Chapter 99

Chapter 99

It was time to disappear.

So far, everything had gone according to plan. He'd escaped the family home, concealed all trace of the girls, hidden the laptop and camera equipment in an overflowing skip, done everything he could think of to distance himself from the unfolding catastrophe, but Dave Reynolds still knew he was on borrowed time.

Graham Armstrong was probably talking, no doubt some others too, the full scale of their operation slowly becoming apparent. And what of Jackie? He hoped, he expected, her to be loyal, but who could say that she'd be able to hold out? She'd always been weak and he wouldn't put it past her to fold under heavy pressure from Grace. If so, Reynolds' name, his flight from justice, would have been disseminated to every officer, every border official, perhaps to the press too. His face would grace the news tonight, making him a hunted man. It was imperative therefore to move swiftly, to vanish from the city as fast as possible, to put as much distance between himself and his crimes as he could. Perhaps if they never found the girls, perhaps if they never found him, their investigation might eventually run out of steam. A lot of hearsay, a lot of lurid allegations, but no smoking gun. Perhaps they would hit a brick wall and reluctantly move on, distracted by fresher, more urgent offences?

That was for the future, however. Now it was all about survival. Keeping his cap pulled firmly down, Dave Reynolds hurried on his way, avoiding the gaze of passers-by by pretending to be messaging on his phone. He knew his route by instinct, had played out this exact scenario a dozen times, future-proofing his escape plans. But now it was actually happening, now it was real . He prayed that his preparations would prove adequate, that he hadn't overlooked any obvious flaw in his planning, but how could he be sure? In the past, when he'd role-played his retreat, he'd been confident, in command, purposeful. But now that it was actually here, he felt exposed and ill at ease, seeing danger everywhere.

He felt sure that the streets would be swarming with uniformed officers, that scores of his old colleagues would be searching high and low for him, each keen to be the one who finally brought him in. Could he risk sticking to the pavements and walkways? He had no choice really, but the thought still made him extremely nervous. His destination was nearly thirty minutes' walk away, half an hour out in the open, exposed to God knows what. Surely that was too big a risk to take? Especially when the stakes were so high. Exposure now would lead to a lifetime behind bars, if he was lucky to survive that long at the hands of his fellow inmates, who'd be itching to have a crack at him. Such a fate was unthinkable, so changing direction sharply, Dave Reynolds made a decision. Speed was of the essence now, so hurrying across the road, he made his way towards a nearby taxi rank. Hailing a cab would be risky, but at least it would be quick, his nerves already shot at the thought of continuing out in the open. Hurrying to the nearest taxi, he bent down by the open window, dropping his voice half an octave as he said:

‘Woolmer Road, please, quick as you can, mate.'

Was it the tension in his voice? Some hint of anxiety in his expression? Either way, the cab driver was clearly intrigued by his request, staring at him with open curiosity, running his eyes over his face. Did he recognize him? Was his photo already doing the rounds? Or had this driver read Garanita's hatchet job a couple of days back?

‘Actually, on second thoughts, it's a nice day, so …'

He straightened up as he spoke, patting the roof of the car, before heading on his way. Despite his jaunty tone, Reynolds' heart was thumping, beads of sweat creeping down his temple. Was it his imagination or could he feel the cab driver's eyes on his back even now, drinking in his hasty retreat? It had been foolish to engage with him, weak even, and he might yet pay a heavy price for his rashness. For so long able to offend in plain sight, David Reynolds had never felt so visible, never felt such a marked man, as he did today.