Page 62 of Dying Breath
‘Yes, sir,’ a voice answered. ‘Sorry.’
Mattie looked at Browning. ‘Should we just go in first?’
He nodded. ‘Come on, let’s not be wasting time.’
They got out of the car and Toby tried to open his door, but the child locks were on. Mattie stuck his head in. ‘Sorry, this is as far as you go. I’m not being held responsible if you get hurt.’
Browning smiled at Mattie. ‘Nice one.’
They ran towards the gate and onto the path, careful not to step onto the gravel as it would make too much noise. At the moment the only thing they had going for them was the element of surprise – and a can of CS spray. There was some loud banging coming from the side of the house, so they headed in that direction. From inside the dark garage they could make out the shadowy figure of Patrick. He was dragging what looked like a body wrapped up in a sheet.
Mattie felt a crushing wave of grief fill his chest.Oh my God. Lucy! We’re too late.All caution thrown to the wind, he began to sprint towards the man, ready to kill him with his bare hands. In the final seconds before Mattie reached the garage, Patrick sensed someone moving towards him and he dropped the body. He turned and ran back through the doorway into the kitchen and locked it. Mattie was pounding on the metal fire door in rage.
Browning ran in after him and dropped to the floor beside the bloodstained sheet with the body inside. Ripping it open, he stared at the battered face of Lewis Waite and shouted, ‘It’s not her!’
Mattie who had been afraid to look, turned around and stared in horror. ‘Thank God. Where is she, then?’
A loud noise as the garage door began to close jolted them from their trance. They ran towards it but it shut before either of them could escape through the gap. They began to hammer on the door as Mattie pulled out his radio and yelled into it: ‘Urgent assistance required, immediate response.’
* * *
Toby, whose admiration of the two officers had turned to indignation that they didn’t think he could be of any help, began to try to pull off the metal grille separating the back seat from the front. He took his frustration out on it, and before long he’d kicked it enough times that it had bent in the middle and come loose from its fixtures. Ripping at it with both hands, he managed to tear it off altogether, then clambered through into the front seat and opened the driver’s door. He heard the racket coming from the garage and realised that Mattie and Browning were locked in there, so he ran towards the metal door and tried his best to lift it up. It didn’t budge.
‘I think it’s remote controlled. I’ll try and get into the house and let you out.’
Mattie hissed back, ‘You need to hurry, mate – he’s gone inside and Lucy’s in there.’
Toby ran around to the front of the house and squinted through the bay windows. It took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust and then he gasped to see Lucy, whose hands, feet and mouth were gagged and tied.
The front door was locked. He took a step back and ran at it as fast as he could; there was a loud crack as his shoulder connected and he fell backwards, trying not to cry out in pain. He looked through the window again and saw that Lucy was trying to stand upright against the wall.
* * *
Patrick had to stifle the scream that was swelling inside his lungs. It was some primal instinct taking over and he stuffed his fist into his mouth, clamping his teeth against his knuckles to clear his head. All this time – he’d waited so long since he’d killed Jenny. It was mainly because he’d been terrified of getting caught and being sent to prison. His childhood memories of being inside a prison had been enough to deter him from murdering anyone else for a long time. He’d never survive inside, cooped up like John Carter had been. He’d killed Jenny not far from where John had left Carrie’s body, which had been a fitting tribute to the man whom he had learnt to idolise.
He wondered what John would think of him now. He’d kept himself out of trouble, had never told a single soul about his desire to kill. He’d listened to John’s advice and waited until he had a plan that was worthy of being carried out. His heroes had become his inspiration and he’d spent years thinking of ways he could pull it off. All this time he’d had to make do with reading and devouring other people’s murder reports at work. They had satiated him until he could stand it no more and had to put his plan into action. But now it was over.
The panic was threatening to take over; he was fucked. He could hear Mattie hammering on the metal fire door behind him. The only way he was going to get out of here was if they were all dead, every single one of them. He picked up the can of petrol that he’d brought in from the garage earlier, afraid that the acid fumes might mix with it and combust. His hands were shaking as he unscrewed the cap. He had no choice but to burn the house down with them inside it. That would cause enough of a fuss for him to slip away and escape. What were a few more bodies to add to his murder count? He ran over to the kitchen counter and took a packet of matches from the drawer, pushing them into his pocket. He picked up the can and began to slosh the petrol around, all over the wooden skirting boards, the bottom of the doors and everything wooden he could see.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Toby stared at Lucy through the glass. She looked a little hazy and it was then that he realised the room was beginning to fill with smoke. She looked at him and he knew then what she was going to do – she was going to throw herself through the window. He shook his head.
‘Don’t do it! Let me.’
He ran back down the steps, looking around for something heavy enough to break the glass. He spied an old, crumbling house brick and picked it up. Lucy bent down, lifting her arms as high as she could to cover her head as he launched the brick towards the window. The sound of shattering glass was loud enough to wake the dead as it splintered and cracked, shards flying everywhere. Toby saw the flashing blue-and-white lights of the police van pull up behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. Two officers ran towards him as thick, black smoke began to pour out through the gaping hole in the window. One of them drew his baton, smashed the rest of the glass from the frame and leant inside. He grabbed hold of Lucy as best he could and dragged her out; they both tumbled backwards and landed in a heap. There was a loud crackle as orange flames began to lick against the glass of an upstairs window.
Toby shouted at the officers, ‘There are two of ours in the garage – you need to get them out.’
One of them ran back to the van to get the big red battering ram. Toby bent down, not watching what they were doing as he began to loosen the gag around Lucy’s mouth. As he wrenched it down, she took a huge gulp of air into her lungs. Meanwhile, he frantically started to loosen the ropes around her wrists and ankles. She grabbed his hand.
‘Thank you, Toby.’
They both looked up then and saw the figure of Patrick staring down at them from the upstairs window. Lucy stood up, brushed herself down and ran to the officers, who had almost managed to buckle the garage door.
‘I need your cuffs and baton.’
She didn’t wait for an answer as she slipped them from his belt, tucking the cuffs into her trouser waistband as she drew the baton and ran towards the broken window. Toby, horrified when he realised that she was going back inside the burning house, screamed out her name. But she didn’t even pause. Her mind made up, she clambered back onto the windowsill and threw herself into the smoke-filled room. Tugging the gag around her neck back up over her mouth and nose, she ran to the lounge door and kicked it until it flew open. The entire house was filling up with thick smoke that instantly made her eyes water, but there was no way she was letting Patrick stay in here and burn to death. She’d lost Lizzy Clements; she wouldn’t lose him too. He would face a jury in a court of law and answer for his abominable crimes.
