Decree Absolute: the final legal dissolution of a marriage
Chapter Seven
Mike leapt up, his chair rolling back and smashing against the wall. He ran for the car to find Rosemary ahead of him.
God!
, he thought fleetingly,
her reactions are quick!
He drove too fast but almost safely. If they were to pick up a police car on the way, so much the better. As they drove, Rosemary phoned the police and then Liam Truscot in case the local lads didn't take it seriously.
They arrived at the house, Rosemary using the remote to open the gates while they were a hundred yards away.
The front door was wide open and they ran in and shuddered to a stop in the hallway. Claire was lying on the hall floor in a pool of blood, completely naked and unconscious. She had been savagely beaten and stabbed and slashed a number of times. He took in the ugly slash down her cheek and her bruised face, her bruised body and the cuts to her breasts, stomach and thighs, the blood. Rosemary ran to her and seemed about to move her.
"Don't!" he cried. "We don't know if she has a spinal injury!"
She shot him a look of contempt and bent to try for a pulse on her neck.
"Alive," she said.
Rosemary was gently calling her name, and she stirred.
She opened her eyes but she was only semi-conscious.
"Shania!" she said, quite clearly, and then lapsed back into unconsciousness.
Then it hit Mike. Gary had finished with Claire thinking he'd killed her; now he was after his daughter.
"Tell the police about the alarm," he shouted as he left. "The cameras will have been working. I'm going after Siobhán at school. Tell them that."
He drove hard to the school and skidded to a halt in the space reserved for buses. He ran towards the main entrance, only to be stopped by the caretaker.
"Sorry sir," the man said. Mike wondered why the most officious characters always call you 'sir'. "You can't park there, and you can't go in there either. There's a madman in there."
"Yes," Mike shouted in his face, "and he's here to kill my daughter so get the fuck out of my way."
The man saw the wisdom in Mike's argument immediately and stood aside. Mike approached the entrance only to be confronted by a strange tableau.
A slim but well built handsome dark haired man, dressed in what could only be called a flashy suit, was behind a woman dressed in a flowery tabard, a dinner lady perhaps. He was holding one of her hands behind her back and had a knife against her throat. Somehow the suit he was wearing made the whole thing seem incongruous. Neither was moving. Not surprisingly.
As Mike gingerly made his way through the entrance doors, the man who Mike took to be Sonter was shouting at the office staff through the glass partition, which protected them from just this eventuality.
"I'll give you one minute to get my daughter or I cut her throat," he yelled. "I've got nothing to lose. Move!"
Mike could see one of the secretaries dialling a number. He doubted it was to a classroom. Then another woman emerged, sidled past him and ran off down the corridor. From what the man shouted, Mike knew it was Sonter. Sonter hadn't seen Mike, so intent was he on holding onto the dinner woman. Mike knew he needed to distract him and divert him from her.
"Gary," Mike spoke quietly but firmly. "I'm the man Claire left you for."
It worked. His head jerked round, he let go of the woman and turned to face Mike. The knife was a longish thin kitchen knife and now it was pointing at Mike. Out of the corner of Mike's eye he could see the woman stumbling away.
Sonter laughed, "If the bitch isn't dead already, you won't want her now. I've seen to that. But you! This is a bonus."
The distance between them was about ten yards. Mike kept to the middle of the entrance hall; he needed room to manoeuvre. He suddenly realised that he was in a short-sleeved shirt and light trousers; it was a very warm day now after the early rain, and he had rushed from the office as he was. Somehow it made him feel more vulnerable, almost naked.
Sonter began to move towards him, an evil grin on his face.
"What d'you want your daughter for?" Mike asked. "She's not done anything to you."
"She's as bad as her mother!" he snarled. "I said I'd kill the lot of them. If I can't have them no one will."
"You're a bit of an idiot then," Mike mocked him, playing for time; Sonter was edging closer.
"You'll not get either of your daughters or your son," Mike nodded at the office reception. "They've already phoned the police. You're done for. The two young ones are out of your reach and I'll not let you near Siobhán."
Sonter stopped, perplexed, "Who's Siobhán?"
"She's changed her name," Mike told him. "She hated the name Shania that you gave her. Come to think of it, she hates you. You bastard! Beating up and kicking your own daughter. They'll love you in prison."