Glory Hunter: He'll win the votes, if he lives long enough ... (Hollins & Haring Book 2)

by T. J. Beach

  “What happens now? What are you going to do with me?” Dave asked.

  “Nothing,” Debbie said. “We’re done here.”

  Her phone buzzed. She read the message and smiled to Hollins. “They got it all.”

  Hollins tugged his tee-shirt aside to pull off the mic taped to his chest, sat on the desk, keeping an eye on McManus while Debbie went to the front door and released the latch.

  Detective Sergeant Stu Reilly strode into the bedroom, followed closely by Detective Constable Connolly.

  Stu’s wingman hauled McManus to his feet. “You are under arrest. Anything you say—”

  “No,” Dave said. “You can’t. They broke in!”

  “He let us in,” Deb corrected.

  “I know,” Stu said. “We saw. We got that bit on video as well as audio. Is that the hard drive?”

  Hollins handed it over. “SKFC—”

  “We heard.”

  “Have a sick bucket handy when you look at the pictures.”

  “That bad?” The corners of Stu’s mouth turned down in disgust.

  “They stole my hard drive,” Dave yelled. “Hey! How did you even know it was there?”

  Stu tucked the storage device under his arm. “You invited them in. They found this device and, having deduced your password, confirmed that it contains child pornography. I don’t think the magistrate will have any problem with that. He nodded to Hollins and Debbie. “Thanks. No need for a warrant now.”

  Debbie handed over the list.

  Dave spluttered. “They threatened me! She assaulted me!”

  “Did they?” Stu asked. “Did you hear anyone assault this man, Connolly?” He shrugged. “I seriously don’t think anyone will care.” He waved the list. “I don’t think we’ll get this into evidence, but it won’t stop us following up on the leads.”

  “But it’s illegal search and seizure.”

  Stu shook his head. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows. That’s America. This is Australia. Our laws are different. You can lay charges against these two if you want — you might even succeed — but it won’t stop the hard drive going into evidence.”

  “He threatened to kill me,” McManus pointed at Hollins.

  “No, I said Gary would kill you,” Debbie corrected.

  “You must have heard that!”

  “I did.” Stu shifted his gaze to Debbie. “Blam, blam?”

  She smirked.

  “Is that how it went down that other time?” Stu asked. ”I’ve always wondered.”

  Debbie drew an imaginary zipper across her lips.

  Stu grunted. “Dave, if you’d been around Debbie Haring as long as I have, you’d know one thing for sure. Debbie’s full of crap. Get him out of here, Connolly.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  DEBBIE’S MUM CAME around to pick up Jennifer for a grandma-granddaughter girl’s morning.

  “Don’t let her talk your ear off,” Debbie warned.

  “I’m looking forward to it.” Mum stepped in for a hug and whispered into Debbie’s ear. “Best of luck, love.”

  Debbie squeezed back and bit her lip for fear the swelling in her chest would burst out. She waved to Jennifer, closed the door, rested her forehead on the cool glass insert for a few seconds, then squared her shoulders, told herself to woman up and dragged her feet into the lounge where Matt and Lachlan had Lego spread over the entire carpet.

  Matt nodded, thin-lipped, pulling a Lego Batman’s head on and off, oozing tension.

  Debbie kicked a space in the building blocks, pulled over the ottoman and sat. “Lachlan.”

  “Yes, Mummy.” He kept working on a boat with wheels, adding helicopter blades.

  “Daddy and I have got something very important to say. You know Mr McManus from school?”

  Lachlan’s hands froze.

  “Last night, the police went to Mr McManus’s house, and they arrested him. They put handcuffs on him, and they took him to the police station.”

  Lachlan turned with a worried frown.

  “Mr McManus has been very, very bad.”

  “The police will put him in jail?” Lachlan’s question rose at the end with disbelief.

  “Yes. Mr McManus did terrible, horrible things … to little boys … little boys like you, but it was never their fault and their parents still love them. The police caught Mr McManus. He will never be at your school ever again. He’ll never be at the cricket, and he’ll be in prison for a very, very long time. You will never ever see him again.”

  Lachlan looked to Matt for confirmation.

  When his dad nodded, the Lego monstrosity dropped out of Lachlan’s hands.

  For once, Debbie didn’t mind that her son wouldn’t believe anything unless he heard it from his dad. Whatever made him feel safe was fine by her.

  “How do you feel about that, Big Man?” Matt asked.

  Lachlan pushed out his bottom lip and nodded to himself. “Good.” He didn’t sound certain.

  “Lachlan?” Debbie drew in a shuddering breath. She had to know, but the answer might haunt her. “Did Mr McManus …?” No, she shouldn’t ask it straight out. “Mr McManus said he liked you a lot. He said you were his favourite.”

  Lachlan’s spine stiffened until Debbie thought his head might snap off, but she’d started down the path. She glanced at Matt. He bit his his lip, blinked like he might cry, nodded for her to get it done. “Did Mr McManus …? Did he ever do … things? Did he ever do anything you … didn’t like?”

  A tremor started in Lachlan’s hand. He stared at his dad, beseeching.

  Matt stretched his fingers. Lachlan grabbed them like a lifeline in a stormy sea. “Mr McManus is in the jail?” he asked.

  Matt nodded firmly.

  Lachlan dropped his eyes. “He took me into the sports gear room. Two times. He made me sit on one of those big leather balls. It smelled funny. He said he’d take me on a camp, and we’d … do things.” His precious little face screwed up. “I didn’t want to do those things with him, Mummy.” The tremor spread to Lachlan’s whole arm.

  “Oh, mate. Love. Why didn’t you tell us?” Instant regret. What a stupid, stupid thing to say. But it flopped out before Debbie could stop herself.

  Lachlan choked out a sob. “I couldn’t, Mummy! He said I mustn’t tell anybody because Daddy would go to jail if I told anybody, and you, Mummy and Jenny. You won’t go to jail, will you, Daddy?”

  Matt hauled Lachlan onto his lap and crushed him in an all-enveloping hug. “No, Big Man.”

  With tears streaming down her face, Debbie dropped onto her knees and threw her arms around them both.

  Lachlan eased himself out of the two-parent cuddle and picked up his Lego. “Can I have a biscuit?”

  Two day’s later, Hollins put on his dry-cleaned pants and his business shirt and went to Ridenour Investigations.

  Deb was at the desk, shuffling invoices. “Look what the cat dragged in. Do you need Jane Doe for something?”

  Hollins fidgeted on the carpet, wondering what to do. He felt like an idiot standing, but he couldn’t sit down in the mock leather visitor chairs by the window for what he wanted to say.

  “What’s happening?” Debbie asked.

  “You should get a chair by the desk for people who want to sit here,” he said.

  “Why? Everyone’s perfectly happy with what we’ve got.”

  “I always end up standing behind you.”

  “Exactly my point. The people who matter are happy in the comfortable chairs.”

  Hollins shoved his hands in his pockets, peering at her, trying to gauge her mood from the top of her head as she went back to whatever she was doing with the invoices.

  “Is there any word about what was on that hard drive?” he asked.

  She pushed the invoices aside with a sigh. “Yes. There were two boys from the cricket club. Older boys, now.” She took in a heavy breath and directed her eyes over Hollins’ shoulder. “There were pictures of Lachlan.”

  “Oh,
God.” Now Hollins needed a chair.

  “He was …” Debbie gulped. “Fully clothed. In his school uniform.” She hitched on the last words and put the back of her hand to her mouth. “Shit! I swore I wasn’t going to cry anymore.” She took a moment staring at her keyboard to compose herself. “The rock spider unit says McManus was shopping Lachlan around his pals, seeing who wanted …” She spluttered into silence.

  Hollins went cold all over. “Oh, my God.”

  Debbie took a deep breath. “McManus was grooming my baby.” She pulled herself up with a whistled exhalation. “That’s as far as it got, thank goodness. We’ve got an appointment Wednesday. A child psychologist the cops use is coming down from Perth to talk to him. It’ll be an interview, evidence gathering, but then there’ll be trauma therapy. They’re going to set up some sessions for me and Matt, too, and Jennifer.”

  “Holy shit, Deb.” Hollins stepped up to the desk, hands spread, trying to find something to do, grasping for something, anything to say. “Look, just in case you should ever have any doubt, if there’s anything I can do, anything at all … well, if you don’t ask me, I’ll wring your neck.”

  Debbie snorted. “Yeah. I know. Thanks.” She gave him a watery-eyed grin. “Lachlan wants to go back to cricket.”

  “Good for him!”

  “You’ll finish the season as coach?”

  Hollins groaned.

  “You’re good at it, you know. Lachlan looks up to you. Shit knows why.”

  “He has good judgement, that lad.”

  “And,” Debbie poked a finger. “Jennifer has decided she wants to start a soccer team with her friends and call it the Bell’s Landing ‘attics’.”

  Hollins dropped into the visitor’s chair nearest the door. He could deal with these subjects from a distance. “I need to talk to Jenny about that. We’re the ‘addicks’.”

  “Addicts, great, that’s so much better than attics. She’s going to ask you to be the coach. I told her to go for it.” She smirked.

  Hollins chuckled. Partly at being released from the horrific idea of Lachlan being groomed, partly in anticipation of training sessions with a pack of giggling girls led by Jenny Haring. He might need counselling himself after that. “Bollocks,” he said, “at least I know more about football than I know about cricket.”

  “You can teach them to roll on the floor holding their shins.”

  “I was thinking more the two-footed, studs in, knee-high sliding tackle and how to yell at referees.”

  Debbie jutted out her chin. “There’s one more thing. Something that would really help.”

  “What’s that?” Hollins sat up a bit straighter.

  “You can work on the warehouse investigation in Bunbury. It can’t be a woman, and I can’t send Kim. He’s too old.” She winced. “And too unreliable. I need you to go in undercover. I’ll even buy you some John Doe overalls.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t try to get out of it. You still owe me from before, and you have twice promised to do whatever I asked.”

  “Once.”

  “Twice. You did it again just now.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “I’m not going to take any of your … what did you just say?”

  “I said ‘okay’. I’ll do it. Why do you think I came here in my chinos?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t notice that. Have you finally realised you need to get your life together? Get some money. Get out of that double-wide.”

  “Don’t let Tommy hear you call it a double-wide.”

  “Get a decent car.”

  “All right.” Hollins held up a hand for mercy. Debbie could keep that particular rant going for hours. “I have decided to try a job where I work in nice pants and a collared shirt. All right?”

  “You’ll be wearing jeans and one of those stupid smock things at the warehouse.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “Gary, you open your mouth, and stuff comes out, blah, blah. It’s all garbage.”

  “It’s ... satisfying.”

  “What is?”

  Hollins growled under his breath. She’d make him spell it out. Not that he’d got it straight in his own head yet. “There’s a … a … sense of accomplishment when we catch bad guys.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be a private detective? In fact, I am certain I’ve heard those words from your lips at least—”

  “Debbie!”

  She snickered. Way too smug. She pulled a set of stapled printouts from her in-tray and tossed it across the office like a frisbee. “Have a look at that.”

  Hollins retrieved the stack of pages from the floor and read the cover sheet. “Certificate Three in Investigative Services?”

  “Sign up. I did last week. When we’ve passed, Kim can vouch for us, and we’ll get WA private investigator licences. You can probably get out of half the course under recognition of prior learning for your SAS experience.” She raised an eyebrow.

  Hollins ignored it. “You’ve had enough of using Kim’s ID with your photo laminated over his?”

  Debbie scrunched up her nose. “I might keep that. There are times when you don’t want people to get your name.”

  “Fifteen hundred bucks!” Hollins pointed to the price on the second page of the brochure.

  “No problem. Ridenour Investigations will give you an advance. Hey! We can study together!”

  THE END

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  Free Beach Reads

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  Also by T.J. Beach

  Hollins & Haring detective series:

  Gun-Shy

  The Meet Me romance mysteries:

  Meet Me at the Hanging Tree

  Meet Me Under Brooklyn Bridge

  Meet Me Where the Surf Breaks

  The Guerrilla action adventures:

  The First Guerrilla

  The Second Guerrilla: M5M

  About the Author

  I'm from Perth, Western Australia, loving the opportunity to share my stories.

  This is the second Hollins & Haring book. The first Gun-Shy is available where you bought this ebook. Debbie and Gary will be back again soon.

  I also write romance mysteries and the occasional military action adventure.

  You can find me on my website, Twitter or Facebook.

  Cheers.

  T.J.