Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(97)
“Bless you,” she tugged his ears towards her and bestowed a kiss on his freckled forehead. Then, her face fell back into serious lines.
“This is important to me, Jack. I think it’s important to you, too. Both of us have something to prove.”
Jack nodded, turning away to stare out of the windscreen.
“Be careful,” he muttered.
“Got all the bases covered,” she returned, with a wink.
MacKenzie stepped out of the car and into the darkening night, looking up and down the upmarket street of Georgian townhouses. The air was heavy around her; dampness clung to her skin and filmed her clothes, though the rain hadn’t properly started yet. She crossed the road and walked further down the street until she reached a house with a dark navy BMW parked on the street outside.
The doctor was in residence.
CHAPTER 23
Detective Sergeant Frank Phillips considered himself an ordinary, reasonable man. A patient man, even. Well, after today, he would proclaim to all and sundry that he had the patience of a saint.
He cast a disgruntled eye over at his SIO, who was driving with the precision of an eagle and the speed of a flying bullet. Phillips’ fingers gripped his knees in reaction. With Colin Hart safely strapped into the back of a squad car, under the supervision of two DCs and a medic, they raced back towards the bright lights of Newcastle.
“You said Lowerson was already in position?”
“Yep.”
Always the conversationalist, Phillips thought, peevishly, before picking up the car radio.
“No radio. Use the mobile.”
Phillips let the radio fall back into its holder. Anybody could tune into a car radio and you never knew who might be listening.
“He’s not answering,” Phillips said, after a few failed attempts to contact the young detective constable.
Ryan’s lips hardened, as did his hands on the wheel.
“He knows we’re on our way.”
Ahead of them, the long stretch of road turned black as rain began to bounce off the tarmac.
“If anything happens to her –”
“I know, Frank.”
Indiana Jones rang out, interrupting them. Phillips answered.
There followed a short, tense conversation, which correlated with the mounting speed of the car.
“What’s going on?”
“Just keep your eyes on the road and try not to blow a gasket,” Phillips began, feeling his stomach heave as fields and trees whipped past them. “That was Faulkner.”
“Faulkner?” Ryan was surprised. “Has something happened to Anna?”
Phillips held up a hand, indicating that Ryan needed to shut up before he could answer.
“Faulkner rang to say he’s on his way up to Sycamore Gap but he’s been delayed by traffic on his way out of the city. He’s sorry to be later than expected.”
Ryan frowned in confusion.
“What the hell is he talking about?”
“I asked him the same question,” Phillips paused while he waited for his entrails to settle back into position after the latest bump in the road. “He was totally blindsided. Said you called him half an hour ago to say Colin was dead and you needed him up there, pronto, to work the scene.”
“I never called him.”
Phillips raised his eyes heavenwards.
“I know that, guv. Anyway, I’ve told him to turn around and head back to CID.”
“Anna?”
“She’s still at CID, far as he knows, and the place is filled with uniforms. Keep your hair on.”
“We were right, Frank. Who would know she had been left with Faulkner? Who would know how to draw him away?”
“Aye, lad. Thank God my girl intercepted him first.” He thought of Denise, beautiful and brave.
Ryan spared Phillips a brief glance and a muscle ticked in his jaw. The speedometer crept upwards, past eighty, dropping only when he made the sharp bends through the small villages and hamlets peppering the landscape as they edged closer to the city limits.
“Fuck this,” he snarled, and flicked on the siren for the single flashing blue light, which he had stuck on the driver’s side of the roof.
They raced through traffic lights, through bus lanes and one-way traffic with the kind of contempt for the Highway Code that impressed the local taxi drivers left in their wake. Lights began to appear in the windows of the houses and street-lamps flickered. The last of the sun’s rays bathed the city of Newcastle and the night came to life. Beneath the moon and stars, men and women looked to the heavens. Some hoped for salvation; others for redemption. A chosen few waged war upon whomever resided there, turning their back on conscience. One man closed his eyes to the beauty of the sky and offered himself up to the hedonistic pleasure he had fought against for too long.