Poetic Justice: The Oakhurst Murders, #2

By Alex R Carver

Caught, escaped, and now on the run. 

Kieran Wright, the teen serial killer who terrorised the village of Oakhurst in Written In Blood has been captured, but before he can see the inside of a cell he escapes, leaving behind a trail of bodies. 

Constable Melissa Turner is engrossed with the aftermath of the murders and the revelation of who was behind them, and a case of vandalism at the local stables. Meanwhile, Detective Inspector Martins is given the task of searching for and apprehending the killer. 

As the body count mounts, and Wright becomes more and more desperate to get away, a storm builds overhead. Can Martins and the police catch Wright before more people die, or will the storm provide him with the cover he needs to make good his escape?

• Language: English
• Publisher: ARC Books
• Release date: Jun 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386760733

Alex R Carver

After working in the clerical, warehouse and retail industries over the years, without gaining much satisfaction, Alex quit to follow his dream and become a full-time writer. Where There's A Will is the first book in the Inspector Stone Mysteries series, with more books in the series to come, as well as titles in other genres in the pipeline. His dream is to one day earn enough to travel, with a return to Egypt to visit the parts he missed before, and Macchu Picchu, top of his wishlist of destinations. When not writing, he is either playing a game or being distracted by Molly the Yorkie, who is greedy for both attention and whatever food is to be found. You can find out more about Alex R Carver at the following links https://twitter.com/arcarver87 https://alexrcarver.wordpress.com/ https://medium.com/@arcarver87 https://www.facebook.com/Alex-R-Carver-1794038897591918/

Book preview

1

Zack Wild’s eyes followed the ambulance that held Kieran Wright until it disappeared from view.

There was a patrol car with two uniformed officers escorting the ambulance, and a third officer in the ambulance with the handcuffed Kieran, yet Zack could not shake the feeling that the teen murderer, who had done so much damage to the village of Oakhurst, and whose arrest had been so costly, was not done causing trouble and hurting people.

The situation was not really anything to do with him, a detective inspector once, he was now retired from the police force and made his living as a writer, but old habits died hard. He couldn’t forget either what he had seen, or what he knew had been done by one of the worst killers he had ever encountered.

His sense of responsibility was not helped by the fact that it was he who had found the first of Kieran Wright’s victims. Nor was it diminished by the fact that until that morning he had been the one and only suspect under investigation by Sergeant Mitchell. Only Kieran Wright revealing himself as the murderer to his youngest sister had changed that.

With the ambulance now out of sight, Zack turned his gaze to survey the mess that had resulted from the ill-prepared attempt to arrest Kieran Wright by Detective Inspector Harrison, who had taken over the case from Sergeant Mitchell. His green eyes settled first on the Land Rover and the patrol car that stood enmeshed, bumper to bumper, blocking the road and preventing any other vehicles from getting past.

From the conjoined vehicles, his gaze moved up the road to the second of Oakhurst’s patrol cars. While the first had been used in a game of chicken that kept Kieran Wright from escaping the village, the second had crashed through the wall at the side of the road before burying itself, nose-first, in the ditch on the other side of it.

The panicked manoeuvre had kept the driver, who was now on his way to hospital in the same ambulance as Kieran Wright, safe from the two shotgun blasts the teen murderer had fired at him but had not protected his partner.

Zack could just make out the figure of Doctor Kelly, the village’s elderly GP, as he strove to keep Constable Black alive until the air ambulance could return to take him to hospital. Having seen the extent of the constable’s injuries when he went up the road to check on the party sent to arrest Kieran, Zack doubted the younger man would survive, no matter how hard the doctor worked. It was a doubt that had been shared by the paramedic from the air ambulance when he decided to take DI Harrison rather than Constable Black to the hospital in Branton first.

After leaving the crashed patrol car, Zack’s gaze continued up the road to the Wright farmhouse, though it didn’t remain there for long. The farmhouse, and the yard that surrounded it, were half a mile distant, too far away for him to make out details. He had already seen what was there, though, and he could picture Sergeant Mitchell’s lifeless body, a large hole where his stomach had been, on the ground a short distance from the front door simply by closing his eyes.

What do you think’ll happen when the backup finally gets here?

The question refocused Zack’s attention on his immediate surroundings, specifically on the young constable at his side, whom he had helped to arrest Kieran Wright.

No idea, he admitted. They don’t need to arrest Kieran, we’ve already done that, but I’m sure they’ll find something to do. Most likely they’ll search the farm for evidence to connect Kieran to the murders — they’ll want proof to help close out the case — and they, or someone else, will want to look into his morning’s operation to work out what went wrong, and how it could have been avoided.

Someone’s gonna get the blame for all of this, aren’t they, Melissa said unhappily.

Someone, Zack agreed with a nod. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, though, if I were you. This is one occasion when you can be glad you’re only a constable. Sergeant Mitchell and DI Harrison are far more likely to take the blame, they’re more senior, and they made the decision to go in without waiting for armed backup. He had enough experience of such circumstances to know that the higher-ups in the police force would want to find someone to blame for what had happened, and though Kieran Wright was the one with the shotgun, it was a police officer who would have to take responsibility for the failures that had occurred. You might even come out of this with something positive on your record.

I’d rather have this morning back, so I can tell Mitchell and the DI to wait.

That was a sentiment Zack could understand, though he realised it was not going to help anything. Best not to think about that too much, he advised. You can’t change what’s happened. Come on, let’s go and check on Tara, I’m sure she’s pretty worried about everything. Without waiting to see if Melissa was going to follow him, he pushed away from the boot of the patrol car and made his way down the road to his home, where Kieran’s fourteen-year-old sister was being looked after by his friend, after Kieran tried to run her down to keep her from telling anyone that he was the murderer who had terrorised Oakhurst’s daughters.

2

Kieran Wright kept his eyes shut with an effort all through the ride from Oakhurst to the hospital in town. It wasn’t easy; every time the ambulance hit a bump or made a turn he wanted to look around to figure out where he was. He was determined not to do that, however. So long as his hands remained cuffed, he had no intention of letting either the crew of the ambulance or the police officer watching over him know that he was conscious.

It did not become any easier to conceal that he was no longer unconscious when he reached the hospital. He was transferred from the ambulance’s stretcher to a trolley and wheeled away somewhere, which he struggled to identify as a cubicle in the emergency department using just his hearing — he had never before appreciated how hard it was to work out where he was, or what was going on, without looking, and he could only wonder how much longer it would be before someone realised that he was faking being unconscious.

Fortunately, neither the nurse nor the doctor who appeared gave him more than a cursory examination before sending for a porter to take him for an x-ray.

It was when he and his escort, Constable Pritchard, reached the x-ray department, where he was to be examined for a possible fractured skull or a concussion, that Kieran heard what he had been waiting for.

You’re going to have to take the cuffs off.

Constable Pritchard could only stare at the technician for a quarter of a minute, that was how long it took for him to find his voice. You’ve got to be kidding. He eyed the teen on the trolley nervously. He had survived the arrest of the murderer without serious injury but had seen what had happened to Sergeant Mitchell and DI Harrison, and to his partner, whom he was sure must have died from his injuries by now. Have you got any idea how dangerous he is? There’s no way I’m taking those cuffs off.

How dangerous can he be? The technician, who was waiting to x-ray the teen, didn’t really care whether he was dangerous, so long as he personally wasn’t in danger. He had a queue of people waiting to be x-rayed that morning and he didn’t want to be delayed. He’s unconscious, and I doubt he’s gonna wake up in the five minutes it’ll take for me to x-ray him. Come on, man, five minutes, that’s all it’ll take. You take the cuffs off and help me shift him over to the couch, five minutes for me to run the x-rays, then you can have the cuffs back on him. What can he do in that time? He’s unconscious and unarmed, and you’ll be right here with your baton thing.

Kieran wanted to laugh, or at least to smile, over the fear evident in Pritchard’s voice. Even to him it seemed ridiculous that a man almost twice his age should be afraid of him. He resisted the urge to react to what he was hearing, though, and kept his body as relaxed as possible, despite being sure he was going to give himself away at any moment.

Pritchard looked nervously at the teen who had killed his sergeant, probably killed his partner, and who had tried to kill him, while he thought about what the x-ray technician had said. He couldn’t understand where the two officers who were supposed to be with him had got to, and their absence worried him. He could do nothing about their absence, however, and much as he wanted to, he realised that waiting for them would only give Kieran more time to wake up.

Finally, after an agonising period of indecision, he made up his mind.

Fine, I’ll do it. Taking out his keys he undid the first of the cuffs.

Kieran felt it when his wrist was released from the cuff, it was what he had been waiting for. He allowed himself to smile as his eyes flew open and he launched himself from the trolley, catching both the room’s other occupants by surprise. He crashed into Pritchard, bearing the constable to the ground, where he proceeded to repeatedly slam the older man’s head against the hard surface under them.

Pritchard had no time to react to Kieran Wright’s sudden attack. He was on the floor and seeing stars before he had a chance to realise that the teen had been faking being unconscious. He made one, feeble, attempt to protect himself, but that came to a quick end when Kieran shoved his hands away and punched him twice in quick succession, once in the ribs and then on the jaw.

Kieran went back to smashing his head on the floor after that, doing so with energy and enthusiasm. A part of him knew he had done enough to prevent the constable being a threat by the time he had beaten his skull against the floor the third time. He continued, however, only stopping when a rush of noise from behind reminded him that there was someone else in the room.

He let go of Pritchard and surged to his feet. He saw the technician darting for the door and raced after him, shoving aside the trolley on which he had been delivered to the room on his way past. He couldn’t afford to let the technician get away, if he did he would have hospital security and the police after him before he could get to the end of the corridor — he intended getting much further than that, even if he was aware that he could not avoid what he had done being discovered.

He caught up to the technician as he was pulling open the door. Grabbing him by the back of his tunic, he yanked him away and sent him spinning across the room to fall into the trolley, which he hit with a crash.

Kieran cringed at the noise of the impact, and quickly yanked open the door so he could look up and down the corridor. By some miracle there was no-one around, and he could see and hear nothing to suggest anyone was coming to investigate the noise.

Relieved by his good fortune, he let the door swing closed and turned his attention to the technician.

That was really stupid, he snarled as he stalked towards him. Really...Fucking...Stupid.

CONSTABLE RALEIGH WAS almost at the x-ray suite before he caught up to his partner, whom he was surprised to see wasn’t already with the prisoner they had been sent to watch over. He wasn’t worried that his partner wasn’t where he was supposed to be, he wasn’t either, because the constable from Oakhurst was with the teen murderer they had followed from the village, and the teen was unconscious.

Where’ve you been? Raleigh asked curiously as he fell in beside his fellow constable. You only had to park the car.

It wasn’t easy finding a parking space, Constable Bass replied. "The car park’s pretty full, you’d think it’d be quieter, given how much it costs to spend any time there, and I had to get a ticket. Then I had to find the place. What about you, you should have been here already, you didn’t have to do anything but come straight up here after I dropped you off.

I’ll bet you stopped to chat up a nurse, didn’t you. He knew only too well how easily his fellow constable could be distracted by someone with a pretty face, and even the occasional less than pretty face.

No I bloody didn’t, I had to stop at the bog, Raleigh said with an indignation that was not entirely genuine. He had made a detour into the toilets on his way past, but that had only taken a few moments; the rest of his delay had been taken up with a young nurse he stopped to get directions, which he didn’t actually need, from.

He reached the door of the x-ray room two steps ahead of his partner and was pulling it open when he suddenly stopped and swore.

What’s up? Bass asked as he stepped up to his partner’s shoulder. You just remember you forgot to wash your hands? Or you realised your zip was open the whole time you were chatting up the nurse you reckon you didn’t speak to?

No, there’s blood on the door, Raleigh said in a quiet voice, pointing to a pair of a parallel bloody smears that looked to have been made by someone’s fingers. Automatically his hand went to the holster for his extendible baton, an action his partner immediately copied.

His baton extended, ready to be used at the first sign of trouble, Raleigh slowly pulled open the door to the x-ray room. Once it was wide enough he slipped through, his grip on the baton tightening, though he quickly realised that the weapon was not going to be needed, it was too late for that.

Jesus! he swore, lowering his baton as he moved further into the room.

Bass couldn’t help repeating his friend’s utterance when he saw the room, and the bloody mess that had been made of the technician’s face. He recovered more quickly than his colleague and hurried across the room to check for a pulse.

Thank God! he gasped in relief when he found one.

What about the constable from Oakhurst? Raleigh wanted to know as he looked around the room. He should be here. And what about the kid, how’d he get away, he was cuffed. D’you think he had help?

How the hell am I supposed to know? Bass asked. Having satisfied himself that the technician was still alive, which he considered a minor miracle based on what he knew of what had happened in Oakhurst that morning, he got to his feet, his mind racing as he tried to work out what could have happened and what he and his partner should do next. Maybe he took the guy’s cuffs off so he could be x-rayed, I’m sure they have to remove everything metal or it messes up the x-rays, he said, remembering that from the last time he had to have an x-ray. Have you looked everywhere for the constable? How about on the other side of here? He leaned over the couch of the x-ray machine and saw what he was looking for. Here he is. You check whether he’s still alive, while I get help and radio this in.

TWO FLOORS BELOW THE horrified constables, who were dealing with the aftermath of his escape, Kieran Wright made his way between the cars in the car park at the side of the hospital. He had no idea that the mess he had left in the x-ray room had been discovered, so he didn’t hurry as he headed towards the target he had picked out. His pace was slow and steady, and his route indirect, as he sought to avoid drawing attention to himself.

Kieran glanced around, searching the car park for potential witnesses, when he saw his target finally stop at a car, a forest green Ford Focus with several dents and scratches. He could see no-one, which both surprised and pleased him, and he hurried forward, moving quickly between the cars that separated him from the man he had followed from the hospital’s side entrance.

As he rounded the bumper of the last car Kieran flicked his wrist, extending the baton he had taken from Constable Pritchard to its full and deadly length. He raised it above his head at the last moment and brought it down with all his strength on the shorter man. His intention was to smash the baton down on the back of his target’s head, ending things quickly, but luck was not on his side.

At the last moment Kieran’s victim turned his head. The baton, instead of hitting him squarely and ending things quickly, glanced off the side of the skull before smashing into his shoulder.

Though he had anticipated that a single blow would be all he needed, Kieran was already prepared to deliver a second when he saw that the first had not gone as planned. He smashed the baton into the angle where the neck joined the shoulder, smiling at the loud crack that announced the destruction of the collar bone.

Again and again Kieran struck with the baton, battering the body that lay at his feet. He didn’t stop until he heard a noise behind him. He spun round, his arm falling so the bloody baton was at his side and out of sight, while he searched the car park for the source of the noise that had disturbed him. It was a few moments before he heard a car engine start up, and his searching gaze homed in on the roof of the vehicle as it pulled away from the space it had occupied.

He watched the car all the way to the car park’s exit, only turning away when it was no longer visible, and he was reasonably certain he was safe.

Kieran wiped the baton clean as best he could using the clothes of the man he had just beaten, and then he retracted it so he could put it in his pocket. After that he searched the pockets of his victim for anything of value or use; the keys to the car were in the door, so he didn’t need to look for them, but he did find a wallet and a mobile phone — he took the phone, and emptied the wallet of cash, just as he had done with Constable Pritchard’s.

Once he had finished the search and found everything worth taking, what little there was, he took the keys from the door and pulled it open, so he could slide behind the wheel. He had no idea where he was going to go as he started the engine and shifted into gear, but he didn’t allow that to trouble him. Just then it was more important that he put as much distance between himself and the hospital as he could, as quickly as he could, than it was for him to worry about something he could decide on later.

3

Zack rose to his feet when the doorbell sounded, an action that required more effort than would normally have been the case because of his injuries, and because he was sitting on the floor, his furniture having been taken away to be repaired and reupholstered as a result of the damage done to it during the attempt on his life a few nights ago.

Mr Wild? I’m Detective Inspector Martins. The smartly-dressed coloured lady on the doorstep held up her warrant card.

I’m Zack Wild, he confirmed, giving the warrant card only the most cursory of glances. He could spot a fake a mile off, and he doubted a journalist with a phoney police ID would be there so soon. How can I help? He had a pretty good idea.

I’ve been put in charge of the situation here, Martins said. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to you about this morning’s events, and last night’s events at the Southdene hospital, get your account of them. I’d also like to speak to Constable Turner and Tara Wright, I’m told they’re both here.

Zack took a step back from the door so the inspector could enter. I can’t help you with whatever operation went on at the hospital last night, I wasn’t involved, and I know nothing about it. I can’t help you with Constable Turner either, she’s next door at her grandmother’s, but Tara is here, and I’d be happy to tell you what I know about this morning. The living room’s just through there. He indicated the doorway to his right. Would you like something to drink, tea, coffee, water?

No, I have a lot to do this morning, and I’d rather get on. Martins slipped past Zack and into the living room, where she looked around bemusedly, surprised to find herself somewhere that appeared to be only a step or two up from what might be found in a squat — the room was cleaner than a squat, but the boarded-up windows, which she hadn’t noticed from the outside, and the lack of furniture, matched what she had seen in buildings occupied illegally. I thought you said Constable Turner is next door, she said, her eyes on the woman on the living room floor next to Tara, who was being kept occupied, and distracted from everything that had been going on, by Facebook.

She is, this is my friend, Sophie, Zack said. Would you like me to go and get Melissa while you speak to Tara?

It’ll save me time.

Zack wondered, as he made his way out the front door and down the path, if the inspector always lacked courtesy, or if she was simply reacting to the stress of the situation she found herself in charge of. While he had never had to deal with anything as serious as what had happened that morning, for which he was grateful, he liked to think that he had always remained both kind and courteous, no matter what the situation, and no matter who he was dealing with.

When he returned to his living room with Constable Melissa Turner he found Inspector Martins on the phone. It sounded, from the little he could hear, as though something serious had happened.

What’s going on? he asked once Martins ended her call, unable to shut off either the need to know what was going on or the desire to take charge.

Martins hesitated before answering. Glancing at Tara, who was pretending to be fully occupied with the laptop, while surreptitiously listening, she indicated with a quick jerk of her head that they should talk somewhere more private.

Kieran Wright has escaped, she said once she, Zack, and Constable Turner were in the kitchen. "I don’t know how, or exactly when. All I know right now is that he somehow managed to get out of his cuffs and attack a constable and a technician at the hospital. I’m going to have to speak to you both about the morning’s events another time. Right now I’ve got to get back to town to coordinate the search for him. The press are going to have a field day with this.

I doubt there’s any real cause to be concerned, Martins said, speaking in what could only be described as a deliberately light voice, but given that he tried to kill his sister this morning, it might be wise to keep an eye on her.

Zack agreed with her doubts. He didn’t credit Kieran Wright with that great a level of intelligence, at least not based on what he had done over the past week, but he didn’t think the teen murderer was stupid enough to return to the village, especially not to kill his sister.

Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll make sure nothing happens to Tara, Melissa assured the inspector.

Good, now, what’s the situation in the village? I’ve got to go, but I want to make sure everything’s alright here before I do. You’ve lost your sergeant and one of your fellow constables, and another is in critical condition, do you have enough officers to help you maintain order here?

Melissa would have laughed at Martins’ phrasing if it wasn’t for the circumstances that had prompted the question. Outside of recent events with Kieran, Oakhurst is generally a pretty quiet place, we don’t get a lot of trouble, she said. She