She knew they would expect her to head for the gate but after crossing the crest of the last hill before the road and out of sight of those chasing, she headed not for the gate but a point two hundred yards further up the road.
She heard the siren of the approaching police car and actually saw the look of horror on the face of the driver as she raced across the road. She heard the car skid to a halt behind her but didn't bother turning to look. She had only another hundred yards through the trees to safety.
As the wall loomed up in front she quickly obtained her bearings, found the tree she'd identified much earlier in the evening and made directly for it. She took only a few seconds to climb to the branch that hung over the top of the wall. She moved along the branch, hanging upside down on all fours, until she could sit on the top of the wall. She turned and fired a shot at someone she saw stick his face out from behind a tree, then suspended herself by her fingertips and dropped the few feet to the ground where she knew Eduardo would be waiting.
Miller drove Tom and Taylor back to the ponds car park. They had searched but found no sign of the woman. The consensus was that she had used the tree to escape over the wall into the new housing estate where probably she had a car waiting. Certainly, that was the general direction from which the shot had been fired at Miller. He hadn't heard the shot but heard the impact it made on the bark of the tree he was hiding behind.
From where they lost her to the busy A23 was only five minutes and it would have been easy for her to get away. They were organizing a house to house search of the housing estate but more in the hope someone had seen her, rather than thinking they would actually find her hiding in some garden bush.
Tom was surprised and relieved to learn Simpson had been wearing a bullet proof vest. When they arrived back at the car park, Pete was waiting to greet them with the news Simpson had been taken away by ambulance but was obviously going to live. The bullet had missed his vest and gone through his upper arm causing just a bit of superficial damage.
“How was the jogger?" Miller asked. “And who the hell was she?”
"I’m fine, thanks,” came the response in a decidedly American accent.
Melanie had been bent over tying up her shoe lace and neither Miller nor Tom had spotted her. Now together they both turned in her direction in shock.
“What the hell were you thinking of!” Tom exclaimed. “Are you raving mad?” He recalled his telephone conversation with Melanie, telling her what he planned to do and her initial protestations. She had asked him specific questions about the location and time of the meeting and now he understood why. He was almost lost for words.
Miller was smiling, observing the interaction between Tom and Melanie. It was the second time he had seem them together and it was apparent to him they had a strong bond.
“Seems to me Miss Adams we all owe you a vote of thanks. Isn’t that so Mr Ashdown?”
Tom mumbled agreement. Melanie had saved his life and he felt a fool for having shouted at her. He moved towards her and took her in his arms. He was oblivious of the faces staring at him as he bent to kiss her.
“Perhaps we should all say thanks like that,” Taylor remarked when Tom had finished.
“Don’t mind if you do,” Melanie joked.
Tom laughed. “As they’re all on duty perhaps I’d better act on their behalf,” and he kissed her again, even more passionately than the first time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Miller accepted that tip offs were an essential part of policing. This though was taking the piss. An unknown female with an Irish accent had called to report the whereabouts of the body of a certain Brendan Connor. Miller knew who the bloody woman was. Didn’t know her name but knew her work. And she was laughing at him. The caller had directed them to this address but she had also made a point of leaving the message, “better luck next time.”
Miller surveyed the lounge where Connor was found and wondered if this was the end of the killing. Ashdown and Melanie Adams were going to organize permanent bodyguards, which she’d suggested, declining the offer of police protection. Given he had only been proposing a single officer for protection, she had felt the need for a much larger team. Miller was very happy to agree that his officers’ time would be better spent finding the guilty rather than on protection duties.
It was a small terraced house with a musty smell that at first glance looked sparsely furnished. To Miller it looked like a safe house rather than somewhere someone lived permanently. It was probably the bolt hole where Connor had fled from Brighton. Miller smiled at how this young girl had managed to enter the house and kill a professional like Connor.
He certainly wouldn’t bemoan Connor’s passing. In other circumstances he would have raised a glass to the girl. Perhaps it was her very youth that had made him careless and allowed her to get so close. He did wonder if perhaps she had not acted alone. She had been alone though in the park.
What was her reason for killing Connor, he had
