Angel of Death (39 page)
Reynolds frowned at Jim a moment longer, as though unsure what to make of him. Then he released his grip.
Jim returned to his car, his left leg dragging a little. He looked at Reynolds and Les in the rear-view mirror. Reynolds was saying something and the skinhead was smiling as if he liked what he was hearing. Jim closed his eyes briefly, as if to shut out the world with all its anguish and horror. Then he twisted the ignition key. As he drove, a bluish tinge came into his lips and his head kept nodding as if he was fighting off sleep.
At the end of his street, Jim hit the brakes. There was a police car outside his house. A constable was knocking at his door. His first thought was the constable was there to check up on him. But then Garrett got out of the car. Why the hell would Garrett come to his house? Not simply to find out how he was doing, that was for damn sure. Then the answer came to him. The DCI was there to take him into custody! They must have found Grace Kirby’s mobile phone. A scan of its caller list would reveal not only his home number, but also that someone had contacted her from the office above Winstanley Accountants and Business Advisors. It wouldn’t be hard to work out who that someone was.
Jim’s expression registered no alarm. He reached into his pocket for the tape recorder. Fumbling numbly at the buttons, he rewound the tape until he found what he wanted. Reynolds’s voice snarled out of the speaker,
I’m going to kill that child-molesting cunt the way he deserves. By the time I’m done with Forester, he’ll be begging to be put out of his misery.
‘Got you,’ Jim murmured in a tone of grim satisfaction. Reynolds had been right not to trust his word, but wrong to believe everyone valued self-preservation above all else.
A searing pain suddenly exploded through Jim’s chest. The tape recorder fell from his nerveless left hand. Grimacing with the effort, he retrieved it with his right and returned it to his pocket. He pulled out his phone and dialled a number. Margaret’s voice came on the line. ‘Hello?’
Jim’s words wheezed out like air from a broken bellows. ‘I’m sorry, Margaret.’
‘Jim, is that you? Are you OK?’
‘I’m sorry for the way I treated you all those years. I never stopped loving you. I just forgot how to show it.’
‘Why are you telling me this now? What’s going on?’
‘Something’s happened. You’ll find out what soon enough. I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Margaret. Take care.’
Jim drove to the house, lowering the window as he pulled up alongside Garrett. The DCI frowned into the car. ‘You’ve got some serious explaining to do, Detective Monahan.’
‘It’s—’ Jim’s voice faltered as another wave of pain broke over him. For a moment he thought he was going to faint, but the feeling passed and his voice was steady as he said, ‘It’s not “Detective”. Not any more.’
****
‘Mark, Mark.’
The voice pulled Mark out of sleep. He opened his eyes and saw that it belonged to a nurse. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s your sister.’ Seeing Mark’s forehead tighten into anxious creases, the nurse quickly added, ‘She’s been showing more signs of movement.’
His eyes flicking wide, Mark struggled into a sitting position. ‘I want to see her.’
The nurse helped him into a wheelchair and pushed him through the hospital’s silent corridors to Charlotte. Doctor Goodwin was stooping over her, shining a pencil torch into her eyes. ‘Has the nurse updated you on your sister’s condition?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Mark. Like I said earlier, they might just be muscular spasms. On the off-chance that that’s not the case, it may be beneficial for her to hear your voice.’
Mark gently took Charlotte’s hand. ‘Hi, sis.’
He felt a quiver of movement against his fingers, so slight he wondered whether he’d imagined it.
‘The doctor tells me you’re doing much better today.’
Charlotte’s hand twitched again. Mark looked excitedly at Doctor Goodwin. ‘Did you see that?’
The doctor nodded and gestured for Mark to continue talking to his sister.
Mark’s brow furrowed as he searched for something to say that would make Charlotte want to come back into a world that had so cruelly turned against her. He leant in so close that his mouth touched her ear. His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I know we’ve never really got on, sis. I know I haven’t been much of a brother to you. The thing is, I was jealous of you and…’ he faltered briefly, then said, ‘Dad. I wanted him to love me like I thought he loved you. I realise now that he wasn’t capable of really loving anyone other than himself. He tried to hurt us in the worst way. But he failed. And anyone else who tries to hurt us will fail too, because I’ll kill them. Do you hear me, sis? I’ll kill them all, every single fucking one of them.’
Charlotte’s head moved against Mark’s. He pulled back to look at her face. Her eyelids were fluttering like the wings of a trapped moth. Then, suddenly, they parted and she looked at her brother.
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Steel City Thrillers
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WOULD YOU BREAK THE LAW TO SEE JUSTICE DONE?
In the quiet outskirts of Sheffield, the blackened bodies of a man and his wife are retrieved from a house fire. Their daughter and son are found, barely alive, outside their burning home. In the charred remains, the police find evidence of a sickening crime.
In another city a woman smears makeup over the worst of her bruises. The man who made them lies on the bed beside her, but he will never hurt anyone again. Now she has only one thing on her mind: revenge.
D. I. Jim Monahan believes he has found a lead in the case of a teenage girl who went missing years ago. And although the courts might not agree, Jim thinks this is all he needs to bring down a gang of vicious criminals...
STEEL CITY
Every city has its darkness. It may be buried deeper in some cities than others, but it’s there. Most people choose to look away from that darkness. A few force themselves to stare into it so that they can know their enemies. And they’re only too aware that the line which divides kidnap, rape, murder and corruption from love, family, home and happiness is thinner than you could ever imagine.
Sheffield is a city like any other. In the shadows of its factories, tower blocks, shopping centres and housing estates, a seemingly endless battle to hold that thin line is being fought by men like disgraced ex-cop Harlan Miller and jaded veteran detective Jim Monahan, and by women like beautiful but deeply damaged prostitute Angel. They all want one thing – justice. But what is justice? Each has their own ideas. Each is willing to risk their life to save others. And each is finding out that if you stare into darkness for too long, you may well end up forgetting what light looks like.
‘Last night, eight-year old Ethan Reed was abducted at gunpoint from his home by an armed intruder. We are urging members of the public to get in touch. A coordinated search of the local area will be carried out.’
Four years ago, Detective Inspector Harlan Miller killed someone. Now - divorced, alone, consumed by guilt - the world outside his prison walls holds little for him. Until, mere days after his release, an eight-year-old boy is abducted. Ethan Reed. The son of the man he killed.
Frustrated by a police search that finds nothing, driven to desperation by repeated appeals that bring in no new leads, Ethan’s mother knocks on the door of the man she has reason to hate most in the world. She has one question to ask – beg – of Harlan Miller. Find her little boy. Do whatever it takes.
Blood Guilt
is available
here
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2. Angel of Death
In Sheffield, a bankrupt businessman has murdered his family. It seems like an open-and-shut case: a desperate man resorting to desperate measures.
In Middlesbrough, a woman named Angel is heading south. She is a woman alone. A prostitute. Now a murderer. And she has only one thing on her mind: revenge.
Two crimes, a hundred miles apart, but a terrible secret connects them. And although the courts may not agree, DI Jim Monahan has all the proof he needs to bring down justice on a group of particularly vicious criminals...
B
EN
C
HEETHAM
’s short stories have been widely published in the UK, US and Australia. He self-published his first novel,
Blood Guilt
, in 2011. It sold over 100, 000 copies.
Ben lives in Sheffield, where he can usually be found racking his brain for the next provocative thriller in the Steel City series.
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www.bencheetham.blogspot.co.uk/
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