Miss No One by Mark Ayre (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

Christine glared. “What happened to giving a little to get a little?”

With a sigh, Abbie said, “Fine. Theory: the reason Kilman didn’t question me about Davesh’s death is because no one knows Davesh is dead. Which means, when his staff opened up this morning, there was no body to find.”

“That was my thought,” said Christine. “Someone moved him.”

Her stare was pointed, her gaze piercing.

"More than one someone," Abbie mused. She wasn't paying much attention to Christine, instead thinking of the damage she and Smoker had left in their wake. It wasn't only Davesh, but the woman on the stairs, the man with the broken jaw on the sales floor, and the man around the side of the building. That was three or four bodies to remove, depending on the status of Broken Jaw. And a hell of a lot of blood to expunge from carpets, from stairwells, from grass, plus shell casings and DNA and bullet holes in walls.

"Smoker got away," Abbie continued, still more to herself than Christine. "He must have phoned his boss immediately. Arranged for a team to come in and sort it. That’s quite a job to do in a few hours. Something big is going down."

"What do you mean Smoker got away? Did the rest of them not get away? What did you do?"

Abbie realised she'd made a mistake. It was unlike her to be so lax, so revealing, and she tried to brush past it.

"Something big is happening," she repeated. “There’s every chance this is all connected. Davesh's murder, Isabella’s kidnap, Ndidi’s attack on Gary.” Abbie stopped. She'd learned long ago that when it came to her prophetic dreams and her arrival in new towns, most of what she heard in those early hours knitted together like an intricate and often bloodstained quilt. Ignoring any information could be disastrous. Possibly fatal.

"Who were you sent to investigate?" she asked Christine.

Christine still had her hand on her rapidly diminishing pint. She was trying to keep up with everything Abbie was saying.

"I already told you, I'm not here to answer your questions. No chance. Especially not when you're ignoring mine. You said Smoker got away. You're talking about the leader, right? The one with the rough voice? That suggests the other three didn't escape. What did you do?”

Abbie considered the question. She believed Christine was keen to keep her presence at Davesh's dealership a secret from her colleagues. Hauling Abbie into the station would jeopardise this aim. Still, confessing to taking lives was a significant risk. Christine's self-preservation protocol might go out the window when she realised she was sitting opposite a killer.

Then again, Christine had fled the dealership with bullets all but whizzing over her shoulder. She should believe Abbie had acted in self-defence. Further, there were no bodies, so no evidence. Would Christine risk revealing her secrets and drawing the wrath of her colleagues to arrest Abbie for a crime that could not be proven?

Abbie didn't know. Abbie couldn't decide.

She pushed on.

"Maybe you're investigating DCI Kilman," she said.

"I've not investigating anyone," Christine said. Like Abbie, she had to make quick decisions. She did so now. “You were right about the personal vendetta. Davesh is responsible for someone I love dying.”

“No,” said Abbie, brushing this away in an instant. “If this was personal you’d be more specific and emotive. ‘Davesh murdered my mother.’ That sort of thing. Plus you didn’t want me to know the truth about who you were so offering that information makes me think you’re trying to lead me away from reality. Finally, Kilman said you were new. Makes sense, if you were placed relatively recently and, before you start denying again, answer me this: if I start asking around, will I learn that your family and friends live nearby, or will it become clear you’ve moved into town in the last few months? Because the latter would make it extremely unlikely Davesh was responsible for the death of one of your non-specific loved ones, wouldn’t it?”

Her face burning red, Christine scrunched her palms in her lap, but said nothing.

"Or it could be Ndidi," said Abbie, moving back to musing on who Christine might be investigating. "From what I've seen, he needs investigating. Beating up innocent men at the park, organising for colleagues and witnesses to falsify statements. Makes sense for it to be him."

"If you don't tell me what happened at the dealership, I'm taking you into the station. I'll confess everything to Kilman and let him deal with you."

Abbie paused, but seconds were all she needed to decide to put everything on the line.

"Smoker's team tried to murder us. You got away, but they trapped me before I could. They were killers, monsters. They'd ruined many lives before and would have ruined many more, given a chance."

Abbie finished her second lemonade and put the glass back on the table.

"In self-defence, I ensured three of our enemies would never harm another living soul," said Abbie. "The fourth got away, and I don't believe you're investigating Ndidi or Kilman."

Christine was still trying to process Abbie's indirect confession to murder, trying to work out what she was supposed to say as Abbie leaned in and went again.

"I think the subject of your investigation is a man much loved by your colleagues and the community as a whole. I think you were taking on the top dog around these parts, and no wonder you're afraid of anyone finding out."

Christine took her drink, drained it in self-defence.

Abbie said, "You were investigating dead police officer and all round hero: DCI Alan Hammond."

Thirteen

Abbie had no way of knowing who Christine was investigating. Christine hadn't even confirmed she was an undercover anti-corruption detective. Hammond had been a shot in the dark, based on previous experience and intuition. Had she realised this, Christine could have brushed the accusation away. Could have deterred Abbie's belief.

You would think an undercover police officer would make a good liar. Christine proved this was not