"Those officers were itching for a fatality outcome"
The gunshot thundered through the dark, enclosed space, making the sound reverberate off the surrounding metal.
The young woman fell backwards instantly, head falling to one side.
"Shut up!!...Shut up!!", Layton's heavily London accented voice bellowed.
He breathed rapidly for several moments, his eyes wide, manic, as he took off his sunglasses and stuffed them in his pocket.
"I told you not to look at me!!"
"I Told you...told you!!"
Anxiously he paced left and right along the awkwardly placed flooring as he stashed his gun back under his belt.
This wasn't how Arthur Layton had planned things to turn out. This was meant to be blackmail, pure and simple blackmail. Get the Price's girl, call the rich Bastard lawyer, swap her for a nice, very nice, tidy sum and then vanish...or maybe come back for more if needed at a later date? Yes that would be even better, maybe a pay off every year? Call it insurance if you will.
"Shit!" Layton snapped himself back from his hazy thoughts, "shit!"
"That was your fault!", he shouted at the fallen D.I, ,"You just wouldn't shut up would you?! You pushed me, you made me do this!".
He punched his fist against the wall and uttered another expletive.
He was starting to panic.
Layton looked around.
This place was extremely secluded, highly unlikely that anyone heard the shot, but he'd have to hurry.
Hurry where?
He felt addrenalin racing through his veins. It had been several hours since he'd had a hit of anything. He didn't have the money these days.
He'd managed a hit yesterday after grabbing a bag from a car. A simple brick through the window was all it took. Just a few quid in it but enough for one hit.
By now he should have had money heading his way. Money from that Evan Bastard.
Layton was desperate. He had to get as far from the scene as possible...and get some drugs, any drugs, didn't matter what, even something mild if that was all he could find.
He turned to run and then stopped suddenly in the darkness.
Slowly he looked back. His need for another hit and the urgent requirement to flee had caused him to overlook the obvious.
"You owe me", he hissed towards his victim and slowly began to creep towards her, "Oh yes, you owe me Alex"
D.I Alex Drake hadn't made a single sound or movement since Layton had pulled the trigger.
He crept towards Alex, nearer and nearer, taking it slowly incase he had actually missed and she was just faking it.
She wasn't.
Layton's eyes fixed on the bullet wound, right in the head, about an inch above the left eye. This one wouldn't be going anywhere in a hurry.
Layton rubbed his exhausted eyes. He had to pull himself together, get his thoughts straight.
He needed a hit and for that he needed money.
He bent down and with a pale hand, still shaking from the addrenalin rush, he reached into the pocket of Alex's formal yet unkempt suit jacket.
A pen, a screwed up Starbucks receipt and Alex's Police I.D.
Layton blew out a heavy sigh and threw these useless items into the darkness.
Casualy he stepped over Alex to check her other pocket, stepping over her as if he was simply stepping over an inconvenient obstruction, not a gravely injured (maybe even dead) Police woman.
Layton knelt and began again on the other pocket.
"That's more like it luv", he whispered with a smirk, "Come on, whatcha got?"
His grimey hand retrieved it's find. A small black leather purse, freyed at the edges and looking like it had seen better days.
Layton fumbled the purse open and upturned it's contents onto the floor.
"That's more like it", his menacing tone whispered.
His hands picked the contents up off the dirt like a starving bird pecking at seed.
Thirty quid in ten pound notes, one screwed up fiver and several bits of loose change were all scavenged in mere seconds.
Layton discarded some more reciepts, including one for a birthday card, one for an HMV voucher and all sorts of other crap. "Special occasion or summin'?" Layton gloated to the still form right infront of him, some blood now glinting in the small amount of light that shone on the bullet hole.
"Oh...", Layton crowed as he spotted something he nearly missed from his haul, "Oh you beauty Alex!".
He picked up the small object that had fallen under some rubbish and almost gone unseen.
A small piece of plastic with a golden metal chip embedded in it.
Alex's bank card, wrapped in a bit of scrappy paper with something scribbled on it.
"7411"
Layton frowned at the scrap of paper...and then put two and two together.
"PIN number!?", he exclaimed far louder than he meant to, "Obviously didn't inherit your parents brains did you?".
Briefly he checked inside Alex's jacket. No inner pockets, but that didn't stop his filthy hands lingering far too long around her upper body than was stricktly necessary.
He had all he needed now.
Layton brushed his greasy hair out of his face and stood up.
What had turned to disaster may now not be so bad after all.
All he had to do was find his way to the nearest cash machine and clear out all he could from that stupid bitch's account.
Then he just had to find a dealer, any dealer, he didn't care who, and score a whopping great hit. Heroin? Cocaine? Layton didn't care anymore, it wouldn't matter once he had his hands on it.
He felt his heart race at the mere thought of his next hit.
He looked down and observed one last time.
Time and Caroline Price's daughter lay where he left her, a clot of blood now forming on the bullet wound.
Layton wondered for one brief moment if she was alive or dead, wether she would or even could survive that. And then he shrugged.
"Give my regards to you old man Alex", he said in his sinister whisper.
And with that, he turned and began to walk away into the darkness to fulfill his bodies addicted craving.
Arthur Layton finally vanished into the darkness, humming as he went...

"I'm happy...hope you're happy too..."

End.