The drive from Luttrell village to Crone in Wicklow normally took an hour and a half. They did it in an hour and ten minutes and it still felt like the longest seventy minutes of any of their lives.
‘What makes you think he’d wait for nightfall?’ Ray asked, willing the car to go faster. ‘It’s so remote out here – couldn’t he just have come straight out? And what would he have been doing all that time?’
‘Just driving around, I imagine,’ Tom said. ‘Or maybe he’s parked up somewhere. It’s remote, Ray, but it’s the middle of the school summer holidays and this whole area is frequented by tourists and locals, even the lesser-known lakes. He will have had to bide his time.’
The inspector prayed he was right. Lane deciding to kill Laura at the lake and waiting for dark gave them a slim chance of finding her alive.
The police radio crackled just as they exited the M50 and merged onto the N11: ‘This is dispatch. Patrol unit eleven have just clocked a car driving on the Wicklow Way access road towards Lough Dan woods, coming from the Oldbridge direction. It’s a dark saloon, matching the description of the suspect’s vehicle.’
Tom picked up the radio.
‘Unit eleven, keep it in sight. If it stops, wait close by. Signal us as we approach.
‘How far?’ he asked Willie.
The other man grimaced.
‘Fifteen minutes.’
They sped down the N11, coming off at the village of Roundwood.
It was a clear night; a full moon lit the sky overhead. The houses began to thin out as they drove deeper into the countryside. They were at the foot of the Wicklow Mountains and could feel the ascent. The minutes passed, and soon they saw the woods in the distance, a thicket of trees amongst the vast farmlands that surrounded them.
‘Nearly there,’ Tom said to Ray.
His deputy nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
As they drew closer, a patrol car flashed its lights at them from a side road.
Willie slowed and Tom lowered his window as one of its occupants jumped out and approached.
‘Did the car come up here?’
‘Yes. It’s his vehicle. It’s parked up ahead now. We checked; it’s empty.’
‘Okay. You know the terrain about here?’
‘Yep. The car park is at the foot of the main walking trail. There’s a bit of a climb through the woods, nothing strenuous, then the path dips and leads to the lake. The woods converge to a narrower point at the lake’s shore.’
‘Is it thick woodland? Any clearings?’
‘It’s not too dense. There are plenty of glades and the lake’s periphery is fairly open.’
‘Okay, thanks. Follow us.’
Tom signalled to Willie to drive on until they reached the car park.
They pulled up across from the lone vehicle, a Toyota Avensis. Lane’s taxi-plate licence was registered to the make and model of the car they were looking at now.
‘That’s the right reg.’ Willie said.
Tom and Ray directed their torches and weapons at the vehicle, advancing towards it cautiously.
It was empty.
The sound of another car attracted their attention. Michael and Bridget had arrived. The inspector had left Brian in charge of a team at Lane’s house as a precautionary measure.
‘What’s the plan?’ Michael said, as he jumped from the car.
‘We have to assume he’s in these woods,’ Tom said. ‘Unless he’s playing games with us. There are reinforcements coming but we need to go in now and start a search. We don’t know what sort of weapons he has, if any, but let’s keep ours primed. We’ll split up to help speed things up. Bar you two,’ he nodded at the uniformed guards. ‘You’re not armed, so stay together and radio through if you spot anything. Do not approach him.’
The two officers nodded.
‘I’m coming,’ Willie said.
‘Go with the uniforms,’ Tom sighed. There was little point in telling his driver to stay in the car. Willie was a trained guard. He wouldn’t be sitting this one out.
‘Are you alright?’ the inspector asked Ray, as they pulled on their Kevlar vests.
Ray nodded.
‘I’d finally asked her out,’ he said, his face grim. ‘She said yes, Tom. Ten months it’s taken me, since I messed it up the first time. And every day, every night since then, I’ve thought about her. Watching her as she worked, noticing all the things I’d never noticed before. Like how bloody beautiful she is.’ Ray rubbed roughly at his eyes. ‘Sorry, you don’t want to be listening to this shit. I sound like an idiot. I sound like a bloody stalker.’
Tom strapped the sides of his vest together.
‘We’ll find her, Ray.’
His deputy nodded, unable to meet the inspector’s eyes.
They separated off the main trail in five different directions. Their radios were set on the lowest volume so they could communicate without alerting the suspect to their presence.
Tom could hear his heart thumping in his chest as he made his way across the fern-strewn ground. The officers at the scene had been correct – the woods were visitor-friendly, plenty of trails between the trees, which also meant the moon’s light broke through and made the job of walking easier.
He walked at a brisk pace, casting his eyes left and right. There was a mile and a half of woodland between him and the lake, but Lane could be anywhere. The inspector summoned up the image of the man. He’d been average height. Fit – they’d noticed that when he ran from the car. When they met him first, he’d been moving heavy pots around the garden centre with Fergus and then progressed to taking the bags of fertiliser off the delivery truck. He’d dark hair and sideburns. That was pretty much all Tom could recall and that was the scary thing.
The man had kidnapped and murdered five, probably six, maybe seven women, and he really wasn’t very remarkable at all.
Tom had traversed at least three-quarters of a mile. The quiet static on his radio told him nobody else had spotted anything.
Please God, let this be the place, he prayed. If Lane was carrying or dragging Laura, he couldn’t have moved much faster than the detectives. But he had twenty minutes on them. The local guard had told them that the woods narrowed as they approached the lake, so Tom would start seeing his officers through the trees on either side shortly.
Where was Lane?
If they’d – if he – had got this wrong, they would have to start from scratch, and time was running out for Laura.
Tom began to jog, his lungs burning from the now unfamiliar exercise. He hadn’t run in a long time and sadly, his legs had lost their muscle memory. His wife was right. He was out of shape.
Let us find her, he pleaded with the gods. Let us find her safe and I’ll go running every damn morning.
The twigs and leaves crunched underfoot as he trotted along, making a little noise but not enough to raise concern. His breathing was louder than anything else.
His radio came to life and he froze, then lifted it to his ear.
‘He’s here. I see a light ahead.’
It was Michael.
‘Where are you?’ Tom heard Ray hiss back.
He stood and turned in a circle. They were a half-mile away from the lake. Which direction had Michael set off in? The inspector had gone left from the main path. He closed his eyes and thought back. Right. Michael had gone right.
Tom turned on his heel and veered diagonally in that direction, assuming Michael would be ahead of him. The younger man was fitter and would be moving faster.
‘The trees are clearing,’ Michael whispered into the radio. ‘I’m near the lake. His light has stopped flickering. I need to go to radio silence – I’m approaching.’
Tom picked up the pace. Ray had taken the same direction as Michael at the opening to the woods, so he had to be close. If they could come at Lane in a pincer movement, they would have him.
A single shot rang out, bringing Tom to an abrupt halt. The woods were filled with a deafening silence in its aftermath.
‘Who’s shot?’ he whispered frantically into his radio.
‘I’m fine,’ Bridget hissed back.
‘We’re all okay,’ Willie added.
Michael had turned his radio off. Tom waited to hear something from Ray, but there was nothing.
His heart pounding, he started to run again, ignoring the ache in his knees and the fire in his chest. He crossed the main trail and plunged into more woodland.
He could hear something between the trees ahead. Tom slowed down and concentrated on controlling his breathing. He trod more softly on the path as he neared the place he thought the sound had come from.
As he emerged from behind a large pine tree, he saw a figure huddled over a person lying on the ground.
He could hear a man’s voice. It was Ray. Tom lowered his weapon and jogged over.
Michael was down. He clutched his arm.
‘I don’t think he actually saw me,’ he winced, as Tom knelt beside him. ‘I think he must have heard something and got spooked and fired into the woods. I tried not to make any sound when the bullet hit. Go, I’m fine. It’s only my arm – probably just a flesh wound.’
Ray was itching to carry on, but reluctant to leave his colleague. Michael’s face was white from the pain and his breathing was ragged.
‘We need to tie something around the arm,’ Tom said. ‘Ray, give me your sweater.’
The detective pulled off his vest to remove the dark top.
‘You go,’ the inspector told him, taking the clothing. ‘I have this. I’ll be right behind you. Ray, don’t do anything stupid. He’s nervous and clearly trigger-happy. Stay hidden in the trees until you’ve a clear shot or I catch up with you.’
The inspector wanted to find Laura, but Michael was also a member of his team and he was wounded. He had a duty of care to ensure the man didn’t bleed out on the ground, alone.
Ray nodded distractedly and stood up to go.
‘Ray.’ Tom grabbed his arm. ‘I’m serious. If we find Laura and you get shot in the process … she’ll kill me.’
‘I won’t do anything stupid,’ his deputy said, before taking off at speed.
Tom tied the sweater around Michael’s arm.
‘You really are going through the mill in this investigation, aren’t you, son?’ he said, tightening the tourniquet. ‘First Fiona Holland’s fella thumping you and now this.’
‘I want a medal for bravery.’
Moments later, Bridget arrived.
‘Stay with him,’ the inspector instructed. ‘Keep him warm. I’ve radioed for an ambulance.’
Bridget nodded, her face shocked and drawn. She loved Laura like a sister and was very fond of Michael. It was all too much. She sat down and cradled Michael’s head on her lap.
‘Ooo-er,’ Michael wheezed, his voice weak. ‘Don’t tell the wife.’
‘Shut up, you idiot, or I’ll poke my finger into that bullet wound.’
Tom left them, picking up the pace so he could catch Ray.
He’d gone a couple of hundred metres before he slowed down. The ground had evened off and now it was descending. The inspector could see light between the trees below. Further on, he could see the still surface of the lake, the water glistening in the moonlight.
A low whistle to his right notified him of Ray’s presence.
‘He’s down there,’ his deputy whispered.
Together, they moved silently through the trees, placing their feet carefully and slowly so as not to alert Lane.
The man they’d been hunting was just beyond the tree line, making his way to the lakeshore. He wore denims and a black sweater; the back of his hair was neatly cut; a normal-looking man if ever there was one.
He was striding calmly towards the lake, dragging a body.
Laura was still dressed in the cut-off trousers, white vest and cardigan she’d worn to work yesterday.
Tom felt his chest constrict at the sight of her limp figure.
She was already gone.
Beside him, Ray made a choking sound that sounded like a sob.
Tom was about to say something when he saw movement in the corner of his eye.
It was Laura. She’d kicked out one of her legs.
She was alive, and still trying to fight her captor as he ploughed onwards.
The arm wrapped around Laura’s neck also held a torch. In his free hand, Lane had his gun. He didn’t have anything to dig with, Tom realised. No shovel. He had no intention of strangling and burying her, like he had with his other victims.
‘Shit,’ he hissed at Ray. Laura slumped again and then tried to pull Lane’s arm away from her neck, kicking again at the ground in a futile effort to slow the relentless march. ‘He plans to drown her.’
They sped down the last hundred metres until they were at the last line of trees before the open ground.
‘There’s no shot,’ Ray whispered urgently, his voice just an octave below hysterical.
‘He’s dropped something,’ Tom replied, squinting desperately. ‘It’s the torch, is it? I can’t see its light any more.’ He pointed at the ground ahead where a redundant object lay on the ground. Lane was facing away from them, striding forward as he pulled Laura behind him. ‘Does he still have his gun? Can we get a shot at him while he’s moving? Ray! Ray!’
His deputy had dived out of the trees and was bounding towards the lake.
The inspector took off after him, cursing.
‘Let her go!’ Ray roared, causing Lane to freeze on the spot. He turned as the detective rushed closer, slowly raising the gun in his left hand to the side of Laura’s head.
Ray froze just as Tom arrived beside him. Both detectives pointed their weapons.
Now they had a proper stand-off.
‘You found me,’ Lane said and almost sounded relieved. His voice was soft, not threatening. ‘I was beginning to think you never would.’
‘We did,’ the inspector said.
Laura was gagged, her eyes wide with anguish and terror. Tom couldn’t see any obvious injuries, but they knew Lane had hit her somewhere, probably the back of the head, to knock her out. Her body slouched over, exhausted from the struggle. The inspector could feel the anger radiating from Ray and willed him to keep it together.
‘This can’t end well for any of us with everybody waving their weapons,’ Tom said. ‘It’s all over now, Charlie. Time to let her go.’
‘I don’t want it to end well for me,’ Lane snapped, his voice suddenly furious. ‘Haven’t you figured that out yet? I’m sick. I want it all to be over.’
‘Then let her go,’ Tom said. ‘We can end this.’
‘No. If I don’t have her, you’ll just arrest me. And I’ll have to live with what I’ve done for the rest of my life. I don’t want to be this monster. I never wanted to be like this. I want you to shoot me.’
‘I can’t do that while you’re holding my detective,’ Tom almost shouted.
‘Then I’ll shoot her.’
‘No!’
Both Tom and Ray yelled as Lane cocked his weapon. Laura’s eyes filled with dread.
‘If you hurt her, I won’t kill you,’ Tom growled. ‘I’ll shoot you so you’re incapacitated and then I’ll arrest you. I swear, if you harm another hair on that girl’s head, I will make it my business to ensure your life is hell.’
‘I’m already in hell,’ Lane roared.
The inspector cast a sideways glance at his deputy. He seemed to be having some sort of silent exchange with Laura. If they could just get her to duck or move in some way, the detective might have a shot. He needed to keep Lane talking, keep him distracted.
‘Don’t you want to know how we figured out it was you?’ Tom asked, his brain racing. ‘You rang Carney, didn’t you, when we went in to Fergus’ office that day? You wanted us to think it was him and you knew he’d react violently. If you’d wanted to die so badly, why did you get us out of there that day when he started shooting?’
‘I don’t know! I didn’t know I’d be driving you up there. I panicked. I’m a … I’m a coward. I’ve tried to end my own life but I can’t. You need to … you … Just shoot me, for fuck’s sake!’
Ray stared at Laura. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think while witnessing her terror. A feeling of helplessness had enveloped him.
He shook his head. He couldn’t give into despair.
He steadied his nerve and his resolve.
Ray blinked and met her eye again, slowly nodding his head.
He looked at Tom, who was doing his best to keep Lane distracted.
Laura watched her two colleagues. She knew what they needed from her, but she was so tired and Lane was so strong. They had no idea how strong he was. She closed her eyes and tried to calm down.
I’m panicking, she told herself. I was caught off guard from the start and I haven’t been thinking straight since.
There’s always a way out.
What have I learned over the years that I could use?
She tried to recall every self-defence lesson she’d ever had.
Slowly, hesitantly, it came to her.
She had to stop fighting Lane and disable him. She still had her shoes on, and they had small block heels. The man holding her wore trainers, not boots. She’d noticed them when he’d carried her to the car boot.
Now – while his attention was directed at Tom – this was her best chance.
Laura opened her eyes and looked straight at Ray.
She finally nodded back with the faintest movement of her head.
One. Two. Three, he mouthed.
She summoned every ounce of energy she had left and, all at once, stamped hard on Lane’s foot, forced the pointy tip of her elbow into his ribs and bent back the fingers of the hand gripping her shoulder. Three small but painful manoeuvres designed to unhand any attacker.
Lane cried out in shock at the triple-pronged approach and loosened his grip just enough for Laura to slide down his body and lean to the side.
The sound of a shot filled the air as Ray swiftly aimed and fired.
The bullet landed on target, hitting Lane in the upper body and sending him stumbling backwards. His weapon flew from his splayed fingers.
Laura stood upright and ran to the gun. She threw herself on the ground and grabbed it, then pointed it at her assailant.
There was no need. Lane was down.
Tom ran at him as several more guards emerged from the trees behind them.
Laura collapsed backwards into a sitting position just as Ray arrived and skidded to his knees in front of her. He pulled the gag from her mouth and she sobbed, gulping in great gasps of air.
‘About bloody time you lot showed up,’ she cried, as tears spilled down her cheeks.
He cupped her face, his palms on the curls stuck to her cheeks. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on hers.
‘I’ve been meaning to tell you something and I don’t think it can wait any longer. I think I’m in love with you.’
She cried again, from relief or happiness she wasn’t sure, and he pulled her close, every fibre of his body thanking God that she was safe.
Behind them, the inspector leaned over Charlie Lane. The serial killer gazed up at Tom, his expression like that of a lost little boy.
He wasn’t an ugly man. He could even be described as quite pleasant-looking.
But as he’d said himself – he was a monster.
‘Where’s Fiona Holland?’ Tom said, his voice low and dangerous.
A puzzled look crossed Lane’s face, replaced with a knowing one.
Then he passed out.