Page 30 of Dying Breath
‘Boss, we’re going to the Italian – we should just make happy hour if you want to come?’
‘Thank you, Lucy. I’d love to but it’s my turn to watch the boys. I’ll have to go home and see what vegan culinary delight Alison has made for me before she pops off to yoga for three hours.’
Lucy grimaced. ‘Well, if you change your mind.’
He smiled at her. ‘Thanks. Actually, if there’s nothing more that can be done I’m calling it a day as well.’
‘No, I can’t think of anything until we have Lewis Waite back in custody.’
‘I can’t even bear to think about it – it makes my blood pressure rocket.’
‘Night, boss.’
‘Night, Lucy.’
She caught up with Mattie and Browning, who were almost at the bottom of the spiral staircase, and the three of them went out to their cars.
Tom logged off his computer and yawned. He was going to have a hot shower and a large glass of red wine to help him unwind, otherwise he’d never sleep after the disastrous week this had turned into. He got into his car and began the fifteen-minute drive to his house and family. He loved Alison – it was just that she loved herself more than she loved anyone else. The boys were a different matter; he loved them unconditionally and at least he’d have a couple of hours to spend with them now without Alison interrupting every five minutes.
When he finally turned into their quiet street, he remembered how she’d parked the car too far up it that morning. He drove past their house and stopped opposite Craig’s, grinning to himself. He was being childish and he knew it, but it was a small price to pay for a little revenge. He knew she’d go mad and he actually didn’t care.
As he got out of the car he heard a loud thud and spun around to see where it had come from. Instantly, he saw that the front door to Craig’s house was wide open, swinging back and forth in the breeze – just as it had been earlier. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The lights were still blazing too. What if they’d gone on holiday and been burgled? But Craig would normally have knocked to let them know they were going away.
Tom crossed the street and walked up the drive. Craig’s car didn’t look as if it had moved all day; it was still parked in front of Michelle’s small Citroën. If they’d gone on holiday they’d have taken Craig’s car. He knocked on the open front door and shouted, ‘Craig, Michelle? Anybody home?’ He was greeted by silence. It was too quiet. There was no television or radio on. He pulled out his phone, ready to ring 101 should he need to report a break-in. Stepping inside the house, he called out once more: ‘Craig!’
As his feet moved towards the stairs, a strong gust of wind slammed the door behind him shut, making him jump. He inhaled and caught a whiff of the strong, coppery smell that he knew so well. His stomach lurched – not because he was scared of the sight of blood, but because he knew something was terribly wrong. For the blood to smell so strong there had to be a lot of it. He dialled 999, told the call handler where he was and then ran upstairs.
As Tom reached the top of the stairs, he wondered briefly if he should go back down and wait for the patrols to get here. Then he thought,Fuck it. Once upon a time he’d been a response copper up to his elbows in blood and gore. He might have what most would consider a cushy office job now, but he’d never forget the days and nights spent attending sudden deaths, or fighting with pissed-up contractors outside nightclubs. It was his instinct to help others and he knew that right now someone needed help.
All the upstairs doors were pulled to, but not shut. He knew from being here on many occasions to watch the football or for family barbecues which were the bathroom, master bedroom and Arran’s room. He walked towards the master and, pulling his sleeve down over his hand, pushed the door open.
The horror of what greeted him made his knees go weak and his first instinct was to get the hell out of this house and never come back. He stared down at the floor, where, face-down, lay the bloodied body of Craig. Sprawled across the heavily bloodstained bed was Michelle. Not needing to go in and check to see if they were dead, he turned and ran towards Arran’s room. ‘Please God, let him be okay, let him be alive,’ he prayed out loud. He pushed the door open and felt his knees give way completely under the weight of him. He landed on the floor in a kneeling position and let out a loud groan. The boy was lying in his bed, glassy-eyed, with a bullet hole in the centre of his forehead. He heard the sirens and wondered if he should get up or stay there and wait for the officers to come inside. He couldn’t think straight. His head was pounding and his heart was racing – he wanted to scream.
He heard a male voice shout, ‘Police!’
‘Up here.’
He pulled himself to his feet as two sets of feet ran up the stairs, and he turned around to see two young coppers who could have been his kids they looked so wet behind the ears. Pointing to the bedrooms, he mumbled, ‘They’re all dead.’
The first officer turned to his colleague with a look of horror on his face; the other one didn’t look much better.
‘Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to wait outside.’
Tom turned to go back downstairs. ‘I’ve told you, they’re dead – don’t go trampling all over the crime scene.’
‘Thank you, but we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs. Who are you?’
‘The neighbour, family friend, DCI Tom Crowe. I saw the door open and thought I’d better check they were okay.’
The other officer looked at him. ‘Please wait outside and don’t go anywhere. We’ll need to get a statement from you.’
Tom nodded. He couldn’t get the bloodied images of his friends’ bodies out of his mind. He got halfway down and heard a loud retching sound.
‘Don’t you puke in here, Dale. Go outside if you can’t handle it.’
‘I’m all right, Lee, it’s just the shock and the blood.’
Tom heard the hushed sound as they began talking. As he walked back out of the front door, he heard one of them request an ambulance. Both of them then came back outside, a lot paler than they were five minutes before. Tom, who had pulled his phone out, dialled Lucy’s number. He knew she was off duty and probably in the middle of eating her pizza, but he didn’t want anyone else to deal with this.
