Free Psycho Alley by Nick Oldham Page A

anything ever thought possible; a man who had ruined more than one life and who, the person in the shadow had decided, would suffer as a consequence.
    They rode up a floor in the lift, then walked out of the police station and across the mezzanine which led to the level in the multi-storey car park on which the police had secure parking. Henry’s leg was back to hurting like hell, probably, he guessed, due to tiredness more than anything. He was aching for sleep. They trotted down the concrete steps and through the secure gate on to the police-only parking level.
    Henry’s car was the nearest, his trusty Mondeo. He clicked the remote and heard the thud of the doors unlocking.
    They stopped walking.
    â€˜Well, see you tomorrow, bright and breezy,’ Henry said, turning to Debbie. She did not respond verbally. Instead she looked up at him with one of those expressions which sent a shimmer of anticipation through him, like a bolt of electricity. There was a moment of – literally – charged silence, then she stepped close, face to face, only inches away. For the third time that evening, his heart started to beat faster than resting pace without the inconvenience of physical exercise. He hoped he didn’t have any clogged arteries.
    â€˜Thanks for letting me on to the team.’ She sounded husky.
    â€˜ ’S OK.’ His throat was dry.
    â€˜I appreciate it.’ She moved closer. Her arms slid up around his neck. She rose on tiptoe, paused for the briefest of moments – for effect – before planting her lips on to his.
    For a second, Henry wanted to struggle and push her away; it was only a second, because her lips tasted good, the smokiness of her breath somehow giving her a vague taste of liquorice. One of his hands encircled her and pulled her into him until the kiss ended naturally and she dropped back on to the flats of her feet.
    â€˜I’ve wanted to do that for almost fifteen years,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Believe it or not, I’ve never kissed another cop before.’
    â€˜Was it worth it?’
    She nodded, lips slightly parted. ‘You bet. Want to do it again?’
    Henry swallowed, some moisture back in his throat, making what should have been an easy decision quite hard. ‘I don’t think so, but thanks, it was nice.’
    â€˜OK,’ she whispered, ‘I understand.’
    â€˜Right … er … goodnight.’
    She touched his jacket gently, gave him a look which he translated into something very hot. She spun and walked slowly across to her car, hips swaying gently, knowing Henry was ogling her. Henry watched her gradually disappear into the shadows before breathing out and climbing into the Mondeo. His mind rattled madly. He needed another drink now. ‘Get home, get a JD with ice, get to bed and forget this shit,’ he said to himself, inserting his key into the ignition and starting up. He drove out of the space – the one now reserved solely for him – and within less than a few feet of motion, he knew something was wrong. He stopped, got out, checked the tyres.
    The rear nearside was as flat as an iron.
    The words which emanated from his mouth were not pretty nor lyrical.
    On the other side of the car park he heard Debbie’s car fire up. He stood uselessly by his car as she drove slowly towards him and stopped. Her electric window descended.
    â€˜Changed your mind?’ she asked coquettishly.
    â€˜Flat tyre.’ He indicated the offending Firestone.
    â€˜That’s a bugger,’ she grinned.
    â€˜Yeah. Better get on with changing it.’ He headed to the boot of the Mondeo, opened it, picked his way through assorted clothing, magazines, Wellington boots, hoping like mad the spare wasn’t flat, too. He could not even recall the last time he’d checked it.
    â€˜Need any help?’ Debbie called.
    Henry replied from the depths of the spare wheel well. ‘No, I’ll be fine,