Her husband thought he was a hero.
Singh had taken an instant disliking to him.
Due to a nationwide request that any information for Sam Pope be run through this channel, the officer awaited further instruction.
Singh told him to sit tight, put two squad cars either side of the house, and wait for them to get there. It would take just over forty minutes with the blues and twos going.
As soon as she’d slammed down the phone, she gave the order for a small Armed Response unit to mobilise, following them to the armoury with every intention to go with them. After what had happened in Shepherd’s Bush, she was adamant she would bring Sam Pope through the doors herself.
‘Singh,’ a stern voice called out. ‘A word.’
Singh angrily stopped in her tracks, her face relaxing with respect as Assistant Commissioner Ashton approached. Other officers stood to attention, their senior nodding her approval.
‘Yes, Ma’am?’
‘What’s the commotion?’
‘We have him, Ma’am. Pope. He’s at an acquaintance’s house in Farnham. I’ve deployed an AR unit and we are heading there now.’
‘Hmm.’ Ashton rubbed her chin. ‘It’s risky. The man is smart and heavily trained in the art of disappearing. Surely he won’t stay in one place for long enough for you to reach him.’
‘It’s not a social call, Ma’am. I have reason to believe that he is investigating a missing person and…’
‘How have you come across this information?’ Ashton could sense Singh’s impatience and decided to take a menacing step closer, underlining her authority. ‘Is this a new line of enquiry?’
‘Yes, Ma’am. I had to act quickly and DI Pearce theorised that…’
‘Pearce? Don’t make me laugh,’ Ashton spat. ‘The man is a busted flush on borrowed time. When I told you to use every resource available, Singh, I didn’t mean for you to waste your time.’
Singh scowled. The van was ready to go and she wanted to be on it. She glanced towards the window, the darkness falling over the city earlier than ever. Regardless of the time of day, the rain continued to batter the city.
‘I haven’t been wasting my time,’ Singh insisted. ‘I’ve been doing what you asked me to. Bring in Sam Pope. Now if you don’t mind, Ma’am, that’s what I intend to do.’
Ashton glowered at Singh, her opinion of the ambitious DI flipping back and forth like an acrobat. After a few more moments, she slowly stood to the side.
‘Then get it done,’ Ashton said coldly. ‘Otherwise the next time we talk, I won’t be so polite.’
Singh stormed past her superior, instantly regretting the animosity between the two of them. As a high-ranking female, Ashton was someone she’d looked up to as a mentor. It was Ashton who had pushed for Singh to be put in charge of this task force and had been a guiding presence in her career for many years.
But Singh knew how the game was played.
If the task force failed, it wouldn’t be Ashton who’d be thrown under the bus.
It would be her.
Sam Pope was the key to her career growing or dying. Her mission was slowly becoming an obsession which was pushing her to breaking point.
So, as she stood outside the mansion in Farnham, the rain slapping her face with mocking repetition, she jostled impatiently from foot to foot.
The lights in the house died.
Word came through on the radio that they’d breached.
Moments later, a gunshot echoed throughout the house.
Followed by another.
The two other armed officers abandoned their posts at the gate and hurried towards the building as a panicked voice crackled through the radio. Kayleigh Etheridge, the helpful trophy wife who watched from the van, looked terrified.
Singh’s eyes narrowed, her hand snapping to the holster on her belt, the handle of her gun brushing against her handcuffs.
When a third gunshot rang out into the torrential rain, Singh’s resolve broke. Allowing her obsession to catch Sam Pope to take the wheel, she darted through the gate, towards the war erupting in the house.
As the shadows of the stairwell engulfed him, Sam slowly removed his Glock from the back of his jeans and held it loosely in his hand. He reached the first floor, listening carefully as the muffled steps of the armed team tried to carefully navigate the ground floor layout.
Sam had committed it to memory. The placement of furniture. The number of steps from the kitchen to the stairs. He counted backwards from three and sure enough, a beam of light filtered up the stairs. Sam took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted was another altercation with the police, but with the idea of Jasmine Hill being violated by an angry, drunk customer rattling around in his head, he swallowed his reservations.
These men were good men. Following orders and upholding the law.
He was the criminal here.
As he waited in the darkness, that sobering thought washed over him. In the eyes of the justice system, he was deemed a bigger monster than those responsible for the capture and trafficking of teenage girls.
Sam Pope was the bogeyman.
The men who were approaching the stairs, they were the heroes. Sam wasn’t going to kill them. Despite the recent evidence to the contrary, he wanted to uphold his promise to his son. These men were just following orders.
Upholding the law.
But sometimes, the lawful thing wasn’t always the right thing.
As the first footsteps began to ascend the stairs towards him, Sam took a few steps back into one of the darkened doorways, the room opening out into a large dance studio that Kayleigh obviously frequented. Through the darkness of the corridor, Sam watched as the first armoured man stepped by, his entire body clad in uniform, the issued rifle held expertly to his shoulder. A torch was strapped to the bottom, illuminating the corridor.
A second followed, sweeping the surrounding room with his rifle. Sam ducked back, evading detection by a millisecond.
They both walked beyond, the captain at the front signalling for the
