Chapter 4

Robin felt a little removed as he watched the dogs barking and sniffing around the hospital grounds. It felt like he was watching some new police drama, almost as though it wasn't really happening.

This is where they found the man?" someone asked.

"That's where he was laying," someone else said.

"Trail goes cold here. Must have stolen a vehicle."

Robin approached the two officers and risked a question he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Howe's the victim?" He asked.

One of the officers took a sharp intake of breath and shook his head.

He's conscious but shaken," he said, "concussed. And cold. Bastard stole his clothes. Left him in his shirt and underpants/"

Robin shook his head slowly. How could this have even happened?

"Sir, they're getting the security camera footage from the car park," an officer approached him, "do you want to take it?"

Robin hesitated.

"No," he said quietly, I think I might be needed elsewhere." He had a strange feeling that he was more use on the go. His confrontation on the roof with Layton had left him with more insight into the man than most. In fact, as he thought about it a possibility began to dawn on him. The roof… "The Falcon Building," he said quietly. Instantly the realisation brought a sense of urgency to his bones and his legs took him quickly to a nearby detective. "Excuse me?"

The man turned around.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Has anyone gone to the Falcon Building yet?" Robin asked.

"Not as far as I'm aware sir."

Robin thought fast.

"I need one dog over there right now," he said, "if Layton is desperate he might go back to the last place he was staying so he could be somewhere in that building. We know he'd been using at least one flat there, possibly more."

He felt his head go into a spin-cycle as the detective set off to arrange for the investigation to shift to the Falcon building. He hadn't been back there since that fateful morning and the thought of returning made his stomach churn with fear. He shuddered as he thought about stepping inside that building again. It was the last place he wanted to go but he had no option. It felt as though fate was taking him back there again and there was little he could do to escape it.

~xXx~

Keats pulled up a safe distance away and double checked the address in his notebook. The frustrating part was that the notebook only contained the details of the people Layton had already bribed, not the ones he hadn't managed to get to yet. Evan as the last entry in the book and after that the bribe plan had disintegrated as Layton had taken to running from the law after firing his gun at Alex.

He slipped out of the car and closed the door. He knew that he would have to abandon that car now. It had done its duty, that was all he could ask. He suspected Evan would have something smarter anyway. Anxious to escape the daylight he moved as quickly as possible through the streets until he arrived at a smart and rather fancy-looking home.

"I was right about the car," he commented to himself, eying up a shiny vehicle in the drive. His feet crunched against the shingle in the driveway as he hurried toward the front door.

Should I knock?

Through some misgiven sense of politeness he knocked on the door, then promptly picked up a heavy rock from the rockery and smashed the frosted glass with ease before reaching in to turn the handle and open the door. He strode inside as though he had all the right in the world to be there and followed the sounds of screaming to the kitchen where a man and a beard were scrambling out of a chair together.

"Evan White, I presume," Keats hissed.

"Layton," Evan's words were breathy and shaken.

Keats felt his mouth twisting into a sneery smile.

"Half right," he said.

"I don't have any money," Evan said quickly, "they've frozen all my assets. I can't give you a thing."

"Well that's a shame," Keats paced up and down, "I'd been really looking forward to getting my hands on your fat wallet." He glared at Evan. "I've heard a lot about you."

Evan's expression was trn between fear and confusion.

"What?" he whispered. What the hell was Layton talking about? It didn't make sense.

"Getting between the sheets with some posh woman whose husband just happened to have suicidal tendencies," Keats laughed at the sight of the man cowering as he slumped to the floor. "Don't worry, Mister White, I'm sure I'll find plenty to keep me going here."

The television on the kitchen counter played away as Keats took a long, sharp knife from the block beside it. Never hurts to have some insurance, he thought. He made sure Evan saw which one he'd selected and caught sight of the sharp blade flashing in the light before he walked to the fridge and opened the door. Layton's bony frame was struggling a little by now and Keats was at the mercy of a deep, gnawing hunger that twisted his guts. He'd had enough of listening to his stomach groaning on the car ride over to Evan's and he grabbed the first thing he could find, slices of meat, all wrapped in clingfilm. Evan watched in complete shock and confusion as he wolfed them down, almost orgasmically, followed by two tomatoes and a big chunk of cheese. It wasn't exactly a slap-up lunch but it was food and it would do for now. He spotted the bread bin and helped himself to some bread before some faint words from the telly struck his ears.

"…breaking news this lunch time, Arthur Layton has escaped from his hospital room and is currently on the run."

With eyes like fire he turned to Evan.

"Turn that up," he hissed. When Evan hesitated he took a step closer, brandishing both the knife and a slice of bread in his direction. "Turn that up!"

Evan immediately scrambled to his feet and grabbed the remote control from the table to switch the volume up. It was a headline that came ten minutes too late for Evan. There was no escape from this. He felt the end was looming, both for him and his beloved facial hair.

~xXx~

"He's been here already."

The sight of the panel resting against the wall beside the door was all Robin needed to see. He didn't even need the dogs to confirm it. As he stepped slowly through the doorway a terrible shudder spread through his body. It felt like chilled fingers down his spine. He felt paper crunching beneath his feet and looked down to find he was standing on one of the photographs that had fallen from the wall, one of the many pictures of Simon and himself that Keats had taken as his stalking went into hypermode.

He could hear officers following on behind but somehow his mind tuned them out. He could hardly even bring himself to notice what was going on around him. All he could see in his mind's eye were himself and Alex, stepping through that same doorway just a few weeks earlier.

"Jesus," he whispered. Why did everything seem to lead back there at some point? Was he doomed forever to spend random moments of his life at the Falcon Building? He shook his head slightly as the ammonia stench started to get to him and soon the sound of a barking dog shook him from his deep thoughts.

"Yeas, he's been back," another officer commented.

Robin looked around as one of the dogs, with his nose to the ground, led his trainer through from one room to another.

"Not here now though," he whispered. He waited while the officers did their duty, watching and hoping that some kind of revelation would spill forth but of course none came. He watched as a detective came through the doorway, looking around and gagging a little at the smell. He looked familiar but Robin couldn't quite place him. However, he seemed to know Robin and made a beeline for him.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Detective Inspector March," he introduced himself, "I believe me met briefly at the unsuccessful raid on Nailer's property some months ago."

Oh boy. Just as Robin thought his day could get no worse, the worst day of his life came back to haunt him. The day of the crash. He tried not to flinch and shook the man's hand instead.

"Yes," he said a little awkwardly, "that's right."

"I've been dealing with the Layton case," he told Robin, "in connection with Nailer's final arrest."

Robin nodded.

"You might want to check the rest of this building," he said, "we believe that he was spending time in a few empty flats here so as not to spend too long on one place."

"I'm sure your excellent dog handlers will take care of that in good time," said March. He looked at Robin a little curiously, like a fan meeting their favourite celebrity with a list of questions. "You… you knew DI Alex Drake, didn't you?"

"Knew?" Robin frowned, "She's not dead."

"Good as."

Robin scowled. This was a conversation guaranteed not to please him.

"She's comatose," he said, "she already woke up once. She might do it again."

"But it was the two of you who followed Layton, yes?"

Robin sighed.

"Yes. We did."

"Is it true he made that beard model cry?"

Robin took in a deep breath and tried the counting to ten technique, but it did little to quell his anger.

"I'm not here to talk about Evan White," he said, "I'm here to trace Arthur Layton." He turned around to see what else was happening around him and watched as one of his constables took the dog from the flat to see if Layton's trail could be found elsewhere and spotted another copper dusting for finger prints. He gave a very deep sigh. There was someone he really wanted to be by his side right then. There was someone who would be invaluable in helping this investigation, he was sure of it, but he didn't know if she would even want to. However, it was worth a try.

With another sigh he pulled out his phone and called up one of his most often used contacts. Funny how so quickly things can change and someone you didn't know could become such an important part of your life.

"Hello?"

"Kim?" Just for hearing her voice Robin felt a little better.

"What's up, Rob? You sound fraught."

Robin chewed on his lip.

"Putting it mildly," he said. "Kim, are you at work today?"

"No, why? You need an emergency tattoo?"

"I've got an emergency alright but there's no ink involved," Robin told her.

Kim hesitated.

"What's happened?"

Robin drew in his breath.

"Layton's escaped," his voice shook as he spoke.

There was a strange, short silence on the line.

"What?" Kim whispered.

"He attacked a doctor and the guards on his door," Robin told her, trying not to let her hear how scared he was. "They needed the dogs, and apparently as the last person to see him before his accident they needed me to provide my not very valuable insights."

There was another pause.

"Where are you now?"

Robin sank to the floor over one of the fallen photographs. He stared at it as he spoke.

"I'm at the Falcon Building," he hated even saying those words. It was the last place he wanted to be, "Layton's been back to Keats's flat. They're checking the rest of the building now."

One last pause. Then,

"Don't move. I'll be there in ten."

The phone went dead with a rather abrupt click, long before Robin could have any shot at protesting and telling Kim, falsely, that she should stay where she was. He'd hoped she would say that.

"Thank you," he whispered to no one in particular. Facing Layton was more than he felt ready to deal with alone. Kim understood. Kim had been there through the whole of the terrible rooftop moment. If anyone could help him then she would be the one. So it was another week or so before she officially became a detective again – at least she would be able to get some practice in first.

At least, that was as good an excuse as Robin needed.