The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘You normally steal your girlfriend’s phone when you take her away?’

  ‘My phone? I was pickpocketed on the train.’ Carol looked quickly from Emily to Benjamin. ‘What is going on?’

  ‘Seems you’ve got some explaining to do, mate.’ Emily said. Her stomach still shot with pain, her breathing only just returning to normal.

  ‘You know nothing.’

  ‘I know you got desperate. Enough to convince Shaun that Carol and his son had been abducted and were in danger, just so Shaun would do your dirty work.’

  ‘Shaun?’ Carol exclaimed.

  Tremaine ignored her and continued speaking to Emily. ‘They weren’t in any danger. Not until you knocked on the door — you think about that, copper! And I hope you’ve got a lot of evidence to back up what you’re saying. I was in London, love. The whole weekend. Now . . . Nobody fucking moves or speaks. I’ve got some messages to send so I can get this shit all sorted out. You make a noise and I start getting angry — and I take it out on the boy. You understand?’

  No one spoke.

  ‘Good,’ he said.

  It was twenty-five minutes later when Tremaine suddenly became animated. He stood up and produced the door key from his pocket. He opened the door to reveal a big box van, its diesel engine revving and its reversing alarm beeping as it backed up the drive.

  ‘Your lift.’ He smiled at them all in turn, seeming to enjoy the scared expressions looking back. Emily was determined to deny him the satisfaction and did her best to look disinterested.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere!’ Anna spoke for the first time. Tremaine strode directly at her but she held her ground. He turned at the last so he was facing the boy and slapped him hard across the face with the back of his hand. It made a loud sound, the boy yelped in surprise and pain, the two women folded around him. Emily got to her feet.

  ‘What the fuck!’ She tried to push him but he deflected her wrists, knocked her off balance and punched her hard in the side of the head. Her vision was instantly a blur. When it began to clear, she realised she was down on one knee.

  ‘Your fucking lift!’ he spat. ‘Anyone got a problem and I start on the boy again.’ The force of the blow had pushed Tyler back into the sofa. He got to his feet, supported by his mother and his nan. They shuffled past Emily. She locked eyes with Tremaine again and walked out behind, wiping her face. The box van was parked as close to the door as the porch overhang would allow, the rear door already slid open. It was empty. Emily climbed in behind the other three and the door was slammed shut behind her. She felt it graze against her heel.

  * * *

  The passenger door was tugged open and a heavyset man threw himself up into the cab. ‘We’ve got to get going,’ he said, then, ‘who the fuck are you?’

  George Elms did his best to grimace over the collar of his borrowed polo shirt. It had Castle Hire stitched on the chest. ‘You call like that in a fucking panic, telling us we got to get over here and dig you of the shit — you get whoever’s available.’

  ‘Just get going.’

  George selected first, the gearbox crunched as he edged forward. ‘Did they give you any shit?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Cunts in the back. Did they give you any shit?’ George said.

  ‘Only to start with,’ the passenger grinned. ‘I had to slap the fucking copper about a bit. Mouthy bitch.’

  The van swung left and straightened up. It travelled along the road just a few metres, the roadblock ahead clearly visible, made up of police cars fended off at an angle across the road, their blue lights shimmering a disjointed pattern. John Whittaker stood out the front, his hat pulled down firmly on his head, the rim just above his eyes in a perfect line, his hands thrust behind his back. He looked every bit the Major.

  ‘Fuck! Turn this shit . . .’ Tremaine realised that George had a bright yellow Taser pointed at his chest. George watched as the Tremaine’s eyes were fixed on the tiny red dot.

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant George Elms and you’re under arrest for a whole host of shit. You do not have to say anything, and if you do, you will be Tasered.’

  ‘What the f—’

  The barbs burst from the end of the weapon, lodged firmly in Tremaine’s chest and 20,000 volts of electricity surged between them. Instantly paralysed, he gulped in pain and slumped into the window.

  ‘What did I just say?’ George exclaimed.

  The man moaned, but he had started to make a recovery and his hands moved towards the source of the pain on his chest.

  ‘And this is from the mouthy bitch in the back.’

  George pulled the trigger again.

  Chapter 34

  George’s back was against one of the front wheels of the van, his legs straight out in front of him. Ryker sat next to him and he could feel her pushed in against his hip. Benjamin Tremaine had been conveyed away to custody in Langthorne and someone needed to sit with the van until it could be lifted and seized as part of the evidence.

  ‘He hit me, George.’

  ‘You said.’

  ‘I got hit.

  ‘You mentioned it, Ryker. I’m sorry you got hit. I got him back.’

  ‘Do you reckon I could borrow your Taser and pop down to custody when I get back?’

  ‘I certainly don’t mind. I don’t reckon Whittaker would either.’

  ‘My name in vain?’ Whittaker’s booming voice came first, then his determined march as he stepped out from the side of the lorry, his hands still clasped behind his back. George looked up.

  ‘Ryker here, Major sir, would like permission to attend custody, in order to Taser Benjamin Tremaine in the testicles, Major, sir. I was merely suggesting that you might grant permission to do so, sir.’

  ‘I might indeed,’ Whittaker said. ‘I thought you two giggling school children would appreciate an early heads up. The search teams are in at Castle Car Hire. We’re done rounding up the sorry looking staff down there and we’re already getting reports of finds. Nothing confirmed of course, but bags of white powder in a hire car centre are always going to look a little out of place.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.’

  ‘I fucking hope not, George. For the amount of shit I’ve caused this weekend, the powers that be are going to want the seize of the century.’

  ‘I fancy your chances there, sir.’

  ‘So do I, George! So do I. The Mercedes has now been stopped by our friends at the Dartford Crossing. Two occupants, both under arrest. Seems they were running home.’

  ‘Wish they’d stayed there, sir.’ Ryker mused.

  ‘I assume you kids are going off duty shortly. Lord knows it’s been a long day.’

  ‘George is taking me out to dinner, sir.’ Ryker nudged George playfully in the side.

  ‘That’s right. I think I might have won a bet, sir. Which somehow means I get to pay for dinner.’

  Whittaker stared down at him. He lingered a little too long, a knowing smile on his face. ‘Well, you have a lovely time. And Emily, my advice if you’re going out with George is to get into one of those places where they can supply something he can colour in.’ Whittaker boomed his laugh out across the elevated view of Langthorne.

  George’s attention was then drawn to the arrival of an ambulance. It pulled past the van and swung onto the drive where Carol, her mum and son were standing with sympathetic detectives. George stood to get a better view and he felt Ryker stand next to him.

  ‘Is someone hurt?’ George said.

  The rear doors opened. Carol and her son swept down the drive as Shaun Carter emerged. A uniformed officer stepped out right behind him. The family embraced, and George could hear the screams of delight from where he stood.

  Whittaker made his way over to the scene. ‘Just five minutes, Shaun,’ he said.

  Shaun pulled away from the huddle, wiped tears from his eyes and took up Whittaker’s hand in an enthusiastic shake. ‘Thanks so much, sir. I really appreciate it. Five
minutes.’

  George walked over, too. Shaun saw him coming and offered a pained smile. He stretched out his hand and George took it warmly.

  ‘Sorry, George. I should have kept you informed. But it all got out of hand so quickly.’

  ‘Forget about it. I’m pretty sure I understand.’

  ‘I thought Carol . . . I thought she was dead. He told me he had thrown her off a bridge into traffic. Made me listen to it on the radio . . .’ Shaun broke down, the sobs wracking his body. His son was still wrapped around his waist; he seemed to grip tighter. ‘It looks like it was just some woman — some passing cyclist he must have just grabbed. Someone’s mother.’

  ‘It makes no sense, Shaun. Not to a good man like you.’

  Shaun broke into a tense smile. ‘I’ve got a difficult time ahead, George. I made some bad decisions. People got hurt.’

  ‘You’re allowed to be wrong, as long as it comes from the right place. You’re going to be okay, Shaun. In time.’

  The five minutes were strictly enforced. Shaun was shepherded back down into the rear of the ambulance and driven away. George looked on as his son and ex-wife still embraced tearfully.

  ‘I’ll let you off dinner.’ Ryker’s voice was close to his ear. George turned to her. ‘Go call your wife, George.’

  ‘I tried that, remember? Calling out the blue? I need a pretty good reason these days.’

  Ryker thrust her hands into her pockets. She looked back over at Carol and her son. ‘That’s your reason, George. That’s all that matters to you.’

  ‘There’s a lot that matters to me.’ George said. He thought he heard a chuckle from Ryker as she walked towards her car.

  THE END

  BOOK 2: THEN SHE RAN

  An absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

  CHARLIE GALLAGHER

  First published 2018

  Joffe Books, London

  www.joffebooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this.

  ©Charlie Gallagher

  Please join our mailing list for free Kindle crime thriller, detective, mystery, and romance books and new releases.

  http://www.joffebooks.com/contact/

  THERE IS A GLOSSARY OF ENGLISH AND POLICE SLANG IN THE BACK OF THIS BOOK FOR US READERS.

  For Harris. We miss you man.

  Author’s Note

  I am inspired by what I do and see in my day job as a front-line police detective, though my books are entirely fictional. I am aware that the police officers in my novels are not always shown positively. They are human and they make mistakes. This is sometimes the case in real life too, but the vast majority of officers are honest and do a good job in trying circumstances. From what I see on a daily basis, the men and women who wear the uniform are among the very finest, and I am proud to be part of one of the best police forces in the world.

  Charlie Gallagher

  Chapter 1

  ‘Jenny, honey, we’ve got to go! We’ve got to go now!’

  Jenny’s eyes opened and she tried to move her arms, but they were weighed down; their four-month-old daughter, Isobel, lay across them. Beyond her tiny, sleeping form was a digital clock with red numbers. They looked angry, as if they’d been scorched into the black face. The numbers advanced one digit, to 10:01 a.m. — Sunday morning. Once, this would have been her favourite day of the week: lazy and carefree, a cooked breakfast and a stroll — no work until tomorrow. But recently, days of the week had come to mean nothing. Time meant nothing. Sleep meant nothing.

  ‘What are you talking about? I only just got her off.’ It had been a terrible night. Isobel’s teeth seemed to be coming all at once. There was no doubt the poor thing was in a lot of pain, inconsolable for much of the time. But Jenny’s patience was frayed — damned near severed. Neither of them was coping with sleep deprivation very well.

  ‘We need to go. We need to go — now!’ Joseph said again.

  Jenny was now wide awake. As gently as she could, she pulled her arm out from under Isobel’s neck. Isobel stirred enough to sigh but stayed asleep on the big bed. Joseph’s eyes were wide and filled with fear. He was serious — she’d never seen him like this before. ‘What’s happened, Joseph? What are you talking about? Leaving?’

  ‘I’ve put some bits in the bag, stuff for Issy. We have to go now, Jenny.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘We need to go NOW!’ Joseph’s raised voice got a reaction from Isobel. She scrunched up her face in a scowl, made tiny fists with her hands. Jenny knew the signs, knew what was coming next. Sure enough, Isobel’s cry was instant and powerful.

  ‘What the hell, Joseph?’ Jenny moved to the end of the bed. The curtains were drawn; Joseph walked over to them and tore them apart. Isobel’s crying got louder. Jenny could see their suitcase laid out on the floor. It was stuffed with Isobel’s clothes, her nappies and wipes. He pushed it shut and zipped it up. Jenny still sat on the bed. Joseph was like a man possessed. He picked the case up and stood it on his wheels. The handle clicked out. He had laid out a few bits and pieces on the unit at the end of the bed: his wallet, his phone and the papers they had been given when they had hired the car. The hotel room key was there too. He scooped up everything but the key.

  ‘Are you not taking the key?’

  ‘We can’t come back, Jenny.’

  ‘What the hell is going on? Like hell am I just going to take Isobel out like this — with no explanation!’

  ‘There’s no time. You have to trust me. We have to go now!’

  Jenny couldn’t help but absorb some of his panic; Joseph didn’t scare easy after all. She found her feet. She picked up Isobel and tried to shush her. She pulled her in tight to her chest and she calmed down a little. Joseph strode into the bathroom. When he came back out, the keys to the car rattled in his hand.

  ‘Now!’ Joseph walked to the door and stepped out. Jenny saw him look both ways before disappearing a few paces down the corridor. She scooped up the keys to the room and stuffed them in her jeans pocket. She had dressed for the day hours ago and only needed to slip her feet into loose trainers. Joseph strode back into the room and took hold of the suitcase. Jenny looked around the room. She had clothes strewn over the chair, her toiletries and hair straighteners in the bathroom. She had other belongings on her bedside table and across other surfaces.

  ‘I can’t just leave all this. Can we not just take a few more minutes to pack all the stuff? I need to change Issy.’

  ‘We can get more stuff. There’s no time. We have to go now.’ Joseph walked back into the corridor and held the door to stop it swinging back closed. His eyes fell on Jenny, still full of panic, still desperate. He was pale and the hand that reached for hers was cold and clammy. He moved them towards the stairs. Isobel had calmed down enough so that her sounds were just unsettled moans. The crying had stopped at least. Joseph strode past the lift to the top of the stairs. Jenny stopped at the lift and pressed the call button.

  ‘We take the stairs,’ Joseph said.

  Jenny followed him through a door to the stairwell but he was already out of sight, moving down the stairs two at a time with the suitcase held over his head, his footfalls echoing off the bare walls.

  ‘What is going on?’ Jenny called after him. Joseph ignored her; it sounded as if he was already on the landing below and moving to the next flight.

  They’d been on the third floor of the Dovorian Hotel. Jenny had thought it to be a strange choice from the start. It was a budget hotel; there were no real facilities for families, certainly nothing for a four-month-old baby. Joseph had said it suited their needs; it was close to the centre of D
over. Jenny didn’t understand why this was important; there was nothing in the town for them, nothing in the county. But Joseph had just told her to trust him. He’d been saying that a lot recently.

  She made it to the ground floor. They had to pass the reception desk. It was vacant. She had needed to summon someone from the back office when they were checking in; she was glad there was nobody there now. Joseph was moving away from it at speed.

  He was already halfway along the ground-floor corridor, which ran the length of the building to a side exit. The door was swinging open when Jenny got to it. She was going as fast as she could manage but she was some way behind Joseph, who was once more out of her sight. She stood still for a second. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and she was breathing heavily. Isobel wriggled and she tried to hold her firm against her chest. She knew it was the best chance she had of keeping her quiet. She heard an engine revving hard and their hire car pulled up in front, Joseph at the wheel. He was already out of the driver’s door by the time she got to the rear. He pulled the door open and unclipped the baby seat. Jenny hated it. It was rear facing and she would rather be able to see Isobel when they were moving, but the internet had told her how much safer it was.

  Jenny tried to make Isobel cosy, wrapping a blanket around her as tightly as she could and tucking it under her tiny body. Isobel liked to be wrapped up tight and warm.

  ‘We have to go!’ Joseph bent over her, she had put the baby seat on the pavement. It was sloped, the hill was steep and it wasn’t easy.

  ‘We have to make sure she’s wrapped up and safe first, Joseph. What the hell has gotten into you?’

  Jenny lifted the seat. It clicked into place on the second attempt. She kissed her fingers and rested them against Isobel’s cheek. Joseph was already revving the car. Jenny moved to the front passenger seat. The car was already moving as she pulled her door shut.