Laura was driving fast and I kept a lookout for police patrols. The roads were quiet, no one around, so she nudged the speed higher, the trees and lay-bys blurring past.
I was looking at the map, trying to work out where we were going. We needed to be at a small village called Kirkby Askham. Liza Radley’s house was just beyond that.
I started to get nervous. I was chewing my lip, thinking about what lay ahead. Laura interrupted my thoughts. ‘Where are we going?’
I turned to look at her. She was staring straight ahead, concentrating on the road, as if it was just a thought spoken aloud.
I returned my eyes to the road, realising that there was no way to dress it up.
‘We’re going to talk to the woman who has been shooting footballers.’
My leg screamed with pain as the car screeched to a halt.
‘What!’
I smiled through the pain, enjoying the effect.
‘You heard me,’ I said.
‘Who is she?’
I watched her. Laura was a policewoman. Would she stop me if I told her? Then I thought about the night before. That wasn’t about the job.
‘She’s a woman from Turners Fold obsessed with Annie Paxman’s death. Called Liza Radley.’
‘That’s bullshit,’ she said, and then she paused. ‘How do you know this?’
‘Old photographs, guesswork, that kind of thing.’
Laura stared straight ahead for a while, gathering her thoughts, before she said, ‘Jack, let me tell you one thing: people don’t just start killing footballers. They build up to killing footballers. A person’s first murder makes them pause, take stock, even panic a little. Sprees come later, much later.’
‘So you’re saying I’m wrong?’
Laura looked at me, disappointment in her eyes. ‘I’m saying that you’re too wrapped up in the story to see the truth. And you’re not being fair to me, Jack. You knew all this last night, as we were making love, but you didn’t say anything. Maybe you’re thinking too much about the story and not enough about yourself. You’re putting yourself in danger.’ Laura clicked on her phone. ‘I’m calling it in.’
I grabbed her wrist. ‘And maybe you’re thinking too much about an arrest? I’m thinking only of the story, and for that I need to do what I need to do. I’ll worry about me later.’
Laura started to answer, but then she stopped. I could almost see the thoughts flashing across her eyes as she tried to decide whether she had the killer in sight. She tugged at her lip. ‘Who is she?’
‘Her father was James Radley, the policeman who arrived on the scene of Annie Paxman’s murder with my father.’
‘The other cop on the tape?’
I nodded. ‘He knew and hated himself for it. He saw the same thing my father saw.’
Laura exhaled. ‘And his daughter started hating him for it too?’
‘Something like that, I guess. I’ll let the head doctors sort that one out, but my take is that she hated the town and hated David Watts for what it did to her father. She puts her father out of his misery and then goes after David Watts.’
‘And when it all comes out, she’ll bring the town down with her.’
‘Seems that way. I’m guessing that she won’t mind an interview.’
‘I’m calling this in, Jack. Now.’
I made a play of reaching for the door handle. ‘You can, but we aren’t far away now. I’ll walk. I just hope I don’t tip her off.’
Laura grabbed at my hand. ‘You bastard, Jack Garrett,’ she snapped. ‘I’m a police officer. Are you trying to end my career?’
I looked down and thought for a moment. When I looked again, I was steely and determined. ‘I’m doing this my way, because this story is going to be written. But Laura,’ and I put my hand over hers, ‘we’re past the cop–reporter thing now. We need to talk when this is all over.’
Laura looked into my eyes and saw that I meant it.
‘You’ll cover for me, if I get in trouble?’ she asked.
I smiled. ‘I’m making you the hero of the piece.’ And then I kissed her.
I felt her move into the kiss, her hand falling away from mine. When I opened my eyes, she said softly, ‘Okay, you win.’ She paused, and then said, ‘But I’m calling it in as soon as we get there The reinforcements might just arrive before she kills us both.’
‘Do we tell her about Rose Wood?’
Laura sighed. That was a tough one.
‘Maybe,’ was her reply, ‘but let’s not get her angry.’