Death's Cold Hand by J.E. Mayhew (good romance books to read txt) 📕

she was in the village but then she saw the art gallery and the boating lake. If she could get to the war memorial, she’d be safe; there’d be police there and so many people that Terry wouldn’t dare attack her, surely. She’d be able to talk him down or, even better, there may be armed officers there to take him down. A pushchair caught her ankle and she fell, screaming, her wrist cracking as she tried to break her fall.

Someone dragged her to her feet and she screamed for them to let her go, slapping out and with her good hand. “Steady on, love, you’re okay…” someone said but Nicola gritted her teeth, tucked her throbbing wrist under her other arm and limped away as fast as she could. The crowd thickened but she knew White was gaining on her from the cries and shouts behind her.

She threw herself forward at the boundary of police officers who had formed a cordon around the memorial. Taken by surprise, one of them reached out to grab her. “Steady, Madam, can you…”

“Please. He’s trying to kill me. You’ve got to help me!” Nicola screamed, pointing at Terry White as he pushed people aside and charged towards her.

*****

It was a little further from Vikki’s car to Nicola Norton’s house than Blake had estimated. His chest burned from the run and sweat soaked his back and forehead. Kinnear kept up with him but the weight he was carrying slowed him down. The front door dangled from one hinge, “We’re too late, sir,” Kinnear panted.

“The back door’s wide open,” Blake said peering through the house. Screams and shouts of anger rose from the streets behind the house. “Check inside the house and call for back-up, I’ll check in the crowd.”

Kinnear nodded and disappeared into the house as Blake ran round the side into the village itself and the surging mass of protestors. He waved his warrant card as he went. “Police, mind out!” Up ahead, he glimpsed Terry White’s broad shoulders and, further in front, Nicola Norton’s ashen face glancing back.

Some people swore at Blake, others stepped aside and pointed in the direction that Nicola Norton had gone. The punishment Terry White had given Blake earlier in the week and the damage to his ribs that he’d sustained in Scotland were beginning to take their toll on him and he had to pause. His head throbbed and he gasped for breath, wondering if it would have been wiser to let Kinnear chase after Norton.

Another scream up ahead forced him to start jogging again, holding his warrant card up once again. It looked like Nicola was heading for the war memorial. Blake headed for the edge of the crowd and began running on people’s front gardens to skirt the mass of protestors.

Elbowing his way through the crush around the memorial, Blake forced his way to the front where, seeing his warrant card, the officer let him through. At the same moment, he saw Nicola Norton break into the memorial space, and turn to face the charging Terry White. The big man’s bulk took two officers off their feet and he reached out, not stopping until he’d grabbed Nicola Norton, holding her like a rag doll under her armpits.

Blake ran forward and an officer fired a taser into White’s back but the big man thundered on, propelling her forward. Then he stopped at the top of the steps, throwing Norton with all his might towards the statue of a soldier holding a rifle with bayonet fixed. Blake watched in helpless disbelief as the woman flew up into the air, then she stopped abruptly, looking down in shock at the bronze bayonet protruding from her chest, blood spreading across her pale sweater. Her head slumped and she dangled from the statue of the soldier.

It was only then that Blake realised that Lex Price stood on the memorial flanked by a couple of speakers and a microphone. He took one look at Terry White and swung a punch, sending the young man to the ground. Police officers piled onto the prone soldier and the crowd began to surge forward.

As if caught on a tidal wave, Blake lost sight of Price as he was swept by the sudden surge of the crowd towards the sides of the memorial. He could see what was coming but could do nothing to stop it and felt hard stone smack against his face and chest. He fell to the floor, a foot crushing his hand and a knee clipping the side of his head. Someone dragged him to his feet and he staggered, the press of bodies holding him up, now and propelling him along the wall of the memorial.

The police officers who had formed a cordon, were now trying to drag Terry’s body onto the upper part of the memorial while some members of the public kicked at his body. Other officers were trying to get Nicola down and staunch the bleeding. Blake pushed forwards and grabbed an officer’s arm, lashing out at anyone who tried to harm Terry. “You two, try and get the public back, we’ll drag him to safety.”

Many people were trying to get away from the crush now and hurrying from the area, others tripped over those running away in their effort to see what was going on. Sirens wailed as ambulances, fire engines and more police arrived.

“Stop!” Lex Price yelled at the top of his voice. Blake looked over his shoulder at the big man who now stood on the wall of the memorial with his hands in the air. “We’ve got to show these terrorists that we are better than them!” Lex continued. “Instead of fighting with our brave boys in blue, we should be helping them. Everyone back off!”

Given that many of the people at the rally had retreated from the violence, only a handful of skinheads with scarves around their faces remained and the police officers were forming ranks again. They did back away though