High Force: A DCI Ryan Mystery (The DCI Ryan Mysteries Book 5)

by LJ Ross

  Just another average Joe heading home to his lovely fiancée.

  He met his own eyes in the rear-view mirror and grinned.

  * * *

  Anna spent another fruitless half-hour reading and re-reading the same paragraphs before setting her work aside. It was useless trying to concentrate when her mind was miles away, lost in memories from the past.

  She remembered first meeting Ryan two years ago, on the little tidal island of Lindisfarne which lay an hour or so further north of Newcastle. Twice a day, the North Sea rolled in and cut it off from mainland Northumberland and the people who lived there could enjoy the peace and serenity of having a corner of the world entirely to themselves. Anna had been born on the island but her childhood held few happy memories, so when she had returned to assist the police with a murder investigation it had been with no small amount of trepidation. For Ryan’s part, he had recently lost his sister and had escaped to the island to grieve and recover. Death had followed him there and the call of duty had been something he couldn’t ignore. Neither of them had searched for the other or wanted the complications that a relationship might bring. People said it wouldn’t last and that it was impossible to live with a man who gave his life to avenging the dead. But she had since come to realise that there were some things in life you just didn’t fight and her love for Detective Chief Inspector Maxwell Finlay-Ryan was one of them.

  Anna looked again at the brass carriage clock above the fireplace.

  Eight-fifty.

  Time always passed slowly when you were eagerly awaiting an arrival, so she decided to try another form of distraction by taking a bath to relax her taut nerves. She selected a book from a stack of well-thumbed paperbacks and reached across to turn out the lamps.

  The house felt very empty.

  Anna rubbed a brisk hand across her arm to warm herself, then stole another glance behind the curtain. She was reassured by the presence of the silver Mondeo and raised her hand to wave to the police officers sitting inside it.

  She waited, but this time there was no flash of headlights.

  Her forehead wrinkled but she shrugged it off, thinking that they probably couldn’t see her against the canvas of a shadowed room.

  Yes, that would explain it.

  Anna headed for the staircase but as she reached the first step she stopped and swore softly under her breath. Then she went back and turned all the lights on again.

  * * *

  Edwards drummed his fingers in time to the radio as he passed through the darkened streets of Durham and was careful to keep his sunshade turned down, as an added precaution just in case an officious bystander should happen to recognise his face as he entered the city limits.

  Speed cameras. ANPR cameras. Ticket inspectors. Just schemes to squeeze more money from hardworking taxpayers, he thought self-righteously.

  Whatever next?

  They should think about investing money in more robust safety measures to keep dangerous criminals off the streets.

  He almost laughed out loud at his own joke as he passed under the shadow of Durham Cathedral, which towered like a giant over the river and the castle sitting at its feet. Edwards didn’t stop to admire its architecture but continued across the bridge, slowing down to watch for the turning that would lead him towards Anna’s cottage. He happened to know that Ryan hadn’t been able to return to the penthouse apartment he owned on Newcastle’s Quayside ever since their last interlude, and it was currently standing empty and unoccupied while he shacked up with his little tart.

  Pity.

  It was a shame to let a prime investment go to waste.

  His attention was diverted and excitement began to fizz through his veins as he spotted the private road leading down to the waterfront.

  “I’m home,” he snarled. “Put the kettle on, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  Water sloshed noisily into the roll-top bath, blotting out the oppressive silence in the empty house. Anna threw herself into the idea, lighting a row of scented candles on the window ledge and dragging an old CD player into the doorway. Upbeat music combined with the cosy warmth of the bathroom helped to create a sense of calm and she began to think that she was worrying about nothing.

  Really, it was ridiculous to jump at shadows or to think that a murderer lurked behind every door. It was a waste of energy and it was probably very unhelpful to Ryan, who needed to focus all his attention on bringing MacKenzie home.

  If Edwards wanted to harm her, he would surely have done it by now.

  Wouldn’t he?

  Anna began to undress, folding her jeans and shirt neatly on top of the toilet seat. She paused to pull a face at herself in the mirror above the sink and then dipped her toe into the bathwater.

  Was that a noise, downstairs?

  One foot on the floor, one in the bath, she stood perfectly still, listening.

  Nothing.

  Laughing at herself, Anna shook her head and climbed into the bath. She sighed happily and allowed the water to surround her in a warm, safe cocoon. On the radio, The Beatles began to play and she hummed along under her breath.

  * * *

  Edwards parked the car half a mile away, then doubled back on foot towards the private road leading towards Anna’s cottage beside the river. He kept his chin lowered, stealing upward glances now and then to watch for street cameras. When he spotted one, he zigzagged across to the other side of the road to avoid its line of sight.

  Two women making their way home admired the tall, good-looking man with broad shoulders.

  Edwards swept his dark eyes over them and assessed their attributes, much as he might have done a slab of meat in a butcher’s window. The taller one reminded him of a pigeon: top heavy and cooing. He didn’t mind the noise since he didn’t care about anything she might have to say. But the poorly fitting skirt, the cheap heels? Bad taste was unforgivable.

  As for the shorter one, she was fat, plain and simple. Not curvy, not hourglass, but fat. The thought of touching her left him vaguely nauseated.

  He gave them both an empty, twinkling smile and a flirtatious wink, heard them giggle, then his face fell back into the hard lines of a predator.

  The streets were moderately busy but that was alright. People heading home after work or dinner with friends hardly noticed what went on around them, let alone remembered specifics. He slipped into Anna’s road and immediately crouched behind one of the parked cars overlooking a row of pretty stone cottages.

  Then he waited.

  It was nearly five minutes before he spotted it. The interior light flickered on inside one of the cars parked further along, illuminating two figures who appeared to be unwrapping sandwiches in tin foil.

  Et, voila!

  The police were nothing if not predictable, he thought, and retreated into the shadows to join the footpath leading down to the waterfront. If the front door to Anna’s cottage was barred, he’d just have to go around the back.

  * * *

  Ryan tapped a finger against the steering wheel of his car as he manoeuvred through late evening traffic heading out of Newcastle. He smiled at the sound of an enormous SUV blaring its horn, dodging back and forth between lanes to get home ten seconds sooner than everybody else. Idly, he considered turning on the in-car siren just for kicks but he couldn’t justify its use outside of an emergency.

  Instead, he flicked on the hands-free mobile and selected Anna’s number.

  It rang out.

  He shrugged, thinking that she was probably in the bathroom.

  His finger tapped a little more energetically, then he gave in to the impulse and keyed in the number for one of the police officers on surveillance duty.

  “Peters? It’s Ryan…yeah, alright thanks. Look, just wanted to check everything’s still quiet over there.”

  “Yeah, nothing stirring here, guv. Think your lady has gone upstairs.”

  Ryan nodded.

  “Thanks. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes, with a bit of lu
ck.”

  “No worries. We’re manning the fort.”

  He rang off and stared ahead at the crawling traffic. He should have felt better after that phone call. Why, then, was his heart racing?

  “Sod it,” he murmured, and flicked on the siren.

  * * *

  Edwards watched a student jog along the footpath next to the river, long hair swishing back and forth in a ponytail. She was tall and slim—both things he admired—and she wore a baggy sweatshirt bearing the Durham University logo. She was less than five metres away from where he hid behind one of the hedgerows separating the footpath and the grassy verge leading to the row of cottages. He could have taken her, he thought, and she would never have seen it coming with her headphones in and music blasting in her ears.

  Perhaps another time.

  Keeping to the hedgerow, he walked parallel to the cottages until he reached the one at the very end. Its curtains were shut but he could see cracks of light peeking between the swathes of material, indicating that somebody was home.

  It was possible that both lovebirds were at home, but he thought not. If Ryan was in residence, he was unlikely to have enlisted a surveillance team to watch over him. That would hardly fit his heroic image, now would it?

  He crept up the grassy verge until he reached the back door and wasted no time trying the handle, but found it locked.

  That would have been too easy.

  Sneaking glances to either side, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and retrieved a set of bump keys—a present from one of his fans back at Frankland. He selected a key and pushed it into the lock, listening intently for the sound of each inner pin dropping into place. Edwards paused before reaching the last pin, then took another look around him.

  All quiet.

  He could hear the distant sound of a neighbour’s television turned up loud, but otherwise there was nobody to see or to hear. He removed his shoe and tapped the heel firmly against the key several times before twisting it fully around.

  Edwards replaced his shoe and retrieved his bump key, then slicked his hair back with two shaking hands. He was tremulous with excitement, breathing hard in anticipation of a kill he had dreamed of for two years.

  The door opened with a gentle click.

  * * *

  Anna sat up in the bath with a start.

  “Hello?”

  She had definitely heard a noise downstairs that time.

  The CD player continued to blare inanely, taunting her with its buoyant melodies while her heart had frozen inside her chest.

  “Hello?” she repeated, a bit louder.

  She began to struggle out of the bath, water slopping everywhere in her haste to reach the dressing gown which hung on the back of the door. Her mobile phone lay just out of reach, on the shelf above the sink. Another moment and she would have it in her grasp.

  The door creaked open.

  “Hello, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Ryan surveyed the scene in front of him and thanked whichever god was listening for having made woman. His fiancée stood naked in front of him, wet from the bath and spitting with anger.

  “Ryan! For heaven’s sake, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Oh, for the love of…hand me that towel.”

  Ryan took his time selecting one, grinning unashamedly.

  “It’s not funny,” she snatched the towel from his outstretched hand. “I heard a noise downstairs and I thought…I thought…”

  Instantly contrite, Ryan folded her against him and ran a soothing hand along the length of her back.

  “I’m sorry. I tried calling you on the way here.”

  “I must have put it on silent,” she mumbled, picking it up and clearing the notifications.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he kissed the top of her wet head, inhaling the scent of whichever shampoo she used. “I called out when I came in but perhaps you didn’t hear me over…whatever the hell you’re listening to.”

  “Enya,” she said, testily.

  “Of course.”

  Anna leaned back to make a closer inspection of his face, eyes narrowing at the sight of his swollen nose and the greenish-purple bruise blooming around his left eye.

  “What happened?”

  Ryan blew out a laboured breath.

  “I fell onto Phillip’s fist.”

  Anna stuck her tongue in her cheek.

  “Uh-huh. Do you want me to kiss it better?”

  “I’ve heard your kisses have miraculous healing properties.”

  * * *

  Edwards crept through each room in the cottage but he already knew the place was deserted. He sensed it even before he saw the timers plugged into the walls, controlling the lights to give the impression that it was still occupied.

  Very clever.

  He stalked from room to room, dark eyes tracking over the minutiae of Anna and Ryan’s life.

  Cute pictures. Knick-knacks.

  He swept one thickly muscled arm across the dresser in the master bedroom, scattering perfume bottles and photo frames onto the floor. Amid the debris, he spotted a pair of engraved gold cufflinks and bent to retrieve them.

  “MFR,” he read, with a short laugh. “Finders keepers, Maxwell.”

  He rifled through drawers but found nothing of interest until he reached the wardrobe.

  He let out a long, appreciative whistle and selected a red dress Anna had once worn to a Christmas party. He stared at it, wondering whether her blood would run to the same shade.

  All in good time.

  He looked around for a bag or a rucksack and found a battered leather holdall underneath the bed. He folded the dress inside it and moved on to Ryan’s clothing. Almost reverently, his hand trailed across a row of smart suits, some of them hand-made, over silk shirts and cashmere jumpers hanging next to wash-worn cotton and faded jeans.

  A man of contrast.

  Edwards wriggled his fingers and selected a black suit of fine wool which he paired with a shirt of the same colour. He stripped down completely and then rooted around for a pair of Ryan’s underpants, chuckling to himself. He took his time getting ready in the bathroom next door and thought about taking a shower.

  Too risky.

  He allowed himself time for a shave, looking out a disposable razor to deal with the unwanted hair on his face. The outdoorsy look was alright for some, he supposed, but he much preferred the smoothness of a clean-shaven face.

  He turned his head this way and that, checking for flaws but finding none.

  With bones like that, who needed to hide behind facial hair?

  Edwards blew himself a kiss and sauntered back into the bedroom, imagining how many times Ryan must have made the same journey. He pulled on the man’s clothes and was unsurprised to find that they were of a similar height and breadth. Since his time behind bars, he had certainly put on some muscle and his arms and thighs stretched the fabric in the most flattering way. Turning to admire himself in the antique cheval mirror, he was delighted to find that even Ryan’s polished dress shoes were a perfect fit. He ran a hand across the smooth fabric at his chest and decided that the suit definitely looked better on him.

  “Time to hit the town,” he decided. “I deserve a night off.”

  While he searched the kitchen drawers for a box of matches, he came across a keyring and could hardly believe his luck when he saw the name of the building written on the back. There was no number, but it didn’t matter—he had been to that particular address before and knew precisely how to get there. He dropped the keyring into the holdall he had filled with other clothes and trinkets, struck a match and then left without a backward glance.

  He was long gone from Durham, heading northbound along the A1 towards the neighbouring city of Newcastle, by the time the two surveillance officers looked up to find Anna’s cottage in flames. One of the downstairs windows exploded, shattering the quiet of the street, and smoke billowed out in
thick black clouds. They dashed forward to help the people who ran out their front doors to see what the commotion was about. Children screamed, men and women stood aghast as they watched the cottage catch alight.

  “Fire brigade!”

  “Get the fire brigade!”

  By the time the first engine arrived, it was an inferno.

  * * *

  Ryan tossed and turned in his bed at the safe house. After the first night spent at a poky, inner-city flat with an overpowering stench of mildew and a knackered boiler system, he’d risked ridicule from his peers and thrown some money at the problem. Hell, it was his money to spend, and he chose to spend it on a decent rental house with a king-sized bed and working radiators.

  But the spacious mattress wasn’t helping him now, he had to admit. For the hundredth time, he glanced across at the green light of his digital alarm clock.

  Ten-thirty.

  So much for catching up on some sleep.

  Beside him, Anna had fallen into an exhausted slumber and he watched her body rise and fall with concern. She was badly shaken and neither of them had slept much during the past six days. She missed her friend, as they all did, and she missed her home and having her own things around her. He wanted to reassure her there was nothing to worry about and it would all be over soon but it would be a lie, and that wasn’t his way.

  Quietly, so as not to disturb her, he got up and moved to the window. Outside, the surveillance team had changed and it was now a black Corsa parked outside. He could see the faces of two constables reflected in the light of their mobile phones and he couldn’t really blame them for losing focus after six full days keeping watch. On the other hand, it only took a momentary lapse in concentration for Edwards to strike.

  He would have a word with them about it first thing tomorrow.

  Ryan leaned his long body against the edge of the window and folded his arms across his chest, staring blindly through the glass. He had nothing other than gut instinct telling him that something would happen tonight. But the feeling was so powerful that his stomach churned, keeping him from sleep.

  Some sixth sense had him reaching for his mobile, even before it started to ring. His eyes closed briefly as he listened to the disembodied voice of Phillips at the other end of the line and when they opened again they burned pure silver.