Simon Kernick - The Last 10 Seconds

Tina wasn’t a hundred per cent sure what ‘some certainty’ meant. Either you were certain, or you weren’t.

However, it had given her enough information to go on for her second call, to the security company operating the CCTV cameras covering the entrance to O’Neill’s cul-de-sac. After about ten minutes of being shunted around between those staff members still working at that time of night, none of whom seemed to be of any use to her, and being put on hold more than once, she’d finally been put through to someone who was willing to help her. His name was Jim, and he was a retired copper who liked to talk a lot.

But at least he didn’t faint when she told him what she needed, which was for him to go through all the footage taken by a particular camera from four p.m. to midnight the previous night, making a list of the plates of all vehicles captured that didn’t belong to residents of the road in question, and to get the results back to her as soon as possible.

While Tina remained on the line, Jim had looked up the account in question and told her that the footage from Thursday night was still there, and it should be possible to find her the information she needed, since the company kept a database of all the residents’ vehicles. ‘Will it help solve a case?’ he’d asked her, sounding excited at the prospect that he might be a part of something important once again.

In truth, though, it was the longest of long shots. There was, as Grier had pointed out several times, no evidence that O’Neill had been murdered, and even if he had been, it didn’t necessarily mean that the killer had driven up to his house. But that wasn’t what Tina told Jim. Instead, she’d said that she genuinely hoped so.

‘You don’t give up, do you?’ Grier had said with a mixture of admiration and exasperation when she finally got off the phone.

‘Someone once said there was a solution to every problem.’ ‘Do you believe that?’

She’d thought about her alcoholism, about the way her life had turned out, a long battle that never seemed close to completion, let alone victory. ‘No.’ She’d managed a smile. ‘But I always live in hope.’

When she dropped him off at home a little while later, he’d given her a strange look, as if he wanted to say something. But then the look had gone, and he’d got out of the car, asking if he was going to be needed tomorrow.

‘I’ll let you know,’ she’d said, and watched as he let himself in to his attractive redbrick townhouse where his wife, a successful corporate lawyer, was waiting.

Now, sitting in her poky little living room with her cigarette and her booze, Tina concentrated on the case, because she knew that as soon as she stopped thinking about it she’d slip into the inevitable self-pity. And there was plenty to think about. This case was one of the most puzzling she’d ever been involved in. On the one hand, they had a man against whom the evidence seemed overwhelming. There was the murder weapon in his flat, incriminating footage showing a number of the murders on his computer, and he had a direct link with every one of the victims. Yet, at the same time, they also had a murder that was different from the others, and for which their suspect had a cast-iron alibi. Added to the mix was Kent’s claim to have important information, something which he thought was worth killing him for. Whether or not he’d faked his poisoning in the cell back at the station, the fact remained that an armed gang had been prepared to break him free from police custody at gunpoint. Which meant that one way or another he was important to someone.

But who? And why?

She took another gulp of the Rioja. Booze wasn’t usually that helpful where intensive thinking was concerned, but she was hoping now that it might give her a new angle on things.

Because she knew she was missing something. Everything happened for a reason. The solution was in there somewhere, it was simply a matter of finding it, and the way to do that was to follow the Sherlock Holmes route of removing every scenario that was impossible until you were left with one that fitted. And that would be the truth.

Kent did not murder Roisín O’Neill. Someone else did. That person had strangled her, although there were no obvious signs of sexual assault. But the killer had known the Night Creeper’s MO, even though the information wasn’t available to the public, and had tried to make her death look like one of his, in order to cover up his own guilt. But what did that killer then need from Andrew Kent?

Think. . Think . .

And then she slammed her glass down on the coffee table as the answer came to her in a mad rush. She didn’t even notice the wine spilling and dripping down on to the carpet. She was too excited for that because for the first time she was sure she knew what had happened, and why Kent had been targeted.

Now they just had to find him.

I was out of that outbuilding fast, and the shock on my face must have been obvious because Lee put a hand to her mouth.

I took her arm and moved her away from the door. ‘There’s a body in there.’

‘It’s not Ty, is it? Please not Ty.’

It was then that I realized she must have genuinely cared for him, although God alone knew why. ‘No, it’s Haddock, and he’s been murdered.’

‘Haddock? But he’s so big.’

‘They must have been waiting in there for him and caught him by surprise.’

I walked slowly round to the front of the main building, with Lee following. I had no idea who’d killed Haddock, but whoever it was had known what they were doing. And if they could take out an immense brute like him, they could just as easily take out Lee and me.

I thought I caught a flash of movement from somewhere inside the treeline. I squinted, watching the area like a hawk, but saw nothing more, making me wonder whether I’d imagined it. The night was dark and I was feeling hugely jumpy.

‘We need to go,’ I told Lee, ‘but we’re going to need some weapons.’

‘What about Ty?’

‘Have you got a phone? You can call him and get him to meet us somewhere.’

‘I tried. There’s still no signal.’

‘Shit.’

‘Do you think whoever killed Haddock is still here?’ Lee looked around fearfully in the darkness.

‘No, there’d be no point.’ But the truth was, I had no idea. I only knew that I didn’t want to hang around, and I wasn’t going to walk through those woods without some kind of weapon. There hadn’t been anything I could use in the outbuilding, which left only one alternative. ‘We need to go back in the house.’

‘There were knives in the kitchen,’ said Lee. ‘I saw some earlier, in one of the drawers.’

‘That’ll do,’ I said, and started walking, hoping they were still there, and wondering if I was making a very stupid decision by going back in.

But as I stepped inside the front door and back into the dusty old foyer, no one tried to attack me. Instead, the place remained as eerily silent as it had been before. I waited a couple of seconds, listening hard for any out-of-place sound, but all I could hear was Lee’s quiet breathing coming from behind me. I asked her where the kitchen was.

‘Over there,’ she whispered, pointing to a door to the right of the staircase, her actions making it quite clear that she expected me to lead the way.

I went over and gave the door a kick so that it flew back on its hinges with a loud crack that shattered the stillness of the building and made Lee jump.

‘What did you do that for?’ she hissed.

‘Because I’m not taking chances,’ I answered, walking inside and looking around.

It was a big room, with a breakfast island in the middle, more graffiti on the walls, and an odour of grease. It also looked empty.