Costa Crew 3: Make or Break

Chapter 16 - So Long, Hidgens

"So I talked to my friends and they said they were okay with me moving," explained Becky.

Curt wasn't convinced. "I don't know, I don't think you should have to handle everything alone, since I've had a bit more practice…"

"What do you mean, a bit more practice?" asked Becky.

Curt's tone turned cold. "I'm referring to the two years where you didn't contact us at all and broke our family's hearts."

"You said they knew I wasn't dead," retorted Becky.

Curt sighed. "I said they suspected you were working for MI5. But you not calling really upset them. And while they didn't think you were dead, they couldn't be sure, and sometimes they'd have their moments of doubt. There were times I went to see them and they started crying because they believed that you had been murdered and your killer was still out there. I didn't say anything because... well, it wouldn't have changed the past. But you did hurt us."

Becky hesitated. "I'm sorry...I wish you'd told me sooner."

Curt's jaw dropped, unable to believe what he was hearing. "How did you think we'd feel!? Two years, Becky! Come on!"

"I thought you'd be glad to see me alive after Amelia tried to kill me, and maybe even grateful for bringing her to justice while you worked in your museum," said Becky bitterly. "I'm sorry for the pain I caused, but I was thinking of the bigger picture."

Curt didn't want to hear another word and pressed the hang up button as fast as he could. He knew Becky didn't mean what she was saying. But as much as he loved his sister, she was too proud for her own good. She couldn't admit that she was wrong. And after everything Curt had done for his parents when Becky disappeared, he couldn't stand to listen to her dismiss him like that.

Before he could sit down, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. As he opened it, he stood face to face with a young dark-haired woman dressed in a grey suit and holding a police ID card. "Curt Hidgens?" she asked.

Curt nodded. "Can I help you, officer?"

"Detective Sergeant Samantha Foster, Metropolitan Police," the woman continued. "I'd like to ask you some questions about a recent break-in in your area."

"Of course," Curt said, always willing to help however he could. "Come on in."

Samantha followed Curt into the living room, yawning as she sat down. "Sorry," she said as she yawned.

Curt shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Can I get you a tea or something?"

"I wouldn't mind a coffee if you have one?" asked Samantha.

Curt nodded and headed into the kitchen. Samantha steeled herself for what she had to do next, then silently followed him, slipping on a pair of latex gloves as she did so. As Curt busied himself with the kettle, Samantha eased open the nearest drawer. Out of luck, she closed it as silently as possible, but not silently enough.

Curt turned to her, frowning. "What're you doing?"

Samantha didn't reply, just opened the next drawer. She had struck gold - the drawer was packed full of kitchen utensils, primarily knives. As Curt backed away, she grabbed the sharpest one she could find. "I'm calling the police," he muttered.

Samantha shook her head. "I am the police. And you left your phone in the living room."

As Samantha advanced, Curt continued to back away. "Becky," he whispered.

"I'm sure Becky would know what to do," Samantha said, nodding in agreement. "But she isn't here right now."

"Who the hell are you?" asked Curt, now trapped in the corner of the kitchen.

"I told you. Detective Sergeant Samantha Foster, Metropolitan Police. The woman who's going to kill you. Oh, and before you die, there's one more thing you should know," Samantha said casually.

Curt looked up, a look of sheer terror on his face. Samantha sighed. "Amelia Murphy sends her regards to you and your sister," she said, before thrusting the knife into Curt's chest.

Curt's eyes widened as he collapsed on the ground, surrounded by an expanding pool of his own blood. Samantha stared down at her own hands and then at the knife.

First things first, dispose of the weapon. Samantha grabbed a bin liner and pulled the knife from Curt's chest. She shoved the knife and her gloves into the bin liner which she then shoved inside a carrier bag, before rushing for the door, which she unlocked with Curt's key. Placing the key back in the bowl and praying that Erica didn't mess up her part of the job, she hurried into the hall and closed the door behind her.

***

"Well, Anthony's on his way back," Amelia said, sitting back happily. "Listen carefully."

She turned to Connelly, Bradshaw and Turnbull. "You three, get Cell Block C cleared. Let them out or move them all, I don't care. But I need those cells free. After that, be on high alert."

The three nodded. Amelia smirked and turned to Samantha. "Erica's being detained at AC-9, yes?"

Samantha nodded. "You want me to break her out?"

Amelia shook her head. "That's more trouble than she's worth. Just kill her."

Samantha gulped. "Okay."

"Once Anthony comes back we'll deal with Hidgens and her friends," Amelia finished. "After that's done, we can celebrate. You've all done excellent work for me, and your loyalty doesn't go unrecognized. Especially in the last four years, where it would be all too easy to abandon me. But you all stayed, and now you get to be part of the most glorious operation in history."

She grabbed Lindsey's phone and made a call to the most recent number in the call history. "Have you made a decision?" asked Rebecca Hidgens, her voice trembling.

"You might want to check the Glasgow news," replied Amelia.