Kill Who You Want

Chapter Twenty-Four

Plot reminder: Jenny is Kubič's ex-wife; Dave is her second husband. DCS Baines, meanwhile, is Kubič's superior at County HQ. In earlier chapters Kubič had encouraged his son Danny to leave town with his half-sister, Summer. Vince had followed the man he believes to be the murderer to a modern residential block near the town's main church, which is where Sergeant Wye lives. A national journalist discovered something interesting in an old issue of the local newspaper. The previous chapter ended with a hidden figure about to spring out at DS Wye as she returned home from a night out...

~~~~~

Sunday 7th March

Kubič awoke suddenly, his heart heavied by a mild form of grief as if the dream he'd been in the middle of had, for once, been a pleasant one. A dream which the invasive squeal of his mobile had not only interrupted but in an instant destroyed all memory of. The brief truce was over. He was back into the living nightmare of the here and now.

He took a moment to shake himself into consciousness. Though it was the dullest of dawns which peered through the crack between the curtains, it was light enough to claim victory. Another night defeated. Another Messerschmidt shot from the skies. One thousand one hundred and thirty-four. Still counting.

Grabbing the still ringing mobile from his bedside cabinet, he was bemused at the caller ID: Detective Chief Superintendent Baines. Sunday morning, barely gone eight. What in hell's name did the man want?

"Morning sir."

The pleasantry wasn't echoed. "Seen the Express?"

"You just woke me up as it hap-"

"It was only a matter of time. Only surprise was it took 'em so long."

Kubič sat up. Snapped to attention.

"You mean...?"

"Not pretty reading, inspector."

*

It had been a while since Wye had woken up feeling like this: groggy, sticky-eyed, thirsty enough to drink a whole bathtub of water. Even more pressing than liquid intake, however, was the necessity of expelling some...

A few moments' later, the toilet hiss fading behind her, she padded into the living room/kitchenette. Ewan was still fast asleep, his face pressed awkwardly against the arm of the sofa, the half snores the same breathy rises and falls which had soundtracked a thousand of her nights. He'd given her quite a scare, stepping out of the shadows like that. So much so that the nifty Krav Maga move she'd learnt during a self defence course back in Cardiff had been as instinctive as hands clamping to head at the sound of something falling from above. It had left him a crumpled, groaning heap on the gravel, the darkness such that it had taken her a moment to recognise his face.

Ewan? Is that you Ewan?

The explanations had trailed her up the stairs, in through her front door. He'd managed to nudge his Fiesta through the gate just as it was closing after someone else had left. There being no answer on the intercom, and tired from the long drive east, he'd half-dozed for a while against the driver's headrest. It was the creak of the gate which had woken him, the figure traipsing along the drive intstantly recognisable.

Most of which she'd already surmised of course. Her address, she'd wanted to know. How the hell had he managed to get hold of her address? Those handful of family members and closest of friends who were in possession of it had been made to solemnly swear that under no circumstances would they ever pass it on to him.

It was her own brother, it turned out, who'd betrayed her. Ewan had bumped into Ricky in The Brewery Tap a couple of nights earlier. Both had had a few, got talking about the situation there in Ravensby. And well... Ricky had just sort of passed it on.