Chapter Twenty-Seven

Taylor walked back across the open area, feeling reasonably pleased. Things were still going to plan despite the copper’s attempts to get Connor onside with his usual bullshit and lies. She’d been so close to losing it when she’d overheard Adams trying to put the frighteners on Connor with his smart talk about ‘punishment meted out to child killers’, she really had had to call on all of her willpower not to shoot the bastard’s legs from under him. She’d restrained herself, just, reminding herself that she’d worked too hard, waited too long for the copper to get his just desserts. And now, finally, he was about to.

Adams was exactly where she wanted him, knowing he was about to meet his maker and no amount of reasoning could change his fate. He was at the mercy of someone with the power to end his life on a whim, just like her father had been. Taylor wanted him to have time to reflect on why he was in the position he was, to realise his misdemeanours were too great to go unpunished, that he couldn’t hide behind the law any more. She wanted him to get down on his knees and beg. Would have made sure he’d done it sooner had his lumbering peg-legged sidekick not blundered in. Obviously he was as competent at screwing things up as his ‘boss’. But then, did it matter? With her new stolen identity all lined up, Taylor would be long gone by the time their colleagues found them both, plus the suicide note, which was the important thing here. Whether or not Adams had been coerced into doing it under threat of his precious little daughter losing her life wasn’t an issue. The fact was, he would be dead. Had he taken the coward’s option or the hero’s option would be the question on people’s minds. Was he a greedy, bent copper on the take, or the goody-two-shoes detective everyone held in such high esteem, selflessly sacrificing his life for his daughter? Had he cared about his first daughter, they might wonder, enough not to expose her to the danger he obviously had? His wife? Had he ever really cared about anyone except number one and his job, which allowed him free rein to use and abuse the very people he claimed to be protecting? Those were the eternal questions his family would be asking, and that would be just punishment enough to fit their crimes in Taylor’s mind.

Yes, he would beg. She’d make damn sure he did, she decided, quashing the burning anger which always accompanied the grief when her thoughts wandered to her own father and how much he’d cared for her. A lot, she reassured herself, with a determined nod. Hadn’t he told her over and over it would be nothing but the best for his daughter? She’d only had to bat her eyelashes at him and he’d buy her whatever she’d wanted, clothes, the latest laptop or phone. Her beautiful tri-coloured pony. It was that thieving, abusing copper and his pathetic sidekick who’d robbed her of it all: her childhood, her innocence, left her on her own, pregnant! They’d destroyed everything, she reminded herself furiously. On which subject … Taylor detoured before going back to join the equally pathetic Connor, intending to check whether the detective’s dutiful friend was actually still alive – and then stopped dead.

Shit! A flutter of panic rising in her chest, she cocked her head to one side and squinted against the fast descending dark of the cellar, seeing a definite trail of crimson bleeding into the dust and concrete, but no signs of the blundering ex-policeman. Damn! Obviously, he was still breathing. That had been careless. She should have finished him off. The sharp end of the spade would have done the job. If only she hadn’t overheard Adams trying to win that wimp Connor over, she would have made sure the cripple wasn’t capable of taking another step. Cursing her incompetence, Taylor moved tentatively towards the roll of insulation she’d dragged the unconscious man behind, almost rupturing herself in the process, and then peered warily over it. Nothing but another deep scarlet puddle, which meant Ingram’s blood was definitely still pumping.

Shit. Shit, shit! Holding the gun high, Taylor stepped over the insulation, her heart jumping as shadows flickered and danced in dark corners. Crap! Her heart almost leapt out of her mouth as, lit by the thin light of passing car beams through the low basement window, a bulbous grey rat scurried across her path a mere inch from her foot. Ugly fucking thing. Taylor’s stomach recoiled as it scuttled towards the far wall, its long scaly tail trailing disgustingly behind it.

Vile, vermin ridden creatures, they made Taylor’s skin crawl. Had done since she’d first encountered one in the upstairs bar, sitting on the bar, she could hardly believe, cleaning its whiskers! Chelsea, that slag her dad had moved in had been there at the time, snorting out that irritating laugh of hers when Taylor had screamed for her dad. He’d been well rid of her, common mouthed cow, always banging on at him about the club and him bringing the law to her door. Her door? Freeloading trollop. Like Adams, her dad had been good-looking, but it was obvious the only thing a cheap tart half his age was after was his dosh. Taylor had tolerated the woman for her dad’s sake, but she’d hated the bitch. She had wondered at the coincidence of her disappearing the day Adams had paid her dad one of his visits. The tart had simpered all over Adams, of course, flaunting herself in her microdot bikini and fluttering her eyelashes, like she did at anything good-looking in trousers, which seriously annoyed her dad. Taylor hadn’t been surprised when she’d turned up dead. Obviously, someone had finally decided to shut her endless chuntering up and bashed her senseless blonde head in, which, of course, the copper had accused her dad of doing, just like he’d accused him of killing those five other women, as if he was a whore hater or something. Like, hello? He employed them, paid their rent, Taylor would have liked to have pointed out. The copper was relentless. Every time a body turned up so would Adams, like a fucking bad penny, wanting to know where he was, whether anyone could vouch for his movements. It was no wonder her dad was so sick of being hounded he’d asked her to vouch for him the night of her birthday. He hadn’t actually been at home, he’d been at the club, Taylor had rung him on his mobile so she’d known he was, but still Adams kept on coming back. Even when he’d been dead and buried, they hadn’t let him rest in peace, newspaper reporters seizing every opportunity they could to big up the copper’s hero status, trashing her dad’s reputation in the process, claiming he had killed all those women and his slutty wife. All lies, no doubt fed to them by Adams and his cronies.

His fault. All of it. He might have got away with murder, thanks to his corrupt colleagues protecting one of their own, but his day of reckoning had come. He would pay for his crimes, along with that scummy sidekick of his, once she found him. Where the hell was he? The door was locked and there was no way he’d be able to squeeze his great bulk through the rusted up basement window. He was down here somewhere, hiding amongst the building debris. Idiot. Didn’t he realise he was totally pissing her off? Bending, Taylor narrowed her eyes and peered under and around a carpenter’s bench, and then straightened up and twirled to her left as something moved swiftly in her peripheral vision.

Bastard. He was doing this deliberately, scaring her half to death, hiding in the shadows, making her search for him with scaly oily rats scratting about all over the place. Did he really think she wouldn’t find him? Pathetic cripple.

‘Oh, Mr Ingram, come out, come out, wherever you are,’ she called in singsong tones. ‘Best not to make Taylor angry, or Taylor will blast your fucking brains out!’ Silence.

‘Shit!’ she cursed out loud, twirling sharp right as something scraped along the floor in the corner. Wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm, Taylor pointed the gun and squinted hard, then, ‘Ah, there you are,’ she said sweetly as she made out a form against the wall that was far too fat to be a rat.

Her mouth curving into a satisfied smile, Taylor advanced carefully, keeping her gaze fixed on him as she did. ‘Oh, deary me, we have been in the wars, haven’t we?’ She sighed dramatically, noting his blood saturated shirt and his head lolling back against the wall he was sitting against for support.

The bumbling policeman didn’t answer. Taylor hadn’t really expected him to. She reckoned half his brains must have spilled on the floor when he’d landed at the bottom of the steps. She was mildly perturbed, however, when, caught in the glow of passing headlights, he appeared to smile. Imbecile. Make that all his brains, she thought, eyeing him derisorily. Evidently he was cerebrally challenged to start with. Must have been to have danced to the bent detective’s tune.

‘You’ve made an awful mess on the floor,’ she observed, further perturbed as the sole of her boot slid in the sticky red gloop underfoot. ‘That’s not very polite in someone else’s property, now is it, Mr Ingram?’

Taylor waited. Still the halfwit didn’t reply, which, as he was capable of smiling, clearly he could. ‘That was a question, Mr Ingram,’ she pointed out, growing more seriously aggrieved by the second. ‘Don’t they teach you people any manners at police school?’

Ingram’s response was to blow out a deep sigh and drop his head slowly to his chest.

‘Aww,’ Taylor tutted sympathetically. ‘Too weak to be courteous, is that it, hmm? Or is it more because you lot are all pig-ignorant to start off with?’

She cocked her head to one side, waiting for an answer. None was forthcoming, to Taylor’s now immense agitation. ‘I mean, you’d have to be a special breed to do your dirty little job, wouldn’t you, Ingram?’ she went on angrily. ‘Fitting people up when you can’t be arsed to go out and actually do your job, shitting all over people, abusing them and revelling in their misery?’

That got his attention. Ingram looked up at her then, shaking his head disgustedly as he did. Stupid moronic pig! Taylor’s blood boiled. ‘Get up,’ she seethed.

He didn’t budge, just continued to look at her, a smirk still playing about his face, nothing but unbridled contempt in his eyes.

‘Up or die, retard!’ she shouted.

At which, Ingram laughed. Taylor couldn’t believe it, a short derisory laugh.

‘Just do it,’ he said, coughing and emitting a dribble of blood from his mouth. ‘Go on, grab your fifteen minutes of fame, you sad bitch.’

What? Taylor gawked at him as he held her gaze, a challenge now in his eyes. He really did have a death wish, didn’t he? Wish granted, copper. Fury coursing through her, Taylor raised the gun and took another step towards him.

‘What are you hoping to gain, Taylor?’ he asked her, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

Taylor stopped, eyeing him bemusedly now. Was he serious? Did he really think he could ‘talk her down’?

‘I mean, what are you trying to prove, hey?’ Cocking his head to one side, he kept right on looking at her. ‘Tell me, I’m interested.’

‘I’m not trying to prove anything, copper,’ Taylor growled. ‘I don’t have to.’

‘Oh?’ Ingram said, and there it was again, that goading smirk.

Not going to work, copper, Taylor thought confidently. Unlike some people, she was in control of her emotions. ‘Adams is going to do that job admirably for me,’ she informed him coolly.

‘Ah.’ Ingram nodded. ‘What job would that be then?’ he asked her, furrowing his brow.

‘You’re taking the piss, Ingram.’ Taylor felt like hooting, she really did. ‘Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to fall for this concerned copper crap?’

‘On the contrary,’ Ingram assured her. ‘I think the stupidity is all firmly on our side.’ He laughed, shaking his head self-deprecatingly, which did surprise her, Taylor had to admit. ‘It’s just, if I’m going to die, I’d quite like to know why.’

As if he didn’t already. ‘You can ask Adams when you meet him in hell,’ Taylor suggested, a satisfied smile curving her mouth as the copper’s gaze darted past her. Obviously he was desperately contemplating his chances of escape.

Nil, copper. You’re fodder for the vermin, fittingly. ‘Your little game is up, Ingram,’ she warned him, refocussing her aim.

Locking eyes with his as he looked back at her, Taylor didn’t notice the figure creeping up on her, until a hand snatched for the gun. Shit! Instinctively, she yanked the gun upwards and raised one heavy booted foot, kicking out hard and sending the woman sprawling.

In two strides, Taylor was on her. ‘Not fast enough, bitch,’ she snarled, catching hold of the mane of hair that hubby probably loved to run his hands through when he shagged her and twisting it tight. ‘Up!’ she commanded.

The bitch didn’t oblige, reaching up instead, ineffectually trying to relieve the pressure as Taylor tugged her hair mercilessly tighter.

‘Stupid cow! Did you really think you would get away with that?’ she spat. ‘Well, did you? No chance, lady.’ Taylor pulled harder. ‘You never did stand a chance with that husband of yours determined to screw up your life, did you?’

Fuming, Taylor glared down at perfect Rebecca, whose cat’s eyes were full of fire and defiance, and decided she’d take great pleasure in hacking her lovely long locks off, but later. Right now, she had business to attend to. Giving her hair a final cruel twist, she released her, yanking her head back, as she did, and then turned her attention back to Ingram, who had clearly been making a valiant attempt to save the lady.

Not a very effective attempt though. He’d only managed to make it to his knees, and even then he appeared to still need the wall for support. ‘Not quite the white knight, are we, Mr Ingram, hmm?’ Taylor asked, moving towards him.

Ingram just glanced at her, that same look of open disdain in his eyes, Taylor noted.

Look your last, moron, Taylor smirked contemptuously. ‘Now then, what to do with you is the question.’ She raised the gun, pressing the barrel to his temple. ‘I mean, I can’t leave you here, bleeding all over the floor and making a nuisance of yourself, now can I?’

‘Please don’t,’ the woman pleaded wholeheartedly behind her as Ingram closed his eyes, clearly ready to accept his inevitable fate.

Taylor glanced disinterestedly in her direction. ‘I’d keep it shut, if I were you, sweetie,’ she warned her, applying just enough pressure to make Ingram wince.

‘It wouldn’t be a wise move.’ The woman took no notice whatsoever, which severely tried Taylor’s patience. ‘If you fire that thing, you’ll have the world and its dog here in seconds.’

Taylor paused, her finger hovering over the trigger. ‘And this would bother you how?’ she asked contemplatively, after a pause. The woman was right, obviously, but, ‘I’m intrigued. Tell me, why would you not want to attract attention?’

‘And endanger my child’s life?’ the woman shot the question back.

Fair comment, Taylor thought. ‘Not too bothered about hubby’s life then?’ she asked her interestedly.

Taylor’s mouth curved into a knowing smile when the woman didn’t answer. ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t give a stuff about the selfish bastard either, given the shit he’s put you and your family through. You’re right, though,’ she conceded, glancing at her and then back to Ingram. ‘Best not to shoot him.’

Ingram’s shoulders slumped with relief as she backed away. ‘Probably a better idea to knock the rest of his brains out instead. Can’t leave him stumbling about in the dark, after all, can we?’ With which Taylor turned the gun around and smashed it violently into the side of the moron’s head.

‘Quiet!’ she instructed, pointing the gun swiftly towards the woman, who whimpered like a big bloody girly. Mind you, Taylor had to admit the crack as she’d made contact had been a bit sickening. ‘Get over here and remove his belt,’ she said.

Her hand clamped to her mouth, the woman just blinked stupidly from Ingram to her.

‘Do it!’ Taylor ordered, gesturing her with the gun. ‘You’re going to tie his hands behind him. And you’d better make sure to tie them nice and tight if you’d rather see your darling daughter than join him.’

‘Is she with you?’ Taylor asked, giving Rebecca a nudge in the right direction from behind. ‘Your special needs daughter, is she with you?’ she repeated, when Rebecca didn’t answer.

Monster, Rebecca thought, drawing in a tight breath and ignoring both the question and the next sharp poke with the gun. Her father had been spawned from the Devil. No surprise then, that this creature was the epitome of pure evil.

‘Sad little cow, isn’t she?’ The bitch chatted on, almost chummily Rebecca could hardly believe. ‘Dead gullible. I mean, did she really think someone like me would want her as a BFF, drippy, droopy Ashley, hiding behind her hair if a boy so much as says hello to her? Honestly, what a loser. She’s dead freaky. Talks to herself. Did you know that?’

Rebecca ignored that too, concentrating her efforts instead on trying to remain calm.

‘Wait,’ Taylor instructed as they reached the door, behind which Rebecca had left Ashley trying to persuade Connor Preston to hand Mia to her. It had been a hopeless plan, but seeing him alone with Mia when they’d peered through the window, they’d been galvanised into trying to gain entry through the other one. To not have tried to do something might have meant losing Mia forever. That was the scenario Rebecca had imagined if the police had swooped while this she-Devil was anywhere near her. She’d made a decision. She’d made a mistake. She prayed to God her family didn’t suffer because of it.

‘You’re dead rude, you are, you know, Rebecca? Or stupid, possibly? That was a question, sweetie,’ Taylor said, close to her ear. ‘Make sure to answer promptly next time. My father couldn’t abide disrespectful people. Like your husband – who shot him. I can’t either.’

She gave her another shove, harder this time. ‘Open it,’ she said, stepping back a little. ‘And don’t try anything funny, or you’ll be choosing another child’s headstone, as well as one for your cheating, lying husband.’

Rebecca swallowed back her contempt, along with the fear clutching at her chest. ‘Where is he?’ she asked, desperately trying to keep her tone even.

‘You’ll find out soon enough. Now open the bloody door! Please.’

She was mad. As insane as her father before her. There would be no reasoning with her, Rebecca knew. She had nothing to offer this inhuman thing behind her. There was no inducement that might persuade her to let them go. She’d got what she wanted. She’d wanted Matthew. Stifling the sob that climbed her throat, Rebecca prayed hard he was still alive. All she could do for now was to watch and wait for another opportunity to grab that gun and then use it. Pressing down the handle, she pushed open the door, refusing to let go of the hope that she would be given that opportunity, that somehow DCI Davies might have pinpointed their location as Ashley had suggested he might, even though the phone she’d thought was Steve’s appeared to be useless. Rebecca hoped he could, that somehow a miracle would occur, because, despite the risks their presence might bring, it seemed that police intervention was their only hope of survival.

Pushing Rebecca viciously on through the door, Taylor followed her in. ‘Well, well, isn’t this cosy?’ she said, noting, as Rebecca did, that Mia was nestled safely in Ashley’s arms. ‘Been having a nice little chat, have we, Connor? Fancy her, do you?’

Connor sighed. ‘Don’t talk wet, Jasmine. You really are losing—’

‘Taylor!’ Taylor bellowed, causing Mia to twizzle in Ashley’s arms, where she immediately noticed Rebecca.

‘Mummy!’ she cried, reaching terrified towards her.

‘Yeah, all right! I got it. Taylor!’ Connor yelled back, eyeballing Taylor furiously. He was scared. Rebecca could see the confusion and fear in his eyes. She could smell it. He didn’t want to be part of this.

‘Are you mental, or what? What did you go and give her the kid for?’ Taylor snapped, the gun hovering dangerously between them. ‘Stay!’ She settled her aim on Rebecca, who’d moved towards Ashley.

‘She was crying!’ Connor splayed his hands exasperatedly. ‘What was I supposed to do?’

‘She could have legged it and taken the kid with her, you complete bloody wanker. What the hell is wrong with you?’

Looking humiliated at that, Connor glanced down. ‘Why would it have mattered if she had?’ he muttered.

‘Why would it have …?’ Taylor stared at him, incredulous.

‘You’ve got what you wanted.’ Connor nodded towards a computer screen parked on a table, the only furniture in the room, other than a playpen containing a filthy sleeping bag, which they’d obviously imprisoned her baby in. Her heart twisting, Rebecca stepped again towards Mia and Ashley.

‘I said stay put!’ Taylor seethed, releasing one hand from the gun to wipe spittle from her mouth.

‘Let her go to her mum, you sick bitch,’ Ashley shouted, moving towards Rebecca regardless.

‘Me, sick? Hah! It’s you who’s sick, sweetheart.’ Taylor loosened her hold on the gun again, to poke herself demonstratively in the temple. ‘A complete bloody schizo. Stay where you are!’ Looking Ashley over derisorily, Taylor backed towards the computer.

Shushing Mia in her arms, Ashley glanced questioningly towards Rebecca, who nodded, indicating Ashley should comply, for now. Understanding, Ashley nodded back, and stayed where she was.

‘It’s all right, munchkin,’ she said, pressing Mia to her shoulder and planting a soft kiss on her head. ‘We’re going home soon.’

‘Want go home now. Want Daddy,’ Mia grizzled around the thumb plugged into her mouth.

Hearing that, seeing how exhausted she looked, how utterly bewildered, Rebecca’s heart shattered all over again. She would kill the bitch, snap her neck in an instant. Click, clack, crack. Silently, she repeated that sick animal Sullivan’s mantra, knowing she truly would, given half a chance to get near her.

‘On second thoughts, you can hand her over,’ Taylor said, the gun still pointed in their direction, her gaze on the computer screen. ‘And then you can all come over here and say goodbye to Daddy.’

Locking eyes with Rebecca, as she gathered Mia safely to her, the bitch’s mouth twisted into a smirk. ‘I wouldn’t get all sentimental and weepy when you do though,’ she went on languidly. ‘You should know, I did fuck him when he gallantly escorted me home. Or rather, he fucked me.’

‘You what?’ Connor’s astounded gaze twanged towards her.

‘Liar!’ Ashley yelled as Taylor – ignoring Connor telling her to ‘cut the crap’ and that she ‘did no such thing’ – continued to hold Becky’s gaze. ‘He wouldn’t look twice at you. You’re a complete—’

‘Hard!’ Taylor talked over her. ‘Every which way,’ she went on nastily, a glint of triumph in her eyes. ‘A desperate man if ever I saw one, had me bent over the sofa the second we walked through the door.’

‘Don’t listen, Becky. She’s talking absolute crap,’ Ashley tried desperately, looking from Becky to Connor, who was now studying Taylor intently, his cheeks flushing furiously.

‘Said he’d been fantasising about what he was going to do to me all night,’ Taylor continued to taunt, clearly getting maximum satisfaction at the added pain she was causing, and clearly oblivious to Connor now visibly fuming. ‘It was interesting watching him lying to you, pretending he didn’t know who I was, and all the while his pretty brown eyes were burning with obvious lust. Just like the first time he fucked me. I was only eighteen then. My beautiful little virgin, he called me.’

‘Bullshit! Shut her up, can’t you?’ Ashley screamed, turning to Connor.

‘Stop it, Taylor,’ Connor said, his voice hoarse, his whole face now growing puce.

‘He called out my name when he came,’ Taylor just kept on, her amused gaze still fixed on Rebecca. ‘Does he do that with you, Rebecca?’

‘I said that’s enough!’ His expression a mixture of acute embarrassment and impotent rage, Connor stepped angrily towards Taylor, as Rebecca desperately played the evening’s events over. Not true. None of it! Matthew’s eyes were filled with confusion when he’d looked at this thing, not lust.

‘Don’t you dare.’ Taylor shot Connor a warning glance.

‘Or what?’ Taking another step, Connor eyeballed her furiously. ‘Give me the key, you demented little slut! Now!’

‘Back off!’ Taylor swung the gun towards him. ‘See that there?’ she said, nodding towards the PC as Connor moved again towards her.

Breathing heavily, Connor stopped.

‘There, on the floor,’ Taylor went on as his eyes flicked towards the screen. ‘That, Connor, is your get out of jail card. His confession. Still want me to stop?’

His chest heaving, Connor glanced uncertainly from the screen to her, and then, ‘Fuck!’ He swiped a hand over his face and turned away.

‘Thought not.’ Taylor smiled, behind him. ‘Do join us, girls,’ she said companionably. ‘This is reality TV at its most riveting, trust me. I bet it’ll go viral when I upload it.’

‘You’re disgusting.’ Nausea churning her stomach, Rebecca looked disbelievingly at the vile thing before her.

‘Ooh!’ Taylor blinked girlishly. ‘Such hostility! I’m shocked, Rebecca. Truly, I am. But not much,’ she added, with another inane smirk. ‘I’m actually not that shockable. You, on the other hand … Come on over,’ she said. ‘Come and see what hubby’s been up to in your absence.’