The Angel: A shocking new thriller – read if you dare!

‘Gabriel, do you have asthma?’ Imogen asked him urgently.

He nodded as he struggled with the leather buckled corset around his waist. He looked like he couldn’t get enough air.

‘Interview suspended at 00:15,’ Adrian said as he stopped the recording.

‘Help me get him on the floor,’ Imogen said.

Adrian helped his partner lower Gabriel onto the ground; he was cumbersome, but they needed him to calm down. He arched his back and stretched his neck, rasping for air.

‘Can I help you take that off, Gabriel?’ Imogen asked, gesturing to the corset as the teenager nodded, tears falling from his eyes and trickling down the side of his face.

‘Do you have any medication on you? An inhaler or something?’ Imogen said.

He shook his head.

‘What do I do?’ Adrian asked.

Imogen pulled at the buckles on Gabriel’s cincher until it was undone and yanked it off; he breathed in air greedily and Adrian watched as Imogen stroked his forehead. His breathing seemed to normalise a little.

‘You’d better get some help.’ Imogen turned to Adrian who tried to hide his surprise at her tenderness; there was something maternal about the way she was handling Gabriel Webb. He went to the door and called to one of the constables, instructing him to get a doctor.

‘I’m OK,’ Gabriel wheezed. ‘I’m fine, it just happens sometimes.’

‘We’ll get someone to sit with you until you can be checked out by the duty doctor. OK?’

Gabriel started to get up slowly, still breathing in short bursts but much calmer than a few moments previously. Adrian held out a hand to him and helped him stand up. He remembered only too well the feeling of being nineteen; you’re a man but you’re not, he thought. You’re not a child, you’re kind of nowhere. It was a horrible age.

‘What happens now?’ Gabriel sat back down, his eyes glassy and full.

‘Depends on the outcome from the scene of the fire.’

‘Do you understand that if we don’t get to speak to your friends, the people with you at the signal station, then in all likelihood you’re going to go down for this?’ Imogen interjected.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Gabriel, if they determine its arson, then we’re going to have to charge you with manslaughter.’

Adrian stood by his car and lit a cigarette; he had given up on giving up and he felt much better for it. Imogen walked out of the station, pulling her hair back into an updo. She was shaking her head.

‘God, I hate this job sometimes.’ She took the cigarette out of Adrian’s hand and sucked on it before giving it back to him.

‘You believed him then?’

‘Absolutely. Shame it doesn’t matter what I think.’

‘It will matter to him. He liked you, I can tell.’

‘What about his parents? Did Denise get hold of them?’

‘Yeah. They said they’ll come tomorrow. They think a night in a holding cell will do him good.’

‘He seems like a nice kid, though. I feel so bad for him.’ Imogen couldn’t help but feel a pull towards Gabriel, maybe it was just her self-preservation in action because he reminded her so much of herself at that age, before she decided to become a police officer.

‘I’m sure those big sad blue eyes and that cute little cleft in his chin have nothing to do with that.’

‘OK, he is good-looking, but that kind of makes it even worse. I hope he’s strong enough to handle it on remand.’

‘First Dean Kinkaid and now this kid. I think I know what your type is, Grey. Convict.’

‘Piss off, it’s not like that. Don’t be gross. If I was ten years younger, then yeah – he would have been the kind of guy I looked at, but not now. I don’t know,’ she paused, ‘I think he reminds me of me.’

They both stood contemplating for a moment as they shared the remainder of Adrian’s cigarette. Two minutes of silence as they processed what had just happened, and what was most likely about to happen. It didn’t seem as though Gabriel had any intention of saying who the other people were, and there was no way to ID them from the video. Hoodies and miniskirts were standard clothing for anyone under twenty and that was a significant proportion of the population, it would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

‘Anyway, tonight sucked. Are you hungry?’ Adrian finally spoke as he put the cigarette out.

‘No, not really. I can’t help worrying about what’s going to happen to him. That kid’s going to be eaten alive in prison.’

‘What can we do?’

‘We can start with identifying that body.’

‘Let’s get going then. My weekend has been screwed over yet again by Dominic and Andrea, they’ve taken Tom to London to see a show or something.’

‘Again?’

‘He’ll be sixteen next year, then he can spend his weekends where he wants.’

‘And you’re sure they’re safe?’

‘Dominic wants me to know he’s got my family, it’s not about hurting them, it’s about winding me up. I think they’re safest where they are for now, until I get some concrete evidence on him. Gary’s working on it for me.’

‘I’m not sure I could be so calm about it.’

‘I’m not sure if calm is the right word. I like to keep busy to keep my mind off it.’

Adrian had been investigating his son’s stepfather for around four months now, since Tom had come to him with a suspicion that Dominic was cheating on his mother. While Adrian had managed to disprove the cheating, he’d found out some things he couldn’t ignore. Financial irregularities of large sums of money, money that couldn’t be explained legally. Until he had proof though he was powerless to act and he couldn’t open an official investigation. He had no evidence. Every time he got the chance he would look into Dominic, with the help of Gary Tunney, the forensic computer technician at the police station, who also loved to solve puzzles in his free time. But Dominic was good; so far they hadn’t found anything that would stick. A little over two months ago, Dominic had somehow found out that Adrian had been snooping around in his affairs. They would have to be more careful in the future but Adrian wasn’t going to give up, he was confident that Gary would get to the bottom of it. The fact that Dominic had threatened Adrian and made it clear to him that he should stop, or his life would get more difficult, was just more incentive to get his family out of there. If not now, then soon. Dominic was going to pay; Adrian just had to make sure he didn’t take his whole family down with him.

‘I’ll call Dean and tell him not to wait up then.’

They walked back into the station for what would undoubtedly be a night of scintillating closed-circuit TV viewing. With any luck, they might be able to get a better angle on Gabriel and his friends, see if they could work out who he was with.

Chapter 4 (#ulink_4fa75d62-41ed-5809-9ecc-681f2055b27b)

Gabriel couldn’t move his arms. They were pinned down by his sides, his broad shoulders each touching the side of the metal box he was in. He had anticipated a five-minute journey but an accident on Magdalen Street meant that they were stuck for a little while, at least until the cars were moved out of the way. He wanted to stand up, he wanted to go for a walk to stretch his legs. More than that, he wanted to scream.

The windows of the Serco prison transport van – or sweatbox as it was more affectionately known – were blacked out from the outside, but from the inside he could see the people on the streets going about their business. He saw a skater flipping off a hotel step and instantly wished he had his deck, just to feel that freedom. Freedom; something he had never fully appreciated until he was sat in this box. He was being put on remand until his hearing. He tried to focus on his breathing, unwilling to let his asthma get the better of him in here of all places. He didn’t even know if they would open the door if he had an attack. If they would even hear him? If they would even bother to help? Instead, he just counted inside his head to make the rising panic go away. He couldn’t think about what he had done to get into this situation; the fact was that he was here and he was guilty. Of arson. Of manslaughter.

He had never meant to kill anyone. The words went round and around his head. He was a killer; he had ended someone’s life. He couldn’t allow himself to cry. He couldn’t be seen to be entering the prison with tears in his eyes. He had a few friends who had done time in Exeter prison, and by all accounts it was grim. Understaffed and overpopulated, the Victorian building that was barely fit for purpose – not in this day and age – still housed well over five hundred prisoners both on remand and serving shorter sentences. And he was about to join them.