Tyler put a protective arm around Flowers and helped her to her feet. “We’ll get you straight to hospital and have you checked out,” he promised.
“Will you come with me?” she asked, longingly.
He shook his head sadly. “I’d like to, but I can’t,” he told her, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. “I’ve got to stay and sort this mess out, but I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can get away.”
After what she had been through, he suspected that Kelly would be kept in for overnight observations at the very least.
◆◆◆
Within minutes, the scene was awash with fire engines, ambulances, and uniformed cops. Dillon had been right: the LFB had been inundated with calls about the four explosions, which had been heard from as far as two miles away.
At least half of the 80-metre long building was being hungrily consumed by flames, and a thick black cloud of foul-smelling smoke was now polluting the night sky. Twelve pumps had been dispatched to the scene, but Tyler wasn’t sure if that would be enough. The Senior Fire Officer had ordered that a twenty-five-metre exclusion zone be put in place. Fortunately, the warehouse was in a remote location and could be cordoned off without the need for mass evacuations.
Simon Pritchard had been taken to hospital on blues and twos, with a Traffic car providing an escort. His chances of survival were regarded as slim, and even if he pulled through, there was a good chance he would end up as a vegetable. Personally, Tyler hoped that he would do the decent thing and die. The case had been solved, and he saw no reason to waste tax payers’ money on a convoluted, and very expensive, trial – or on keeping a monster like Pritchard locked up for the next thirty odd years.
Kelly seemed to be feeling much better, and she was protesting about going to the hospital. “I want to stay here and help out,” she insisted.
Tyler resorted to pulling rank. “DC Flowers, you’re unfit for duty through injury, and you will go to hospital and have a check-up,” he told her in a mock stern voice. And then he smiled warmly. “If the quack clears you, you can come back in tomorrow. If not, relax and enjoy a few days off. You’ve earned it after tonight.”
“I’m sorry about wrecking the car,” she told him. “I hope the Traffic skipper who reports the collision will take pity on me.”
“The way I see it, Pritchard deliberately rammed you to get at his wife, who you were in the process of driving away from danger. And, as you were on the main road, and he was joining it, you had right of way.” It wasn’t quite how it had happened, but it was close enough to satisfy a garage sergeant’s curiosity.
Kelly smiled. “Oh yeah, I didn’t think of it like that.”
“Go and get checked out,” Tyler told her. “I’ll come up after, and we can grab a coffee – if you want to, that is?”
“I want to, very much,” she told him, smiling. “Tell me,” she asked, studying him inquisitively. “Was I dreaming, or did you kiss me earlier, when I was lying on the floor after the killer ran off?”
Tyler blushed. “Well, I…that is…”
Luckily, he was spared any further embarrassment by the appearance of George Holland. “So, is it true?” The DCS asked, leading him to one side. “Have we finally got him?”
Tyler nodded. “We have,” he said. “And we have all the evidence we could ever need to put him away for the rest of his natural, not that he’s likely to live very long.” Tyler then talked Holland through the rather harrowing events of the last couple of hours.
◆◆◆
Dillon found Sarah Pritchard sitting in the back of an ambulance, receiving treatment from a paramedic. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“My shoulder is in agony,” she said, grimacing. “I dread to think how much damage that bastard did when he hit me with a hammer.”
Dillon winced at the mental image of Pritchard attacking his wife in the back of the van. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, softly. “How are you feeling after – you know – having to do what you did?”
She gave him a wan smile. “I don’t really know. Numb, I suppose.”
“It’s understandable,” he told her. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re an incredibly brave woman. You saved Kelly’s life tonight. Without your intervention, she would be dead.”
“Am I going to get into any trouble?” Sarah asked. “You know, for hitting Simon on the head with a rock.” She mimed the act, just in case Dillon hadn’t understood the question.
“Don’t worry, Sarah,” he said, taking her hand. “You won’t get in any trouble. In fact, you’ll get a bloody medal, if I have any say in the matter.”
“It all feels so unreal,” she said. “My life has been a sham. The man I thought loved me was a monster. How do you move on from that?”
Dillon shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but you’re a strong woman and I’m confident that you will find a way.”
As he waved the ambulance off, it occurred to Dillon that the majority of the team was still out searching for Pritchard, and probably had no idea what had been happening here. He pulled out his phone to update them, but there was no signal. He supposed he should be grateful it still worked at all after his recent dunking in the Thames. Feet squelching with every step, and shivering from the cold, he set off to find a car with a Main-Set. He would have to radio the SCG Reserve and get them to ring each of the skippers to give them the news.
There was still a ton of work to do before the case was match fit for court – if Pritchard survived long enough to stand trial, but with a bit of luck, the team might actually get a day off this weekend.
EPILOGUE
Saturday 13th
