DI Jack Frost 02 - A Touch of Frost

please.” He released the transmit, returning the set to receive. A rush of empty static. “Hello, Sue. Frost here. Come in please.” He violently thumbed the switch over to receive as if the set could be bullied into answering. No answer. Back to transmit. “Frost to all units. She should be near the main path, somewhere. Let’s go and find her.”
    Webster charged ahead, not caring how much noise he made. Frost, hard on his heels, getting the backlash of branches forced aside by Webster. On each side of them, Burton and Collier smashed their way through the undergrowth. A stitch in Frost’s side almost made him cry out, but he gritted his teeth and forced his legs to keep going.
    They reached the main path. Webster looked to right and left. “Which way?”
    “Right!” panted Frost.
    They hammered along, sobbing for air. The first turnoff. Burton was sent to investigate. On to the second. Webster’s torch slashed the dark. On the pathway, a CND badge. “Here!” he screamed.
    Ahead something white. Then a crashing as someone broke from cover. A man. Zigzagging. A naked man. And there was Sue, on the ground, her clothing torn, her face bleeding.
    In the dark distance bushes shook, marking the path of someone running.
    “After him, son. I’ll see to Sue.”
    Webster charged on. Frost radioed for the van to try and head the man off, then homed in Burton and Collier to join the pursuit. That done, he knelt beside the girl. “Sue?”
    She eased herself up into a sitting position, wincing as she did so. “I’m all right, sir.” She gingerly touched her face.
    “You’re not all right. It looks as if he gave your face a real right bashing. Take it easy, I’m going to send for an ambulance.” He raised the radio to his mouth, but she tugged his arm down.
    “I don’t want an ambulance, sir, honest. I’m fine. I just want to get home.”
    “We’ll take you to Casualty. If they say you can go home . . .”
    “No . . . please. I’m all right.” There was blood on her face from a split lip. She found a tissue in her bag and cleaned it up.
    Frost was relieved but couldn’t help feeling that her wish not to go to hospital was for his benefit. An injured officer needing hospital treatment meant a special inquiry to ascertain blame. And how Mullett would love that, especially as this failed, botched-up operation was put into effect without his authority.
    She made an attempt to get up, but he restrained her. “I can stand,” she insisted.
    “So can I,” said Frost, flopping down on the path beside her, "but I’m so bloody nackered I’m going to have a rest. So what happened?”
    “I wasn’t expecting him. Suddenly there was something black over my face. It felt like plastic’ She paused. “It had buttons - I felt buttons.”
    “You mean, like a plastic mac?” asked Frost.
    “Yes,” she said. “That’s what it was. A plastic mac. He threw it over my head, then started hitting me, punching my face. His hands moved down to my neck and he started to squeeze.” She touched her neck and flinched. “I managed to pull his hands off, but he started punching again. I couldn’t see. I’m sorry.”
    Frost poked a cigarette between her bruised lips, stuck one in his own mouth, then lit them both. “No, love, I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I sodded it up. We were too far away from you, and I should have called it off when your radio packed in.”
    She drew on the cigarette. “I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. He kept hitting . . .”
    He took her hand and patted it. “I know, love. I know.”
    Webster staggered back and leaned against a tree, his legs sagging, his mouth open as he tried to satisfy the demand of his lungs for air.
    “Any luck, son?”
    Between gasps, Webster shook his head. “I thought I’d got him, but he must have doubled back and suddenly shot away behind me. Chased after him, but he was too far ahead. Heard a car drive off.”
    “Are you sure it was our man?”
    “Positive. The bugger was stark naked. How’s Sue?”
    “Beaten up, but not too bad. Take her to Casualty, then drive her home.”
    She pushed herself up to her feet and began brushing leaves and pieces of dead grass from her clothes. “I don’t want to go to Casualty, I just want to go home.” She picked up her shoulder bag, then looked around for her torch.
    “Well, drive her home anyway,” Frost told Webster. He then radioed all units requesting they stop and search all cars driving