Free Killer Plan by Leigh Russell Page A

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    ‘Maybe we go somewhere…’ he stammered.
    She shifted in her seat and he cursed his crassness as his invitation dissipated in a clumsy misunderstanding.
    ‘No…’ he blundered on, ‘that’s not what I meant. I just want to talk.’
    It was too late. Avoiding his gaze, she pulled on her jacket and picked up her bag. Her words were brisk, but there was a sadness in her eyes as though she too regretted the way the evening was ending.
    ‘I really need to get going. Early start in the morning.’
    He wanted to reach out to her and beg her to stay. They could go out for dinner, or go for a walk, anything as long as she would listen to him, really listen. He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone – really talk – for such a long time.
    ‘See you tomorrow then. Thanks for the drink.’
    He leaned back, defeated, as they retreated into polite formality.
    ‘We must do this again.’
    ‘That would be nice.’
    Nick was furious with himself. It had taken him so long to find a woman who would actually listen to him talking about things that mattered, and he had driven her away. No doubt Sam Haley would have taken great glee in warning Geraldine about his reputation with women. It had been slow going, but finally he had begun to gain her trust. A couple of times she had even gone out for a meal with him. And now he had blown it. With a sigh he walked slowly out to his car. His wife would be waiting for him at home. He had never felt so alone.
    Only a sixth sense, drummed into him during training, compounded by years of vigilance, alerted him to a white van pulling out from the kerb as he drove away. Recently he had noticed a van just like it several times when he had been leaving work. He sped up. Glancing in the mirror he saw what could have been the same van, still right behind him. Dismissing a vague unease he slowed down. He was in no hurry to get home. Studying his rear mirror when he stopped at a red light, he was relieved to see the van had gone. The traffic was heavy along the main road. In the mirror, he saw what could have been the same van again, one vehicle away. He considered calling for backup, but all he could report was that he thought a van might be following the same route as him. Only his instincts warned him to be on his guard, but he could hardly report a feeling.
    Over the years he had put away so many vicious characters, there could be any number of ex-cons wandering around, bearing a grudge against him. Next day he would check if any villains had recently been released from the nick. If one of them owned a white van, Nick would arrange a visit. The threat of going back inside would be enough to put a stop to any nonsense. It wouldn’t be the first time this had happened to a police officer. For now, he would shake off the van – if it really was pursuing him. He didn’t want anyone following him home. As he put his foot down, there was a sudden downpour.
    There were a couple of cars between him and the van he suspected might be following him. He pulled into the kerb and took a few deep breaths as he watched several cars pass in the pouring rain. There was no sign of the van. Puzzled, he pulled out and headed towards home. And saw the van immediately behind him again. With a curse, he veered suddenly off to the left into a side street. Tyres squealing, he almost crashed into a car parked near the corner. He swerved across the road, clipping the kerb as he slammed on the brakes, and was lucky not to burst a tyre. The van had no chance of following. Shaking, he drew into a space between two parked cars and waited until he felt calm. Then he pulled out and drove home by a circuitous route.
    Eve didn’t respond although she must have heard him call her from the hall. Hungry, he went into the kitchen. She wasn’t there, although the oven was on. It was empty.
    ‘Hello,’ he called.
    When she didn’t answer, he turned off the oven, and checked the rest of the house. She wasn’t in. Relieved,