Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

Knowing she didn't have long, the incessant sound of sirens all around, Abbie had stepped into Christine's bedroom. Walking to the bed, she had felt a choke of emotion upon looking into the dead eyes of the young detective. A good woman. A woman who had suffered for her job and to do the right thing. Christine was due her reward. She deserved to go home. To be with the people who loved her. Not this.

Abbie had felt the anger bubble and burn. This time it was directed not at Ndidi or herself but at Orion and Rachel Becker. This was them. This was all them, and they deserved to pay.

Forcing the anger down, Abbie leaned over Christine and gently closed the detective's eyes.

"I'm sorry."

If she stayed a second longer, she would lose herself either to grief or to fury, and neither could she afford to do. With one final apology, she turned, rushed from the room, and crossed the hall.

Ana was face down in front of the sofa. There was a trickle of blood on the floor near her head but nowhere near as much as Abbie would have expected. This was the blood Abbie would expect from when Ndidi had smacked the lawyer. Not the blood earned by a gunshot wound.

Then Abbie saw it, and everything clicked.

The bullet hole in the carpet, a couple of inches from Ana's face.

Given his ultimatum, Ndidi had knocked Ana down and pretended to shoot her in the head. Seeing his plan, Christine had screamed and called him a monster. Down the phoneline and in the room next door, the Becker siblings had made the natural assumption. Ndidi would have tried a similar trick with Christine, but Orion stopped him. Made Ndidi take the cop next door so Rachel could deal with her.

Ndidi should have acted. Thinking only of his daughter, he watched Rachel slaughter Christine.

Rachel might have checked Ana, but Ndidi and Christine's act had been enough. The cop and the crook had left. Ana remained on the floor in front of the sofa.

Abbie had woken her. Ana was groggy, her head was pounding, and Abbie had to shake the lawyer to draw some sense back into her.

"There's no time," Abbie had said. "We need to act, and we need to act now."

Evans was in the driver's seat. Somehow, Abbie and Ana had crammed into the back of the crappy little car. The corrupt Constable was taking a suspiciously long time to start the engine.

Ana placed the gun to the back of Evan's neck, and Abbie spoke.

"If the police corner us, rest assured, you'll die before they get us in cuffs."

At that, Evans seemed to remember how this rust pot of a vehicle worked. He started the engine, hit the gas, and sped across the carpark and out the gate. They made a left, and as they progressed along the road parallel to Christine's block of flats, flashing lights spun around a corner behind them. Abbie watched the police vehicles speed onto the block of flat's carpark as Evans took a right and moved them out of sight.

"Well done, Evans," said Abbie. "Now head west. Get us out of town."

The cop stayed silent, his jaw tight until Ana removed the gun from the back of his neck. The cold steel gone from his skin, he sneered and spoke as though the weapon had pressed a secret button which suppressed his voice box, and now he was free.

"You can't believe you'll get away? The cops think you're getting worse. You punch Ndidi, then shoot Kilman, now this. Right now, they're theorising what you might do next. Shoot up a station, probably."

"I think first I might dismember a cop while he screams," said Abbie, absently. "I have a candidate in mind."

Evans’ skin paled, but he fought the fear.

"They'll get you," he said. "You can't run for long."

"No," said Abbie, "but running is reactionary. I hate being reactionary. I'm more about action; about keeping on the front foot. That's why I'm not running from the police but charging towards the Beckers. I'm not trying to escape my incarceration but ensure their destruction. They'll pay for their actual crimes before I'm punished for the ones I didn't commit."

Evans glanced in the rearview mirror as Abbie took the gun from Ana, and Ana retrieved her phone, unlocked it. He stared at Abbie as though trying to decide if she was unhinged.

"You can't think you can take on Orion Becker?"

"I've dealt with worse," said Abbie. The gun was in her lap. Maybe she should put it to the back of his neck and see if the cop would shut up again.

"Whatever you believe you could do, don't matter cause you won't find Orion. If you think I'll tell you where he is, you got another thing coming. I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't blab.”

Abbie smiled. "I believe you don't know, which is lucky because I don't believe you wouldn't tell me if you did. You're a coward, Evans. Give me five seconds on a deserted highway with you and this gun, and you'd tell me whatever I asked."

A snort that was supposed to sound derisive met this claim. Unfortunately, the tremble of fear in the sound and Evans' eyes gave away the truth.

"Don't worry," said Abbie with a sweet smile. "We don't need anything from you in terms of locations."

At Abbie's side, Ana's phone beeped. The lawyer directed her screen towards Abbie, who glanced at it and nodded.

"What's that?" said Evans.

"Nosey, aren't you?" said Abbie. "But if you must know, it's the readout from the tracker we hid in the lining of Ndidi's coat. Orion's determination to have the poor detective present when Isabella dies will be his downfall. That's why I don't need to torture you for the information you probably don't have anyway. More's the pity. Now..."

Abbie leaned forward, and, despite himself, Evans flinched, afraid of what she might do. Giving him a big smile that masked her fury towards the Beckers and her grief