Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

rage, struggling to get to her feet.
    He kicked her in the head so hard she felt her jaw separate from her skull, a tearing crack that made her recoil into a whimpering heap. Before she knew what was happening, he had rolled her in polythene sheeting, fastened it tight with packing tape and dumped her in the boot of her own car.
    Hardly able to breathe, terrified and driven mad with pain, Bev McAndrew made her last journey. This time, when the light came back, she didn’t even notice. And that was the closest she came to mercy.

30

    T he session with Jacob Gold had left Tony profoundly unsettled. He’d seen two patients at Bradfield Moor Secure Hospital that afternoon and he could barely remember any of the ground they’d covered. When his own mental state interfered with the quality of treatment he was delivering, it was clearly time to take seriously the uncomfortable conclusion he’d been irresistibly drawn towards.
    After work he’d gone home to the narrowboat, determined for the first time to see it not as a poor fallback position but as a symbol of change and possibility. That he had adapted to living in a place and style he’d never previously contemplated was a positive thing, he told himself, summoning up an image of himself wagging a finger in his own face. And when he stopped to think about it, he had to admit how much he liked the compact nature of life on board. The only drawback was the lack of space for his books. But surely there had to be a way round that? Lateral thinking, that was what he needed. Maybe he could rent a nearby storage unit and use that as a book room, somehow? It wasn’t as if he’d mind the walk. He gave a hollow chuckle. ‘Chances are, I’d have worked out whatever it was I needed the book for by the time I got there,’ he said aloud.
    ‘It’s not books you need right now,’ he continued, opening the fridge and the storage cupboard next to it. ‘It’s food. What use is pasta sauce without pasta? Or milk without breakfast cereal? Or butter without bread?’ Time for an emergency shopping trip. He grabbed one of the sturdy reusable carrier bags that Carol – ouch, no, let her go, you can’t get sentimental over a bloody carrier bag – had made him buy when they’d ended up late-night grocery shopping in the middle of a case. There was a convenience store branch of a supermarket chain a couple of streets away; he’d be back inside half an hour.
    But back to what? Unresolved thoughts chasing round his brain like a ball in a pinball arcade, empty chairs reminding him of his empty life, case notes for patients who frankly felt more stable than he did right now. He needed to fill the hours before sleep with something more constructive than brooding.
    Tony put on his coat and set off into the evening, determined to walk Carol Jordan out of his system. What he needed was to occupy his mind with something else, something more challenging. He let his mind drift backwards, waiting for it to find a baited hook to snag on.
    And there it was, as he rounded the corner of the tapas bar. Paula’s missing woman. He fished his phone out and called her. As soon as she answered, he dived straight in. ‘Paula, is your missing woman still missing?’
    ‘And hello to you too, Tony. Yes, as far as I know. I haven’t been directly involved today, but I would have heard if there had been any developments.’
    ‘So the last anyone knows is that she was going to stop at Freshco on the way home? She left work as usual and nobody saw her after that?’
    ‘I haven’t heard anything to the contrary. Here’s something else that might interest you. You know the murder I’m on? Nadia Wilkowa? We think he used a taser on her.’
    ‘That narrows things down, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s not like spiking a drink in a crowded bar and waiting for it to kick in. It’s up close and personal. And he’s acquired her somewhere relatively private. You can’t taser someone in front of an audience. Not unless you’re a cop. Plus, you’ve got to have your getaway lined up, because a taser, that’s not like knocking somebody out. Your victim gets their body back in pretty short order, isn’t that right? So you’ve got to have a plan, it can’t be a spur-of-the-moment thing.’
    ‘Are you done?’ Paula’s tone was mild, amused.
    ‘Just thinking aloud, sorry.’
    ‘No, it’s fascinating, listening to your mind work. If I hear anything more about Bev, I’ll keep you posted. But I thought