Blood Tears

Blood
Tears

by JD Nixon

Copyright JD Nixon
2014

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition,
Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed
for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or
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it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
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the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of
fiction. All characters and locations in this publication are
fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or
real locations, is purely coincidental. The police force and
justice system, and their operations and procedures depicted in
this book are purely the product of the author’s imagination and
are not based on any real jurisdiction.

JD Nixon is an
Australian author. Australian English and spelling have been used
in this book.

Discover other titles
by JD Nixon available at many ebook retailers:

Heller series

Book 1: Heller (free
ebook!)

Book 2: Heller’s
Revenge

Book 3: Heller’s
Girlfriend

Book 4: Heller’s
Punishment

Book 5: Heller’s
Decision

Book 6: Heller’s
Regret

Book 7: Heller’s Family
(to be published)

Little Town series

Book 1: Blood Ties
(free ebook!)

Book 2: Blood Sport

Book 3: Blood Feud

Book 4: Blood Tears

Book 5: as yet unnamed
(to be published)

Cover design by
Infinity Rain

~~~~~~ ######
~~~~~~

Cuttings from my
scrapbook . . .

Wattling Bay
Messenger
, Friday, 14 September 2001

Man killed in vicious
jail murder

Robert John Bycraft,
aged 44, formerly of Mount Big Town, was murdered in the City Jail
on Tuesday. Prison authorities report Bycraft was beaten to death
by two fellow inmates.

Bycraft was serving a
life sentence for the rape and murder of Leonie Mary Fuller, 24,
and attempted murder of her two-year-old daughter, both of Mount
Big Town, in 1985.

Wattling Bay
Messenger
, Thursday, 8 April 2010

Man sentenced to
probation for indecent exposure

David Anthony Gatton,
43, farmer, of Mount Big Town, appeared in the Wattling Bay
Magistrates Court yesterday on a charge of indecent exposure.
Gatton was arrested for urinating in a public park situated next to
a primary school in Mount Big Town.

Gatton was given a
twelve-month probation period by Magistrate Helen Tyler who took
into account his lack of previous convictions, and testimonials by
several of the town’s citizens on his behalf.

Wattling Bay
Messenger
, Wednesday, 19 January 2011

Cemetery vandalism ‘out
of control’

Councillor Elenora
Villiers, representative of Mount Big Town, stated at the Wattling
Bay District Council meeting on Tuesday that vandalism at the Old
Cemetery in Mount Big Town was ‘out of control’. Mrs Villiers
brought to Council members’ attention that the allocation of money
for maintaining the cemetery had tripled in the past financial year
due to the necessity of removing offensive graffiti from headstones
and repairing the perimeter fence on multiple occasions.

Mrs Villiers blamed
‘unemployed hooligans’ in the town for the vandalism and requested
that Council consider installing more lighting in the area.

Wattling Bay
Messenger
, Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Spate of petty thefts
‘not related’

In response to the
Mayor’s request for information on the marked increase in petty
thefts in Wattling Bay over the past three months, Superintendent
Fiona Midden, of the Wattling Bay Police, stated that all thefts
were being thoroughly investigated. At this stage police considered
the thefts were ‘not related’. Investigations are continuing.

Prologue

I am in church for a
festive occasion, Jakey by my side, holding my hand. We’re dressed
in our best formal clothes, as is everyone around us. The church is
festooned with decorations, and a festive buzz of conversation
fills the air.

At the front of the
church, waiting with patient anticipation, is Dad. He is in his
wheelchair, dressed formally in a dark blue suit, a jaunty red
carnation in his lapel. His smile is unstoppable. This is the best
day of his life.

Organ music strikes up
– it’s a familiar tune. We all stand respectfully, gazing towards
the entrance of the church. In floats a vision of ethereal beauty
in white satin and gauze. Her skin is clear and creamy, her dark
blonde hair twisted up into a flattering style, tendrils delicately
brushing her swan-like neck. Her dark grey eyes sparkle with
excitement and her mouth curves in happiness. She is beautiful
beyond words.

“
That’s my mother,” I say to Jake in wonder, my hands up to my
mouth. “I’ve always wanted to be able to hug her and to talk to
her. And here she is.”

He kisses my cheek.
“You’re as stunning as she is.”

“
I
can’t believe it’s her.”

She walks down the
aisle, but she’s so graceful it’s almost as if she’s dancing
lightly on her toes. When she passes our pew she blows me a kiss,
and tears of joy pool in my eyes. She remembers me. She loves
me.

“
Mum
. . .” I say, holding out my hand to her. But she has passed by on
her way to the front, where Dad waits for her.

I understand now. They
are getting married.

She continues on her
way, her head turning from side to side to acknowledge everyone
who’s crammed themselves into the pew to watch such a glorious
ceremony.

Dad watches her
procession, and there is so much love shining in his eyes that it
brings renewed tears to mine. But they are tears of happiness. My
family will finally be reunited.

Dad holds out both
hands to her, so he can gather her to him and make her his wife,
and my mother, again.

She reaches out one
hand to him, but someone calls to her, so her attention is turned
to the side. An angelic smile is bestowed on the caller, but still
she moves forward.

There is a rustling in
the congregation as the caller rudely pushes past others in the pew
to reach the aisle. My mother’s face changes from radiant to
frightened in a snap.

The caller steps out
and it is Bobby Bycraft. He’s holding a wicked knife in his
hand.

“
Give
me what I want,” he tells her.

She shakes her head,
backing away from him. I stand, ready to protect her from him. I’m
a cop. It’s my job to protect people. But Jake is still holding my
hand and he won’t let it go. I try to shake it off, but he tightens
his grip, yanking me down next to him again. I struggle to free
myself, but his grasp is iron-tight and I’m captured.

Bobby Bycraft advances
on my mother. My father seems rooted in place, unable to move.
Nobody else attempts to help her.

Bobby raises the knife
and we all scream as the blade slices through my mother’s pale
skin. He pulls it out and thrusts it in again. And again. And
again.

I lose count of how
many times. She collapses to her knees, blood pouring from her,
spoiling her beautiful dress. Her eyes remain fixed on her murderer
the entire time he kills her.

I yank at Jake’s hand,
desperately wanting to help her, but he keeps me restrained.

In her gurgling, dying
moments, my mother turns her eyes to me. They are filming over with
death.

“
I
love you, Tessie. I’ve always loved you. I’ll always love you.
Never forget that.

I cry and cry, a river
of tears runs down my face.

Jake drags me by the
hand towards the entrance.

“
No!”
I scream at him. “I want to help my mother.”

“
It’s
too late, Tessie. You can’t help her now.”

And though I can’t
stop crying, I know in my heart that what he says is true. I can’t
save her.

I’m always too
late.

Chapter 1

“
Geez, you’ve got a nice arse on you, Tezza.”

I straightened up from
bending over to shove boring, unread paperwork into random files,
just to get it off my desk. I slammed the drawer shut and leaned my
elbow on top of the rusty filing cabinet, casting baleful eyes at
the man in the station with me.

“
For
the last time, stop calling me Tezza. It’s Tess or Tessie. Or in
your case, Senior Constable Fuller.”

He laughed, a huge,
jolly, belly-shaking roar of hilarity. Nothing I ever said to him
caused offence. He was impossible to rile.

“
And
don’t
ever
comment on my arse again. I believe that’s the
third time I’ve asked you that this week.”

He laughed harder,
slapping his knee. “You’re a feisty one, all right! I can see why
they sent me here to deal with you.”

I pressed my lips
together, somehow resisting the urge to reach for my gun. I
definitely didn’t want to hear all about his mythical powers as the
so-called ‘Cop Wrangler’. Again.

He leaned back in his
chair, its springs complaining under his weight. “I told them I
couldn’t do it, that I was booked out solid for the rest of the
year. You’d be surprised how many cops need disciplinary
supervision in this state.”

“
Would I? You’ve only told me how many every week since you
arrived.”

He ignored me, carrying
on. “But you were a special favour.”

“
What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. He’d never
mentioned
that
before.

He pointed a finger
towards the ceiling. “Those above insisted I drop everything to
come here. And I can tell you that really threw out my
schedule.”

“
Are
you talking about the Super?”

“
Nah.
More senior than the Super, though she was the one who originally
suggested I become involved in your, erm, ‘situation’.” He raised
quizzical eyebrows at me. “You have friends in high
places.”

“
No,
I don’t.” Some days I didn’t feel as though I had any friends at
all. “Who would care about my career? I’m just a senior constable
in a small town. Nothing but an anonymous foot soldier to
those
above
.”

“
Just
saying.” He stood and stretched, the buttons on his straining
uniform shirt threatening to ricochet across the room. He looked
around, smiling when he spotted his horse racing form guide
half-buried under unfinished productivity statistics. “I’m off to
take a dump.”

I screwed up my nose in
disgust. “You don’t need to tell me that each time.”

He waved the form
guide. “And hopefully pick a few winners for the weekend.”

I turned back to my
‘filing’, recklessly jamming paper into already bursting files. The
bell on the rear door tinkled as he left for the bathroom on the
station’s verandah. “And for God’s sake, clean the bowl when you’re
finished for once!” I shouted after him.

The last few months had
been a trial for me. I’d thought I’d been treated lightly for my
behaviour with the deputy commissioner, but then Barry –
“Baz,
if you don’t mind, love”
– Chives turned up in my life.

The Cop Wrangler – a
nickname in which he didn’t bother masking his delight.

Jovial, affable Baz,
also known as my worst nightmare. To be lumbered with a
relentlessly cheerful sergeant when I still wallowed in the depths
of my furious misery was unbelievably painful – as it was meant to
be. I had no doubt now I was being punished in the most terrible
and specific way that only the Super could dream up. And I had no
doubt that she’d been angry enough with me to arrange it.

A friendly giant of a
man with a girth to match, Baz had a meticulously groomed moustache
and a dodgy hairpiece that looked as though a small animal died of
exhaustion on his head. He presented more as a used car salesman
than a police officer, but it would be a foolish person who assumed
that. He was shrewd and diligent in his duties. When he rocked up
to the station on his first day, I’d hoped he’d be like my old
sergeant, Des, who pretty much let me do what I wanted.

Boy, was I wrong.

Baz took his title of
Supervisory Sergeant seriously. He insisted on us taking every call
together, day or night, and he didn’t let me out of his sight for a
second during work hours. That pissed me off beyond belief. I knew
he sent reports about me to someone, maybe the Super. I wished I
could give him more positive things to communicate, but I wasn’t
viewing life through rose-coloured glasses, and I couldn’t hide it,
especially from myself.