Thomas held on to the boy, his hand around his mouth, on his knees after the jump. He could feel small kicks against his shins so he clasped his hands around the boy’s jaw and squeezed hard.
He peered into the moonlight, tried to see if anyone was there, looking for a shadow, some movement. There was nothing. He could hear the shouts behind, the scramble of feet.
He looked down, saw the boy’s eyes look up at him, frightened, pleading, dark orbs above the gag.
He moved his hand and looked away. He couldn’t stand it. He started to rock, squeezed the boy harder, felt him struggle in his grasp. He looked up at the stars. They seemed to move, like pulses of light, merging and swaying, the sky shimmering as he stared upwards.
‘Nearly over,’ he whispered. He felt tears in his eyes. ‘No more pain,’ he cooed.
He looked back quickly, listened to the sounds of the chase again. The moon seemed to glow more than before, like a beacon. The shouts got louder.
He stood up, tears running down his face, the boy
writhing in his grip. He looked up at the stars once more, saw them swap positions, darting around the sky. He closed his eyes quickly, screwed them up tight, but he could still hear the shouts, the noise of hate, loud, strident, in pursuit.
He opened his eyes, saw how the moonlight gave the edge of the viaduct a silvery glow, like a stardust fringe, the foil in a banknote. Then he saw the lights of Blackley in the distance, on the other side of the valley. Sanctuary. Escape.
He felt suddenly calm. He looked down at the boy and smiled at him, hugged him, ignored the struggle and the kicks, kissed him gently on the top of his head.
Then he started to run, heading across the viaduct.
Sam crouched down against the viaduct wall, half-way along its length. The wall was only thigh-high, so he had to get down low as he tried to hide in the shadows by the railway lines. On the other side of the wall there was just a drop to the road below, a hundred feet, the cars like toys, the people on the street like tiny flickers, the lines of orange streetlights making the roofs look like sweet wrappers.
He was scared. He remembered his dreams. They were why he was here, but he didn’t believe them. He was too logical. Law wasn’t about dreams, it was about facts, about rules, bold and clear. Evidence.
But he had dreamt of this moment. Over and over. The shadows. The house. Most of all, he remembered how it ended. The fall.
What if he was wrong, though? Where would Thomas
take Henry, if not here? Or what if he made the fall come true by being there, a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Then his stomach turned over as he saw the figure running towards him. It was Thomas King, he knew that. And there was something in Thomas’s arms, something small, moving. It was Henry. He could tell from the ruffle of his hair silhouetted by the streetlights behind them, from the cry he could hear above the footsteps. He fought to stop himself from bursting forward, but he knew he couldn’t. The viaduct was only two tracks wide, no space between the track and the wall; a sudden movement might make Thomas react. The drop was dizzying. If they went over, there was no chance of survival. Instead, he lay down flat, tried to make himself disappear into the shadows. He could sense Henry’s fear, and he fought against it. He would wait until they passed him so he could take Thomas out quickly. He thought back to his rugby days. Shoulder into the ribs, side-on, drive upwards.
Then he felt something under his feet. A tingle, which grew into a rumble.
He looked over his shoulder. He could see the lights in the distance. A train. It was on his side of the tracks.
He would have to move, show himself.
Or he could wait, just as long as he could.
He closed his eyes and prayed, just a short one, the first real one for years. And then he tensed himself, ready to pounce.
Thomas could only hear his own breaths in his ears, panting hard, his legs aching, the boy getting heavy.
Then he saw the lights ahead, twin beams. He knew what they were. A train. Heading straight for him.
He stopped and looked back. He saw the intruder from the house, cast in the streetlights on the other side of the tracks. Thomas recognised him now, his mind going back to the dream meeting. It was the reporter, the one invited by Eric. And from the blue lights, he realised the other person must be a police officer.
He wasn’t going to be caught, not after all this. He wanted to be remembered for how he had brought families back together, not reviled from a prison cell.
They were running towards him. And then he saw someone else appear on the railway lines behind them. As soon as he saw the figure, he knew who it was. He recognised him from the way he held his shoulders back as he walked, from the rigid swing of his arms.
He stopped.
Strength in Unity.
Their unity. Maybe it was going to end the right way.
But he sensed the anger in his father’s walk, the disapproval, another burst of his temper. He remembered what that was like. It came back to him in flashes. Blood on his face, his father’s hand coming down on him again and again, his own screams loud in his ears.
He looked back to the train. It was almost on the viaduct now. He took deep breaths, wrapped both arms around the boy, felt the child’s heartbeat, heard the fear in his muffled sobs.
It wasn’t meant to turn out like this.
He turned away from his father and started to run.
* * *
My heart was pounding hard against my chest as we ran, Laura just ahead, panicking. I knew why: in the light of the oncoming train, I could see Thomas King, and there was something moving in his arms. Thomas was heading for the train, and running fast. He was silhouetted against the lights, all the time his shadow getting bigger.
As we ran, I glanced to the side, saw the drop down to the street, the lines of orange lights. I felt dizzy, the roofs started to blur together. Too high, I told myself. I looked ahead, tried not to think of it, and saw the moon bright and large, the stars twinkling like rhinestones.
We made good ground along the gravel, trying not to trip on the sleepers, but as we got closer to Thomas, the lights on the train got closer. I could feel the rumble in my shoes, could hear the sound of the horn. Then, as I watched Thomas running forward, I realised that he wasn’t hoping to avoid the train. He was heading straight for it. This was it. The end. It would end like they all do, in that final message, the killer’s grand gesture.
I began to shout his name, my voice hoarse, screaming. It was lost in the sound of the train.
My breaths echoed loud in my head as I ran, as my feet pounded on the gravel. The ground was uneven so I was jolted, stumbled, but I carried on, desperate, urgent. Laura was in front of me, running hard, her long athletic legs covering the ground, avoiding the tracks.
We were gaining on him. The boy looked limp in his arms, but still the train got nearer. He wasn’t slowing down.
I pushed harder, Laura too. She was screaming, ‘Stop,
Thomas, stop,’ but still he ran. She sounded frantic, scared. Thomas’s head was back now. He was going as fast as he could.
I stumbled on a dip in the ground and went to my knees. Laura looked back for a second but I screamed at her to keep going. But it slowed her down a fraction, and Thomas stretched the gap by a few yards. I scrambled back to my feet and set off again. My breaths got faster, I was running as hard as I could, and I could feel the panic rising. He was going to let the train hit him, he was running at it to shorten the braking distance, Henry in his arms.
The train lights were getting bigger as I ran, the bright yellow circles widening, the brakes screeching on the rails.
‘Thomas, don’t!’ screamed Laura.
He didn’t look back. He had the boy clasped into his chest, I could see his little legs kicking frantically, scared, getting ready for the collision.
I could hear a noise, and I thought it was Thomas. But then I realised it was Laura, screaming as she braced herself for the hit.
Sam could hear the train getting nearer behind him. The lines hummed with its approach. Thomas was still running towards him, the lights from the train reflecting off Henry’s face, white and scared, his eyes wide.
Sam flashed a look over his shoulder. It was close, hurtling towards him. He looked back and saw the gleam in Thomas’s eye. He was looking straight forward, at the train. Sam almost stepped out of the shadows, but he had to wait.
Thomas was stumbling as he ran, and Sam thought he heard him scream.
The rumble under Sam’s feet became stronger. Thomas was twenty yards away, getting closer all the time. The train sounded its horn, the brakes squealed. It was close, he thought he could feel its draught. The sound of the horn filled his head, but all the time he was watching Thomas. Ten yards away, almost on him. He saw him raise an arm to his face, bracing himself for the crash. He couldn’t hear anything, just the wheels along the rails behind him, screaming at him. Henry’s eyes were wide with fear, bright in the headlights.
Sam stood up from his crouch. He caught a flash of the train’s headlights in his eyes, bright and blinding. He ran at Thomas. His legs pumped hard into the gravel, screaming, teeth bared.
He felt his shoulder slam into Thomas’s ribs, felt them crunch, heard him grunt with pain, with surprise. His arms wrapped around Henry. His legs kept on driving, sliding in the gravel. And then they were falling.
Thomas King was still on his back when we caught up with him, the train now disappearing into the distance. He was wincing, holding his ribs. Sam was near him, holding tightly on to Henry. The boy’s little arms were clutching Sam hard, his head buried into his father’s neck.
‘It’s okay,’ whispered Sam, ‘it’s okay.’
‘It’s all over, Thomas,’ said Laura, her hands on her knees as she leaned over him, speaking in between deep breaths. ‘You are under arrest for the murder of Jess Goldie, and multiple abductions of children this summer.’ She stood up straight, sucked in lungfuls of air, all of it clean and crisp, straight off the Pennines. ‘You have the right to remain silent. But if you do not mention when questioned…’
‘Give it a rest,’ he snapped. He rolled over and gasped. ‘That bastard has broken my ribs. Aren’t you going to arrest him?’
Laura grabbed Thomas by the arm and shoved her knee into his back. ‘No,’ she said, and then shrugged. ‘Sue me.’
I heard a crunch of gravel next to me. As I looked, I saw it was Jimmy King. He was out of breath, his eyes wild.
‘What the fuck…?’ he started to say, but he seemed to run out of words.
When Thomas saw who it was, he looked back at the ground, his face jammed into the gravel. He stayed like that for a few seconds as Laura tried to contact Pete on the radio, but then he recovered and looked up at his father. ‘What next for us?’ he asked, grunting as Laura pressed harder.
Jimmy flinched but said nothing.
‘Looks like there isn’t an “us” any more,’ I intervened, my words coming out between gasps as I sucked in air.
Jimmy whirled round and looked at me, his lip curled in distaste but lost for words.
‘Looks like it’s just you now, Thomas,’ I said.
‘Strength in Unity
?’ I laughed, mocking Jimmy, trying to provoke him into a quote. ‘Only goes so far.’ I waited for Jimmy to intervene, to maybe get physical, but he didn’t. I saw confusion in his eyes.
I knelt down to Thomas’s face and spoke softly. ‘Tell me, what was it all about?’
‘Not now, Jack,’ Laura warned me.
I didn’t listen. ‘Why not now?’ I continued, my voice harsh. ‘What’s next, Thomas? A few months of shots of you in handcuffs, maybe one taken through the prison-van window. You’ll be a demon, Thomas: the child snatcher, a cold-blooded murderer.’
Laura glared at me.
‘Speak to me, Thomas,’ I yelled. ‘Tell me why.’
‘Do you think I care what the public think?’ he replied, spitting the words out. ‘Moralising idiots. They’ll demonise me, but let their own children roam the streets all night, taking drugs and drinking. I used to see them in the surgery, begging for their methadone script or for a sick note for the social, their children skinny and miserable next to them. And you call
me
the demon.’
‘Until your healing hands saved them?’ I queried. ‘I can understand that. You didn’t harm any children, not on purpose, but what about Jess, and Eric? Was that to keep them from finding you out?’
‘I saved more than I lost,’ he said. Then he sighed. ‘Look, they would have stopped me. Would you have wanted that? Go and ask the children how they feel now. Happy, I reckon.’
‘Be quiet.’
I looked round. It was Jimmy, his face white, his fists clenching and unclenching.
Thomas glared at his father. ‘What’s wrong? Feel sorry for the deluded?’ Then he laughed. ‘They actually believed they dreamt the future.’
‘Didn’t they?’ I said. ‘They predicted their own deaths?’
Thomas shook his head and then spat the words out. ‘No, they
created
their own deaths. I was going to kill them anyway; they were getting too close. They just provided the method.’
I thought back to Eric, and to his daughter, her tears, and held on to my anger.
‘Why?’ I asked. ‘You were a doctor. You could have done so much good.’
Thomas tried to sit up, but Laura pushed him back
down. ‘Do you know any doctors?’ he asked. ‘They want to be the difference between life and death. Some choose life. Some choose death. It’s nothing new. Go to the history books. You’ll find doctors who kill all the time, so stop judging.’ He looked back at Laura. ‘So Supercop is going to take me in now?’ He seemed happy. ‘Just tell everyone that I made lives better.’
I stood up and turned to Jimmy. ‘Some dynasty you’ve built here, Mr King. Would you care to comment?’
Jimmy stepped up to me. I could see the rage in his face, his features screwed up, his eyes glaring at me. I met his gaze, wanting to provoke a reaction.
But before he could react, we both heard a noise behind us. It was Laura. Thomas had turned her over, thrown her onto the tracks, and he was scrabbling away, heading for the low viaduct wall, screeching, expecting to go over the edge.
Laura reacted first. She ran at him, leaping forward, rugby-style, her arm outstretched. She clipped his heel and he stumbled. He tried to scuttle away but Laura scrambled forward and grabbed his arm. They were just a few feet away from the edge. He turned around and swung a punch at Laura, catching her in the face. She grunted in pain, but still held on. Thomas tried to get to the edge again. I ran to help and grabbed his other arm. My mind was racing, panicking. I knew that Laura would hold on.
‘Let him go,’ I hissed at Laura.
He thrashed around, his eyes wide, desperate to get to the edge. He was strong, and we were dragged with him. The wall was low and I saw where the ground gave
way to empty space, where it fell away to the road far below, and my stomach lurched.
‘Thomas, stop!’ I shouted.
The town was suddenly loud below us, cars driving under the arches, music coming from a nearby pub. I heard someone shout. Thomas stumbled forward and fell onto the wall. Laura pulled back hard, but I fell with him. The air was knocked out of me, my head just over the edge. The town below me swirled; there was nothing between me and the ground. I let go of Thomas and tried to scramble backwards, but Laura was still holding on to his arm. He was trying to go over the edge, kicking out at Laura. He caught her in the face and she winced, but then she jammed her heels into the gravel and screeched with effort, but she skidded and was pulled with him.
Thomas screamed, loud in the night, and then threw himself forward. Laura screamed with him as she held on to his arm.
He went over the edge. She was slammed into the wall, the impact knocking the wind out of her as her ribs took both their weight. But she held on to him.
Thomas’s legs kicked into the air, nothing underneath them except a hundred feet of air and the hardness of the road.
Laura shrieked and gripped harder, trying to lean backwards. I leaned forward to try to grab Thomas’s other arm, to help her take the strain. The streetlights became a blur, but Laura mustn’t go with him. I could feel her slipping, her arm bent over the top of the wall. Laura glanced at me, a desperate look.
I reached out into space and grabbed his arm with
one hand, feeling my stomach lurch as my knees slipped on the wall and I felt myself fall forward. Laura screamed ‘No!’ I grabbed the edge with my free hand. He was swinging and kicking, trying to wriggle free.
We were straining to hold on to him.
‘Thomas, don’t do it,’ I shouted. ‘Come back up. Explain yourself
Thomas didn’t answer, but then after a few seconds, I felt his struggles stop. He swung in our arms for a few seconds, and then I heard him shout, ‘Help me,’ his voice desperate.
Laura pulled backwards hard, and I went with her, kneeling on top of the wall, just one hand gripped to the edge to stop me from falling.
He was heavy. I could feel my fingers slipping on the wall. Then I realised that his hand had gripped my sleeve. If he fell, he was going to take me with him.
I looked at Jimmy, a desperate plea. He didn’t move.
‘Thomas! Jam your feet into the wall,’ I shouted, gasping.
‘I’m trying,’ Thomas shrieked.
He was twisting and spinning in our grip. Laura was straining to hold on, but then he shouted, ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it.’
His weight was taken up by his feet against the viaduct wall, his shoes finding a minute ledge, maybe just a crack in a stone.
‘We’ll start to pull you,’ said Laura, her teeth gritted.
We both leaned backwards and I felt Thomas get higher. I was able to slide down to the track, still holding on to his arm.
Laura turned back towards Sam and shouted, ‘Help us!’
He didn’t move.
‘Sam!’
The streetlights caught him hugging his son, but it didn’t seem like he’d heard.
She shouted back to Thomas, ‘We’re going to pull you up,’ the words coming out in gasps. ‘Find a foot-hold, help us, clamber up. We’ll take your weight.’
Thomas didn’t answer at first, but then I heard a quiet, ‘Let me go.’ There was another pause, and then he shouted louder, ‘Let me go!’
He started to thrash around in our arms. Laura slipped towards Thomas, sent some small stones over the edge. We didn’t hear them hit the ground. I was jolted around, and I heard Laura’s feet skid in the gravel.
‘Hold on,’ I hissed at her. ‘Don’t you dare go over with him.’
Laura leaned back. I gritted my teeth with exertion, all the time my arms were being pulled around as Thomas tried to free himself, and pulled hard.
Laura took a step backwards.
‘C’mon!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t let it be his way.’
Thomas’s head appeared at the top of the wall. His face was red, his eyes frightened. We started to pull backwards again, dragging his chest across the top of the wall, and then his knees.
We relaxed for a moment, panting, and then we felt a sudden movement. Thomas was trying to get to his feet on the wall. He pulled Laura towards him, and then he roared with the effort and stood up, his head back, his arms stretched out in front of him, straining against our grip. Then he leaned back.
‘You save people, don’t you?’ Thomas said, the words coming out in exhausted gulps.
‘Not now,’ replied Laura, her feet against the wall, her voice hoarse with effort. She had her hand around his wrist. I tried to yank him, but he was strong.
‘That’s why we’re the same, you and I,’ he said quietly. ‘We save people.’
Laura started to screech with effort. ‘Thomas, no!’
‘C’mon, Thomas, stop it!’ I yelled. I turned round to Jimmy. ‘Help us!’ My feet were losing grip in the gravel.
Jimmy looked at me for a second, and then at his son. He took a deep breath, and he shook his head. I thought I saw a tear. And then he turned and started to walk away.
‘King!’ I screamed after him. ‘It’s your son.’
Then Laura screamed. ‘No, Thomas!’
I looked along her arm and I saw that he was trying to pull his arm out of Laura’s grip. She was struggling to hold onto him. Her hands were slick with sweat, and they slipped towards his wrist.
Laura lunged to grab at him. I went with her, saw the ground flash up at me as I leaned over, the lines on the road, the gardens of nearby houses, it all swirled around below as I felt the air knocked out of me as my ribs hit the wall. I lost my grip.
Laura screamed as she tried to pull Thomas back. But he was leaning backwards, making her grip take his entire weight. I heard Laura scream again and I could see her fingers start to slip.
‘I just wanted you to see that you could have stopped it, but failed,’ he said.
‘Let him go,’ I shouted. I couldn’t grab him. He was leaning back over the drop. I grabbed hold of her waist, just to make sure she didn’t go with him.
Laura shook her head, straining to hold on to him. I saw desperation in her eyes. I looked at Thomas. He was smiling. He leaned back, one hand free, splayed outwards, his eyes looking upwards. Laura’s hand began to slide over his hand, her grip loosening, her eyes screwed up with the effort.
‘Sam!’ she screeched, asking for help. Still Sam didn’t move.
I heard her cry out, a moan, desperate. I watched his fingers slip through her grip, her hand slick with sweat. Then she flew backwards as she finally let go, landing hard on the gravel, me alongside her.
Laura wailed. I looked up. For a moment, Thomas just seemed to hang there, leaning back, nothing beneath him but the ground. Gravity had no effect; time slowed down. I saw him smile. He put his arms out, crucifixion-style, and looked upwards. Then he started to fall.
I shuddered as I heard the impact, a thud and a crack as he hit the road. There was silence for a moment. And then we heard the screams from the people below.
I put my head down on the wall. I was panting with exertion, with fear. Laura seemed distraught, as if she had failed. Then I felt her arms go over me, and she began to sob, and I could tell this time that her tears were different. They were tears of relief.