Free Hurt (The Hurt Series) by D.B. Reeves

west, she looked out over the vast expanse of black grass that ended on the inky horizon. Such were the distances to the road in each direction the killer could not have parked up and made it to Darren’s car on foot in the ten minutes Rebecca said had passed between them arriving here and the killer knocking. And even if she were wrong about the time and the killer had sprinted here, such was the expanse of the park, how did he know they had taken the turn in here?
    Jessop turned south to the only direction she hadn’t explored yet: the direction the killer
must
have come from. She squinted, gazing down the tarmac drive as far as her vision allowed, a decent fifty yards or so. How far away would the killer have had to have parked for Rebecca and Darren not to have seen or heard his car?
    She called to a young PC, told him to drive his car with the lights off down the tarmac until she radioed him to stop. A moment later she was staring at the back of the squad car gradually melting into the shadows of the sycamore trees lining the drive.
    ‘Okay, stop,’ she said into the radio.
    Wearing a black overcoat, charcoal v-neck sweater, and jeans, Mason joined her in time to see the car’s brake lights blink red in the distance. ‘They wouldn’t have heard the car that far away from inside their car,’ he said.
    ‘Uh-huh.’ She looked up to the sky above where she’d seen the brake lights flash. Into the radio, she said, ‘Can you see us from there?’
    Sat in his car, somewhere in the darkness beneath the silver smudge of moonlight ahead of them, the PC replied, ‘Yeah, just about.’
    She noted the time on her watch, beckoned Mason to walk with her down the drive. They met the PC two minutes and ten seconds later. Rebecca said the killer appeared roughly ten minutes after they’d arrived. Jessop turned to face the way they’d come, and sure enough, thanks to the weak moonlight behind them, she could see Darren’s car.
    Had the killer taken in the same view, waiting in the dark for his moment to strike after following the lovers from the mall?
    Mason asked, ‘What do you think?’
    She peered down at the tarmac, spotted a squashed cigarette butt. ‘I think I wanna hear what Tom has to say.’

Chapter Eighteen
    Seated at the table in the centre of the war room, DC Tom Davies slumped back in his chair and sipped from his third can of Red Bull. Shook his head. ‘I’ve reviewed footage from every CCTV camera, traffic camera, and bus lane camera within a two mile radius of the city centre and Crossfields Park… Sorry, folks, but Darren and Rebecca were not followed tonight.’
    ‘Impossible,’ Mason sniped from behind his cup of coffee.
    ‘It is what it is,’ Davies said apologetically. Dressed in a sloppy maroon hoody, white t-shirt, khaki combat trousers and skater trainers, the twenty-seven-year-old detective raked a hand through his spiky, blonde hair and stifled a yawn.
    Jessop had borrowed Davies from PCeU (Police Central e-crime Unit) two years ago when she and the team were struggling to catch a killer who hunted victims through internet dating sites. Davies’ input had been invaluable and she had been as impressed as hell with his technological know-how and tenacity. Somehow, after they had caught the killer, Davies had forgotten to return to PCeU and had remained a welcome and permanent addition to her team.
    ‘I picked up Darren’s car leaving the mall car park at 11.26pm. Picked him up again down The Bath Road at 11.34, then again at Hurst Lane at 11.46. Eventually got him turning into Crossfields Park at 11.51pm. Sorry folks, there was no tail. No other car entered or left the park until we rocked up at 12.28pm.’
    Jessop thought about the cigarette butt she’d found, the hope it would prove significant fading fast. ‘What about footage of the park’s perimeter?’
    ‘Covered it best I can, but it’s a big area with a shit load of blind spots to sneak through, especially the north side