The Last 10 Seconds

‘That was the kidnapper,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s told me where to go to collect Billy. And he’s told me to come alone.’

Fifty-one

The sound of the shotgun blast was deafening, and for a second Tina thought she’d been hit. She was knocked backwards, letting go of Gore’s arm in the process, and as she landed on the carpet she saw Gore fly past her and crash through the open study door. Grier, meanwhile, was leaning back against the staircase, looking dazed. Smoke billowed through the air leaving a bitter stink in its wake, and as it cleared, Tina saw Jane Gore place the barrels of the shotgun underneath her chin, her face a mask of bitter emotion.

Tina only had time to shout her name before Jane Gore pulled the trigger for a second time, blowing the top of her own head off in a cloud of smoke and blood spray. She remained standing perfectly upright for a long moment, then crumpled to the floor like a stringless marionette.

For several seconds, the house was silent. Neither Tina nor Grier moved, as the shock of what had just happened seeped in. Tina had been in situations where firearms had been discharged before. She’d been on the receiving end of them twice, remembered the pain all too well, but she’d never been able to get used to the speed with which they could snuff out a life.

Finally, she clambered to her feet. Mrs Gore was beyond help. Half her head was missing. But Tina wasn’t sure of the severity of her husband’s injuries, and they badly needed him alive, so she rushed into the study, already reaching for her mobile to call an ambulance.

But as soon as she saw him, she knew it was too late. Gore lay on his back in the middle of the floor, his eyes closed. Shotgun injuries at close range are usually far more serious than gunshot wounds as the shotgun pellets don’t have the chance to disperse, and this was no exception. There was a huge, uneven hole in his chest, exposing internal organs, including his heart, which didn’t appear to be beating.

‘Oh Jesus,’ she whispered, frantically feeling for a pulse. She thought she found something faint, but even as she tried to measure it, it disappeared. ‘Come on, come on,’ she whispered, but there was nothing there. Nothing at all. Gore was dead, as was her chance of finally bringing Wise to justice.

She stood up and called the ambulance, telling the operator to hurry even though she knew it was too late, before walking back into the hallway, feeling shaky on her feet.

Grier was beside Mrs Gore. As Tina approached him, he rose, shaking his head, blood on his clean shirt, and his hands too. ‘She’s gone,’ he said, his face pale.

Tina steadied herself against the wall. ‘And so are our chances of getting Wise, because Gore is too.’

A wave of nausea washed over her, and she staggered past Grier and the ruined body of Mrs Gore, flung the door open and gulped in the fresh early-morning air. The street was empty. There weren’t even any curtains twitching. It was as if the terrible events that had just occurred had passed everyone else by.

The nausea subsided and Tina stood in the sunlight for a good minute, taking deep breaths. A milk float passed by, the milkman giving her an odd look, and she suddenly wished she could have a job like that, where you never had to deal with the dregs of society, and see so clearly its open, gaping wounds, or the evil that seeped through it from the top all the way down to the gutter.

Her mobile was ringing. She pulled it from her jeans, and checked the number. Mike Bolt. She felt a sudden relief. If there was one person she could deal with speaking to now, it was him.

‘Are you OK, Tina?’ he asked when she answered.

‘No,’ she replied, her voice cracking, and she told him what had just happened.

‘And he’s definitely dead?’

‘They both are. It was a murder/suicide.’

He exhaled, and didn’t speak for a few seconds. ‘Well, the shit’s going to hit the fan now,’ he said at last. ‘Make sure you’ve got a Federation representative present when they interview you, because this is going to be a major scandal, and they’re going to be looking for scapegoats.’

‘I was just doing my job, Mike,’ Tina protested, knowing how defensive she sounded, but angry that she was so close to solving a major crime, and was now going to be held responsible for the death of a killer.

‘I know that. You know that. But that may well not be enough. You’ve got too much of a habit of getting involved in messy cases, and that’s going to make you vulnerable to accusations that you provoked things. Maybe even more.’

‘I recorded our interview with Gore, so his confession’s on the record, but I’d stopped it before the shooting. Do you think it’s going to be enough to go after Wise?’

Bolt sighed. ‘I don’t know, but I’d hide the recording somewhere safe, because a case like this, involving a high-ranking government minister, is ripe for a cover-up. No one in the corridors of power’s going to want a scandal this size out in the public domain.’