For some reason it made him think of waking up on holiday. The last time his cell was on the other side and the strong afternoon glare would turn your cell into a boiling hell hole, baking your brains and making you feel like you were going insane. He had wasted many hours dreaming of taking a frozen beer from a steaming cold fridge.
Will reclined back on his bed and let himself think of sipping a nice glass of tropical fruit juice from that same fridge, but was disturbed by his own cell door opening and the light from the wing landing flooded into the room. His mind searched for a reason as to why he would be unlocked. Maybe he had court or something, but before he could do anything he felt a heavy booted presence enter the room and the light was blocked out. A man with a big angry face stood over him as he lay there and a huge, strong paw grabbed his collar and pushed him into his mattress.
‘You don’t remember me do you?’ the officer growled through gritted teeth.
Despite the grimacing visage Will did recognise him.
‘You were the senior officer from reception the night I was brought in,’ he replied in what he hoped was a placating way.
The man laughed but with no humour or change in facial expression. He leaned closer so their faces were only inches apart and talked in a quiet but hostile staccato fashion. Phlegm periodically hit Will in the face as each small sentence was spat out.
‘It was Kho Phan Ngan, the party beach, five years ago. We met on full moon night. You, your big mate and him. I was ill and went home. My sister stayed with your friend. I woke up late the next day. She wasn’t back. I didn’t find her until much later. Do you know where she was?’
The memory crawled into Will’s mind like a centipede entering his ear. The slim, tiny girl with the doe-eyed face. The one Darren had been with. He was the big man with the sickly sweat. Jenny and John from Wisbech.
Before he could think of a reply, or of the consequences of saying anything at all John continued. By now he was shouting, his eyes red, glaring and watered.
‘They found her in the hills. Half-strangled and abused to fuck by your rapist cunt mate.’
The man bunched his fist further causing the fabric of Will’s T-shirt to draw tight around his throat. The elbow of a hugely-muscled arm which had been resting on his sternum was suddenly dug in and he felt the weight increase on his chest causing his breathing to shallow.
‘We had to come home,’ he snarled as he tried to control his anger. ‘My travels finished before they had begun. Her mind was gone. She wouldn’t talk to anyone. She barely left the house for a year. Then a year to the day, she went up to the multi-storey car park next to the station and threw herself off it. Eight floors up. Strawberry fucking jam. My parents divorced. I haven’t seen my dad in years. Nobody knows where he is and my mother had a breakdown from which they doubt she will ever recover.’
‘I knew you pricks were responsible but I couldn’t remember your names. I managed to find where you were staying later that night. I thought I had you, but you had gone. No doubt guiltily fleeing the scene of your crime. I swore on her grave I would avenge her. And now here you are, dropped in my lap, like lucky shit from a seagull.’
Will began to redden and choke as he ran out of air. Suddenly he was lifted out of the bed by his neck and was stood face to face with the crazy-eyed madman. Will knew then that his sister wasn’t the only one to lose their mind that day. John looked to the door and nodded. Will followed his gaze and saw another officer retreat out of the room and close the door behind him. He then heard the key gently clicking the lock shut, leaving them alone.
John pulled him in so close he could feel his breath, warm and fetid on his face.
‘This,’ he snarled. ‘Is payback.’
The End
Epilogue
I was a prison officer at HMP Peterborough for four years before resigning to complete this novel. It was a tough job, not for the faint hearted. However not all prison officers are the same. This letter was given to me on my last day by an inmate serving seven years.
Dear Ross,
Thank you for your kindness, support and laughs over the last couple of years.
A place like prison needs men like you. Through the darkest points in our lives comes light and you, for me, have been one of those lights.
I hope and am sure you will achieve all you desire. Enjoy your new found freedom.
All the best,
Max
Also now available:
The Boy Inside; Ross Greenwood’s stunning follow up to Lazy Blood
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A Note from the Publisher
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The Girl with the White Flag - Eddy Boyle is a retired soldier who has set up a private detective agency that survives on cases involving unfaithful spouses. “One of the most intriguing heroes who guides you through explosive drama”
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Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank, in no particular order, Kev Duke, Nicola Holmes, Lynsey Pooley, Alex Knell, Barry Butler, Sam Bernardis, Ann Bellamy, Yvette Smart, Jos Marriner, Alex Williams and, of course, Amanda Rayner.
Without your encouragement at various points along the way this book would never have been completed.
About the Author
I was born in 1973 in Peterborough and lived there until I was 20. I then began a rather nomadic existence, living and working all over the country and various parts of the world.
I found myself returning to Peterborough many times over the years, usually when things had gone wrong. It was on one of these occasions that I met my partner about 100 metres from my back door whilst walking a dog. Two children swiftly followed. I’m still a little stunned by the pace of it now.
This book was started a long time ago but parenthood and then four years as a prison officer got in the way. Ironically it was the four a.m. feed which gave me the opportunity to finish the book as unable to get back to sleep I completed it in the early morning hours.
My aim was to write an entertaining story set in my home town. I hope you enjoyed it.
Please leave an online review as it helps in so many ways.
If you would like to get in touch, read some interesting facts about Peterborough, or see some pictures of notable places in the city that may or may not have influenced the book, please contact me below.
https://www.facebook.com/RossGreenwoodAuthor/
http://www.rossgreenwoodauthor.com/
Lazy Blood: a powerful page-turning thriller Page 30
