Miss No One Mark Ayre (children's books read aloud TXT) 📖

Kilman," Abbie said, moving on. "As you didn't plump for the word murdered or, given your hyperbolic mood, slaughtered, I'm guessing he’s alive?”

Ndidi still held the phone aloft, though that right arm had to be aching. He dropped the left. In his rage, he still hadn't noticed the gun.

For a few seconds, he considered. He wasn't sure how much to say. He was near lost in his rage and confusion.

In the end, the detective made the right choice.

"Kilman's in hospital. Last I heard he was fighting for his life, but the chances weren't good. The doctors aren't hopeful."

"No?" said Abbie.

"Disappointed?" said Ndidi.

Abbie smiled but shook her head. In fact, she was relieved. The longer Kilman clung to life, the more chance he had of exonerating Abbie and getting the police heat off her back. If he could survive, that would be ideal.

Regardless, she didn't expect the detective would be in any position to talk in the next 60 odd hours. Abbie would have to save Isabella while remaining as public enemy number one.

"Disappointed?" she said. "Not me."

Ndidi laughed at these words, but the laugh was false. Abbie wasn't sure if Ndidi was a good detective. It was abundantly clear he was a crap actor.

"It's true Kilman came to the school to arrest me," said Abbie. "Even pointed a gun at my head and told me to raise my hands. But I didn't shoot him."

"Riddled his torso with bullets himself, did he?"

"Don't be silly," said Abbie. "We were attacked by a lone gunman. We escaped his first barrage of shots, and, before the shooter downed Kilman, we had a chance to talk. Together, I think we discovered why we were lured to the school and attacked."

Poor Ndidi. As she spoke, Abbie watched the detective try oh so hard to keep his eyes and expression from revealing the truth of his feelings. He needed more practice. It was so clear.

"It was Gary's job to lure me," Abbie said, moving back along the story's timeline. "We chatted on the way. He told me he’d been dealing drugs for the owners of Lucky Draw. You’ll know all about them, of course. Such criminals are always known to the local police, even if the cops can’t gather enough evidence to make arrests."

Ndidi met Abbie’s eye but didn’t confirm or deny.

“Before Isabella’s kidnappers became Isabella’s kidnappers, they met Gary,” Abbie continued. “Coerced him into revealing all the information he had on Lucky Draw. It wasn’t much but might have included the name of a police officer who was in their pocket. That would be mighty useful information to these kidnappers, huh?”

Ndidi’s eyes had been angry but confused. Something seemed to click as Abbie ended her sentence.

“Hang on,” Ndidi said, anger turning to rage. “You’d better not be implying what I think you’re implying.”

Raising her hands, Abbie said, “Not implying anything. Merely relaying what Gary and I discussed. He said Lucky Draw discovered his betrayal and sent their enforcer to punish him.” Abbie paused, letting this sink in, then continued: “by which I don’t mean a spanking or a ticking off. I mean, for example, a vicious attack on open ground beside a grubby toilet block. For example.”

Ndidi was taking slow, deliberate breaths. Trying to control his temper.

“You think I work for the scum at Lucky Draw? You think I attacked Gary on their say so?”

“Again,” said Abbie. “I’m more relaying Gary’s words than actively pointing fingers. I remember how you responded to my corruption talk earlier. I think you’ll agree it’s not a mischaracterisation to say you were livid?”

“Of course I was livid. There are no worse creatures in this world than corrupt police officers.”

“Strong stance,” noted Abbie. “And that hatred is directed mostly at former superiors, people you respected, who turned out to be corrupt?”

“Obviously. Who else?”

Abbie didn’t answer right away. Recalling her conversation with Christine, she thought of Hammond. Ndidi had claimed to respect the DCI. Was it possible he had known Hammond was corrupt? Was Hammond one of those superiors that inspired such hatred of corruption in Ndidi? Or was the answer simpler still?

“Gary became a drug dealer several years ago,” said Abbie. “Now, he hates what he’s become but doesn’t know how to escape his life of crime.”

This was enough. Abbie didn’t need to explain herself because Ndidi caught her words and inferred her implication. He still seemed on the verge of explosion but forced himself to be calm.

“You think my hatred of corrupt police officers is self-loathing?”

“It’s a potential explanation.”

“It’s incorrect. It’s a despicable lie.”

“Could be,” said Abbie, finding an easy calm even as Ndidi struggled not to blow up. “Like I said, Gary lured me to the school today. Isabella’s kidnappers made him do that. They could also have fed him lies to answer my inevitable questions. One of those lies might have been that you attacked Gary on the order of Lucky Draw.”

“I don’t know if you were lured to the school or not, and I’m not saying I believe your claims that someone framed you for Kilman’s shooting. You still seem the most likely suspect to me.”

“But?”

“But, if Gary told you I attacked him on the word of Lucky Draw, he’s a filthy liar. Hardly difficult to believe of a low life, drug dealing scumbag.”

“You’re quite right,” said Abbie. “Further evidence against Gary’s claim is that I’ve already seen proof he will distort the truth when pressured by someone more powerful than him. Someone willing to break the law and frighten the weak.”

This pushed Ndidi to breaking point. Whether he was corrupt or not, being reminded of immoral actions he had taken made his blood boil. Abbie was sure this was to do with self-loathing.

“I explained that,” he said.

“You couldn’t risk your daughter becoming parentless?”

“Exactly.”

“Laudable,” said Abbie. “So why did you attack Gary?”

Like a grenade, Abbie tossed the question in the hope of knocking Ndidi off balance and maybe inspiring an honest answer even the detective was surprised he was giving.

The blow certainly unbalanced Ndidi, but he regained his footing before he could reveal anything he sought to keep hidden.

“I don’t