Ritual

by Ryan Casey

  Jerry Matthews smiled at Brian. He smiled.

  Then, slowly, he raised his hands.

  Began to move down to his knees as the lights got closer.

  “You need to think about what you’re doing,” Jerry said, as Brian reached down for his spare key. Every move was agony. “I’m the Chief Constable. You need to think about what will happen if you don’t lower that gun—”

  “Fuck off,” Brian said. He hobbled right over to Matthews. Pointed the gun at his head. Tears stinging his cheeks.

  “Hannah and Sam—”

  “Don’t say their names.”

  “—is this the justice you want for them? Is this the future you want for yourself? You can kill me and you’ll pay for it. You can walk away and you’ll pay for it. But you can lower your gun and stand in line like you should’ve done your whole damned life and you can save your family.”

  The burning grew more intense. Brian shivered. Shook his head. “You tried … you tried to kill us. You’ve killed so many people.”

  “And I’ll kill more,” Jerry said. He raised his hands. Shrugged.

  The voices and the footsteps and the torchlight so close now.

  “Sorry. But that’s just how it works. How it always has worked. And how it always will. And there’s nothing you can do about that. No matter what you do right now, there’s nothing you can do about that.”

  Brian squeezed the key in his left hand. He needed help. He needed medical attention. He needed to get stitched up and get the bullets out of his body.

  He needed to get away before the cult reached him.

  “An innocent woman lies by your side,” Jerry said.

  “She’s not fucking inn—”

  “But she is,” Jerry said. “I’ve made sure of that. And you’ve murdered her.”

  Lilian Chalmers. He’d killed Lilian Chalmers. He was going to go down for her murder. He was going to lose his family. Lose everything.

  “Think about what you’re doing right now, Brian. Think about what’s really important to you. Is it this personal vendetta you’ve got with everything you choose not to believe in? Or is it your family? Your future? Think about that very carefully.”

  Brian watched the lights poke over the top of the tall grass.

  Saw the silhouettes get closer and closer to the car.

  Felt more blood trickle down his leg and onto the muddy grass.

  “I’ve thought about it,” Brian said.

  He lifted the gun.

  Looked into Chief Constable Jerry Matthews’ eyes.

  And …

  Fifty-Five

  One week later …

  The sun shone brightly on Woodplumpton church.

  Summer was in full swing, finally. The trees were filled with rich green leaves, which the long winter delayed. The smell of cut grass and barbecues was strong in the air. The sound of children laughing in nearby houses as they fired water pistols at one another.

  The weather of joy.

  The weather of happiness.

  Brian sat on the wooden bench right at the front of the church. He smiled. Couldn’t stop smiling. ’Cause here in front of him was his son, Sam. Dressed in his little white christening gear. A priest leaned over him as one of his colleagues held him, pouring what appeared to be a white gravy jug of water over his head.

  Sam wasn’t crying. Not like Davey had. Hell, Davey had squealed like a pig. Hadn’t shut up for days.

  Sam just looked around like this was all some kind of weird game. Some sort of joke.

  Brian smiled.

  He wished he could be up there. Standing up there and holding his son. But his leg hurt. And it was hardly ideal for Hannah, either. She’d only got out of hospital a few days ago. Swift recovery. Back on her feet. But forced to take it easy. Not just by the doctors, but by Brian.

  No time to think about a new home. No time to think about anything like that.

  All they had to focus on was getting better.

  One step at a time.

  Healing.

  “Would the godparents offer their gifts to the family now, please?”

  Brian smiled as Vanessa and Anthony walked towards him, two of Hannah’s friends following. He’d thought long and hard about offering Vanessa and her new piece—if he could call him that, the lanky string of piss—the opportunity of being Sam’s godparents. But at the end of the day, no matter how much of a superbitch she could be, Ness was a good mother. And Anthony was doing a decent job with Davey.

  They were good parents.

  Good people.

  They handed some gifts to Brian and Hannah. Vanessa half-smiled at Brian. Anthony was practically brimming from cheek to cheek. Smiley people made Brian uncomfortable. Probably because he was a miserable bastard.

  But hey. It’d got him this far.

  He watched Vanessa and Anthony return to their seats. The vicar started walking towards Brian and Hannah, Sam in his hands.

  Brian heard a little snigger to his left.

  Turned and saw Davey holding back the laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” he whispered.

  Davey glanced up at his dad. He was older—obviously—but he still had that baby face that made you want to squeeze his cheeks. “Nothing.”

  “’Cause if you’re laughing at Sam’s little outfit, you just wait until I whack out your old christening photos.”

  Davey’s cheeks went red. But he was still smiling. “You have my christening photos?”

  It was Brian’s turn to go red. “Well … I have them stored.” He tapped the side of his head. “Snapshots taken by the best camera of all.”

  “Got a few photos stored in my head too,” Davey said.

  Brian got the dig. The reference to the things Davey had seen when he was younger. Brian, hanging himself. And all the horrors that had followed.

  But Davey kept on smiling. Let out another little snigger.

  And Brian couldn’t feel anything but happiness as he joked around with his boy.

  His son.

  The congregation started to stand. So many of them came over to say hi to Sam, to Brian, to ask how Hannah was doing. And all the time, Brian bit his lip and forced a smile. Forced a smile as the pain in his left leg reached crippling intensity.

  A reminder of what had happened.

  He’d played down the severity of the injuries to Hannah. Didn’t want her asking questions. Didn’t want anyone asking questions.

  But the pain in his leg was agony.

  Still, he smiled on through it.

  Eventually, the church emptied. It was just Brian, Hannah and Sam in there. Brian held Sam. Wiped his forehead. “Did good, big man. Did very good indeed.”

  He kissed Sam. Turned and looked at Hannah.

  She was looking at him in a way he wasn’t expecting. The face she pulled when she was curious. Unsure about something.

  “What?” Brian asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “No seriously. What?”

  He waited, heart picking up, chest tightening.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Brian frowned. “Me?”

  “No, the vicar. Of course, you.”

  “Oh,” Brian said.

  He looked around at the church. Caught a whiff of that woody smell that was always so prominent in places of worship. Felt Sam’s warmth against his chest.

  And then he looked back at Hannah. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine.”

  He leaned over and he kissed her right on her lips.

  A kiss he wished could last forever.

  Uninterrupted.

  He pulled away. “Come on,” he said. “Better get out before the church police get us.”

  He struggled to his feet. Felt the pain building and building and building to the point of tears.

  But he managed to stand.

  He managed to stand, and he managed to smile.

  “You would tell me,” Hannah said. “If everything wasn’t okay. Right?”

 
Brian tutted. “When have you ever known me not to tell you something?”

  “I wouldn’t know. ’Cause you won’t have told it me.”

  “Good point,” Brian said.

  He walked by Hannah’s side, Sam in his arms.

  Walked down the aisle.

  Towards the sun peeking through the archaic wooden doors.

  Towards their future.

  Every step wracked with pain.

  Every moment brought the memory flashing back.

  The memory of what he’d done.

  Of what he still had to do.

  But still he smiled.

  Fifty-Six

  Six days earlier …

  Brian looked out over the Preston Docks.

  Looked at the water glistening in the moonlight.

  Blood on his hands.

  Scars on his thoughts.

  He looked down into the water. Looked down, the pain crippling his left leg, stitched back together by a dodgy surgeon he’d once arrested.

  Looked down into the blackness.

  Down towards the truth.

  If he stared long enough into this water, he’d see the faces.

  And no matter how hard he fought against it, he saw the memory over and over in his mind.

  His finger on the trigger.

  The look in Jerry Matthews’ eyes when he realised what was going to happen.

  Then …

  Brian turned away from the water.

  Got back into his car.

  Drove away.

  He knew the truth. The truth of what happened six days ago. The truth of how he’d got away. Of how he’d done what he’d done.

  But he didn’t know what lay ahead. He didn’t know what the future held for him. For his family.

  Only that Samantha Carter was right.

  Sometimes justice wasn’t a universal concept.

  Sometimes, justice had to be served in unconventional ways.

  Brian McDone had found his way.

  He’d found the only way.

  Brian’s way drifted to the bottom of the Preston Docks. Rocks wrapped around his ankles. A bullet hole in his skull.

  Brian’s way was Jerry Matthews.

  Chief Constable Jerry Matthews.

  Dead.

  Brian’s way of justice would be the end of him.

  And so be it.

  BRIAN MCDONE WILL RETURN IN JUSTICE, THE FINAL BOOK IN THE BRIAN MCDONE SERIES, JUL 27 2016.

  Want More McDone?

  Dead Justice, the sixth book in the Brian McDone series, is now available. CLICK HERE to purchase it and continue Brian’s gripping journey.

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  About the Author

  Ryan Casey is the author of over a dozen novels and a highly successful serial. He primarily writes post apocalyptic fiction, and also has a series of mystery novels. Across all genres, Casey's work is renowned for its dark, page-turning suspense, unforgettably complex characters, and knockout twists.

  Casey lives in the United Kingdom. He has a BA degree in English with Creative Writing from the University of Birmingham, and has been writing stories for as long as he can remember. In his spare time, he enjoys American serial television, is a slave to Pitchfork's Best New Music section, and wastes far too much of his life playing Football Manager games.

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  About This Book

  Detective Inspector Brian McDone is ready to retire. Exhausted after years of challenging cases and personal battles, he wants nothing more than to ease through his final year of employment so he can spend more time with his growing family.

  But when two bodies are dragged out of a canal, brutalised and butchered in ritualistic fashion, Brian is forced to lead one final fight against the criminal underworld of Preston.

  As the body count grows and the mystery thickens, Brian fast discovers dark secrets that put his life — and his family’s life — in jeopardy.

  Packed with suspenseful twists and unpredictable turns, Ritual is the fifth book in the acclaimed Brian McDone Mystery series from author Ryan Casey.

  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.

  Copyright © 2015 by Ryan Casey

  Cover design by Cormar Creative

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Higher Bank Books