straight As? Just because Nicole’s husband had some job off drilling oilfields
or something and they had a bit of money about them. If he had any sense, he’d be off drilling
something else – anything had to be better than looking at Nicole’s walnut face.
Lisa emerged onto the correct floor of the multi-storey car park relieved that at least her kids could
count. She expected them to be haring across the tarmac, hopefully not into the path of a car. Why
wouldn’t they slow down? She was tired; it had been a long day.
As she rounded the thick concrete pillar, Lisa’s two sons were standing still, staring towards the
corner where someone in a dark blue hooded top was standing close to a dirty white van. It took a
few moments for her to see what they were looking at but when she did, she gasped, stepping
forwards and putting her hands over the boys’ eyes.
Next to the van’s front wheel, a second man was on the floor. The hooded figure lunged ahead,
cracking a bat over the unconscious man’s back with a grunt of effort and a deep cough. Lisa couldn’t
stop herself from squealing, the sound popping out before she knew it was there, echoing around the
concrete space like the squeak from a trapped mouse.
When the hooded figure turned to face her, she expected to see a face but there was a white mask
with a red letter ‘A’ painted across the front and a diagonal line through it. She could see the whites of his eyes glaring across the car park, illuminated in the blue haze of the strip lights. The person
straightened up to full height – which wasn’t much – chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to
catch his breath.
‘Please don’t hurt us,’ Lisa said, her voice cracking. She still had her sons’ eyes covered, somehow
balancing her bags at the same time, but the children were beginning to squirm.
The figure said nothing, glancing slowly in both directions before nodding his head ever so slightly
towards her. Somewhere below, a car’s wheels screeched around the corner but the person remained
calm, wiping the bat on the ground and then walking quickly towards the far end of the car park.
11
Jessica stared up at the enlarged photo of the victim pinned to the incident room’s whiteboard and
turned back to the assembled officers. ‘I think we can safely say someone didn’t like this guy.’
A dozen officers were squeezed into the makeshift room, a mix of CID and uniform. As she faced
them, Jessica couldn’t stop looking at the speckled patch of black and green mould above the door.
The incident room in the basement was hardly state-of-the-art but at least there was a heater and she
didn’t feel at risk of Legionnaires’ disease just by showing up to work.
Jessica still had her jacket on, as did almost everyone else. She waited for one of the constables to
stop picking his nose, giving him the raised eyebrow treatment, before continuing. ‘This is Alan Hume
– he’s in his fifties, unmarried and a self-employed builder who owns a dozen or so houses around
Manchester. He was working on a shop refitting yesterday afternoon at the Trafford Centre and,
miraculously seeing as he’s a builder, he didn’t knock off at half two. Some time a little after seven,
Lisa Dawes and her two sons were heading back to their car after a trip to the cinema when they saw
a man in a dark blue hoody introducing Mr Hume to Mr Sawn-Off Baseball Bat.’
A voice at the back piped up: ‘Sawn-off?’
Jessica nodded to Izzy, who pressed a button on the laptop, changing the image on the screen. It
was a good thing somebody knew how to set the damned thing up – Jessica had spent a day on a
training course and was none the wiser.
‘We’ve not recovered the weapon but the CCTV system around the shopping centre picked this up.
As far as we can tell, it’s a baseball bat that has had the top third cut off. Our colleagues in North
Manchester—’
A low grumbling began at the back
or something and they had a bit of money about them. If he had any sense, he’d be off drilling
something else – anything had to be better than looking at Nicole’s walnut face.
Lisa emerged onto the correct floor of the multi-storey car park relieved that at least her kids could
count. She expected them to be haring across the tarmac, hopefully not into the path of a car. Why
wouldn’t they slow down? She was tired; it had been a long day.
As she rounded the thick concrete pillar, Lisa’s two sons were standing still, staring towards the
corner where someone in a dark blue hooded top was standing close to a dirty white van. It took a
few moments for her to see what they were looking at but when she did, she gasped, stepping
forwards and putting her hands over the boys’ eyes.
Next to the van’s front wheel, a second man was on the floor. The hooded figure lunged ahead,
cracking a bat over the unconscious man’s back with a grunt of effort and a deep cough. Lisa couldn’t
stop herself from squealing, the sound popping out before she knew it was there, echoing around the
concrete space like the squeak from a trapped mouse.
When the hooded figure turned to face her, she expected to see a face but there was a white mask
with a red letter ‘A’ painted across the front and a diagonal line through it. She could see the whites of his eyes glaring across the car park, illuminated in the blue haze of the strip lights. The person
straightened up to full height – which wasn’t much – chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to
catch his breath.
‘Please don’t hurt us,’ Lisa said, her voice cracking. She still had her sons’ eyes covered, somehow
balancing her bags at the same time, but the children were beginning to squirm.
The figure said nothing, glancing slowly in both directions before nodding his head ever so slightly
towards her. Somewhere below, a car’s wheels screeched around the corner but the person remained
calm, wiping the bat on the ground and then walking quickly towards the far end of the car park.
11
Jessica stared up at the enlarged photo of the victim pinned to the incident room’s whiteboard and
turned back to the assembled officers. ‘I think we can safely say someone didn’t like this guy.’
A dozen officers were squeezed into the makeshift room, a mix of CID and uniform. As she faced
them, Jessica couldn’t stop looking at the speckled patch of black and green mould above the door.
The incident room in the basement was hardly state-of-the-art but at least there was a heater and she
didn’t feel at risk of Legionnaires’ disease just by showing up to work.
Jessica still had her jacket on, as did almost everyone else. She waited for one of the constables to
stop picking his nose, giving him the raised eyebrow treatment, before continuing. ‘This is Alan Hume
– he’s in his fifties, unmarried and a self-employed builder who owns a dozen or so houses around
Manchester. He was working on a shop refitting yesterday afternoon at the Trafford Centre and,
miraculously seeing as he’s a builder, he didn’t knock off at half two. Some time a little after seven,
Lisa Dawes and her two sons were heading back to their car after a trip to the cinema when they saw
a man in a dark blue hoody introducing Mr Hume to Mr Sawn-Off Baseball Bat.’
A voice at the back piped up: ‘Sawn-off?’
Jessica nodded to Izzy, who pressed a button on the laptop, changing the image on the screen. It
was a good thing somebody knew how to set the damned thing up – Jessica had spent a day on a
training course and was none the wiser.
‘We’ve not recovered the weapon but the CCTV system around the shopping centre picked this up.
As far as we can tell, it’s a baseball bat that has had the top third cut off. Our colleagues in North
Manchester—’
A low grumbling began at the back
Similar Books
