have the time to plan this properly. She wouldn’t allow Faith to stay with whomever had her overnight. Who knew what kind of sicko they were? And thinking that made her want to vomit again. She put a hand to her mouth and gritted her teeth. Please no, don’t let her be hurt by this animal. Let her come home safe and unaware.
Lucy pulled up at the side of the road and turned the engine off. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself if she stayed here ticking over for a long time. Quiet was the way to play it.
Lucy could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. This was it. She was here to kill someone. There was no backing down. She’d driven here with the intention to do it and she would, but her legs shook and every intake of breath hurt her chest. She had to fight it and ignore it.
This was for Faith. Tonight she would kill to save her daughter.
10
Lucy pulled her phone out of her pocket and put it on the passenger seat so she would be able to grab it easily when she needed it to take a photograph. Urgh, that was so grim – as though doing the act itself wasn’t. But stopping to photograph what she had done, there was something even more disgusting about that. She supposed it was the only way she could prove she had done it without him waiting for the news cycle to pick it up, which meant she could get Faith back.
Sitting in the car waiting for someone to walk by was hideous. Sweat ran down her back even though the interior of the car was cooling. Her chest was tight and every gasp for breath felt as though it was her last. The car was a tomb. The air was being sucked out and she would die inside it. She rubbed at her chest but it made her cough and gasp even more.
Then he was there. A man, walking out of his gate, alone. His hands in his pockets. His shoulders hunched up against the cold.
Did she start the engine now or wait until she was ready? If she waited would it be too late? But if she started her engine now would she draw attention to herself? She decided to stay silent until the last minute. She would start the car and put her foot down as soon as she needed to. All she had to do was wait for him to cross the road.
Her eyes blurred as she stared at him. Her legs shook.
He was picking up pace but he was staying on the pavement. If he didn’t cross soon he would be out of sight and she would miss this chance.
Come on, she needed to do this for Faith.
He stopped, fumbled about in his jeans pocket, pulled out a phone that was flashing in the dark. Someone was calling him. He put the phone to his ear and started to move again. Still he stayed on the same side of the road. Was she supposed to mount the kerb to do this? She hadn’t thought about that. She had only thought about being on the road. It would be bumpy for the car if she mounted the kerb. Could the car take the kerb at speed, without breaking down and getting stuck there? She had no idea what a bump like that would do to it. She had always looked after her car.
She decided not to risk it. And then it was too late. He was gone and out of sight. Her chance to get Faith back had rounded the corner and she was still sitting in the dark, alone, with no Faith and no way of getting Faith back. She hammered on the steering wheel with her fists, mindful not to hit the horn and alert the neighbourhood to her sitting here waiting to kill one of them. It was as she was throwing a tantrum in the car that she caught sight of someone in her peripheral vision, behind her, coming up on her, also on the phone, not paying attention to anything around them. A young male, looked to be in his early twenties.
This was it. She wasn’t going to let this one walk away. He was too young to have a child at home, she could console herself with that.
Her hand went to the key, ready to turn it. Her foot hovered over the accelerator pedal.
He was moving in front of the car. A laugh, loud in the quiet night, rang out. He rubbed the tip of his nose then laughed at the person on the other end of the line, again.
This boy had his whole life in front of him and she was about to rip it out from under him. But, so did Faith. Faith was only four and she had the world at her feet. This boy had more years that he’d been able to enjoy.
Lucy was sure she was going to be sick. She swallowed. Tried to gird herself. This was for Faith. She willed the boy to cross the road. Checked her rear-view mirror. There was no one about. The street was empty. Curtains were drawn.
He moved to the edge of the pavement. Lucy’s hand tensed over the key.
And then he did it. He stepped out into the road.
11
Lucy sucked in a breath. Shit, this was it. This was really it. Panic welled up inside her. Her legs shook uncontrollably and black spots danced in front of her eyes. She took another breath in.
Held it then let it out slowly. Nausea swept up her gullet and her head spun. She swallowed hard.
He was halfway across the road and walking diagonally away from her, creating more distance, which was good because it gave her more time to accelerate.
This was it. Time to move. To act.
She turned the key in the ignition and the car revved into life.
The boy didn’t even turn. He was waving his free arm around to describe something the listener had no chance of seeing. He laughed again.
Lucy put her foot on the accelerator, pushed down a couple of times, felt the power of the car beneath her foot.
Her leg was barely her own and her vision was tunnelling fast. She took in a deep breath and tried to hold it, but it made her cough and gasp.
She had to get this over with.
I’m coming for you, Faith.
She planted an image of Faith in her mind and clung to it, pulled the handbrake off, closed her eyes, pleaded with God, if there was one, to forgive her for what she was about to do, though murder was not a sin that could be forgiven, then she opened her eyes and pushed her foot down hard.
The car lurched forward and she jolted in her seat, her wobbly leg slipping sideways off the pedal. She straightened it up and kept the pressure down. The lad was some way in front of her but still wandering about in the road. His conversation taking all his attention.
She started to pick up speed. Ten, fifteen, twenty, she pushed down harder, but her foot was to the floor, thirty-five miles-per-hour, tipping close to forty when she slammed into him. The car took his legs right from under him. Both his arms flew upwards and his phone flew into the air and crashed to the pavement. The young lad shot up onto the bonnet, his head smashing into the windscreen. It cracked but stayed intact. He slid back down and onto the ground.
Lucy braked. Her heart was pounding as though it was attempting to force an escape out of her ribcage. Blood rushed in her ears.
Her whole body shaking she looked out of the rear-view mirror. The lad was a tangled mess. One leg was laying at a really odd angle. Had she done enough to kill him though? She needed to get out and take a photograph and get out of here before anyone came out to have a look. He hadn’t screamed and she hadn’t made a big deal out of braking, so there hadn’t been a huge amount of noise.
Her eyes widened in horror as an arm lifted from the ground and reached for his head. He was alive.
No.
Faith.
She’d done the worst bit. She had to finish it now.
She swivelled back in her seat, pushed the gearstick into reverse, put her foot on the pedal and pressed down. Her eyes were half closed as she felt the bu-bump, as she reversed over him. Now he was in front of her with the headlights picking out the mess. There was no way he had survived.
Lucy went to grab her phone, but it wasn’t there.
The band around her chest tightened. She needed to get out of here.
It must have slid off as she… she didn’t want to think about it.
She leaned forward and grasped around in the darkness of the footwell. Her hand reaching out, searching, needing, desperate. Her fingertips touched something solid and it slid away from her. ‘Fuck.’ She leaned further forward and stretched under the seat scrabbling, rummaging around on the floor until it was in her hand.
Lucy clambered out of the car, the cold night air brittle against her face, like Bambi on her legs, as though they were new to her and she were only now learning to walk on them. She checked around her. There was still no one on the street, but a light had come on behind a front door. She didn’t have long. She ran, as much as her legs allowed, to where the boy lay, swallowed the acrid vomit that lurched up into her mouth, then took two photographs with her phone and ran back to the car. She thought she heard a front door open and voices within. She threw the phone back on the passenger seat with a dull thud, grabbed the gear stick in her stiff hands, did a three-point turn and drove out the way she had come as fast as she could, as fast as her shaking legs would allow her, the car lurching under her body.
A couple of streets away from the scene and she could hold it in no more. She steered into the side of the road with a sudden jerky movement, causing the driver behind her to berate her with their horn. A dull loud blast in the night air. Lucy pushed her door open, leaning out and emptying her insides into the road and hoping a car didn’t drive past and take off her head, but she couldn’t stop. She’d killed a man in cold blood and she had to live with it. Why anyone wanted her to do this she had no idea. It was evil. She had never heard of anything so evil as what had happened this evening.
When she had vomited herself dry she wiped at her mouth with her sleeve, smearing the off-yellow fluid onto her coat, the smell finding its way into her nostrils. They twitched in complaint but she wiped again and tried to tidy herself up; she shut the door then stayed where she was, still and silent in the car for a minute, taking in what had happened. She might get Faith back but she didn’t know if she could ever live with herself.
She ran a hand through her hair as tears formed in her eyes. She needed to finish this.
She picked up the phone, went to the photo app and stared in horror at the two images that she’d taken of the boy. They were horrific. He was so clearly dead, his body distorted, limbs at wrong angles and his eyes staring ahead, blind, and she had done this to him. With slow sluggish movements she sent one of the photographs to the number that had been texting her.
Please let me have Faith now, I have done as you’ve asked.
Her stomach was sore. Her body ached.
She wanted to wait for a response but emergency vehicles would be here soon and she needed to get out of the area. She needed to go home. She’d be able to sort everything out with Faith from there.
He would give her back. He had said as much. She was getting her daughter back.
12
The text message came through to his phone sooner than he had imagined it would.
Please let me have Faith now, I have done as you’ve asked.
It was accompanied by the image of a young male on a road, crumpled and broken. Blood all over his face. What you could make out of his face anyway. It was smashed in and indecipherable from a human form. He knew he had asked her to kill, but hell, he hadn’t expected her to do such a job of it.
This would damage her.
Payback was a bitch.
He looked to the child asleep on the sofa. There had been some tears when she had been told Mummy was still working late today but it shouldn’t be too long. She was used to being with Mummy most of the time, and the tears had worn her out.
He looked back at the image. It really was rough. He wanted her to kill, but fuck, what a mess. Could he trust her to keep this to herself? To allow this to haunt her for the rest of her life? Or was she going to do something stupid and get the cops looking for him? Yes, she’d be up shit creek, but if they took her story seriously – which was debateable, because, come on, it was a little far-fetched – then they would look for him to hang this murder on as well. He had directed her to do it. Just the same as someone hiring a hitman being liable.
Maybe he should clean up his mess. If only he could clean it up with as much ease as he had carried out today’s little experiment. Get someone else to do it for him. There would be no trace of him near the murder. No DNA on the scene and an alibi for the time of the murder. He’d make sure of it. Not that he should come up in inquiries, but, if the impossible happened, then he was safe because he was nowhere near it.
He just needed to find a willing volunteer.
13
There was a small knock at the door. Lucy was in the kitchen, pacing the tiny room in a couple of short strides before turning around and pacing back again. She jumped with the sound. Her nerves stretched to their very limit. She hadn’t heard back from the person who had Faith and she had killed a man this evening. Two things that alone, separately, could undo her, but together they had her in a complete and utter tangled mess. She didn’t know which way was up at the moment.