Lee Weeks - Cold as Ice

Carter got to Jeanie as fast as he could. He arrived and gave her a hug. She was still shaking.

‘I saw the SOCO team in place. You were very lucky to survive that.’

‘No shit, Sherlock! Is it me, or have I got kill me written on my back?’

‘Of course not.’ He held on to her for an extra hug and then drew a little way back. ‘But to be on the safe side I’d rather we didn’t stand so close.’

‘Did you get a look at him?’

‘No. But it was no accident. We came this close.’ She pinched her thumb and forefinger in the air. She was shaking from the shock and the cold.

‘You need to get in the warm.’

She shook her head. ‘Not yet. I need fresh air. Is Jackson all right?’

‘He’s fine. The doctor’s checked him out.’

She shook her head. ‘It happened so fast. We were just walking home. We were about to cross the road. There wasn’t a car in sight. The van came screeching across the road and up on the pavement. He must have been waiting for the right moment. The buggy’s totalled. Did you see it?’ Jeanie was shaking.

‘Yeah. I stopped to take a look at the scene on my way. You did well to save him, Jeanie. You did a good job.’

She nodded, leaned back against the door. She turned to look back inside the house; Tracy was giving Jackson his tea. She lowered her voice: ‘It’s possible they thought I was Tracy.’

‘Or?’

‘Or Jackson was the target and Hawk didn’t mind who died with him or who he killed to get to him.’

Carter nodded. ‘Yeah. Maybe he regrets leaving him alive.’

‘Perhaps Hawk thinks I’m getting somewhere with him,’ said Jeanie.

‘And are you?’

‘Yes, I think so. Every day he seems to edge closer to being able to tell us who it was.’

‘I’m going round to Gerald Foster’s now to see if his van is there and if he’s got any new damage.’

Jeanie left Carter and went to find Tracy, who was running a bath for Jackson. Jeanie stood and watched her. She was battling back the tears.

‘It’s all right, Tracy, Jackson is okay. We are all okay.’ Tracy nodded but didn’t speak. ‘All we have to worry about is getting a new buggy.’ Tracy nodded – short, sharp nods – she looked like she didn’t dare speak in case she started crying. She undressed Jackson and got him into the bath. Jeanie came over and knelt by the bath and blew bubbles at Jackson. He was playing with the toys that Jeanie had brought over from Christa’s collection. She knew Christa wouldn’t miss them. She was spoilt for choice. It hit Jeanie then that she’d missed another bathtime with Christa. Pete would have his disappointed face on. She wouldn’t tell him that she’d nearly been killed again – not a good move. He’d want her to give up working there altogether. But even if she wanted that too, she couldn’t. She was the higher earner. She was nowhere near ready to go home yet. Carter would be waiting for her at Fletcher House after visiting Foster and they would be working late for as long as it took. She was in it till the end now; they all were. Carter was right – her job came first for now. After today Jeanie realized that she had to be here for Tracy and she had to get the information out of Jackson as fast as she could. Whoever Hawk was, he had changed his mind about killing a child. Nobody was safe from him.

Tracy put Jackson to bed and then she joined Jeanie in the lounge. Tracy poured herself a large glass of wine.

‘You okay, Tracy?’

Tracy breathed in deeply through her nose and shook her head. She looked at Jeanie, her face beginning to crumple again. She fought back the tears. The glass of wine in her hand was shaking.

‘He phoned again – the man who has Danielle: Hawk.’

‘Did he?’ Jeanie was shocked that Tracy hadn’t said earlier but then maybe there hadn’t been chance. ‘When you were out?’ Tracy nodded. ‘What did he say?’

‘He said I had a lesson to learn. So did Danielle.’ Jeanie waited for her to continue. Tracy walked across with her glass of wine and sat on the sofa next to Jeanie. ‘I got angry. I called him a sick bastard. I heard Danielle screaming in the background. She paid for what I said. Maybe the attack – Jackson and you – you could have both been killed and it would have been all my fault.’

Jeanie watched Tracy as she tried not to cry but her shoulders shook. She put her glass down. Jeanie reached out and hugged her.

‘No, Tracy. He’s a madman. You didn’t cause him to hurt Danielle. You did what comes un-naturally to you. You blew your top. Who knows whether it will have had a good or bad effect but it won’t have altered his path. I’ll listen to the conversation in a minute on my way home. For now try and forget about it, please. We’re okay. Jackson and I are here and safe. Did you see Steve?’

Tracy looked embarrassed. She shook her head, reached across and picked up her wine.

‘He was too busy. I’ll talk to him later when he phones.’

Jeanie smiled but she kept her eyes on Tracy.

‘You are coping well, you know, Tracy? Much better than most people could. You’re a lot tougher than you think. You will get through all this.’

‘But nothing will ever be the same,’ Tracy interrupted.

‘No.’ Jeanie shook her head. ‘Nothing will.’

‘Is he going to kill us?’

Jeanie shook her head.

Carter drove through the evening rush hour and spent an hour nose to tail through busy streets. He cut down all the side streets he knew but ended up snagged in bottlenecks. His father had been a cabbie, retired only three years ago. It was when he retired all his health problems came, thought Carter sadly. His father had loved the cabbie lifestyle, meeting up with his mates, starting the day with a cup of strong tea and a bacon sandwich at five in the morning at a cabman shelter.

At just past nine, Carter arrived at Gerald Foster’s house; the van was parked there; there was a large scratch, down to metal on the driver’s side. There were no lights on in the house. He walked around to the side of the property, jumped up and held onto the top of the side gate as he peered over into the back garden. He saw a light flickering through the bare branches of the trees at the end of the garden. Someone was working in the shed. Carter jumped back down and brushed down his coat. He cursed to himself. If there was one thing he hated it was getting his clothes dirty. He shook his head and steeled himself as he leapt once more up to the top of the gate, gripped, pulled his weight up and swung his legs over. He paused before dropping quietly down to the ground the other side. Apart from the faint light from the shed, the garden was in total darkness, shadowed by large overbearing trees.

Carter crept down the side of the garden. He kept to the old row of overgrown shrubs for cover. He watched the lights from the shed window as he approached. There was a blackout blind pulled down over the window but a slight breeze inside the shed was lifting it and a bright light burned inside, dimming occasionally as someone passed between the light source and the window. Now as Carter got nearer he realized that it was much more than a shed. It was a substantial-looking outbuilding. It went far back into the trees and must have been sixteen feet long. There was heavy-duty electric wiring up the side of the shed. Whatever Foster did in there, he didn’t like it to be compromised by power cuts.

Carter walked around to the back of the shed, one careful step at a time. There was music coming from inside. The shed radiated warmth. He listened hard and heard the sound of someone planing wood. Carter tripped over one of the wires leading to the shed and just managed to stop himself from falling but not before he snapped the overhanging branch of the tree as he grabbed for it. Then the planing and the music stopped as someone had also paused to listen. Carter looked upwards and saw a camera watching him from the trunk of the nearest tree. He crouched beneath its range and dodged the trees as he moved towards the back of the stand of trees that encased the shed. He heard the sound of the shed door opening and footsteps coming over the frozen ground towards him. Carter set off towards the edge of the garden beyond the trees and doubled round until he came level with the open shed door and slipped inside.