Page 44
Story: Play Our Song
“Max has the police car,” said Mila. “Get in!”
It was hardly the glamorous arrest that she’d hoped to be going to. And her legs were still kind of slippery with soap. “Okay, fine,” she said, getting in. “But you must have a blue light attachment in here.”
“Why would I have one of those?” Mila said, starting the engine.
“Because you’re using this as a back-up police car,” said Tilly.
“I use it mostly to pick the kids up from field trips and do the shopping,” said Mila, pulling away from the house. “And I got hold of Max. He’s going to meet us there after he’s dropped the kids off with Ant and Ad at the bookshop.”
Tilly looked out of the window, her stomach tightening. This could be it. Her big break and she was riding in a Renault Clio. With little to no back up. God knows how long it would take Max to get there.
She went over things in her head.
Ensure that the firearm was out of the picture. That was priority number one. Then what? Well, it depended on the circumstances, really. Part of being a good police officer was flexibility. She’d need to secure the suspects if she could. There were suspects plural, and she only had one set of cuffs, which might be a problem.
The car screeched around a corner.
A problem she’d have to deal with. She took a shaky breath. Alright, she had this. Technically, she was very well trained. Shemight not have much experience, but her brain would know what to do, she was sure of it.
Sure enough, that when the car pulled to a halt in front of a farm gate, she leaped out, ready for action. Mila stuck her head through the driver’s window. “Can you just open the gate, love?”
Tilly sighed. Not quite the action she’d expected. She opened the gate, waited for Mila to drive through, then closed it again before getting back in the car. They bumped up the drive to the farm, the car headlights illuminating a man with a shotgun as they turned into a courtyard.
This time Mila stopped smoothly and Tilly was out almost before the car came to a halt. “Lower the weapon please, sir,” she said as loudly as she dared. Then she remembered to add, “Police.” Damn it, she should have said that first.
“Max?” the man asked, squinting into the car headlights.
“This is Constable Wade,” Tilly said. “And I need you to lower the shotgun, please.”
“They’re in there,” the man said, gesturing with the gun and forcing Tilly to shelter behind the open car door. “Four of ‘em. I locked ‘em in, so they won’t be getting away.”
“Very good, sir,” Tilly said.
“Max is almost here,” Mila said, poking her head out of the window again.
“Get down,” hissed Tilly. “This could be dangerous. He’s got a gun.”
“Evening, Dougie,” Mila said to the farmer conversationally. “Deidre alright?”
“Oh, good days and bad,” said the farmer.
Tilly groaned and then saw blue lights at the end of the driveway. Half of her was disappointed. She’d wanted to make these arrests. The other half was heartily relieved. She had no idea what she was doing. Her training had in no way preparedher for chatty booksellers and armed farmers. And anyway, she didn’t have enough cuffs for four suspects.
“Evening, Dougie,” Max said when he drew up. He got out of his car. “What have we got here, then?”
The farmer explained himself, and Max nodded.
“Are they armed?” he asked.
Dougie shrugged. “Ain’t heard no shooting, so probably not.”
“Right then.” Max looked at Tilly. “Stay here. I’m going to the barn. If anything happens, you get on the police radio and call for backup, understood?”
“But—”
“You heard me, and that’s an order,” Max said, sounding sterner than she’d ever heard him.
She nodded.
Table of Contents
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