Luke Delaney - The Keeper

‘I didn’t, guv’nor, honest. I thought you was … vigilantes. I swear, if I’d known … you was Old Bill, I’d never have run.’

‘Fucking bollocks. You ran for a reason!’

‘No, guv’nor. I’m clean, I swear on my fucking eyes. I’ve been clean since I got out.’

‘Then why d’you miss your bail signing?’

‘What?’

‘Your bailing signing and your Sex Offenders’ Register appointment?’ Sean repeated, seething with impatience, the excitement of the chase still pumping through his body.

‘I was drunk. That’s all. I went out and I got pissed and missed my bail signing. After that I knew I’d be wanted so I tried to keep out the way. That’s all, I promise. I swear.’

‘You’re lying,’ Sean spat at him. ‘You missed them because you had better things to do, didn’t you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t lie to me. You were searching for them, weren’t you, looking for the right ones?’

‘I’m clean. I’ve done nothing.’

‘And when you found them, you took them, didn’t you? You took them, you raped them and you killed them?’

Lawlor looked as confused as he did scared, his head furiously shaking in disagreement with everything Sean was saying. ‘I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about. You’re fucking crazy.’

‘Are you working with someone else?’ Sean persisted. ‘Does he take them for you and then you do the rest? Don’t you have the guts to take them yourself?’ He pressed Lawlor’s face hard into the grass, pulling one of his arms back and twisting it until he grimaced and groaned with pain while he looked all around the surrounding area, searching for any CCTV cameras British Transport Police might have deployed in an attempt to catch vandals and perverts. Once he decided there were none, he rolled Lawlor on to his back and gripped him around the neck one-handed, tightly enough to make him wheeze as he tried to draw breath. ‘I asked you a question.’

‘You’re mad,’ Lawlor struggled to say. ‘You’ve got the wrong man.’

‘Where do you keep them, once you’ve taken them? Where do you keep them?’

‘Keep who?’

Sean looked at the silent, still darkness around them. They were alone. He squeezed Lawlor’s neck harder and raised his other hand high and to the side. Resisting the temptation to turn his open hand into a clenched fist, he brought it down with a violent swipe into Lawlor’s face, the sound of the slap echoing in the empty night. ‘Answer my questions,’ he hissed.

Lawlor struggled to escape, but Sean’s powerful grip held him in place like a live fish waiting to be gutted. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Another slap resounded along the grass bank. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ Lawlor screamed as loud as he could through his constricted airway.

‘Answers,’ Sean told him.

‘I don’t have any.’

‘Where’s Louise Russell?’

‘Who?’ Another slap twisted his face.

‘Who has her?’

‘Please, wait.’ Both men stopped for a few silent seconds as Lawlor searched for air and answers. ‘You’re talking about the man who’s already killed one, right? It was on Crimewatch , yeah?’

‘Yes.’ Sean spoke through angry gritted teeth, his hand ready to strike Lawlor’s sweating, reddening face. ‘You know something. Tell me what you know.’

‘That’s the point — I don’t know anything. Nobody knows anything.’

Sean’s face contorted in confusion. ‘ Nobody knows anything — what does that mean?’

‘This one’s working alone. Keeping himself to himself, saying nothing, sharing nothing. No Facebook, no Twitter, no YouTube. He doesn’t want to share. This is just for him.’

‘Who would he share with?’

‘You’re Old Bill, you know. We meet in prison, on the segregation wings. When we recognize each other, we share. But not this one. He gives us nothing and nobody recognizes his work. No one knows him, I swear. You’re looking for someone who’s never been caught.’

‘Or someone who’s only just started,’ he said to himself, but Lawlor heard him.

‘Yes,’ Lawlor whispered excitedly. ‘Yes. Someone new. Someone who’s only just started. Of course. Of course. How did you know?’

‘What?’ Sean asked, distracted by his own thoughts.

‘How did you know?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Sean felt his hand tightening around Lawlor’s throat, the pain and panic spreading across his face, the power to kill or spare him totally within his control. It was a good feeling, potent and thrilling. Lawlor’s hands clutched at his wrists, trying to release the grip on his throat, but it was too strong. His legs began to kick and splay, his body twisting and writhing, but Sean fell on his chest with one knee, sinking deep into his diaphragm.

Then sounds came, voices calling to each other from the grassy bank, torchlight stroking the gently swaying uncut grass, dark figures approaching. Lawlor’s eyes darted between the descending shadows and Sean’s black, lifeless eyes, as if trying to draw his attention to the only thing that could save him. Finally Sean’s subconscious rage acknowledged the fact they had been disturbed by voices he recognized — Donnelly, Zukov and others too. His fingers began to loosen around Lawlor’s thin neck, turning his lips from a whitish-blue to pale pink, flecks of spittle spiralling through the air as he coughed his lungs full, made silver by the light from the closing torches.

Sean rolled him over on to his stomach and pulled his arms behind his back, smoothly wrapping the handcuffs around his wrists. ‘Get up,’ he ordered and hoisted him to his feet.

Donnelly was the first to reach them, years of experience telling him something was wrong. He looked from Sean to Lawlor and back. ‘Everything OK?’

‘Everything’s fine,’ said Sean, shoving Lawlor towards him. ‘Arrest him for the abduction and murder of Karen Green and the abduction and false imprisonment of Louise Russell.’

‘Any evidence?’

‘Yes,’ Sean replied. ‘He ran.’

‘He’s gone fucking mad,’ Lawlor said, speaking loud enough to ensure everyone heard him. ‘He tried to kill me — look at my fucking neck. He was gonna kill me.’

‘Shut up and get moving,’ growled Donnelly. ‘You’ve only got yourself to blame. You know better than to run from the police.’

‘But I ain’t done nothing.’

‘Well, well,’ Donnelly said, ‘an innocent man! And I thought I was the last of that dying breed.’

‘Whatever,’ Lawlor replied. ‘Do what you got to do, just keep that maniac away from me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but keep him away from me.’

Sally and Anna watched as Donnelly frogmarched Lawlor towards the waiting cars, flanked by DCs O’Neil and McGowan, Sean and Zukov walking behind them. The streetlights made them all look jaundiced. Donnelly manhandled Lawlor into the back of his car, pushing the top of his head down with his hand and slamming the door. Sally noticed the serious faces, the usual signs of relief and joviality after an arrest conspicuous by their absence.

‘Everything all right?’ she asked Donnelly.

‘Aye,’ he answered. ‘We eventually found them on the other side of the railway embankment. Everyone’s OK.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Donnelly glanced towards Sean and rolled his eyes. She grabbed his forearm. ‘I should have been there. I should have come with you, not stayed here hiding with the cars.’

‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ he insisted. ‘You’re not ready yet. Don’t try to rush it, you’ll do more damage than good. Take your time. It’ll come.’

‘All the same-’