Blood on the Line Read Online Free

captured, all that she could think about was setting him free. Her audacious plan had worked. It had involved killing one man and helping to hurl a second one to his death, but her lover was back with her again. Irene just wished thatshe could relish his company instead of being assailed by regrets over what she’d done.
    Taking her hands again, he looked deep into her eyes.
    ‘Are you happy, Irene?’
    ‘Of course I’m happy,’ she said, forcing a smile.
    ‘You don’t have to do this, you know. You’re under no compulsion. If you’d rather go your own way, we can part here and now. You’re not at my beck and call.’
    ‘But I want to be, Jerry.’
    ‘I sense that you’re getting cold feet.’
    ‘That’s not true,’ she asserted, sitting up straight. ‘I was a little troubled about it, that’s all. It’s past now. I feel much better, honestly. The only thing I want is to be with you.’
    ‘Then we have something in common,’ he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, ‘because the only thing I want is to be with you. Let’s find somewhere to spend the night, then I can tell you why.’
    ‘I thought we were going to Manchester.’
    ‘That can wait until tomorrow. Given what we did today, I think we’re entitled to celebrate.’
    ‘Yes, we are!’
    ‘Are you ready to be my wife for another night?’
    Irene laughed. ‘I’m ready tonight and every night.’
    They got up from their table and headed for the door. As they came out of the pub, they were elated. With Irene on his arm, Oxley strode purposefully along, distributing smiles to everyone he passed and making the most of his freedom. He then pulled Irene gently into an alleyway so that he could confide something to her.
    ‘Remember this, my love,’ he told her. ‘You didn’t shoot a human being on that train this morning.’
    ‘But I did, Jerry,’ she said, earnestly. ‘You saw me.’
    ‘All you killed was a policeman.’
    ‘So?’
    Oxley beamed. ‘They don’t count.’

CHAPTER THREE
    As soon as they arrived in the town, they hired a cab to take them to Garrick Street, home of the Wolverhampton Borough Police Force. Roland Riggs, the duty sergeant, was a big, beetle-browed man with an instinctive dislike of anyone who tried to take over an investigation he felt should be carried out by his own men. Colbeck and Leeming were given a frosty welcome. Accustomed to such treatment, they asserted their authority and drew all the relevant information out of Riggs. They learnt the names of the two murdered policemen and heard how the both of them had been hit by a train coming in the opposite direction. What Riggs could not explain was how two of his best officers had been unable to stop the prisoner from escaping.
    ‘Jeremy Oxley didn’t look like a dangerous man,’ he argued.
    ‘I knew it was him,’ said Colbeck.
    ‘The inspector has had a brush with Oxley before,’ explained Leeming. ‘That’s why he was so eager to take on the case.’
    ‘By rights, it falls within our jurisdiction,’ insisted Riggs. ‘Bob Hungerford and Arthur Wakeley were good friends of mine. It’s the reason I volunteered to tell their wives what had happened. You can imagine how I felt doing that.’
    ‘You have my sympathy, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck. ‘It must have been a harrowing assignment. The only consolation is that they heard the appalling news from an experienced officer who knew how to soften their grief. They’re not the kind of tidings you want a young and unschooled policeman blurting out on the doorstep.’
    Riggs was solemn. ‘I’d agree with you there.’
    ‘Where was the prisoner being taken?’ wondered Leeming.
    ‘It was only as far as Birmingham. We had information that a man fitting his description had robbed a pawnshop there at gunpoint. The way that Oxley resisted arrest was a confession in itself. Our colleagues in Birmingham were delighted to hear that we had him in custody.’
    ‘They must have been surprised to hear