Read Online Flashes: Part Three by Tim O'Rourke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tim O'Rourke
Ads: Link
quickly.’
‘Yes, Guv,’ she said, throwing a quizzical look, then turning and walking away.
‘I don’t think it will be as easy as that,’ Tom said.
‘Oh no?’ Harker asked, staring at him. ‘It looks prettystraightforward to me. Death by misadventure, I’d say.’
‘How do you figure that out?’ Tom asked. ‘With all due respect, sir, you’ve only just arrived on-scene.’
Harker produced a beige folder from inside his coat. He briefly flicked through it, and then tucked it away again. ‘Your mum committed suicide down here nearly eleven years ago, didn’t she, Charley?’
‘How do you know about that?’ I whispered, tears falling against my cheeks.
‘I found her file the other day when I was going back over the deaths that have taken place out here over the last ten years or so,’ he explained.
‘Charley, you never said anything to me about . . .’ Tom said, sounding shocked.
‘I only found out the other day,’ I told him. ‘Dad had kept it a secret from me.’
‘And who could’ve blamed him?’ Harker half-smiled. ‘What a terrible thing to have to tell your child. But the news troubled you, didn’t it, Charley? It played on your mind. It ate away at you. Stopped you from sleeping. I can understand that. And what with all the reports lately about the death of poor Kerry Underwood dying up here, and the tragic loss of your friend, it made the news about your mother all the more painful to deal with. So you decided to come here, didn’t you, Charley?’ he asked, fixing me with his stare.
‘You wanted to be close to where your mother died. You wanted to be able to grieve properly for the first time. Then, your father comes home to find you gone. He worked out where you had come to and raced out here. Wanting to be left to grieve in private, you ran through that hole in the fence back there. Realising the danger you were in, he came after you. But in the snow and the dark, he got disorientated and staggered out onto the tracks, where sadly . . . Well you know the rest.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’ Tom gasped, staring at Harker.
Ignoring Tom, Harker looked at me and said, ‘Unless Charley has anything different to add?’
I didn’t say anything.
With a smile of satisfaction, he looked at Tom. ‘Case closed.’
‘You know as well as I do that Charley’s father killed those girls,’ Tom snapped, releasing me from his hold.
‘Yes,’ Harker nodded.
‘Then we need to investigate it,’ Tom said.
‘Investigate what, Constable?’ Harker asked. ‘There is not one shred of physical evidence to say that Charley’s father was involved in the deaths of those girls. We have no witnesses. No CCTV. Nothing.’
‘We have Charley,’ Tom said.
‘Do you seriously think I’m going to file a report stating I believe the deaths out here are the work of a serial killer on the say so of your seventeen-year-old friend , who claims to have seen it all in a series of flashes? Jesus Christ, Tom, use your brain. I’d be laughed out of the force.’
‘But it’s the truth,’ Tom insisted. ‘And it’s the truth that matters. I didn’t become a police officer to cover things up. I didn’t . . .’
Before I even knew what was happening, Harker had closed the gap between him and Tom. With his face just an inch from Tom’s, Harker hissed, ‘Why don’t you go around to Mr and Mrs Underwood’s right now and tell them their beautiful daughter was dragged through the filth and the mud by some nutter. Then terrorised, forced to drink until she was unconscious, then laid across a set of railway tracks. Tell the mother that Charley heard Kerry begging to call her – tell her how Kerry’s last dying wish was to talk to her mum on the phone. And when Mrs Underwood collapses broken-hearted to the floor, tell her how you know all this. Tell her about Charley and her flashes. Go on, Henson. Goand tell her.’
‘But it’s the truth,’ Tom
‘Yes, Guv,’ she said, throwing a quizzical look, then turning and walking away.
‘I don’t think it will be as easy as that,’ Tom said.
‘Oh no?’ Harker asked, staring at him. ‘It looks prettystraightforward to me. Death by misadventure, I’d say.’
‘How do you figure that out?’ Tom asked. ‘With all due respect, sir, you’ve only just arrived on-scene.’
Harker produced a beige folder from inside his coat. He briefly flicked through it, and then tucked it away again. ‘Your mum committed suicide down here nearly eleven years ago, didn’t she, Charley?’
‘How do you know about that?’ I whispered, tears falling against my cheeks.
‘I found her file the other day when I was going back over the deaths that have taken place out here over the last ten years or so,’ he explained.
‘Charley, you never said anything to me about . . .’ Tom said, sounding shocked.
‘I only found out the other day,’ I told him. ‘Dad had kept it a secret from me.’
‘And who could’ve blamed him?’ Harker half-smiled. ‘What a terrible thing to have to tell your child. But the news troubled you, didn’t it, Charley? It played on your mind. It ate away at you. Stopped you from sleeping. I can understand that. And what with all the reports lately about the death of poor Kerry Underwood dying up here, and the tragic loss of your friend, it made the news about your mother all the more painful to deal with. So you decided to come here, didn’t you, Charley?’ he asked, fixing me with his stare.
‘You wanted to be close to where your mother died. You wanted to be able to grieve properly for the first time. Then, your father comes home to find you gone. He worked out where you had come to and raced out here. Wanting to be left to grieve in private, you ran through that hole in the fence back there. Realising the danger you were in, he came after you. But in the snow and the dark, he got disorientated and staggered out onto the tracks, where sadly . . . Well you know the rest.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’ Tom gasped, staring at Harker.
Ignoring Tom, Harker looked at me and said, ‘Unless Charley has anything different to add?’
I didn’t say anything.
With a smile of satisfaction, he looked at Tom. ‘Case closed.’
‘You know as well as I do that Charley’s father killed those girls,’ Tom snapped, releasing me from his hold.
‘Yes,’ Harker nodded.
‘Then we need to investigate it,’ Tom said.
‘Investigate what, Constable?’ Harker asked. ‘There is not one shred of physical evidence to say that Charley’s father was involved in the deaths of those girls. We have no witnesses. No CCTV. Nothing.’
‘We have Charley,’ Tom said.
‘Do you seriously think I’m going to file a report stating I believe the deaths out here are the work of a serial killer on the say so of your seventeen-year-old friend , who claims to have seen it all in a series of flashes? Jesus Christ, Tom, use your brain. I’d be laughed out of the force.’
‘But it’s the truth,’ Tom insisted. ‘And it’s the truth that matters. I didn’t become a police officer to cover things up. I didn’t . . .’
Before I even knew what was happening, Harker had closed the gap between him and Tom. With his face just an inch from Tom’s, Harker hissed, ‘Why don’t you go around to Mr and Mrs Underwood’s right now and tell them their beautiful daughter was dragged through the filth and the mud by some nutter. Then terrorised, forced to drink until she was unconscious, then laid across a set of railway tracks. Tell the mother that Charley heard Kerry begging to call her – tell her how Kerry’s last dying wish was to talk to her mum on the phone. And when Mrs Underwood collapses broken-hearted to the floor, tell her how you know all this. Tell her about Charley and her flashes. Go on, Henson. Goand tell her.’
‘But it’s the truth,’ Tom
Similar Books
