The Angel Maker by David Dwan - HTML preview

EPILOGUE

After the helicopter’s radio announced; ‘No more angels for you, Harrold Carrick’ it spat out a burst of static and went dead.

Pearce and Bell stared at the speaker each willing it back into life but it refused any more revelations.  They sat in stunned silence until Bell became aware that the co-pilot was shouting something over his shoulder to her but she couldn’t make out a word.  She could feel the first signs of shock coursing through her body like a creeping paralysis.

She doubted she would be able to speak even if she wanted to so Bell nodded just to get him to leave her alone and whatever he had said that was clearly the correct response because he ducked back again.

Bell became aware of a dull pain in her hand which drew her attention to Pearce who she had forgotten was sitting next to her, she glanced down at her hand to see his clasping hers knuckles white.  “Boss,” she managed to say softly.  “You’re hurting me.”

Pearce looked at her with an expression of incomprehension then slowly his grey tear filled eyes seemed to clear.  He relaxed his grip and was going to release her hand but she held onto his not wanting to completely break the connection.  Pearce moved to speak but clearly couldn’t unscramble his thoughts.  But in the end what was there to say?

Bell looked out of the rain streaked window, she could see lights in the distance and it seemed they were coming in to land but something was off somehow.  They were clearly still ascending but the helicopter was no longer being buffeted by the storm even though it was still clearly visible through the window.

She lent forwards to look into the cockpit where the pilot was fighting with the controls against the heavy winds as they were coming in to land and the rain was clearly lashing the cockpit window yet it was deathly still back where she and Pearce were.  Almost tranquil.

“What does the wall of Machafuko mean?”  Someone asked.

“It’s Swahili for wall of chaos,” Pearce replied absently.  “You know that...”  He stopped mid-sentence.  Neither of them had spoken.  Pearce now became aware of the stillness of their surroundings, he glanced at Bell who shook her head numbly and then to the cockpit where the pilot was struggling to land.

“Sounds rude!  The wall of mach-a-fuko.”  It was coming from the radio’s speaker and it was Amy Peebles.

Both Ball and Pearce were hit with an intense almost physical feeling of well-being and an instinctual sense that this was just a little parting moment to say thank you for caring.  No more sleepless nights no more guilt at their in ability to bring the killer to justice.  And to say goodbye.

Relief hit them in an almost overwhelming wave of emotion at Amy’s parting words.

“You can take our photos down now.”

END