CHAPTER 15
Carolyn grunted into her hand, her eyes wide and fearful. Blood began to trickle down the window. She stared in horror as the man in the suit put the crystal dolphin back onto the coffee table. The blow had caught her by surprise - one moment the man had been talking, the next he had picked up the figurine and hit the kneeling man. There was so much blood on the window she was sure he was dead or, at best, seriously injured. Her whole body began to shake. Without realising what she was doing, she took a step forward. Then another. And that was when the security light above the garage clicked on.
Carolyn stood rooted to the spot. The light was blinding -- as bad as looking into the sun -- and she instinctively threw up a hand to shield her eyes.
CHAPTER 16
A bright white light flooded the lawn and Richards screwed up his eyes. ‘What’s going on out there?’ he said, pointing to the window.
‘It’s the security light,’ said Halpin. ‘Must be motion activated.’ He walked over to the window, pressed his hand against the glass and peered into the garden. ‘Boss, there’s someone out there.’
‘What? Who?’
‘A woman.’
‘Well get the hell after her!’ shouted Richards. He stared down at the blood-spattered body at his feet. ‘Do you see what you’ve done now, you stupid bastard!’ Cohen wasn’t moving and his eyes stared lifelessly up at the ceiling. ‘Oh, shit,’ said Richards.
CHAPTER 17
Carolyn could barely run across the lawn so she kicked off her shoes. She heard a door slide open behind her but she didn’t look back. She pulled up her dress and concentrated on running, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The reason she spent hours in the gym every week was to maintain her figure, but for once she was grateful that all the time on the treadmill had boosted her stamina. She saw the gates ahead of her and ran to them. She threw her bag over the gate, hitched up her skirt, grabbed at the metal bars and climbed over. As she reached the top she saw the bald man hurrying across the lawn towards her. He was jogging rather than running, his mouth wide open as he gulped in the night air.
Carolyn dropped down onto the ground and sprinted to the road, her bag clutched to her chest. She ran at full pelt, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace for long. She heard a loud crack behind and she flinched. Was that a gunshot? Was he shooting at her? Her hands began to shake and she squeezed them tight but it didn’t seem to make any difference. She ran, barely aware of the pain of her bare feet slapping against the Tarmac. She was sure they’d come after her in a car eventually so she wouldn’t be able to outrun them. All she could do was run into the woods and hide, but she’d have to do that before her pursuer reached the road. He was a big man so she figured it would take him a minute or so to climb over the gate. Unless he had a key.
She reached the road and turned right. Her feet were hurting but she ignored the pain and ran for all she was worth. Her mind was in a whirl. She had to run into the trees at some point but which side of the road would be best? She had no idea how thick the woods were, and if she made the wrong choice they’d find her.
The trees ahead of her were suddenly illuminated by a bright light and she heard the growl of an engine behind her. Her first thought was that they’d come after her in one of the cars but when she turned her head she saw it was a large container truck. She moved into the middle of the road and waved her arms. The driver sounded the horn and it sounded like an animal bellowing in pain.
Carolyn stood her ground and carried on waving. The driver slammed on the brakes as he continued to pound on the horn. The truck came to a halt about six feet from where she was standing. Carolyn could make out the driver’s face through the windscreen – a man in his late fifties wearing a flat cap. She hurried around to the passenger side and reached up to open the door.
‘What the hell are you playing at, love?’ asked the driver before she could open her mouth. ‘I damn near ran over you.’ He had a Birmingham accent and while he sounded severe he had a kindly twinkle in his eye.
‘Please, can you give me a lift?’ asked Carolyn.
He smiled uncomfortably and scratched his neck. ‘If it was up to me it wouldn’t be a problem, love, but the company won’t let me. It’s ‘elf and safety, you know.’
‘Please, just a few miles. Just away from here.’ She looked down the road, towards the house, expecting to see the bald man at any moment.
‘Here, you’re that Diana Bourne, aren’t you? Off the TV?’
She looked up at him and nodded enthusiastically. ‘I sure am. Rags To Riches.’
‘My wife loves that show. That Fiona woman, she’s after your husband, you know?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.’ Carolyn looked back down the road. The bald man appeared, his gun held high.
‘Are you all right, love?’
‘Not really,’ said Carolyn. ‘Please, just a few miles.’
The driver sighed. ‘What the hell, the way my wife talks about you, you’re practically family. Climb in.’
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ said Carolyn and she hauled herself up into the cab and slammed the door. She clutched her bag to her chest as she looked at the wing mirror. The bald man was running towards the truck, his gun in the air.
‘Seat belt,’ said the driver.
‘Please, can we just go?’ pleaded Carolyn.
‘Not without your seat belt,’ said the driver, folding his arms.
‘Okay, okay,’ said Carolyn. She fumbled with the belt, fastened it, and nodded at the driver. ‘Okay?’
‘Off we go,’ said the driver. He pressed his foot on the accelerator and the truck moved off, its twin beams carving tunnels of light in the darkness ahead of them. ‘So what’s that Fiona like then, in real life? Is she as devious as she comes across?’
Carolyn stared at the mirror. The bald man had stopped and had taken out his phone. She grinned. ‘Waste of time, there’s no signal out here,’ she muttered.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’ asked the driver, changing gear and accelerating.
‘Nothing,’ said Carolyn. She turned to look at the driver and smiled sweetly. ‘So your wife’s a fan, is she?’
CHAPTER 18
Richards ran up to Halpin, breathing heavily. ‘Where did she go?’ asked Richards. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. He was holding the shoes that the woman had left behind.
Halpin pointed after the truck. ‘He picked her up.’ He’d tucked the gun into his belt.
‘Please tell me you got the registration number,’ said Richards.
Halpin showed him the screen of his mobile phone. ‘Typed it in so I wouldn’t forget it,’ he said.
‘Not as stupid as you look then,’ said Richard. He patted him on the back. ‘Come on, back to the house before someone sees you with that shooter.’ He held up the shoe. ‘We’ve got to get rid of the body and then we can start looking for Cinder-fucking-rella.’
They hurried back to the gate. Richards had opened it and they slipped through. Richards picked up the second shoe. ‘Prada,’ he said. ‘And not a knock-off, either.’
‘Boss, the cops are going to be on their way,’ said Halpin.
‘They’ll be a while yet,’ said Richards. ‘There’s no phone signal for miles. Then, when she gets through to nine nine nine, they’ll probably put her on hold. This time of night all the drunks are out, so the cops are fully stretched. The nearest cop shop is twenty miles away and I’m pretty sure that’s not manned at night. Half an hour at the absolute earliest, probably more like an hour.’