by Mari Hannah
‘Is O’Kane dead?’
‘What do you think?’ He kept his eyes fixed on hers. ‘It’s possible he could still be alive, but not likely. If he is, he won’t look pretty and you won’t hear him scream. He’ll be meeting up with Finn right about now, I should imagine. Consider his death my gift to you.’ He turned towards the door. ‘Give my regards to Bright when you see him.’
‘Brian!’ Kate shouted at him, pulling at her restraints. ‘I’m not going to stop!’
He turned, as if considering her words. In that moment a video image of Hank lying on the deck, a gun pointing at his head, flashed before her eyes. This thug was responsible for saving Hank’s life. That must count for something.
‘I need to find O’Kane,’ she said. ‘I don’t give a fat rat’s arse about you – that’s Strathclyde’s problem. In fact, I owe you – big style. My DS . . .’ The words stuck in her throat. She had to swallow hard to keep her emotions in check. ‘But I need to get a conviction. And to do that I need to find O’Kane, dead or alive, and prove he killed your boys.’
Brian nodded, suddenly less cocky. Behind the facade, Kate saw a beaten man, robbed of his sons, haunted by his past. ‘Just so you know, my youngest had no idea I was alive. When those vicious bastards were torturing him, the poor sod couldn’t have given me up if he’d wanted to. You saw my lads, Kate. Tell me it was wrong to take revenge.’ He waited, melancholy eyes watching her. ‘Nah, I didn’t think so.’
She looked away, ashamed that she shared his point of view. She couldn’t deny that, given the exact same circumstances, she too would want revenge. Wouldn’t any parent? And if O’Kane had executed Hank in cold blood, as he’d clearly intended to do, she’d have blown him away in a heartbeat, no qualms whatsoever.
‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Tell me where to find Craig’s body. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to hunt you down.’
‘There’s some old mine workings around Portman. If you can be bothered to go fishing for the fucker, you might find him. Then again, you might not. Don’t bother polishing up on your interview technique. He’ll be dead by then.’ He sighed. ‘An eye for an eye has always been my way. If it’ll make you piss off back to Newcastle, he’s in the mine nearest to the coast.’ He picked up her phone. ‘I’ll leave this under the wheel arch of your car.’
‘You’re all heart,’ Kate said, but the door was already closing behind him.
71
It would be another four hours before the sun came over the mountains. Best part of the day, as far as Brian was concerned. As a lifelong golfer, he was often first on the course and finished before breakfast. Sadly, he’d not see it again, at least not from this location. Time to move on.
There was a flicker of a smile on his face as he wandered into the hotel car park, pulling Kate’s mobile from his pocket. Scrolling through the address book, he found Hank’s name and pressed the call key.
The phone sounded tinny and far away. Remaining flat on his back, the only position that was anywhere near comfortable, Hank swung his right arm out, his hand scrabbling around in the dark until he found the light switch. His mobile was lying on the bedside table. He checked the display. The name KATE was illuminated.
Who else, at this time of night?
He yawned.
Even to him, his voice sounded groggy: ‘Either you’ve decided you’re straight or there have been developments,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’
Brian grinned. DS Hank Gormley was well worth saving. Less than twenty-four hours ago he’d faced his maker, yet here he was joking with his boss at three a.m. This was the sort of guy he could happily share a pint or two with, as he had done with Bright in the good old days. Brian hankered after the camaraderie, the ‘them and us’ mentality, the tit-for-tat between the prigs he ran with and the likes of Bright. He missed Theresa too. No one had ever floated his boat like her; not Neena, not even Maria, who’d kept his secret all these years. Family came first. Always had. Still did. He’d made a good life for himself in Spain and it didn’t come easy, giving all that up, but no sacrifice was too great when it came to keeping Theresa safe. If only he could have kept the O’Kanes from going after his boys . . .
‘Kate? You there?’ Hank groaned as he tried to move himself up in the bed. ‘Stop playing hard to get. We both know I’m irresistible.’
A male voice hit his ear. ‘She’s a bit tied up at the moment, Sarge.’
‘Hello, Brian.’ Hank’s tone was flat calm. ‘I’d like to speak to my boss.’
Brian was impressed. The detective was not someone who panicked easily. Another groan reached him from down the line. The guy was trying to get up, put some clothes on and ride to the rescue like a knight in shining armour. Who could blame him? His gutsy DCI was quite something, in or out of clothes. Brian chuckled. If she wasn’t ‘on the other bus’ he’d have fancied his chances.
‘Put her on,’ Hank pleaded, trying to get one leg into his strides. ‘Let me trade places. You know what women are like. I’ll be less bother than her in my condition. I’m no threat, am I? I’m a one-armed fat man. She’s a shouty, foul-mouthed dynamo. Don’t put yourself through it, pal – you’re on a hiding to nothing. Believe me, I know. She’s been giving me earache for years.’
‘You move from that room, she dies,’ Brian said. ‘Stay put and she lives to fight another day. Do we have a deal?’
Hank stopped dead in his tracks. He took a deep breath, wincing from the pain. Images of Finn O’Kane forced their way into his head. Weak as he felt, he couldn’t let anything happen to Kate. Fighting off a wave of nausea he tried to think what she would do in the circumstances . . .
‘Deal,’ he said finally. ‘How long d’you want?’
‘Gimme five.’ Brian had always been a master of the double entendre. Mentally, he raised a hand to Hank in a gesture of goodwill. Placing the phone under the wheel arch of the Seat Mii, he got in his BMW and drove off into the night, flooring the accelerator, putting as much distance between himself and La Manga as possible. Hank Gormley was not someone who’d delay before taking action. Unless Brian was reading him wrong, he’d wait two minutes max before heading to the room of his DCI. Brian was counting on him doing that before calling the law.
It was a monumental struggle for Hank to propel his aching body the short distance along the corridor to room 308. Injured or not, with one kick he had the door off its hinges, flattening it against the wall. When he saw Kate naked and tied to the bed, he covered his face, peeping out between his fingers.
‘Did you not fancy the pitch and putt then?’ he said.
Kate collapsed in a fit of laughter.
72
‘What we going to tell Bright?’ Hank asked as they boarded a plane home to Newcastle. He was travelling back to the UK, tanned and relaxed, a good deal slimmer than he’d been when he arrived in Spain, looking forward to being reunited with his wife and son. Although his injury was healing nicely, his left arm was still in a sling and Kate had insisted on carrying his bag on to the aircraft.
Before packing up, they had taken the time to track down the gutsy American who had yelled out at Craig O’Kane as he prepared to pull the trigger. When she got home, Kate would make it her business to ensure that the tourist got a commendation for bravery. Although O’Kane hadn’t looked up at the time, she was sure his hesitation in that split-second had made the difference between life and death for Hank.
The image of O’Kane standing over Hank’s prone body was still vivid in her mind as she strapped him into his seat, but a glance at his smirking face told her he had a different image in mind. She narrowed her eyes. ‘What happened in the hotel stays in the hotel,’ she said.
‘OK, no need to get arsy!’ He grinned. ‘What are we going to tell Strathclyde?’
‘’Bout what?’
‘About Brian.’
Kate noted Hank’s attitude to Brian Allen had altered significantly in the past few weeks. She too had started thinking of him on first-name terms; n
o longer the infamous criminal but the man who had saved Hank’s life.
‘We’re going to tell them nowt,’ she said. ‘He disappeared. End of. Our offences are detected. He’s not our problem. Time to let the Scots do their jobs.’ She smiled at Hank. ‘Besides, I like him.’
Hank settled back in his seat and shut his eyes.
He’d sleep easy now.
Not so Maria Benitez. She had been arrested, charged with serious offences too numerous to mention, and remanded in custody to await trial. It was highly likely she’d be struck off the medical register and sent to prison for an extended period. Comisario Roberto Chavez was determined to make an example of her and, in so doing, secure his position as one of the lead officers in SOCA’s Operation Captura.
Despite a plea for leniency from Kate for information received, Neena Gil was charged with wasting police time and harbouring a fugitive. She too faced prison, although, after due consideration, Chavez had agreed to recommend that her sentence be suspended in exchange for further intelligence on Brian Allen.
Convinced that Brian wouldn’t harm anyone unless provoked, Kate secretly hoped he’d continue to evade the long arm of the law. He’d shown during his time in Spain that he could lead a peaceful if not entirely law-abiding existence; it was only the brutal slaying of his sons that caused him to resort to violence. If Brian lost his liberty now, he’d spend the rest of his life in jail. In her mind, that would be a travesty of justice.
The Spanish authorities had already found Craig O’Kane’s body. It was right where Brian said it would be, several hundred feet down a mineshaft in Portman. It took a specialist rescue team to extricate the corpse from the harsh landscape and bring it to the surface. With visual identification complete, Kate would write up the case and present it to her former guv’nor to be written off as detected.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
A text from journalist Gillian Garvey:
You can’t stay angry with me for ever! C’mon, we both have jobs to do. How about calling a truce? Gimme the inside story and I’ll shout you lunch. What do you say?
Kate held up her mobile, showing Hank the message before keying a reply:
Sorry, no can do. Switching to flight mode – it’s a bit like silent mode only it also cuts out interference. Ask your pals in Strathclyde!
She was about to switch the phone off when an email came in from Jo. She’d booked a cottage for a month in Crail, a tiny fishing village on the east coast of Scotland where the DCI could recuperate from the traumas of the past few weeks. ‘Only problem is,’ she wrote, ‘it only has one bedroom! OK with you?’ The email was signed with a kiss.
Kate elbowed Hank in the ribs as he read over her shoulder.
‘Watch it!’ he said. ‘I’m recovering from a near-death experience.’
He was grinning and so was she. Kate was looking forward to spending some quality time with Jo. A call to Bright had sealed the deal for her to take an extended leave of absence. In fact, he’d insisted upon it. He was still pissed with her. A lump formed in her throat. He’d get over it – he always did. And so would she – eventually.
While on the phone she’d finally asked him why he’d wanted to see her that Sunday when he’d come into the incident room instead of playing golf. It seemed moons ago now, but the mystery had played on her mind during her time in Spain and she was dying to know what it was.
‘Ellen and I are getting married,’ he told her.
‘Oh, guv, congratulations!’
Kate shed a tear at the news. She’d been close to his late wife Stella but, more than anything in the world, she wanted to see him happy. She glanced at Hank. Her two favourite men were doing well on the romance front. Maybe she was too.
Maybe.
Acknowledgements
Writing is often a lonely occupation. For long periods I switch off in order to listen to conversations going on inside my head. My characters become my friends, my family. Their real life counterparts understand this. They forgive and support, encourage and cajole; it is only right that I acknowledge the amazing contribution they make here.
Killing for Keeps is the fifth in the Kate Daniels series. Grateful thanks must go to the entire staff at Pan Macmillan: especially my editors, Wayne Brookes and Anne O’Brien, who have taught me so much. Thanks also to Louise Buckley – always at the end of a phone or email to offer helpful advice – and to my publicist, Philippa McEwan. Without her my writing life would be in chaos.
A special mention to everyone at A.M. Heath Literary Agency – in particular my brilliant agent, Oli Munson. This book is dedicated to him. His extraordinary passion and commitment is infectious. It motivates me to turn out the very best work I am capable of.
Appreciation must go to Joanna Cannon for providing insight into a busy hospital A & E department. To my brother and sister-in-law, Rob and Marit, for helping me negotiate Rojales – a part of Spain I was completely unfamiliar with at the early stages of writing this book.
I’m blessed with a wonderful family of cheerleaders, each one a constant source of inspiration: Paul and Kate, Chris and Caroline, Max and Frances – and Mo, without whom Kate Daniels would not exist.
About the Author
MARI HANNAH was born in London and moved north as a child. Her career as a probation officer was cut short when she was injured while on duty, and thereafter she spent several years as a film/television screenwriter. She now lives in Northumberland with her partner, an ex-murder detective. She was the winner of the 2010 Northern Writers’ Award and 2013 Polari First Book Prize, and was recently shortlisted for the CWA 2014 Dagger in the Library Award.
www.marihannah.com
@mariwriter
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Praise for the Author
“Hannah is especially good at portraying the emotional interactions and office politics of a fraught police force.”
—The Times (London)
“This is top-notch British crime-writing from an author who writes with passion and draws you into the relentless pressure of a police murder hunt.”
—Peterborough Telegraph
“Brutal, shockingly realistic, and satisfyingly unpredictable, this is a thrilling, chilling tale with a formidable star player and charismatic location, ideally suited to the small screen. Move over, DCI Jane Tennison, there’s a new kid on the block.”
—Lancashire Evening Post
“DCI Kate Daniels: a Northerner to join the roster of top literary detectives.”
—The Times (London)
“Solid plotting . . . a satisfying and meaty read.”
—The Guardian
“Brutal and engaging. Mari Hannah writes with a sharp eye and a dark heart.”
—Peter James, internationally bestselling author of Dead Man’s Time
Also by Mari Hannah
THE MURDER WALL
SETTLED BLOOD
DEADLY DECEIT
FATAL GAMES
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First published in 2014 in the UK by Pan Books, an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited.
KILLING FOR KEEPS. Copyright © 2014 by Mari Hannah. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Ed
ition JUNE 2015 ISBN: 9780062387141
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062387158
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