He rang Rita.
‘How are you, Jamie?’
Why does everyone ask the same question? His first thought was she sounded strange, then he realised. She was trying to sound sympathetic, recognising what he’d been through. It wasn’t her strong point. ‘I’m getting there. How’s Kayleigh?’
She gave one of her customary snorts. ‘Kayleigh’s Kayleigh. She’ll be okay.’
‘Is she… er… how is she…?’
‘If you’re asking if she’s over you yet, then the answer’s ‘no’, but she’s listening at any rate. She’s one hell of a girl, I’ll say that for her.’
‘Tell me about it. Has she said much? About what she’d been doing?’
‘Some. Apparently she followed you home a few times, hung around a bit, did a bit of stalking, spent a few nights in your shed. You know, the usual girl-with-a-crush-on-an-older-man type of stuff. You should be glad you don’t do social media. She’d have been all over you.’
As he listened, Carver made a mental note to brush up on his Surveillance Awareness Skills. Mike Frayne would love her.
‘She’ll be okay though, won’t she?’
‘I think so. Eventually.’
‘Have you talked to her about what’ll happen after the trial? The papers, all that stuff?’
‘I told her the court will give her protection to begin with, but it’ll come out anyway. There’s too much of a story there for it not to.’
‘Will she cope with it?’
‘Our Kayleigh? You must be joking. She’ll be in her element. You watch, she’ll be on daytime TV before you know it.’
‘You think so?’
‘She’s a heroine, Jamie. How many fifteen-year olds do you know can throw themselves through a window, take out a serial killer, then save the would-be victims by giving them CPR?’
‘Fair point.’ Reassured, a little, he switched subject. ‘What’s the news on the project?’
‘It’s carrying on, but we’re having to revamp some of the TOR. Whatever happens to Kayleigh, the rest of the family still need to be protected. They aren’t as robust as her. It could do them a lot of damage.’
‘If there’s anything I can do..?’
‘Thanks, but right now you’re best staying out of it. There’s bound to be some reporter prepared to spin things so some will wonder what the hell was going on, if you know what I mean?’
‘I do. Do me a favour, Rita. Tell Kayleigh I was asking after her and that I’ll see her after the trial.’
‘I’ll make sure she understands.’
As he hung up, Carver’s phone beeped. He checked his log. It showed two missed calls. The first was The Duke, the second his father. He may be retired, but some of his old network still worked. He ignored the return-call option and turned off the in-car connection. There would be time enough for all that. He had no idea what The Duke would make of it, but he knew it wouldn’t be a problem. And in a way he was even looking forward to speaking to his father. It was time he understood some things.
In the twenty minutes following, his mobile rang several times. He didn’t answer and he didn’t check to see who was calling.
After driving anticlockwise round the M60, he took the Oldham exit and made his way to the neat housing development two miles outside the city centre. He found it no trouble. He’d been there two weeks before. After the funeral.
He parked at the bottom of the drive and waited, gathering his thoughts. Turning to his left, he found he could see through the front window into the room beyond. A woman was standing there, looking out at him. Also waiting.
Right.
He got out and walked up the path. The door opened before he could ring the bell.
The expression on Susan Kendrick’s haggard face was neither welcoming, nor accusing. He didn’t try to read it. Whatever her thoughts - about him, her daughter, what had happened - there was nothing he could do to change them. Not yet.
She nodded a greeting of sorts, and stood back to let him in. He stepped past her and turned left into the front room. Paul Kendrick was sitting in the same armchair where Carver had seen him last. On his lap was that morning’s edition of the Sun. For all Carver could tell, he might never have moved. He glanced up as Carver entered. His face was even more unreadable than his wife’s.
Carver nodded. ‘Hello Paul.’
The man nodded back, but said nothing and turned his gaze back to his paper. Sue harrumphed, but he ignored her. Carver looked at her, shook his head. It doesn’t matter.
She pointed at the door leading through to the back room from where the noises Carver had heard the moment she opened the front door were coming. She nodded. She even tried a smile. He couldn’t begin to imagine how hard all this must be for her.
He nodded back, smiled a ‘Thanks,’ and went through.
The boy was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by bits of Lego and half-built Starships. He turned and looked up as Carver came in. He didn’t exactly smile, but later, on his way home, Carver would convince himself there’d been some recognition there.
‘Hello Jason,’ he said.
As he settled himself on the floor next to the lad, thoughts of bloodline and parentage never entered his head.
The end
Coming in 2016...
‘FINAL BREATH’-the sequel to ‘LAST GASP’
Megan Crane is serving time for her crimes, but only now is the true extent of her depraved network becoming clear, as well as the sorts of people who were - maybe still are - part of it. Some are in positions of power, authority, influence. The last thing they are prepared to risk are details of their past association with the deadly dominatrix being made public. A series of mysterious deaths sees DCI Jamie Carver investigating the possibility that someone is out to make sure that won’t happen. It doesn’t stop there. Megan Crane may be behind bars, but she retains her considerable powers of ‘persuasion’, and is more than prepared to use them if it suits her purpose - as Carver is about to discover.
About The Author
Born and raised in Liverpool, Robert F Barker draws for his writing on the experiences he gained and the characters he met during his thirty years’ service as a Police Officer, most of it spent in CID. As well as dealing with all types of crime from simple theft to murder, he played a key role in establishing the UK’s first Regional Criminal Intelligence Network, later to become the National Criminal Intelligence Service, the precursor to today’s National Crime Agency. As a Senior Investigating Officer, he headed investigations into all types of major crimes, including murder, armed robbery, serious sex crime and drug trafficking. Later, as a Divisional Commander and Firearms Incident Commander, he learned what it means to have to make life-and-death decisions in the heat of ‘live’ operations.
Living with his family in Cheshire, he splits his writing time between there and a second home on the beautiful Mediterranean island of Cyprus where he finds inspiration for the series of Cyprus-based thrillers which he intends will compliment his home-based crime stories.
Last Gasp Page 32
