The Infirmary (DCI Ryan Mysteries prequel)(76)

He used his hands to push against the side of the van and then he was off again, sprinting full pelt across the tarmac in pursuit of the man who was less than thirty paces ahead of him. He saw Edwards pause at the pillared gates leading into the hospital car park, unsure which way to turn, then he ran straight ahead into the busy road.

As Ryan approached the gates, he understood what had spooked him. Patrol officers were approaching from both directions at a run, and the traffic was parting for squad cars whose screaming sirens and flashing lights told him their earlier orders to approach quietly had been overridden.

Everything had changed.

Edwards had made it across the street and was heading into the centre of town via a cut through some of the old, red-brick university buildings. The patrol officers acted swiftly and held back the cars so they parted like the Red Sea, allowing Ryan to pass across the street and continue the chase on foot.

*

Back at CID Headquarters, MacKenzie was kneading a low-grade tension headache and wondering whether she should have another coffee when the alert came through from the Control Room, via Phillips.

“Sweet Baby Jesus,” she muttered, and contacted the Air Support Team, whose helicopter had a heat-tracking device and a sophisticated, long-range camera that might allow them to stay on Edwards’ tail.

“Jack!”

Lowerson’s head popped around the side of his computer.

“We’ve found him! It’s Keir Edwards. He’s making off on foot. Ryan’s going after him.”

Lowerson nearly fell off the chair he’d been swinging on.

“Right. Right,” he repeated. “What now?”

MacKenzie told herself to be patient; he was still very new to all this and it wasn’t as if they uncovered a serial killer every day of the week, let alone chased him through the streets.

“I need you to contact the railways and the airport and put them on notice. We’re setting up a command centre here—”

Gregson burst into the Incident Room.

“Denise, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Jack, get on with it,” she said, before turning back to the Superintendent.

“Sir, Control have just informed me that Ryan is pursuing a suspect on foot heading east from the Royal Victoria Infirmary. I’ve requested immediate Air Support—”

“It’ll take too long,” he cut across her. “I’ll ring the local news channel and ask them to send out their press helicopter. It’ll cost us, but it’ll save some time. I’ll tell them to patch us into the live feed.”

MacKenzie nodded.

“Phillips already has squad cars and foot support coming in from all directions. It seems they were already on the way by the time Edwards left the hospital grounds.”

Gregson smiled slightly. Ryan had delivered a suspect just in time for his three o’clock deadline, after all.

“Keep me posted,” he ordered, and headed back out to brief the Chief Constable.

*

Ryan’s feet slid against wet flagstones as he ran through the university quad connecting the hospital compound and the city centre. Ordinarily, it was a peaceful corner of the city with a mixture of old and new architecture, housing budding architects and fine artists of the future.

Today, it provided the pathway for a killer as he fled beneath its hallowed arches and emerged into a wide, open pedestrian zone outside the Student Union building and the Northern Stage theatre. Further ahead, Edwards could see the city’s spires and rooftops and a chance to lose himself among the crowds.

He also saw the police cars coming to a screaming halt before he could get there, blocking his pathway to the east. Behind him, Ryan was still coming on foot and off in the distance he could see more police following.

Edwards took it all in at a glance and then jerked to the left, hurrying down a single flight of stairs until he re-connected with Claremont Road and started to double back towards the hospital, having run in a wide circle.

Ryan’s hand barely touched the metal rail as he flew down the stairs after him, along the pathway that would lead them back to Claremont Road. Nicola Cassidy had lived at the opposite end, but he had no idea where Edwards planned to go. He was surrounded by approaching police, either on foot or in cars. Over the sound of the traffic, he thought he heard the distant chug of a helicopter.

There was nowhere for Edwards to run.

But when Ryan’s feet touched the pavement and he burst back onto the road, the man was nowhere to be found.

Panting from the exertion, Ryan spun in either direction, searching the street. To his right, the road into the city centre was quiet, with just a couple of pensioners walking along slowly, oblivious to the drama playing out nearby. To his left, he saw the flashing blue lights of approaching squad cars, but no sign of their suspect.

“Where the—”

One of the cars pulled up beside him and Phillips jumped out of the passenger side, having done the decent thing and hitched a ride to save himself a heart attack.

“Where is he? Which way did he go?”

Ryan made an angry sound and continued to search the street, jogging further along to crane his neck this way and that.

A bus moved ahead as the traffic lights turned green, revealing the entrance to the Hancock Museum of Natural History. It was a classical building built upon raised ground overlooking the city centre and accessed via a footpath ramp from the road.