Angels

by Jay Gill

  ANGELS

  A DCI James Hardy Thriller

  Jay Gill

  Copyright © Jay Gill 2017

  The right of Jay Gill to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or transmitted into any retrieval system, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design copyright © Jay Gill

  BOOKS BY JAY GILL

  Knife & Death

  Walk in the Park

  Angels

  Hard Truth

  A free bonus chapter is available for each book. For more information visit, www.jaygill.net

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  HARD TRUTH

  Free Novella

  Spread the Word

  About the Author

  Also by Jay Gill

  Chapter One

  Michael Cutler sat in the front seat of the blue Ford Mondeo, watching the house from across the street. He knew Stephanie Walker’s routine now. Like most of us, her routine deviated little from week to week.

  After she arrived home from work at 6.15 p.m., Cutler knew she would be home alone all evening. Outside, it was dark, and the heavy rain fell like nails on the roof of the car.

  He felt pleased with himself as he followed her now memorised routine. On go the lights. First the hall; then the kitchen; then the front room. There she is, pulling the curtains. Now back to the kitchen for a few minutes. Okay, now upstairs for a bath. A thirty-minute soak in the bath while the dinner’s in the oven. On go the upstairs lights: first the bedroom; tick. Now the bathroom; tick.

  Cutler closed his eyes in an almost spiritual moment of contemplation. His mind was clear and focused. His heart was racing and he could feel an energy surging through his body. He could almost picture how it would be. He tingled with excitement. The anticipation was almost overwhelming.

  Of course, he had doubts. This wasn’t something you did by choice. For a fleeting moment, he was afraid again that something might go wrong. Apprehension was natural, he supposed; he was only human, after all. Somehow, though, everything felt right. Like it was meant to be. He knew she was the one. That was why their paths had crossed. Yes, and for that very reason alone, he felt in his heart of hearts, he knew everything would be A-okay.

  Tonight was the night. He’d invested a lot of time in Stephanie and now was the time to realise the fruits of his labour. Plus, with all the other shit he was putting up with right now, it was time again for him to take something for himself.

  He checked his watch again. She should be finishing dinner very soon. Give it two more minutes. His breathing became heavier and more rapid. In a good way, the anticipation was almost too much to bear. He was ready.

  Time to go. It’ll be just like the others. You’ve got this. You’ve planned it. Nothing can go wrong. How could it? Don’t hesitate. Commit. Be the man. Take control. It’s now or never.

  Head down, he crossed the road. The rain lashed down and thunder crashed overhead. In the distance a car alarm started. A dog barked. It was a dark, hellish night. Everything was perfect; he was really doing this.

  He was at Stephanie’s front door. He wiped his face with a tissue; he wanted to see her. How long had he waited for this moment? He knocked and rang the doorbell. Wait. Wait. Be cool. You’ve got this, buddy boy. He could hear her opening the door. The sound of the chain. Here we go. Game face. He made one last mental check: Camera; handcuffs; scalpel. Tick, tick, tick.

  With the chain still on, the door opened. That’s okay. Good girl, you never know who might be on the other side. He liked that one; it always made him chuckle.

  She peered through the gap. ‘Hello?’

  There she is at long last. There’s my sweet Stephanie. Looking so beautiful. The face of my sweet, sweet angel.

  Look friendly and like you belong in the uniform.

  ‘Good evening. Sorry to bother you. I’m Police Sergeant Lamb.’ He held up his fake warrant card while once again wiping the rain away from his face with a tissue. That always worked well. She couldn’t help but be sympathetic. He pulled up his collar to indicate he was cold and wet.

  ‘Good evening, Sergeant.’ Bingo – off comes the chain, and there she is in all her glory. Door wide open. She looks majestic, so inviting. All wrapped up in her towelling dressing gown. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Sorry to bother you, miss. As I said, I’m Sergeant Lamb. Sadly, there has been an aggravated burglary of an elderly and vulnerable resident in the next street. Number twenty-seven. Mrs Jenkins – you may know her? She’s in her nineties. I’m speaking to neighbours and local residents to see if they can help with our enquiries. We really need to catch the person responsible before he strikes again. I just need to ask a few questions.’ He wiped his face again. ‘Gosh, this rain tonight. I can barely hear myself think. Would you mind if I stepped inside? I won’t keep you long, I promise.’

  Keep holding up the warrant card. Big smile. Look like you’re cold. Here we go, we’re in. As easy as that.

  He could see it in her eyes before she’d even stepped aside to let him in.

  While she shut the door behind them, he felt in his pocket for the scalpel. Be patient: we don’t want to start this in the hallway. Soon enough she’ll invite you to her kitchen or dining room or lounge. Which will it be?

  ‘I was just about to make coffee, Sergeant. Would you like a tea or coffee?’

  ‘I don’t want you to go to any trouble, though that would lovely.
It’s so cold tonight. A white coffee, one sugar, would be most welcome.’ She really is perfect. She will be the best yet. What a rush. There won’t be time for coffee, but how considerate of her.

  ‘My pleasure, Sergeant Lamb.’

  ‘I didn’t catch your name. Mrs—?’

  ‘I’m not married. My name’s Stephanie Walker.’ She smiled sweetly and tucked a strand of her dark, shoulder-length hair behind her ear. ‘Why don’t you take a seat in the lounge and I’ll make us both a hot drink?’

  Sergeant Lamb. I think she likes a man in uniform. Did you see that? She looked to see whether you had a wedding ring on. Well, that’s inappropriate under the circumstances.

  ‘Stephanie, just one thing before you go.’

  He stepped up close, too close. He held her arm. In her face he could see that same look of surprise and confusion they all gave him. She suddenly felt vulnerable, a little scared. Yet she knew she shouldn’t feel scared, not with a police officer. He showed her the scalpel blade, then put it to her soft and slender throat.

  ‘If you do exactly what I say, you’ll be fine,’ he lied. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

  Chapter Two

  After more than thirty years at Scotland Yard, doing a job he loved, my father had left it all behind. I was still surprised at how easily he’d walked away. It was as if the day he retired, he decided to make up for the years he’d been absent. His new job, it seemed, was to dedicate himself completely to his family and their wellbeing.

  With so many marriages unable to withstand the pressures of the job, it was wonderful to see how close my parents remained. I’d once hoped for the same with my wife, Helena, and we had done our level best to make it work. Then one afternoon a few years ago, she was murdered by a random mugger on the pavement in front of our house. I had rushed to her side, but she had been fatally wounded and there was nothing any of us could do but watch and comfort her as her life slipped away. Even today, I can still see her crumpled, blood-soaked body, her hands, covered in her own blood, desperately reaching out for help.

  She could not have known when leaving the house that day that it would be her last. And that she would never again embrace me, or her parents, or our young daughters.

  The hardest part of losing Helena was telling Alice and Faith their mummy was gone. ‘She’s in heaven,’ I’d said, as I held them both in my lap. ‘She can’t come home.’

  ‘I want her here, not in heaven,’ Faith, my younger one, had said between sobs.

  Alice, the more stoic of the two, had muffled her tears in my shoulder and said very little at all.

  It has been a painful process for all of us, the girls especially. How do young children even begin to come to terms with losing the single most important person in their life?

  We managed to take each day at a time and slowly, over time, we began to heal. Today, life is easier and we’re living again.

  Today, we were all relaxing out back at Mum and Dad’s place while Dad fussed over the barbecue. Mum was inside with Monica putting the finishing touches on a salad, and the girls were chasing each other around the garden with squirt guns.

  I heard the back door open, and a moment later Monica handed me a lime and soda. ‘Your mum asked me to give you this. You okay?’ She sat down in the chair opposite me.

  ‘Yeah, just thinking about... you know.’

  Monica has been there for us through it all. She and Helena had been best friends since childhood, and when Monica needed refuge from her violent husband Scott, Helena had insisted she stay with us. It was the right thing to do. Helena always knew the right thing to do.

  Alice and Faith adore Monica and, looking back, I don’t know how I would have coped without her. She’s been an incredible support to all of us, and I know being around all of us – Helena’s family – has helped her too.

  Monica gave an exaggerated cough as a plume of smoke drifted our way. ‘Helena used to tell me about your dad’s infamous barbecue cooking. It looks to me like he’s getting the hang of it.’

  We both laughed and watched as Dad turned over some seriously charred chicken thighs.

  ‘Hope they like them well done,’ I heard him mumble to himself.

  Monica looked up at the partially overcast sky. ‘If it’s okay, I’ll make sure the girls have got enough sunscreen on. This sun is really intense when it breaks through the clouds.’

  ‘You don’t need to do that. I can do it. Where do we keep it?’

  Monica laughed and got to her feet, waving off my protestations. ‘I don’t mind. It’s in my bag. I’ll do it.’ She disappeared inside the house then re-emerged with a bottle of sun cream and called the girls over. Without fuss, Alice and Faith lifted their arms and legs and turned in all directions so Monica could apply the lotion. As I watched, it was as if Helena herself were back and the girls were with their mother. I shook the thought away.

  The back door opened and closed again, and Mum began putting knives and forks on the outside table. ‘How much longer with the food?’ she called out to Dad.

  ‘It’s done. Ready when you are, honey.’ Dad began arranging chunks of grilled meat and long vegetable kebabs on a tray.

  ‘Will you give me hand with laying the table please, James?’

  It wasn’t really a question. I put down my drink and went to help her. I knew Mum had something on her mind; she was a strong woman, the heart and soul of the family. She had no trouble giving either her husband or her son a piece of her mind, when it was needed.

  Mum passed me the knives and forks and said, ‘Good to see you laughing again, sweetheart.’

  ‘I feel good,’ I said. ‘What’s on your mind?’

  ‘What do you mean, what’s on my mind? Don’t be so touchy.’

  ‘I just assumed you had some pearls of wisdom you wanted to share.’ I gave her a hug to show I was pulling her leg.

  ‘Other than your girls, I was thinking that Monica is the only one who makes you smile. I don’t know; I suppose you’re just too stubborn to see it.’

  ‘We’re friends,’ I said, following her drift. ‘I’ve told you before it wouldn’t be right.’ I busied myself with the cutlery; I was tired of having this conversation over and over. Nonetheless, I stole another glance at Monica and then looked away quickly before she could see me watching her. My feelings about her were changing, and I knew it.

  And I had absolutely no idea what to do about it, so I did nothing.

  Like any adult, I didn’t welcome unsolicited advice on my personal life. I pretended to listen while Mum tried a different approach.

  ‘Monica is good for those girls, and they need her as much as she needs them. She lost her best friend when you lost your wife. Her staying with you is nobody else’s business. Don’t push her away because of what others think. It’s none of their damn business. Nobody else understands. Helena and Monica were best friends since childhood, and Monica is staying with you because it’s what Helena wanted. Monica needed a refuge from that so-called husband of hers, and Helena gave her one. So you look after her. We look out for our friends and family. It’s what we do in this family.’

  ‘I’m not going to ask her leave. I wouldn’t do that,’ I insisted. I was scared of my feelings towards Monica, feelings I was trying to fight but which were becoming harder to deny. ‘I only want what’s best for her. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s time for her to move on with her life. I don’t want her feeling obliged to stay. I’m certainly not ready for any type of relationship, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

  ‘I can see the doubt on your face, so don’t give me that. I know you better than you know yourself – remember that. And don’t you make her feel like she should leave. I know you, and I know how men think. You’ll worry about the girls getting the wrong idea or being teased at school, or you’ll overhear some remark at work, and that’ll be it. You’ll go cold towards her and she’ll sense it. Be smart about this, James.’ She gave my hand a gentle pat. ‘You all need each other. And if you ask m
e, Monica being here is fate. I still believe He, up there,’ Mum looked to heaven, ‘made plans for Monica to help you look after those precious babies.’

  Mum was really throwing everything at it this time. If her lack of subtlety hadn’t been so hilarious, I might have got cross.

  Dad interrupted by plunking down a plate full of well-cooked chicken and kebabs in the middle of the table. ‘Anywhere in particular or shall I just put them here?’

  ‘Your timing, Thomas Hardy! Impeccable as ever. You know, one of these days I’m going to...’ Shooting me a look that said, ‘We’re not done here,’ she turned on her heel and marched into the house to fetch the salad and her homemade coleslaw.

  ‘Sorry – did I interrupt something?’ Dad winked at me and chuckled. He then trotted up the path and followed Mum to the kitchen in an attempt to get himself out of the doghouse.