Death Row - Mark Pearson [104]
A motorbike turned the corner at the top of the street and headed towards the van. ‘We should have been taking the fricking elevator,’ Delaney said and turned back to the counter. ‘Roy, give us one of those catering gloves, will you?’
‘What for?’
‘Just give us the fecking glove.’
Roy handed him one of the plastic gloves. Delaney took it and looked across, puzzled, at the motorbike that had stopped on the other side of the road, leaving its engine running. He realised that the rider, who was wearing a dark outfit and a black helmet with a black visor, was swinging something in his hands and pointing it at Kate, who was standing in front of Delaney. Something long and metallic. Delaney processed the information in a split second, shouting for everyone to get down as he grabbed Kate, swinging her round and pulling her to the ground at the side of the van.
The shotgun blast ripped the air apart, the pellets blasting into the trees and the cars and the fencing opposite the van. Delaney scrambled round the side of the van but the motorcyclist was already gunning his engine and racing away back in the direction he had come. There was no number plate on the back of the bike.
Kate stood up, breathing heavily. ‘What the hell was all that about?’ she said, her face as pale as Delaney had ever seen it.
‘I don’t know, darling. Is everyone okay?’
Emma Halliday and Sally Cartwright had both dived for cover as soon as Delaney had shouted and they’d seen what was happening. They stood up, dusting their clothes.
‘What the hell was that, sir?’ asked Sally. ‘A warning? Or was he trying to kill you?’
‘God knows. Maybe it wasn’t me he was after.’
‘We thought someone might have been taking a shot at you in Mad Bess Woods on Saturday morning, didn’t we?’
‘You did. I didn’t.’
‘There’s not a lot of doubt about this one, Jack,’ said Emma Halliday. ‘Who’s got a grudge against you?’
Behind the counter Roy snorted, continuing to cook as though nothing had happened.
Delaney shrugged ruefully. ‘How long have you got?’
But Emma wasn’t listening. She was looking at Kate, a concerned look on her face. Delaney turned round to look at Kate, who was still deathly pale and holding a hand to her stomach. ‘Are you okay? What’s wrong?’
Kate smiled and took her hand away. ‘I’m fine, just a little bit winded.’ She took a couple of deep breaths, the colour returning to her cheeks.
‘There’s nothing wrong with the baby?’
Kate smiled again and shook her head. ‘I’m fine, really. It was just a bit of a shock. Not every day a girl gets shot at.’
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
Kate smiled again and rubbed his arm reassuringly. ‘Of course I’m sure. I’m a doctor, Jack. I’d know if something was wrong.’
Delaney looked across at the fence that had been peppered with shot. ‘Maybe it was me. Everybody connected with Peter Garnier. They’re all being targeted – they’re all being killed or someone’s trying to kill them. Graham Harper. Tim Radnor. Me.’
Sally nodded. ‘You could be right, sir.’
‘What about the church cleaner, then – Maureen Gallagher? How does she fit into all this?’ asked Emma Halliday, brushing some more dirt from her knees.
‘I don’t know,’ said Delaney. ‘But she was the only person ever to visit him in prison, so there is a definite connection with the man.’
He took out a copy of the photo of Peter Garnier and the others from his pocket. The child killer, almost unrecognisable in his moustache, beard and ridiculously quiffed hair. ‘The men here, I think they’re connected with those other photos. One of these two men, the fisherman or the man in the black suit … they’re cleaning up the evidence and it’s Peter Garnier calling the shots.’ Delaney stared at the picture, trying to make sense of it all. ‘Damn!’ he said suddenly. He pulled out his mobile phone and started punching in some numbers.
‘What is it, Jack?’ asked Kate.
‘There’s someone else connected too, isn’t there? One of his victims.’ Delaney listened as the phone rang. ‘Come on, Gloria,’ he said. ‘Answer the damn phone.’
But