Chapter Sixteen
A Rush of Death
Jason realised what was about to happen a second before impact and prepared for the hit. He leapt into the air, avoiding the full force of the bumper, spinning across the window and roof before landing with a roll on the other side of the vehicle.
There was no time to stay down. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder and right side, he pushed into a crouch, and saw the fiery brake lights as the car came to a stop about fifty yards ahead, still up on the pavement.
Marc was behind him, face down on the ground.
There was a harsh grinding of gears then the scream of the engine as the driver put the car into reverse.
Marc was out of it. There was no way Jason could lift him in the time they had.
Jason fell on top of him, heedless of his weight. He wrapped his arms around Marc and hauled, twisting and rolling. His body was a dead weight, but Jason summoned the strength from somewhere. He spun over him, pulling with all he had, gaining momentum to send them sprawling over the kerb and into the road .
There was a screaming blur of black metal and red lights as the car ran over the spot where they had lain seconds before. The driver mustn’t have seen their roll to safety.
Before the maniac could react further, Jason got up and heaved Marc across his shoulder. No longer thinking, he allowed his survival instincts to take over.
The car reached another screeching halt. The pavement was streaked with skid marks. The air filled with the stench of burning rubber.
He heard another noisy gear change as the car was shoved back into first. The driver was coming for them again in a rush of death.
Hoisting Marc into a firefighter’s lift, Jason ran in front of the approaching car. The weight on his back was immense. Pain shot up his legs from an injured ankle. He didn’t have the speed he needed.
He wasn’t going to make it.
Then he crashed into the recessed doorway of a warehouse.
The slipstream of the car tore across his back as it sped by them.
There was the further screeching of brakes, followed by the blare of car horns. Other vehicles had arrived, skidding to a stop as their drivers realised what was happening.
Jason eased Marc into a sitting position, sheltered by the doorway.
The car that had tried to run them down was at a standstill on the pavement ahead of him.
It was a black saloon. He struggled to focus on the registration plate.
Who the fuck was in there ?
Suddenly Jason was consumed by rage. He reacted with instinct again, racing forward, pounding the pavement towards the car. When he caught whoever was inside, he would beat the shit out of them.
Getting closer, he made out the first couple of letters on the plate, NC.
The engine gave another roar and the vehicle lurched forward. There was a crunching sound as the chassis tore against the kerb when it crashed down from the pavement to the road. Then, with an eruption of speed, the car sped to the end of the street and shot around the corner.
Jason staggered to a stop. The pain in his ankle and ribs increased a hundredfold.
There were voices behind him. Shouts for help.
He turned to see someone leaning over Marc in the doorway. A woman nearby on her phone.
The reality of what had just happened landed heavily and his legs gave out from under him. Jason collapsed to the ground, unable to take another step. His voice was capable of only one word.
“ Marc .”
* * * *
“Where is he?” Jason asked. Just the effort of talking caused his head to hurt, as if a spear had been driven through his skull. The bright lights of the hospital treatment room made him wince. He shielded his eyes with his hand.
Jason had just been wheeled back from the X-ray department. He’d been fortunate, according to the radiologist. He had one broken rib on his right side. Other than that, he’d walked away from the impact of the car with a mild concussion and a sprained ankle.
The British Asian nurse who’d been in charge of his care since he’d been admitted urged him to be calm. Her name was Melony. “Don’t get agitated,” she told him in hushed tones. “You’re going to be discharged soon. You need to relax as much as possible.”
“But where is Marc. Where is he?”
“Your friend went into surgery while you were having the X-rays.”
“Surgery!” Shit . He’d known Marc had taken the brunt of the impact, but no one would tell him how serious his injuries were.
“Don’t worry,” Nurse Melony said, as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his left arm. “He’ll be fine. He’d didn’t get off quite as lightly as you did, but he’s doing well. He has a broken arm. The ulna on his left side. He needs surgery to reset the bone before they put a cast on.”
He breathed with relief and closed his eyes against the light. It was painfully bright. “Is that all?”
“He’s concussed, like you are. And he’ll be sore all over for a few days, but he’s been lucky. You both have.”
Lucky . Some crazed idiot had driven a car onto the pavement and tried to run them over.
Just like Theo.
Coincidence? At the same time as they were investigating Theo’s murder. Not fucking likely .
They were getting closer to the truth. Maybe too close.
The blood pressure cuff inflated, squeezing his arm.
“You don’t happen to know your friend’s next of kin?” Melody asked. “He said he didn’t want anyone notified of his accident, but there must be someone who wants to know.”
His parents. Poor Marc. He wouldn’t want them to know the exact same thing that took the life of their youngest son had almost befallen him. Everything they were doing was for their protection.
“I don’t know,” he said. Only half true. He could have found their contact details easily enough. “But it’s late. There’s no point worrying anyone until the morning. Especially when you say he’s going to be okay, right?”
“I guess not. But if he was my brother, I’d want to know.”
She finished his blood pressure check and pronounced him in good condition. “The doctor will be along in a few minutes to discharge you.”
“I want to wait for Marc.”
She nodded. “I’ll find out which ward they have taken him to and let you know.” She put away her equipment. “There’s a police officer outside, if you want to talk to him.”
He nodded, then winced at the pain the movement triggered. “Send them in.”
He was a grateful a moment later when a familiar face stepped through the curtain. Benito Coppola. The Detective Sergeant was his usual smart, handsome self. Even in the middle of the night, he managed to turn it out.
Jason had already given a detailed statement straight after the crash.
“Any news?” he asked.
Benito stood over him. His head and broad shoulders blocked out some of the horrendous florescent light. “Last week I met you at the scene of one murder. Now tonight, I’m here because someone tried to kill you. Are you ready to tell me what’s really going on?”
Jason ignored the question. “Did you find the driver?”
“Not yet. But we found the car. It was burned out on the coastal road. Remind you of anything?” Benito pulled out a chair and sat beside the bed.
Jason shielded his eyes against the glare again.
“Marc hired me to investigate the murder of his brother.”
“I figured that out for myself.”
“What about the car?”
“Stolen. Like the one that killed Theo Glass.”
“Someone doesn’t want us to know the truth.”
“Maybe someone should have trusted what they were doing to the police.” Was there a hint of animosity in Benito’s voice? Jason definitely detected a note of sarcasm.
“Because the cops did such a great job with the initial investigation,” Jason shot back defiantly.
Benito rolled his eyes. “Fair point. And Dan Blumel?”
“He was going to tell me what he knew about Theo on the night he was killed.”
“Fuck. Why didn’t you tell us any of this?”
Jason massaged his forehead. “Lower your voice, will you? It fucking hurts.”
Benito edged closer but spoke softly. “Come on, if you are on to something, you have a duty to share it.”
“How come the police didn’t know this stuff anyway? I don’t have your resources or manpower, but I tracked Dan down in no time. ”
“And you almost got yourself killed. You have to stop and let us take care of it from here.”
Jason shuffled up the bed. He tried to sit forward until the pain in his broken rib gave him an excruciating reminder to keep still. “Are you people going to put any more effort into tracing the driver who came after us tonight, than whoever killed Theo Glass?”
Benito pursed his lips and nodded. “After tonight, they’ll have to.”
Jason gazed at the detective. Benito was genuine. He wanted to truly believe that Blyham police would treat the case more seriously now. Maybe they would, for a day or so at least, maybe until the end of the week. How much faith could he put in Benito, anyway? Just because he was gay it didn’t mean he was an ally to the community. As a Detective Sergeant, he was embedded in the institutionally homophobic Blyham force.
“How’s the investigation going into Dan’s murder? Any suspects? Any arrests?”
“I’m not on that team.”
“Of course you’re not. And yet we both know the answer to those questions is no.” Jason sighed and put his forearm over his eyes again. The light sensitivity was crippling. The doctor he’d spoke to earlier had told him it could last up to forty-eight hours. “Just leave me alone. I’ve told you all I can for tonight. All I care about right now is knowing Marc is okay.”
“I need to know what you’ve discovered about Theo’s death,” Benito said insistently.
“Then get a fucking warrant. Marc is my client, not Blyham police. I’m already doing your damn job for you. If you want to know who is responsible for this, put some genuine fucking manpower into the investigation instead of your bullshit lip service.”