Seven Bridges
Page 25
“Your dad is waiting for you upstairs,” she said.
“How did he take it?”
Tebbutt thought of the man’s devastation and shook her head.
“That’s for the two of you to discuss,” she said.
He nodded, then asked the burning question.
“Are you going charge me?” he asked. “I accept what I did.”
She looked at him for a long moment for, like his friend Ryan, she had her own moral compass to follow and the decision she had made did not sit easily on her shoulders.
But she had made it, all the same.
“I have not recommended that the matter be pursued by the CPS,” she said. “It is not in the public interest, especially as we have found the person responsible. Your mother is co-operating fully.”
Lowerson’s chin wobbled but he bore down and nodded his thanks.
“What about…” He stopped himself, having already come to his own decision. “I’ll tender my resignation first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Why on Earth would you want to do that?”
They both looked up in shock at the sound of a new voice in the room, and Ryan stepped into the doorway. They’d deposited Sue Bannerman down the corridor and he’d look forward to questioning her later but, for now, there was Jack.
“I-I can’t come back,” Lowerson said. “Not after everything that’s happened.”
Ryan stuck his hands in his pockets and considered what was the best thing to do with him.
“You need some time to heal,” he said, frankly. “You’ve been through all kinds of hell and you need to take time to process all that. Take whatever time you need and then come back, fighting.”
“I don’t know if I can come back,” Jack said. “Or if Morrison would take me back, after the decisions I’ve made.”
“Leave that to me,” Ryan said, and caught Tebbutt’s eye-roll. “As Joan says, it’s not in the public interest to have you out there doing God knows what. You’d probably end up working as a waiter in one of those hideous hipster bars in town. I’d see you twiddling an enormous oiled moustache while you sipped a fruity cocktail from a mason jar, or something equally ridiculous.”
Lowerson felt laughter bubble up, when he had thought he would never laugh again.
“There’ll always be a place for you on the team, Jack. It’ll be waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.”
Jack couldn’t find his voice, so he just nodded.
“My dad will need help to get through it,” he said. And so will I, he added silently.
“You have friends,” Ryan said. “Let us help you, if we can, and in the meantime find somewhere quiet and peaceful, where you can get to know yourself again.”
“I hear Holy Island is a lovely place for rest and relaxation,” Tebbutt suggested, forgetting the reports she’d read of their experiences on the island a couple of years previously.
Ryan and Lowerson exchanged a grin.
“Just watch out for the tides,” Ryan said, gravely. “They can be deadly.”
EPILOGUE
One month later
Ryan was standing on top of a ladder when the familiar tinkle of the Indiana Jones theme tune filled the hallway.
“Want me to get it for you?” Anna asked, from her position at the foot of the ladder she’d been holding steady so that Ryan could hang a large painting on the wall.
“I’ll come down.”
Ryan caught it on the last ring and frowned at the unusual country code.
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking with Detective Chief Inspector Ryan?” the caller asked, in heavily-accented Italian
“Yes. And you are?”
“I am Jacopo Romano, Direttore Generale della Polizia Criminale,” the other replied, in his native tongue. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. However, I have already spoken with your forensic expert, Faulkner. He tells me to call you.”
“Oh?”
“It was I who rang him,” he explained. “He is the only other to have searched the European database for a specific DNA sample, aside from our department. We are searching for a missing person in our country, signore, and it would appear that their DNA has found its way to you. We do not know how, or what the connection may be.”
Ryan thought of the postcard that had arrived just over a month ago, in the midst of all the bridge bombings. There had been no time to turn his attention to Nathan Armstrong then, not while danger lurked on their very doorstep. But things were different now.
And here was a fresh lead, where none had existed before.
“Who does the DNA belong to?”
“I cannot discuss it over the telephone,” Romano said, lowering his voice. “The person is known, Chief Inspector. A person of note, in our country, and I must be careful.”
After a lengthy conversation, Ryan ended the call and stared at the new picture he’d just hung on the wall in their hallway.
“Well?” Anna burst out. “What was all that about?”
Ryan turned to her with a serious expression marring his handsome face.
“I need to go to Italy,” he said. “We talked once before about the risks involved if you were to come with me, so I won’t repeat myself, but I want to be sure that you understand. I can’t protect you in the same way, if I needed to, Anna. It won’t be my turf and we’ll be guests of the Polizia di Stato.”
She thought of the university classes she had to teach, of the work she had to do, and then tried to imagine doing it all while she worried for her husband, thousands of miles away.
“I’m coming,” she told him. “The university will have to handle it.”
She hoped.
“What about CID? What will Morrison say?”
Ryan had already thought of that.
“She knows that, by rights, Nathan Armstrong should be incarcerated by now. Instead, he’s roaming the four corners of the world hurting countless more people. It’s time to bring it to an end and she knows that. The man has our home address,” he added, softly. “We’ll never sleep soundly until he’s brought to justice.”
“When do we go?” she asked.
“We’ll leave for Rome in three days,” he said. “Armstrong is due to be in Florence the week after that, which gives us time to stay ahead of him.”
“I’ve never been to Florence,” she said, with some excitement, and Ryan moved across to cup her face in his hands.
“Anna, this isn’t a holiday,” he said, urgently. “We need to be careful, always, and remember to be vigilant. There’ll be other times we can go, when the circumstances are different.”
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I understand what this means.”
He lowered his head to kiss her deeply.
“Ryan? Why does he send the postcards? Why leave a trail, at all?”
“It’s an invitation,” Ryan said, grimly. “One which I accept.”
DCI Ryan will return…
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
Seven Bridges of course refers to the seven bridges connecting the cities of Gateshead and Newcastle for the stretch of a mile across the River Tyne. There are many more lovely bridges as the river meanders its way out into the countryside but for the purposes of the story I have written, I decided to concentrate on the most iconic section. Each bridge is noteworthy, but most people who are not local to the area might recognise the Tyne Bridge as it bears a striking resemblance to the Sydney Harbour Bridge, in Australia. They share the same architect, Mott, Hay and Anderson, and both derived their inspiration from the Hell Gate Bridge in New York City.
I have a particular childhood memory of walking along the Quayside to see the Tall Ships sailing in to drop anchor and of thousands of people flocking to see them, in all their old-world beauty. Bunting lined the riverbank and stalls were set up selling all kinds of food and floppy velvet hats which were, of course, a s
taple fashion item during the early nineties! I still feel that old magic, whenever I take a stroll along the river to the Baltic Art Gallery, where there’s an unrivalled view of all seven bridges. If there’s fog on the Tyne, even better!
I hope I’ve managed to capture a flavour of the urban scenery around that part of Newcastle and into Gateshead but, inevitably, I have not been able to mention every landmark or place of note for to do so would affect the pacing of the story. However, there will be many more stories to tell in the future and I hope to be able to showcase so much more of the beautiful scenery I’m proud to call home.
LJ ROSS
May 2018
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Newcastle upon Tyne, LJ Ross moved to London where she graduated from King’s College London with undergraduate and postgraduate degrees in Law. After working in the City as a regulatory lawyer for a number of years, she realised it was high time for a change. The catalyst was the birth of her son, which forced her to take a break from the legal world and find time for some of the detective stories that had been percolating for a while and finally demanded to be written.
She lives with her husband and young son in her beautiful home county of Northumberland.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Seven Bridges is the eighth novel in the DCI Ryan mystery series and is also the fourth book to have made it to the coveted Number One spot on the Kindle bestsellers chart in the UK, even before it was properly released! I am delighted and humbled to know there are so many kind and supportive readers who, like me, enjoy finding out what lies in store for Ryan and his team on their next adventure. Thanks to all of you.
I have been fortunate to enlist the help of a good many kind and knowledgeable people during the writing of this book. I would like to thank Kirsty “Train Queen” Maule, for her invaluable advice around train operating procedures, policies and all manner of interesting titbits from her experience as an engineer—unfortunately, not all of it could be included in the book but I shall save it for another time! I’d also like to thank all the kind bloggers and beta readers who have taken the time to read Seven Bridges, your wonderful encouragement has been a cornerstone for the past three years.
I am so grateful to all my family and friends who have enabled me to continue doing the job I love because, without them, it would not be possible. Enormous thanks to my husband, James, and to my son, Ethan. Everything I do, I do for these two blue-eyed boys who, between them, make me smile, laugh and strive to be a better person every day. All my love, always.
Finally, I am grateful to Joan Tebbutt and Jennifer Lucas, two incredibly kind women who donated generously to charity in exchange for a character in one of my books. I hope the fictional alter-egos I have created will bring a few smiles!